“It won’t be quick or easy. He’ll die screaming.”
It sent a chill through her body… and then a rush, the really dark and twisted kind.
She shivered with anticipation, not fear.
“How?”
They stared at one another, and Duke cocked his head, as though somehow he could read her shady thoughts.
Rose dropped her gaze.
She didn’t like to dwell on it, but a shadow had grown within her while she’d been held in captivity, for lack of a better term. Rose had dealt with some of the terror and grief, but the darkness within seemed to be growing, asserting itself—and it wanted retribution.
In the quiet moments, when she was left all alone, bruised and bloody on the floor, she used to fantasize about it. Not about being free or even seeing her sister again. No, she daydreamed about getting some payback.
At first, she imagined bringing Kent to justice. The kind cops and lawyers specialize in, with evidence and a trial, in front of a jury. Then she realized she’d have to get up on the stand and tell everyone what he’d done to her.
Rose knew it was the right thing to do, but the punishment wouldn’t fit the crime. In time, a savage part of her wanted justice to be much swifter—and it didn’t involve courts or depositions—just blood and pleading.
She wanted to be the one who made her rapist pay. If she could overcome her fear, learn a few of Duke’s fighting skill—she might be able to pull it off.
What would it be like to hold Kent’s life in her hands? To hear Kent beg her not to hurt him? Men like Kent needed to be put down. The criminal justice system wouldn’t contain him. She’d given him a chance to walk away, but the video convinced Rose her instincts were right. Something more permanent than jail was in order.
She mentally shook herself. Focus.
“I appreciate it, but will you teach me how to defend myself?”
“No, I meant what I said earlier. You’ll only end up getting hurt. I ain’t Clyde, and you sure as hell ain’t Bonnie. I won’t be teachin’ you how to beat the shit out of him.” He nodded to the laptop. “He’s a piece of work. You aren’t like him or me.”
“Are you sure?” Because Rose certainly wasn’t.
“I’ll take care of him. There’s no need for you to get involved.”
“He seems pretty set on grabbing me again—I’m already involved.”
His face was a stony mask. “He’ll have to come through me to get to you.”
She blew out a frustrated breath. “You know, this isn’t about what you want. It isn’t about you at all. It’s about me and what I need.”
“And what do you need?”
“I need to feel safe. I need to stand up for myself.” I need to be one who hurts him this time.
“I’m sorry, Rose, but I ain’t gonna set you up for more pain. I gotta go to Perdition. I have an appointment to keep.”
Duke marched outside, and she followed him, ready to argue her case, but he jumped on his bike and headed out of the parking lot without a backward glance.
Well, crap. What would Daisy do now?
Her sister wouldn’t accept no for an answer.
Rose wouldn’t either.
Chapter Six
Duke was in a foul mood by the time he got to Perdition, even by his standards. The Horsemen owned Perdition—it served as the clubhouse as well as a playground for the brothers. Unfortunately, he was relegated to the parking lot for the time being. Both he and Ryker had to report to Captain for a major mea culpa session.
Rose’s revelation weighed on him.
Knowing Kent was stalking her made his blood boil. He had no patience for stalkers, rapists, and especially child molesters—any man who preyed upon those physically weaker than himself deserved whatever fiery hell the Horsemen rained down upon him.
Duke loved being center stage whenever that particular brand of vigilante justice got meted out. For him, all of those cases were intensely personal and in Rose’s case even more so. He might chafe at it, but he’d felt responsible for her ever since he freed her from the cage.
Kent wouldn’t go near her again—he’d make sure of that.
Duke found Ryker and Captain standing by a row of dirty motorcycles in front of the bar. The brothers had gone on a run the other day, and the bikes were caked with dirt, dust, insect entrails, and who knew what else.
Typically, the prospects would have to scrub it off, but Captain had two buckets, a hose, and a shit-eating grin on his face.
Vindictive bastard.
“Glad you could make it, Duke.” Captain tapped his watch for effect.
“Well, one of us is.”
