by Cathryn Cade
As for him, he had some calls to make, and then he was going fishing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Shelle had not been this angry at another person—not counting her simmering rage at Albany and his Rattlers—in a long, long time.
While she sat on the beach, Moke Ahuelo had come into her room, taken her purse right off the bedside table, and he'd hidden it!
Oh, she was pretty sure she knew where it was, in a locked closet in the room he was using. But she couldn't get to it, not without trashing the closet door. And of course she wasn't going to do that. This wasn't a crappy little rental or a shack like the one he'd paid her to clean, this was a beautiful, gracious, beach house.
How the hell had he known she wanted to run, anyway? That after he'd dropped his two huge-ass revelations on her—one that he was a biker, and two that his club expected her to leave here with him, and travel straight into their biker enclave, and then to face a powerful drug dealer. Okay, for a good reason, but still...scary much?
She hadn't been going to run, though...not really. Even though she wanted to.
A part of her that was bruised and battered had been cautiously unfolding in her chest with the revelation that these Flyers cared so deeply about what had happened to her, and what might happen to other women at the Rattlers' hands that they were willing to take them out. Moke's promise to keep her safe had been added balm.
But now he'd gone and pulled this shit. Proving he didn't care about her at all, just his club's 'honor', whatever that meant in biker-speak.
Not worth much to her right now.
Too bad he'd left her with the means to get right back at him.
She turned to his big, black nylon duffel and got busy.
Feeling a little better, she sat cross-legged on her bed and texted Vicky.
'How r u? How's Dave?'
...
'Hi, hon. He's ok. May get to bring him home in a couple days.' A sad, tired emoji followed. 'So tired of hotel & hospital food. How r u??? What u been doing?'
Shelle's shoulders slumped. But then, as if Vicky could see her, she straightened and smiled determinedly.
'I'm fine, thx! Staying w some nice Hawaiians & doing some cleaning for them.' There, that sounded pretty upbeat. The last thing she wanted to do was worry Vicky when her foster mom was already worried about her husband, and their rented house.
'Really?? Who r these people?'
'The Homaloos?? Not sure spelling. They have nice house on a bay. Nawea.' That one she knew how to spell, as she'd seen the turnoff sign every time she and Moke drove in or out.
Vicky's response was swift. 'U r staying with Ho'omalus???? Wow. Dave says they are famous old Big Island family. Also we're glad u r safe there from the lava & laze.'
Shelle looked around at the lovely bedroom with new eyes. She was staying with wealthy island celebrities? Yikes.
'How is ur rental house??' she asked. 'And ur stuff?'
'Ok so far. Neighbors packed our photos & things & took with them to Hilo. Rental is insured so ... we'll see.'
'Ok' That was good, Shelle guessed. She felt bad for whoever owned the house, but at least Vicky and her husband wouldn't lose their own home if the lava spread.
'I'm so glad u r safe with nice people,' Vicky added. 'But do u need money? I can wire u some.'
'No thx!! I get paid tomorrow.' Shelle scowled at the doorway of the room. She better get paid what Moke owed her for cleaning, if he wanted his wallet and all his clothes back.
'Ok. U call if u need anything tho, ok??'
'I will.' Shelle added a hug emoji. 'Tell Dave get well so you can come home.'
She got two hug emojis back. 'He says he's working on it. Night, hon. Talk soon.'
'Ok.'
Shelle closed the message window and gazed unseeingly at the peach-and-cream quilt on which she sat.
Her emotions were a jumble inside her. What a weird trip this had turned out to be. Here she was, thousands of miles away from Seattle, in the home of strangers. Dependent on the good will of a fah-reaking biker, whom she'd not only trusted with her safety, but had sex with.
Sex that sent shivers of remembered sensation through her every time she even looked at the man, or thought about him. Witness, here she was all alone, and ready for him to come through the door so she could jump him.
Ha. So not happening. He might be sex walking, but he was a suspicious asshole biker.
She'd found the proof of that in his duffel.
