Nomad Kind of Love Page 5

  Didn't stop me. One look at her told me nothing would.

  Up close, in mellower light, she was three times as hot. But her eyes were deeper, darker, filled with a sadness that made my heart ache. She shook like a scared animal when I bent, reaching for her little hand.

  “What the hell do you want?”

  You, babe. All fucking night. I want to see how hard I get when you're in my arms and I'm wiping away all the shitty things they've done to you.

  I want to give you something beautiful you'll never forget. Not for the rest of your fucking life.

  I had to bite my tongue to stop the first thing that popped into my head from spilling out.

  Instead, I offered her an out. I had to get her to the clubhouse first before anything else happened.

  “Get up, babe.” I wondered if she'd really take my hand, but she squeezed back when my fingers wrapped around her wrist.

  “I'm Maverick,” I said. “President of the Prairie Devils MC, and I'm here to get you out of this shithole.”

  I convinced Miss Sad Eyes to ride with me. Her fragile hands were wrapped around my waist all the way down to Python.

  Sure, she was afraid, but I was damn sure I could warm her up, melt whatever icy hell the Grizzlies had thrown her into.

  It had been a long time since I had a project. Every time I looked at her or felt her soft fingers curling nervously around my belt, I saw my sister.

  Aimee got hooked on some bad shit back home in Iowa the summer before last. Meth, pimped by a bunch of neo-Nazi trash who'd moved into my old neighborhood. I took a few weeks away from the club to get her off the junk and scream some sense into her.

  It worked. Little Sis stopped turning tricks for drug money and got herself a gig helping the accountant who handles the MC's legitimate business down there.

  Later, at the clubhouse, I stared at the girl. She sat by herself at the bar, slowly sipping a glass of mineral water like she was trying to shake off a bad stomach flu or something.

  I had to rub my eyes. Christ. She had Aimee's expression when my sis was at her lowest, broken and debased.

  That's a look a man with any brains never forgets. After Aimee, I promised myself I'd never see that soulless expression on a pretty woman again.

  Not if there was anything I could do about it.

  She jumped when I moved the stool next to her. I gave her a smile, and for the first time the dead-eyed sadness disappeared. Just not in the way I was expecting.

  “What do you want?” she asked sourly, twisting her lips in a defensive smirk.

  “I came to check up on you. You're a guest in my clubhouse, babe.” I cocked my head, studying her. “Don't you want to know what happens now?”

  “I really don't give a shit. Whatever it is, I know it'll be bad. And stop calling me 'babe!'” She looked at the counter, letting out a long sigh and spreading her fingertips. “Look, I learned a long time ago I don't have any choice. Not when I'm biker property. I'll do whatever it is you want.”

  So much for putting my curiosity to rest. I'd been expecting more of a fight. Now, I really wanted to know what the fuck had crawled underneath her skin and made such a pretty young woman spit fire.

  Her tone was defiant, and her eyes glowed brighter. But the deep melancholy returned fast, painting them as black as the leather around my shoulders.

  “You're not property, girl. Not anymore.”

  She looked up at me, blinking in surprise. I reached for her hand and squeezed it hard. I wanted to see some life, some spark.

  “You're here to make sure the Grizzlies don't fuck with us again. Yeah, I'll need you to stay a little while longer for appearances. We'll give you a room here and a job if you want one. You're a guest with this MC, but if you help me out, I'll let you on your way. Wherever you want when two months are up. Most clubs never come crying for their collateral anyway.”

  “So, you're telling me I'm not property...except I actually am?”

  She had my full attention. The girl wasn't wrong to point her finger at hypocrisy in these politics, but I was more surprised to see a little something more than apathy in her eyes.

  Go ahead, babe. Fight me if it brings you back to life. I've taken my punches ever since I joined this MC. A few slaps from a girl isn't gonna do me in.

  “It is what it is.” I used my most serious business tone. “You work with us and everybody ends up happy. We won't treat you like shit. The Prairie Devils aren't like the Grizzlies. If you don't believe that now, tough shit. You'll figure it out soon.”