“You aren’t gonna make us do this grunt work, are you?” Ryker asked.
Duke spared Ryker a glance. Damn. He hadn’t realized he’d done so much damage. His nose had swollen up real good, and he had a black eye. He’d stuffed wads of cotton up both nostrils, to slow the bleeding. He didn’t bother to suppress a laugh.
“The hell I ain’t. Both of you need to learn some respect,” Captain said. “The toxic shit going on between the two of you needs to stop. It is interferin’ with club business, which makes it my business. I’m the president, and I ain’t playin’ referee anymore.”
“But—”
Figures Ryker would try to get out of it.
“Shut the fuck up and let’s get this over with.” Duke grabbed one of the buckets and hauled it over to Voodoo’s chopper—the sooner they got started, the sooner this hell would end.
Captain resumed his speechifying. “Consider this an apology to me and your brothers for disrupting the brotherhood dinner. Whatever your beef is, I suggest you work it out while you clean because the next time you two go at each other, I’ll call for a vote to kick one or both of you out. Got it?”
“Yeah.” Ryker grimaced.
Duke nodded but didn’t glance up from his task. At this rate, he’d peel the paint off Voo’s bike with his bare hands. At least it gave him something to focus on besides the rage. Right now, he felt like thrashing something, and Ryker would make a real good target.
“Here endeth the sermon.” Captain nodded.
Just then Eddie Rollins pulled up in her SUV—as one of the club’s senior old ladies, she had queen bee status. Captain served as president, but since he didn’t have an old lady, Eddie was viewed as the female figurehead for the MC. Her old man, Joker, had died in prison when Ryker and his brother, Axel, were kids.
Eddie had a pretty face, cat-like green eyes, and a penchant for high heels. She also had the willowy body of a much younger woman—even though she was fifty-something, many of the brothers had a thing for her. Could be the MILF vibe she gave off—but no one had been brave enough to pursue it. Ryker had put the hurt on anyone who so much as checked her out. Although Captain was hot on her tail.
She made a beeline for Ryker and kissed his cheek. “Hey, kid. How’s the shiner?”
“I’ve had worse.”
Duke smugly doubted it but didn’t say so.
She glanced at Captain. “Hello.”
“What? I don’t get some sugar?” Captain asked.
Ryker scowled, and Duke bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Those two had been mooning over each other for as long as he could remember. They should fuck already and quit dancing around.
“Uh, no.” Eddie ducked her head.
“Hey, Eddie. Do I get a kiss too?” Duke loved teasing her.
She didn’t even look in his direction and pointedly walked inside as if he hadn’t spoken at all.
What the fuck? He glanced at his brothers.
Both Captain and Ryker howled with glee.
“Looks like you done fucked up, boy.” Captain shook his head. “Eddie don’t like it when you pound on her kid.”
“You’re lucky she didn’t throw a punch. Back in the day, she wailed on my little league coach when he spanked me.” Ryker smirked as he touched the side of his swollen nose.
Under normal
circumstances, Duke could give a shit if people liked him or not, but he adored Eddie. She’d been nothing but good to him since he joined the club. Being on the outs with her messed with his head.
Fuck.
He’d have to apologize to her, but he wasn’t about to kiss and make up with Ryker. He should be punched a couple of times a day for being a spoiled asshole.
He plunged the sponge back in the soapy water and tried to think of something to say to her. Duke didn’t have much experience asking for forgiveness.
***
Five bikes later, Duke had formulated an apology to Eddie, but he needed to find the right moment to deliver it. He and Ryker hadn’t spoken a word after Captain stalked inside to hit on Eddie some more, which suited Duke fine.
Since Captain had issued an ultimatum, he’d decided to ignore the other biker. Evidently, Ryker had come to the same conclusion—it didn’t solve the problem, per se, but it’d keep them both in the club, which worked for him.
When he went inside to get a beer after working up a sweat, Duke found Pretty Boy behind the counter and Shep seated at the bar.