At the bottom under tees, shorts and socks, her fingers met silky-smooth leather. Curious, she'd pulled out a black leather vest. Like the ones the Rattlers had worn, only this one was in mint condition, clean and well-cared for. And on the back, a cackling devil rode an old-fashioned airplane down, smoke billowing from the tail, guns firing from the nose. The letters arcing over the picture read 'DEVIL'S FLYERS MC' the bottom one, ' E WASHINGTON'.
Realizing that she was caressing the smooth leather the way she would its owner’s skin, Shelle hurriedly stuffed the vest back into his duffel, her face hot. Unfortunately, other parts of her were overly warm too.
He was a disreputable biker, she reminded herself fiercely. And a liar.
She heard a door open, and footsteps downstairs. She sat up straight. A part of her she hadn't wanted to acknowledge suddenly sang with relief. Moke was back.
She slipped off the bed and hurried to the head of the stairs. He appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, looking up at her.
"Huh," she said. "Guess the sharks missed out on a big-ass supper tonight."
He smirked. "Yeah. But you're still here, so you can take a bite outta me instead."
She rolled her eyes. "You wish."
A deep chuckle was her answer. "You know you'd love the chance to mark me, tita. Who knows, maybe I'd let you."
Shelle turned away with a toss of her hair. "Keep dreaming, biker man."
She flounced onto the bed, and opened up a game of Solitaire on her phone.
Moke jogged up the stairs a little while later. He paused in her doorway, then went on to his own room. She smiled to herself as she flipped virtual playing cards in her game.
A moment later he was back. She looked up, raising her brows in bland inquiry.
He was wet, his black hair sleeked back from his face, droplets of water spangling his golden-brown skin. She could see this because he was naked. He held her purse in one hand, hiding his groin. "Trade you," he offered.
"Sure," she said sweetly. "You first."
He smiled and lowered her purse, holding it by his side. Of course, her gaze darted to his groin. Her eyes widened as his cock, lying long and heavy, twitched and began to rise until it pointed straight out at her. He cupped it in his free hand and gave it a stroke.
"I'd invite you to come and help me out," he said. "But this is one place I don't like teeth."
He tossed her purse onto the bed, and stood waiting. Shelle could not help it, she kept on looking. Heat spread inside her, pulsing in all the places that cock of his had been, and could go again.
He stroked himself again. "So, you gonna tell me where you put my shit? I was headed for the shower to get the salt off, but if you like to watch, I can take care of myself right here, then use yours."
She jolted, her gaze flying to his. At the smirk on his face, she flushed hotly. "Your stuff is out on the lanai, by the sitting room. But you hide my purse again, and I'll toss your shit a lot farther than that."
He didn't look too worried. Of course he had his hands full at the moment.
"Didn't want you running off and getting into trouble again," he told her. "And here you are, so guess it worked."
She waved a hand toward the door behind him. "And there you are. Now go and—and jerk yourself out. I—I mean, knock yourself off! Or...oh, whatever."
He laughed—of course he did.
She ignored him, lying back on the pillows to open up another game of Solitaire on her phone. Except she opened Google maps instead, but who
the hell cared? It was just something to do besides gawk at him like a sex-starved idiot.
"Okay, tita, I'll go and...maybe try a combo of those, yeah?" From the corner of her eye, she watched him step back into the shadows of the hallway, and disappear. Her eyes tight shut, she dropped her phone to her side, and lay there, struggling to quiet her breathing, and the powerful urge to leap off the bed and follow him.
He was clearly done with her. He'd rather escalate their struggle for the upper hand into teasing her and then walking away?
Fine with her. She hoped he jerked off till his cock turned black and blue.
Shelle slept the sleep of the exhausted that night. Until her dreams were invaded by threatening figures who loomed over her.
She woke sitting up in bed, screaming, with Moke holding her arms, his deep voice rough with sleep. "Wahine, sh-shhhh. Settle. I'm here. I have you."
Unashamed, Shelle latched onto him with arms and legs. He lay back in her bed, holding her, and stroked her back with his big hands. "I'm here. I won't let you go."
