Bounty:Fury Riders MC(8)

By: Zoey Parker

“Yeah, I think so,” I said.

“At least you managed to wait.” His voice wasn’t totally unkind, and I appreciated it. I stood, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Come on,” he continued. “I’ll get you something to drink inside. Maybe we have some ginger ale or something.”

What a parental thing to say, I thought. I remembered all the times my mom gave me ginger ale for an upset stomach. Strangely gentle for a man like him.

I had no choice but to go with him, or stand outside and catch pneumonia in the cold dampness. I walked through the door, dreading what I would find inside the warehouse. My jaw nearly fell to the floor when I saw what was there.

It was gorgeous. Totally renovated, completely modern. Hardwood floors and a bar that polished to a deep, rich shine. Leather sofas and chairs. A pool table, a row of old-fashioned video games and pinball machines. A beautiful jukebox, playing old R&B songs. A strange choice, I thought, but then what did I know? I’d expected a rat’s nest when I walked in, and I was in the middle of a high-class boys’ club. It wouldn’t have been out of place in a mansion, some sort of expensive man cave.

“Come on,” he said, leading me to the bar. “I’ll pour you a ginger ale.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled, still looking around as I walked behind him. The room was empty, with several rooms leading from it. I heard noise coming from behind one of the closed doors. It sounded friendly enough, telling me there wasn’t anything scary happening.

My savior went behind the bar, and under the brighter lights, I saw a lot more of him. First, I noticed the blood on his knuckles. He noticed me looking, and his own eyes followed my gaze. He winced, then went to the sink to wash up. He didn’t speak, just washed thoroughly up to his mid-forearms. Then he turned, pulling out a glass and pouring ginger ale from the drink gun. He handed it across the bar.

I watched him as I sipped, and he watched me just as openly. Drinking the soda gave me something to do. Otherwise, I would have been ogling him.

He was gorgeous. Flat-out, no-holds-barred gorgeous. I hadn’t gotten a great look at him in the darkness, and from what he’d done, I’d expected him to be nasty and scarred and rough-looking. Just the opposite. His features were fine, balanced. He had a firmly chiseled jaw, his mouth was full and sensuous. His eyes were a striking light hazel color, but they burned into me. His hair was thick, long-ish, dark brown. It flopped over onto his tanned forehead.

Why was a man like him in a place like this? He could have been gracing a magazine or billboard, but instead was in some headquarters or lounge for what was obviously a motorcycle club. It made no sense to me.

He smirked, one corner of his mouth going up. Like he could ready my thoughts. I blushed.

“You feeling better?”

I nodded, taking a chance on speaking. I hoped my voice didn’t give away the sudden heat between my legs. “A little. Thanks.”

“Good.” He leaned forward, his hands on the bar. “Then why don’t you try telling me what you were doing out there tonight?”

I was at a loss. Could I trust him with what I had seen? From the way he beat that other guy up, there was no love lost between his crew and theirs. But what if there was some code I wasn’t supposed to break? What if he ended up getting into trouble over what I told him? I didn’t want that to happen. He’d saved my life.

He saw my hesitation and the way his brow furrowed told me how frustrated he was. He opened his mouth, but anything he had to say was cut off by a half dozen men flooding out of the room from which I’d heard the laughter and noise when we first came in.

“Hey, you’re finally here! Been waitin’ on ya.” The men all acknowledged my hero, whose name I still didn’t know. Then, one by one, they turned to me.

“Who’s she?” one of them asked, and his tone wasn’t exactly kind.

“Not sure yet.” My new friend came out from behind the bar, taking me by the waist. “But I’m gonna find out.” My eyes went wide and I looked at him in abject horror. So this was why he brought me here? Just as I opened my mouth to cry out in protest, I caught the look he gave me out of the corner of his eye. That look told me to keep my mouth shut, so I did. He had a plan, and I was supposed to trust him.

How could I do that when I didn’t know him?

Still, I did what he wanted and allowed him to lead me to a back room. The other men whistled and shouted, and my cheeks burned just knowing what they were thinking. I wanted to spit in their faces and call them white trash and every other insult I knew, but fear and the iron grip around my waist kept my mouth shut.

He led me to what looked like an office and hurled me inside. Only when he closed the door behind us did I whirl around on my new captor.

“What the hell are you trying to pull?” I spat, glaring at him. “Making them think I’m some kind of…of…”

“Whore?” He looked amused, smirking again.

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