Pretty Boy’s model-perfect face sported a serious shiner, a purplish black ring, which had nearly swelled his right eye shut. He moved a bit slower than usual as he cut up limes and lemons for drinks. Yep, someone had wiped the floor with him.
“Who fuckin’ hit you? This is the last time I’m asking.”
Duke sat next to Shep, and Pretty Boy handed him a Bud without a word. Duke twisted off the cap and took a pull on it. Ryker was also taking a break. Through the window, Duke could see him yakking on his cell phone, probably breathing heavy in his hot librarian’s ear.
“I told you, it’s not a big deal. Nothin’ you need to worry about.” Pretty Boy scrubbed at the countertop with a rag.
“I’ll be the fucking judge of that. Were you sparrin’ with one of the other prospects? Did one of them sucker-punch you?” Shepherd asked Pretty Boy.
Duke thought it sounded like an unlikely scenario. The prospect was damn good in a fight. Sure, he wasn’t a big guy, but he had a wiry strength. He ran circles around the other prospects and wore his opponents out when they scrapped with one another. It was hard to imagine one of them getting a punch in, let alone beating the tar out of him.
“No.” Pretty Boy didn’t elaborate.
“Tell me who did this.” Shep’s features had settled into harsh lines.
Duke gawked at Shepherd. Pretty Boy was a grown ass man, and he should be fighting his own battles. Chill the fuck out, man.
Who cared if one prospect punched another? Well, maybe Shep had to. After all, his job was to keep the bastards in line. But still, the VP seemed to be taking this real personal.
Duke shrugged it off—not his issue. More than enough diarrhea had hit his particular fan for one day. He didn’t have the energy to deal with anymore.
Eddie strode out of the back room with a huge bag of ice, which she set on the counter behind the bar with a thunk. Pretty Boy grabbed it and tossed it in the freezer, turning his back on Shepherd.
With a muttered curse, the VP stalked off.
Sensing his chance, Duke seized on it. “Eddie, can I talk to you a sec?”
“What do you want?” She crossed arms over her chest.
No point in being bashful. “I shouldn’t have gone after Ryker.”
“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know.”
Well, damn. He had no idea what to say now.
“Let me give you a clue—it didn’t sound like an apology.”
“I’m… sorry.”
“For what?” Her long-suffering tone reminded him of patient preschool teacher.
“For beating on Ken… I mean Ryker.”
“See? It wasn’t so bad.”
If she only knew. “Are we good then?”
“Yeah, but don’t go breakin’ my kid’s nose again, or I’ll slap you upside the head.” She leaned against the bar, all mother lion fierceness.
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Then we’re square. Tell me what’s been going on with you. You’ve been keepin’ to yourself more than usual.”
“Screwin’ a hellion and workin’. I’ve been busy as a one-legged man at an ass-kickin’ convention.” No need to be delicate with Eddie.
“Try datin’ a girl now and then, not just bangin’ one.”
“Don’t start.” She’d been trying to play matchmaker since he’d prospected for the club. “She’s fun, and that’s about it.”
Eddie poured herself a shot of whiskey. “There’s more to life than chasin’ tail. When will you boys learn? Y’all ain’t gettin’ any younger.”
He winked. “I’d ask you out, but I think you’re spokin’ for.” Duke nodded to Captain, who sat in the corner watching Eddie.
“I got no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”
“Liar.” He took a sip of beer.
“How’s Daisy’s sister? You still guardin’ her?” Eddie asked, smoothly switching topics.
He nodded.
“I’ve barely glimpsed the girl the past couple of months.”
“She’s fine, I guess. She keeps to herself mostly.” Duke, unlike the rest of the members, kept gossip to himself.
“Poor thing. I keep meanin’ to invite her out for lunch or something, maybe with a couple of the other girls.”
It sounded like a good idea to him. Rose could use a distraction right about now. “I think she could do with some company.”
Eddie gaped at him as if he’d announced he’d taken up ballet or something.
“What?”
“Nothin’, just never known you to give a damn about… well, anybody else. Besides me and Shep.”