  No matter what I thought, I wasn't revealing shit to her until I had a handle on this bird. And speaking of 'her...'

  “You got a name?”

  She never looked away from me. The light in her eyes was definitely there, and I saw my stern reflection in it.

  “June. Just June.” She paused, drawing in a long breath. “Never June bug or June-o or Juney. If you can actually call me by my given name, then maybe I'll believe you about this place being so awesome.”

  “June. I can do that.” I looked away for a moment, and then back. Her gaze hadn't drifted off me for a single second. “Take a few days to get your head clear. Then I'll see about getting you some work in the new place we're setting up here in Python. Sound good?”

  She nodded. I muttered a goodnight and got off the stool. I watched her slowly fold her arms, protective posture in a strange place.

  No way in hell she was going to my bed tonight unless I dragged her there. Fuck it. I liked a challenge.

  And I'd beaten the first little part. The whole time we'd been talking, she hadn't drawn her hand out of mine until I stepped away and she drew up her arms.

  Figuring her out was gonna be like a thousand piece puzzle, but the first jigsaws were wedged together.

  III: Digging In (June)

  For the first time in two years, I had time to think.

  After my first night with the new MC, I didn't feel imminent disaster hanging over my head. These Prairie Devils were monsters, the same as every MC I'd heard of. But they were monsters with a different vibe.

  I kept to myself, scheduling my runs to the bar and the little kitchen area in the back for food when nobody else was around. Maverick checked up on me a couple times a day, or else sent the big man they called Tank to do it.

  I was surprised they didn't press me. Even when my sarcasm and bitchy words were sharp enough to poke an eye out.

  I was a prisoner again. Surprisingly, they treated me more like a POW, and not some slave they'd torn away from her family and everything else.

  God, family...

  The nightmares started on my second night there. It was the same every time, reliving the awful night of Clara's defilement and death.

  Come morning, I had to shake my hands to make sure the blood I saw on them in the dreams wasn't really there.

  You let them rape your sister. You let them kill her. And then you erased her from your memory.

  Black, bitter guilt stung at my heart. For the first time in forever, my cheeks felt hot, brutal tears trickling down.

  I never cried in the Grizzles clubhouse. I wouldn't give the demons there the satisfaction of seeing me completely broken. I didn't want to admit to myself that I was.

  The floodgates opened. After years of numbing, mindless survival, my brain allowed itself to feel again, and I prayed to God it wouldn't.

  I almost wished Maverick and his men would do something terrible to thrust me back into survival mode. Harsh commands and backhanded blows from rough men were familiar.

  I understood those threats. Surviving them was just another day.

  This toxic cobra around my heart, injecting its poison into my psyche, on the other hand...

  “June.”

  I looked up and pushed my legs together as they hung over the bed. Maverick's muscular body filled the frame leading into my room. I hadn't even heard him open the door.

  “There's a little shindig tonight with food and drinks if you want t
o come out and have some. Fair warning: the boys'll be hitting the sauce hard. I'll make damned sure they're distracted with other women coming in. If any of my brothers get grabby with you, I'll introduce them to my fist.”

  I stared at him like a dumb animal. I still didn't know what to make of this man since he'd devoured me with his eyes at the Dirty Diamond.

  Is this a ploy? Or is he really, truly trying to be nice?

  I didn't know, and it hurt. I was too fucked up to know anything. Guess that included basic human emotion too.

  “I'll think about it,” I forced out the words as my brain screamed no, no, no!

  “You do that. I'll check again before things are about to start.”

  I watched him turn and walk back into the hall, his heavy steps echoing to my room.

  Jesus. Does he have to be so persistent? Why the fuck does he care so much about keeping tabs on me?

  I've given him what he wants. Collateral. Nothing else.

  Swallowing a couple sleeping pills I'd scrounged from their medical supply, I tried to force myself to sleep. Of course, I thought about Clara, and had a sick temptation to wolf down more than the standard dose.

