by Hilliard, RB
Her thoughts drifted to the meeting with Steele. There wasn’t much more she could tell him. After last night, it was apparent the club could protect her. The question was, did she want them to? If they kept refusing to give her answers, then no. It was hard for her to trust anyone, much less an entire club of bikers. She thought of Tom. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get the image of his lifeless hand out of her head. He must have been so scared. There was no way to describe what it felt like to be on the losing end of a gun. The terror. The remorse. The regret. All of the words left unsaid and the things left undone. After her recovery, she made a promise that if she ever found herself in that position again, she would fight back. So why didn’t she? She’d all but mastered two different forms of martial arts and had a minor arsenal at her disposal, and what did she do? She froze. She ran. She slid down a ravine and knocked herself out on a tree. She’d not only failed Tom, but she’d failed herself. Sadness engulfed her as she thought about his parents. She’d met them the last time they visited from Alabama. Had they been told yet? Did they know he was going to propose? She hoped not. His mother would probably choose to have the funeral in Alabama.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Buck muttered, his raspy, sleep-ridden voice cutting into her thoughts.
Reyn rolled to face him and immediately regretted doing so. A sleepy Buck was even better than a fully awake Buck, and that was saying something. His half-naked, muscular-tatted chest peered out from beneath the sheets. She noted how his messy, dark hair and lumberjack beard brought out the blue in his eyes—eyes that were half-mast and lazily focused on her. She’d thought about those eyes a lot over the past five years. How expressive and kind they were. She must have asked herself a million times why she’d chosen Zeke over Buck. She’d known Buck cared for her. How could she not when Zeke threw it in her face every chance he got. It was the biggest mistake she’d ever made. Zeke made her pay. Reyn had a feeling that she wasn’t the only one, that somehow Buck had paid too.
At his questioning look, she asked, “How did I get here?”
He smiled, and the damn butterflies went into a frenzy. “I carried you. You sleep like the dead, by the way.” She always had. Back when she was in grade school, it was her hand that always ended in the cup of hot water at sleepovers. Much to her friends’ disappointment, she never wet the bed.
“You should have left me on the chair.”
“How’s your head?” he asked.
“I shouldn’t be in your bed, Buck,” she repeated.
“It’s just a bed, darlin’.” That was just it, it wasn’t just a bed. It was a man’s bed. His bed. The Reyn Buck knew wouldn’t have thought twice about bed hopping. She would have thought nothing about being a club girl, either. She would have found it exciting and freeing. Stupid girl. It was a good thing she no longer existed.
“I shouldn’t be here at all,” she muttered.
“If you ask me, this is exactly where you should be.” Sleepy Buck was gone and in his place was intense Buck. She looked away. He made her feel things. No, he made her feel period, and that wasn’t good for her. As if sensing her thoughts, he shifted closer. Her muscles tensed. “I know you’re scared. I also know you’re lying in this bed with one foot out the door. I’m going to ask something of you.” She fixed her eyes on the ceiling and waited. “I need you to look at me, sweetheart.” Slowly she turned to face him. His lips twitched with amusement. “I want you to give us—to give me—a chance to keep you safe.” His request stirred up so many emotions. It would take her weeks to wade through them all.
“Why?” she quietly asked.
He blew out a breath. “Because I want to.” At her skeptical look, he added, “Because I already failed you once. The hell if I’m letting it happen again.”
Shocked by his response, she pushed up into a seated position. “How is it you think you failed me?” Buck glanced away, and a sliver of apprehension sliced through her. This had something to do with what Ax had told her last night. Something about Buck blaming himself because he couldn’t get away. She tried to recall his exact words but couldn’t.
“How. Did. You. Fail. Me?” she repeated, this time making sure to annunciate each word. Instead of answering, he kicked back the covers and stood from the bed, giving her a close-up view of his gorgeous body, which she noted, came with a rather impressive erection.
“Steele’s expecting us. We need to get a move on,” he announced, as if her question, the situation—his erection—was no big deal.
“Funny, you want me to give you a chance, but you aren’t willing to give me one,” she snapped.
His eyes flashed with anger. “I asked you to let me protect you, babe. I didn’t say anything about letting you go all Dr. Phil on me,” he returned, before walking into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. With a huff, she dropped back onto the bed.
When it was her turn to use the bathroom, she did so without giving him so much as a second glance, proving that she could give as good as she could take. On exiting the bathroom, she found him rummaging through his top dresser drawer. From the sound of his grumbles she could tell that he was agitated. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he was okay, when he slammed the drawer shut. Her eyes narrowed as he stormed over to her bag and picked it up, then widened in disbelief when he moved to the bed and upended the contents onto the mattress.
“What are you doing?” she screeched.
After perusing the contents, he shoved her stuff back inside, and said, “Let’s go.”
“Buck—”
“Not now,” he growled. Reyn swore under her breath. Trust him? Yeah, right.