She clung to him, shaking. "Don't leave me. Stay."
"I'll stay." His hand stroked over her tumbled hair, and down her back, finding her ass, and resting there. "I won't let you go."
She snuggled closer, opening her legs to clasp his lean hips, getting as close as possible. "Stay. I need you here."
He groaned. His deep voice tightened. "I'm here," he repeated.
But she felt him stiffening beneath her. The wild, needy side of her rejoiced. She flexed her hips, driving her softness against the long, hard shape swelling at his groin. "Moke," she breathed. "Moke."
"Fuck," he groaned. "You awake, tita?"
"Mm-hmm." She proved it by moving on him, making both of them breathe harder. "And I'm pretty sure you are too."
"Around you? Always."
"Prove it, Moke."
And he did.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Shelle woke slowly. She lay cradled in heat, a heavy arm lying over her waist, her ass snuggled against a male groin, curly pubic hair tickling her and a long, thick cock resting against the small of her back. Warm, heavy breath ruffled her hair as he breathed.
She was on the side of the bed facing the windows. A cool, morning breeze blew in, laden with the scent of flowers and the ocean,. A bird called, and another answered over the rustle of the palm trees outside the window.
For a moment, she lay there, smiling to herself. She wouldn't mind waking up like this every morning.
Then memory returned, all the bad with it. Her addiction beguiling her into stealing the amber ring. Moke's disgust and anger. Then learning that he was one of the breed of men she herself despised—a biker.
Her nightmare, and the way he'd held her...and everything that had led to. She wanted to pull her pillow over her head and scream.
Or maybe jump the big man in bed with her, and work out her anger and frustrations on his body.
Then Sally B sang out 'This yo momma callin'—Vicky's ringtone.
A motorcycle engine revved from Moke's phone.
Shelle scooted out of Moke's embrace. "Hi, Vicky?"
Behind her, Moke grunted and came awake, reaching behind him for his phone. " 'Lo?"
A moment later, he rolled out of bed and left the room.
"Hi, hon," Vicky said, her voice back to its normal ebullience. "Guess what? Me and Dave are coming home today!"
"You're coming back today?" Shelle shrieked. She didn't see Moke stop in his tracks, or turn back to look at her, his face dark.
"We are," Vicky agreed. "We'll be staying at a condo in Kona, some friends who rent out their place when they're gone. So nice of them to think of us. Anyway, the place has two bedrooms, hon, so you can come and stay! We should be there by...ten. Then pick up our car and head into town. So you can come in at noon, or anytime after that."
"Okay. See you soon."
Shelle bounced out of bed and hurried to her backpack. Dropping to her heels beside it, she rifled around for clean undies. Then she selected her green-and-white dress, and ran into the bathroom to get showered and dressed.
She hurried through a shower, but spent extra time at the bathroom mirror to do her makeup. She gazed at her reflection with bemusement. She looked really good, her natural tan deepened, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed, her hair revealing highlights from the sun as it dried. Her nails looked pretty, too.
Even the scar on her chest looked a little better—although she was glad her dress was cut high at the throat, to hide it from Vicky. The one on her arm looked like the kind of thing anyone could get from brushing against something sharp.
She smiled at herself in the mirror. Yep, everything was fine. Couldn't be better.
She should tell Moke.
The man himself appeared in the door of her room just as she neared it. They both stopped short to avoid running into each other.
He was showered and dressed in black shorts and a white tank with a native design in black and red. The stark colors emphasized his golden-brown skin and ebony hair and dark eyes, the cut of the tank emphasizing his bulky shoulders and the smooth muscles of his arms. Yum.
She blinked, and looked away. "Vicky and Dave are coming home today," she announced. "They're staying in Kona, at a two-bedroom place. Isn't that awesome? I can go stay with them."
She waited for him to smile back, to look relieved to be rid of her. He lifted his chin in acknowledgment of her news, but he did not return her smile. His face was strangely blank. "Okay," he said. "Let me know when you ready to go, I'll run you down there."