  No. You owe him a little more than a cold, dead body. It's good to owe somebody something, the first somebody who's thrown you a bone in God knows how long.

  I fell into the darkness, mercifully dreamless for once.

  I woke to someone shaking me. My instincts went red and I leaped up so hard I nearly whacked Maverick right on the chin.

  “Whoa, June. Bad dream?”

  I rolled up to sit in the darkness. He was just a faded silhouette, tall and dark and handsome. I hated to admit the last part to myself. I sure as hell wouldn't acknowledge it openly.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “The party's getting started.” Behind his words, I heard the distant throb of music, classic rock from the nineties. “Come on out and have something to eat before my guys tear everything up.”

  “Maybe I will if you give me some fucking privacy.”

  I flushed, embarrassed at how underdressed I was when he woke me up. I was wearing shorts and a tank top.

  Maverick narrowed his eyes. I couldn't tell if he was amused or annoyed. Slowly, he crossed his arms and turned around, but never left the room.

  I grabbed clothes out of the closet. The MC had donated some hand-me-down stuff from locals.

  I worked on my full jeans and shirt angrily, wondering why he fired me up like this.

  Stupid, stupid. He probably thinks you're nuts. Since when is a stripper afraid of a man seeing her naked?

  Since today. The question nagged at me while I zipped my jeans up and then tugged on a soft sweater.

  “Okay,” I said.

  Maverick turned around. His lips gradually formed a grin when he looked me up and down.

  “Very nice. Stick close by tonight, June. I'll make sure you can enjoy yourself in peace.”

  “I don't need a babysitter,” I snapped.

  His smile melted. The big biker President glared at me as I trotted past him and out into the hall.

  I sensed his eyes on me the whole time, as intense as they'd been the night he took me from the Dirty Diamond.

  Was it lust in his x-ray heat or annoyance? I wish I knew.

  I wondered, but I didn't dare look back. I couldn't handle that shit right now, no matter how much it let me feel something besides the darkness in my heart.

  This MC ate much better than anything I'd seen with the Grizzlies. The Prairie Devils had huge racks of prime rib and snacks laid out on a big table. The small area around the bar was full of men in leather and women who'd come in from town.

  I chewed my meat and vegetables anxiously as my eyes wandered through the crowd.

  Life here was different, all right. There was no stomach knotting tension, no snide remarks, and none of the damning looks I'd seen with the Grizzlies.

  Maverick's buddies carried on with each other like old friends. They laughed and slapped fists, making the rafters shake with their crude jokes and wild catcalls to the ladies.

  “New girl. I was starting to wonder if you were a vampire.” I looked up and saw a man who looked a lot like Maverick, except leaner and a little younger.

  It was his VP, Blaze. I squinted at him, confused.

  “You're up among the living, eating with us. Happy to see it.”

  Fuck you, I wanted to say. But giving myself a worse reputation than I likely already had with these guys wasn't appealing just yet.

  “Why aren't you drinking and finding a girl?” I gave him my best leave-me-alone bitch voice.

  No luck. Blaze pulled out the chair across from me and sat down, crossing his hands. I saw his fingers were filled with big, heavy rings bearing the MC's letters.

  “I like to be totally comfortable before I let my hair down.” A joke. His hair was medium length and well kept, much like Maverick, and I wasn't laughing. “I want to know what your plans are after we're done keeping you.”

  Very direct. He got my attention. I wondered how much I could get away with by offering him something.

  “Only if you tell me a little about this place. I'd like to know more about your President.”

  “Maverick?” His eyes widened and he tilted his head, too fascinated for my liking. “Aaron's my brother. I don't mean that in the MC way either. Half-brothers from the same momma who grew up in a dusty town in Iowa together. Been a Nomad his whole adult life and President for years. He's led us through shit that would make your skin crawl.”

  “Try me.” I showed my teeth, but it wasn't a smile.