Reyn was fuming mad as she followed Buck through the house. Steele was waiting for them in his office. While he and Buck talked about someone named Aimee and something called lockdown, she drank a cup of coffee that was strong enough to put hair on her chest. This gave her a moment to cool down. And to observe Steele. There was no denying that Arlan Steele was a good-looking man. His salt and pepper hair placed him somewhere in his forties. She could see why he was their leader as he had a magnetic air about him. He was one of those people that drew attention the instant he walked into a room. At that thought, his greenish-gray eyes turned in her direction.
“Mornin’ Reyn. Buck told me a little bit of your story last night. Finding your boyfriend like that after everything you’ve been through had to be frightening for you.”
“Almost-fiancé,” she corrected, as if that would somehow ease the guilt. Buck muttered a curse beneath his breath, and she glared at him.
Steele continued, “I have a couple of questions for you, but before we get to those, I want you to know that you have the club’s full support. Anything you need or want; all you have to do is ask.”
Cutting him off again, which probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, she said, “I want my phone and I want to leave.”
“I wasn’t aware that your phone was missing.” His eyes drifted to Buck. “I apologize for the oversight and am sure that Buck will return it as soon as possible.” He waited for Buck’s nod. Buck gave it, but Reyn could tell he didn’t want to. “As for leaving,” Steele said, “I wish you’d hear me out, first. If you’d still like to leave after our chat, I’ll personally escort you myself.” Other than scowling at Steele’s offer of a personal escort, Buck didn’t say a word. My ass he didn’t know about my phone, she thought. “Let’s start with you telling us everything you remember about last night, beginning with when you entered your home.”
Reyn told them everything she could remember.
“Are you sure they said the name ‘Rye?’” Steele questioned when she was done.
“Positive. They both said it more than once.”
“Now, I want you to think before you answer my next question. Is there any possible way that Tom was involved in anything shady or illegal?”
Shaking her head, she answered, “Tom was the kindest, most hard-working man I’ve ever known. I heard those
men talking, and this wasn’t about him. It was about me.” Fighting back the tears, she said, “Tom died because of me, and I don’t know why.”
“That’s what we’d like to figure out. We want to find out who this Rye person is and why he’s after you. We want him to answer for hurting your man. There’s a catch, though. We can’t do that if the police are involved.”
Reyn frowned. “Why not?”
“Let’s just say that the club doesn’t have the best track record when it comes to dealing with the local law enforcement.”
She glanced at Buck for clarification, and he gave it to her. “We do things our way and they do things theirs. Their way means red tape and political bullshit. It also compromises you.”
She didn’t like the sound of this. “Compromises me how?” Buck’s gaze softened, and she could tell that he was about to filter his words. “Don’t,” she told him. “I need the truth.”
His eyes narrowing in thought, and if Reyn wasn’t mistaken, also respect, Buck gave it to her. “Their job was to either take you or kill you. My guess, it was option number two. Tom was in the wrong place at the wrong time, which was good for you because it saved your life. They fucked up, and whoever they report to, is going to be beyond angry about it. Guess what that means?” Reyn didn’t have to guess. She already knew they would be coming for her again.
Looking back and forth between the two men, she asked, “So what? I just don’t say anything to the police? I kind of have to, don’t I?”
“You do,” Steele replied, “but how much you tell them is up to you.”
“It’s hard to go after someone if you don’t have a name or description of what they look like,” Buck added.
Reyn got it. She didn’t like it, but she got it. The question was, did she trust it?
Chapter Nine
BEFORE DISMISSING BUCK and Reyn from his office, Steele addressed Reyn’s little gun collection, to which she replied with a shrug and a casual “A girl can never be too careful,” comment,
“Especially not a clever one,” Steele responded before shooting Buck a sideways glance. Buck gave a nod of understanding. They would speak further about it later.
“You hungry?” Buck asked, on the way out the door.
“Starving, but first can I get a few ibuprofen?” The two of them entered the kitchen right as Reyn held up her cup, and added, “and a decent cup of coffee? This is awful.”
Buck tried not to flinch when he noticed Shelly, the maker of said coffee, standing behind the stove, her eyes directed right at them. He could tell by her sour expression that she’d heard Reyn’s comment. Shelly was prickly, to say the least. She gave good head, but when that head came with a shitty attitude, Buck had quickly lost interest. The other girls were known to listen to Shelly, which meant that she could be a formidable enemy for Reyn to make. Before Buck could defuse the situation, Reyn caught on, and said, “Sorry, I have a wicked headache and it’s making me cranky. I didn’t mean to take it out on your coffee.” Shelly’s expression softened slightly and Buck let out the breath he’d been holding.
On his way over to the medical supply closet, he made introductions. “Shelly, this is Reyn. Reyn, meet Shelly.”
“Nice to meet you, Shelly. Wow, those eggs look amazing. If I grovel some more about the coffee comment, will you let me have some?” Shelly smiled. Buck gazed over his shoulder at Reyn, thinking, this was the girl he knew . . . who, with a soft smile and a few kind words, could win over even the shittiest of people.
Noticing him staring at her, Reyn scowled. “What? I can apologize when I’ve made a mistake. Unlike some people I know,” she added under her breath. The old Reyn was still there—buried deep—but still there. Though, Buck had to admit that he found this new, bitchier Reyn intriguing. She’d built walls around that tender heart of hers, protective layers that he looked forward to stripping away.