"Thought you'd be happy to get rid of me. I haven't seen Vicky in over a year, and I miss her. She's like my only family."
He lifted his chin. "Yeah, that's great. Glad you get to see her."
They stared at each other, a weird turbulence building in Shelle's middle. He'd ignored the first part of her statement.
He lifted a big hand and touched her cheek. "Hey, tita. I am glad for you."
"Right," she whispered. "Okay, then."
His eyes softened, and he stepped closer, pulling her into his arms, and giving her a hug. "I can see how excited you are about that. I just...got used to havin' you around. Who am I gonna fight with?"
"Maybe you can find a shark to face off with," she said, but she closed her eyes as her face met his broad chest. She drew in a shaky breath, inhaling his clean, musky scent, and feeling his strength surrounding her. Oh, man, she could just stay right here for the rest of the day, or longer.
She had to force herself to press back against his hold. "Welp, you better give me a ride into Kona, then you can get out there and whoop it up. Won't have me around to slow you down."
He chuckled, his chest quivering against her cheek. "Whatchu think I'm gonna do, lolo wahine—throw a party?"
"Lolo, that has to be bad," she said. But part of her wanted to smile, because he wouldn't be celebrating getting rid of her.
"Crazy woman, I got shit to do."
She tipped her head back, looking up into his face. "Oh, you still haven't seen your dad. That's sad...even if you don't get along so great."
He grimaced. "Yeah. Need to at least get some face time with him. Need to spend time with my auntie, Lele's mama, too. Who knows when I'll get back here."
She nodded. "I know, right?"
They both realized they were still holding on at the same time. He stepped back, reaching up to scratch his head, his gaze moving away. "Let me know when you're ready, and we'll go in to Kona town. Maybe you and your mom can go shopping, or something."
"Maybe." But probably more like 'or something'. Vicky had a sick husband, and Shelle had only the few hundred Moke had paid her, which she really should save.
"You want some breakfast?"
She nodded. "Yes. I'm starving."
"Me too."
They ate breakfast at the big island, and Shelle looked around her with regret. This was the nicest place she'd ever spent a weekend, and would probably rank that
way for years to come. Even when she got her degree, and got a job as a counselor, she'd have to be really careful with money for a while, build up her savings before she even thought about taking tropical vacations—or any other kind.
Back in her room, she went into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth, then packed up her makeup and stashed the little bag in her purse.
Feeling a crackle of paper, she opened the outside pocket and found the manila envelope from Moke's family home. "Oh, my God," she whispered. "I forgot all about you. Wait, the ring—where's the ring? Gotta give you to Moke." And she hoped he'd be happy to have at least one keepsake from his family home, such as it was.
Finding it, she slung her purse over her arm, and held the paper and ring in her hand, she hurried out to show Moke.
But when she stepped out into her bedroom, she stopped in her tracks...and stared, not quite believing her eyes. He squatted by her open pack—rifling through the contents.
"What are you doing?"
He stood, and turned to look at her. His dark eyes were blank, his face stoic. "Given your little... problem," he said. "Just making sure you're taking what you came with, and nothing more."
His words hit her like a blow to the chest from his mighty fist. She gaped at him, cold filling her, chasing all the warmth away. "You really think I'd steal from your friends?"
He shrugged. "You haven't, so we're good."
"We're good," she whispered. Did he honestly believe that?
His gaze flickered away, and he grimaced. "Sorry. Just...can't take the chance."
Shelle felt each word like added blows.
He couldn't take the chance that she might steal from his real friends. The ones who clearly meant so much more to him than the castaway waitress that he'd fuck, but never trust. That he'd escort back to Seattle, but so his biker bros could take down an enemy.
She clenched her fists, wishing she could hit him right in the chest, knock him back, make him feel even half the hurt he'd just inflicted on her. When plastic crinkled in her hand, she looked down.
Oh, right. The baggie with the paper and ring she'd found at his family's shack. Holding the paper up like a sword, she advanced on him. When she was close enough, she smacked the paper against his chest., hard.