“Don’t even go there.”
“Go where?”
“I’m her bodyguard. Nothin’ more.”
“And suddenly you care if she has friends?” She tapped her chin. “Fetch said you had dinner with her, but I thought he was full of it.”
Duke rolled his eyes. “We grabbed some grub at the diner. Ain’t like I took her to a French restaurant for candlelight and wine.”
“If you say so. Speakin’ of special occasions, I’m plannin’ a shindig in the next couple of weeks. I’ll text you the date when I settle on one.”
“Aww, hell. I hate parties.”
“You’ll come to this one and bring your girlfriend with you. For the record, you should be ashamed—Rose could be your daughter.”
Like it hadn’t already occurred to him. “I said—”
“Whatever, honey.” She patted his arm. “If you were smart, you’d leave her alone. Don’t come cryin’ to me when Daisy decks your ass.”
“Nothin’ is goin’ on.”
“Yeah, yeah. Bring her to Perdition. Rose should meet some people, socialize some.”
“I ain’t takin’ her anywhere.” He polished off his beer and stalked outside to violently scrub more motorcycles.
***
That evening, Rose found Coyote, Steele, and Duke seated at a table in the diner. They were eating in strained silence, staring at their plates, not even bothering to make conversation.
Head held high she walked over and sat at their table. “Hello.”
Steele nodded, and Coyote offered her a smile.
Duke grunted a hello as he moved the mashed potatoes around on his plate with a fork.
“Do you have a minute? We need to talk.”
“You’re fucking persistent. No, we don’t need to talk. I already know what you’re gonna say. The answer is still no—and, yes, my decision’s final.” Duke didn’t bother looking at her.
She’d expected as much. So Rose had Plan B already in mind.
“Then I guess I’ll have to ask someone else.” She turned to Steele. “So my sister tells me you’re a Marine too.”
“Damn straight. Semper Fi all the way.” He puffed out his chest. “What can I do for you?”
“I want to learn some self-defense skills. I was hopin
g you’d train me.” She glanced pointedly at Duke, and Rose wondered if she’d touched off some sort of brotherly rivalry.
“No, he isn’t gonna train you.”
“I don’t think it’s any of your business, Duke.” It felt good to say no to someone for once.
“Yeah, what she said,” Steele put in. “I’d be happy to teach you, darlin’. Anything you like.”
Duke turned and stared down the other man. Steele didn’t even blink, just returned the favor. Both she and Coyote sat there dumbfounded, watching their silent battle of wills.
“Why don’t you mind your own fucking business, Steele?”
“Now, see, I think she just made it my business. Besides, we both know your average Marine is a better fighter than you Special Forces boys.”
Duke got to his feet. “Say that again, Jarhead.”
“Going deaf in your old age? I said Marines are better than Special Forces.” Steele’s chair scraped the floor as he slid it back.
Coyote leaned forward. “If I were you, I’d break this up, pronto, or we’re gonna have blood on Voo’s floor, and he hates that unsanitary shit.”
Rose cleared her throat loudly and sprang in between them, placing a hand on both of their chests. “Hey, I want a teacher. This isn’t about whose manlier. Beat each other up on your own time.”
“Like I said, I’d be happy to teach you.” Steele didn’t take his eyes off Duke.
Duke looked down at her, and a smirk settled on his lips. “I appreciate you wantin’ to learn and all, but a girl like you could get hurt. You’re like… Goldilocks and you’re dealin’ with a big, hungry ass bear. Trust me on this one, you don’t want to go anywhere near him.”
Goldilocks.
The nickname got under her skin. God, she hated that moniker and all the helplessness it implied. Kent had mockingly used it on her, reminding her she’d put herself in this position, that she’d brought this on herself through her own idiocy.
Well, not anymore. Goldilocks has got to go.
Before she fully realized what she was about to do, she slapped Duke, hard, right across the face. “Never call me Goldilocks again.”
The entire room fell silent.
Joy Ride: A Virgin Romance (Let it Ride Book 3) Page 18