He couldn’t help but goad her. “As far as I can tell, I don’t have anything to apologize for.”
Eyes bugging, she pointed both thumbs at herself. “Hello? Hostage here.” Buck smiled. Reyn’s gaze immediately dropped to his mouth, and his cock took notice. She liked it when he smiled. He liked everything about her.
“Who’s a hostage?” Ink asked from the doorway.
Ink was a prospect when Buck was in high school. He’d patched in right as Buck and Ax had started working for Dooley. His real name was Brian and before joining the club, he owned a tattoo joint called BR-ink, which was where Buck got his first three tats. During Grizz’s time as president, the club underwent some major changes. Both Grizz and his VP, Bandit, had fought hard to legitimize the club. They stopped running guns and drugs and focused on buying up land and investing in nightclubs and local bars. When Ink patched in, he agreed to let the club absorb the shop, as long as they agreed that he could still run it. The man was a genius with a tattoo gun. He was also a player.
“No one,” Buck answered.
Laughing, Shelly said, “How about I get ya’ll those eggs?”
As Buck grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen and handed it to Reyn, he noticed her watching Ink, who by that time had made his way over to Shelly and was attempting to cop a feel. Buck was torn. On one hand, he wanted to protect Reyn from how in-your-face club life could be, but on the other, he knew it wasn’t wise to keep it from her.
Shelly pushed Ink away long enough to plate the food. Buck introduced Reyn and Ink and the three of them sat.
“Aren’t you going to eat with us?” Reyn asked Shelly.
“Naw, I’m on breakfast duty.” Buck caught Reyn’s eye and shook his head. Thankfully she let it go.
“Heard about you,” Ink told her through a mouthful of food. Reyn shot him a puzzled look. Buck tensed. He had no clue what Ink had heard, nor why the dickhead felt the need to say anything at all. All of a sudden Buck felt as if he was tiptoeing through a goddamned mind field. The wrong move, the wrong words, and it would blow up in his face. While he waited for Reyn to ask what Ink had heard, Buck attempted to get his attention. He needed to shut him up, but Ink was too busy shoveling food in his face to notice. Reyn noticed, though.
Brow raised, she asked, “Problem?”
“She’s feisty. I can see why you claimed her,” Ink stated, then noticing Buck’s bruised cheek, said, “That looks like it hurts.” Why bother worrying about stepping on the landmines when he had Ax and Ink to do it for him?
“Shit,” Buck muttered while Ink, the fucker, chuckled.
Reyn blinked. “Claimed me?”
Buck glowered at Ink, who just laughed harder. Time to leave, he thought, and pushing back from the table, said, “We need to go.”
Reyn frowned. Glaring up at Buck, her face flushed with anger, she scooted back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “Explain,” she ordered. Buck wanted to spank her defiant little ass.
“Later,” he snapped. If she fought him on this, or worse, publicly rejected his claim in front of his brother and one of the club girls—who would no doubt give her left tit to be standing in Reyn’s shoes—Buck would lose face. She clearly didn’t understand the rules and now was not the time to explain them. “Let’s go.”
“But—”
“Now!” he barked, wishing that she would just shut the hell up and mind him for once.
As if sensing that she’d pushed him too far, she stood. In a stiff, formal tone, she said, “Thanks for the food, Shelly. Nice to meet you, Ink,” and walked out of the room.
“Thanks, dick,” Buck growled at Ink, before storming after her. When he didn’t find her at the front door, he panicked. Where in the hell did she go? Then he remembered last night and how she’d gotten lost when leaving his room. A whispered “Fuck” shot from his lips as he spun around and strode in the direction of the game room. On his way past Steele’s office, he noted it was empty and picked up the pace. He rounded a bend and drew up short when he saw her standing outside the open doorway of the game room. The shocked look on her face said it a
ll. That, and Hannah’s “Harder baby,” followed by Steele’s loud grunts as they poured from the room and echoed down the hallway. Beyond tired of this shit, Buck’s head dropped back to his shoulders, and he sighed. He wanted to ease her in, not drop her in cold turkey.
Reyn caught sight of him standing there and loudly whispered, “It’s eight thirty in the morning!”
Buck held out his hand. “Come on, let’s give them some privacy.”
Surprisingly, she took it. As he pulled her back down the hallway and out the back door, she muttered, “If they wanted privacy, then they shouldn’t be having sex in a public place.
He was—” she made a strange shoveling motion with her hand, “and then she did—” she stuck her tongue out and started wiggling it around, before finishing with, “and I’m never going to be able to unsee that again!” Not able to stand it any longer, Buck busted out laughing.
Being that his truck was at his house, and he knew that Reyn was nowhere near ready to ride on the back of his bike, he borrowed Tiny’s truck. Buck helped her up into the cab, thinking that he couldn’t wait to get her on his bike. In his truck. At his house. In his bed. Gravel turned to asphalt as they pulled onto the main road, and he waited for it. Braced for it. Was admittedly looking forward to an epic ass-chewing, but Reyn didn’t say a word.