  “No thanks. You're right to wonder about him. Personally, I wonder why the hell he chose you out of the other girls there that night, and why he's still putting up with your piss poor attitude. Let me tell you something about Maverick...”

  I looked away, shocked at the way he flung the attitude back in my face.

  “He's a fucking tiger. Once he sinks his teeth and claws into something, he doesn't let up. He can be your best friend, or a man you most definitely do not wanna piss off. He's a patient man. He'll wait until the time's just right to do it, and then he'll strike.”

  “Jeez,” I raised my hands defensively. “I didn't mean it like that. If he's the tiger around here, then what does that make you?”

  “The asshole,” Blaze said, leaning forward a little. “Just like any VP should be, doing the dirty work the President can't. Or won't. Right now, I've told you what you wanted and then some. Your turn. Tell me what your intentions are.”

  I cringed.

  “I'm counting down the days 'til I'm out of your fucking hair. I want to blow this town, this state, and never look back,” I lied, but at least I had real energy behind it to sound convincing. “Seattle. Maybe Portland. I've never been to a big city before, and it seems as good a place as any to get lost and start over.”

  There. Satisfied?

  Blaze nodded. “Sounds reasonable. You're not the only one who wants to blow this little mountain town. We're Nomads, and Nomads need to ride free once our job here's finished. You remember that before you think twice about getting under my brother's skin, or hell, anywhere below his belt.”

  I shot him a nasty smile and hissed through my teeth. Couldn't believe he'd said it.

  Asshole was right.

  Blaze shot up and didn't bother to push his chair in. He walked back to the group, hanging with a couple younger guys with the Prairie Devils patch.

  I sat alone, finishing my food. Shaking my head, I wondered what the hell I'd been thinking coming out here at Maverick's request.

  This was a place where I didn't belong. Their brotherhood wasn't meant for me.

  Hell, maybe I ought to give serious thought to Portland or Seattle. If only I weren't clueless about anything the real world had to offer besides shaking my ass for perverts and criminal bikers.

  I waited until the night drew longer. Several guys abandoned their bottles and dragged the local
sluts to their rooms, or else hauled them onto their bikes and drove to the apartments they were renting.

  I emptied my mineral water and filled my glass with whiskey. The amber fire ran down my throat, soothing everything in the sweet forgetfulness it offered.

  Its soft glow made me forget all about being damaged, bitchy, unwanted June.

  The liquor hit hard on a near empty stomach. I'd eaten slowly, and not very much. Time began to blur and the stuff found that sweet spot in my brain, stroking me through my misery until I purred.

  “What's going on? You having a good time?”

  It was hard to make my eyes focus on Maverick. I grabbed the bottle with both hands, afraid he'd take it away from me.

  “I think you've had your fill,” he said, pulling it away.

  “No, I'm almost twenty-one. I swear, lemme show you my license...” I slurred the last word.

  “Babe, I don't give a shit about you being a few months under the legal limit. I do care about how you're gonna blast yourself into a hangover, and how that's gonna fuck with the pills you're taking to go to sleep.”

  I sat up straight through my drunken haze, wrinkling my face. “Huh? How the hell do you know about those?”

  “I'm an MC President, June. I'd be doing a shitty job if I didn't notice pills missing from our medicine cabinet, or figure out they're the reason I almost had to pour cold water on your face to get you up this evening.”

  “Fuck!” I sputtered. I just knew I'd find the little boxes gone from underneath my pillow later too. “Why's it any of your business what I do? Why can't you leave me alone when I'm doing exactly what you wanted? I came to your stupid party, didn't I?”

  He leaned in closer to me, so close I could smell his scent. Spicy, strong, and masculine. A strange bolt of interest shot through me, but I blamed it on the whiskey clouding my mind.

  “Because a screwed up girl who's sick from drugs – or worse, a junkie – is no fucking good to me. I kick problems in the ass before they become serious business. Right now, this MC has got its hands full. I don't need to find you dead some morning when Shatter makes the breakfast call...”