by Hilliard, RB
In fact, she didn’t speak until seconds before they arrived at the station, when she turned to him and asked, “Why did you tell them you claimed me?” Then throwing major attitude, said, “I don’t even know what that means, but I can tell you this, I don’t like the sound of it.”
Buck focused on the traffic, while at the same time considering what to tell her. Now was not the time to have this conversation. Reyn needed to be thinking about what she was going to say to Carver. He could feel her eyes on him as he pulled to a stop in front of the building. “Carver will be waiting for you on the other side of those doors,” he told her, nodding toward the entrance.
“You’re not coming with me?” Buck sensed fear behind her question, and his gut twisted.
“I can’t, babe. Carver wanted you to come in last night. Steele managed to push him off, but not without making a deal. He wants you alone.”
“And exactly who is Carver?” she asked. Fucking enemy number one, Buck thought. He wanted to tell her that Carver was Steele’s younger brother. That they were friends until Carver tried to hang Grizz’s murder on Steele and the remaining club members, but he couldn’t. Talk outside the club was forbidden, and even though he’d claimed her, she still wasn’t considered club.
“He’s heading the investigation.”
“Please go with me.” His heart squeezed in his chest as he reached across the seat and took her hand. Threading their fingers together, he tried to comfort her, “Hey, you’ve got this.” She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, then slowly opening them back up, she nodded. Spine straight, she let go of his hand and reached for the door. Suddenly, Buck didn’t want to let her go.
“You want to know what being claimed means?” Reyn turned her bright blue gaze on him and he was blinded by it. Blinded by her. Reaching his hand out, he tagged the back of her neck and pulled her forward, to where their lips almost touched. “It means this,” he whispered, and slammed his mouth on hers. Her surprised gasp shot straight to his head. Straight to his cock. Buck devoured her. Fucking ate her up. He knew the kiss would be good, but it was better than good. It was everything and more. The sound of a horn blaring slammed him back to the moment, back to what they were supposed to be doing. Kissing in front of the police station was not it. Pulling back from the kiss, he said, “Go.” It took a second for the lust to clear from her eyes, and then she was out the door.
Buck watched her enter the building, before circling back around the block to find a parking spot. Once there, he grabbed his phone and dialed Steele’s number. Hopefully, he’d finished getting his rocks off by now and could talk.
Steele picked up on the third ring. Bypassing hello, he asked, “You at the station?”
“Reyn’s inside now. I wanted to tell you this earlier, but we may have a problem.”
“When don’t we?” Steele scoffed, then said, “Hold a minute. Let me get where I can talk.” A minute or so passed, before he was back. “I’m listening.”
Buck took a deep swallow. “I have a picture of Reyn from a long time ago. Anyway, I keep it in the back of my top drawer, under my clothes.”
Steele cut him short. “What are you saying?”
“It’s gone. Not only that, but her address was on the back. I wrote it there when she moved back to Austin.”
“Maybe it fell behind the drawer or something.”
“I looked. Hell, I even tossed Reyn’s bag, thinking that maybe she’d found it. I’m telling you, it’s not there.”
Steele swore. “You think someone took it?”
“I don’t know. As soon as I get back to The Cave, I’ll go through the video footage, see if something comes up.”
“Get Grover to help. Not a word to anyone else about this.”
“You got it.”
“Find me when you know something,” Steele said, and disconnected the call.
Chapter Ten
BUCK WAITED FOR over an hour for Reyn to appear. He knew what Carver was doing. He was holding her there so he could pump her for information. He would start with her dead boyfriend. When he exhausted that avenue, he would move on to the club. Reyn wouldn’t be able to give him anything because she knew nothing. Anyone else would stop there, but not Carver. Carver would simply change tactics. He would either try to poison her against them or attempt to enlist her to spy on them. Buck’s guess, he would try to turn her against the club—the same club his dad had lived and died for and that his brother was now president of—a club that paid for his childhood . . . that was still paying if the rumors were true. Buck found it interesting that not even a year after Grizz’s death, Carver had moved into a new house—a house way above his paygrade. It wasn’t until Buck saw him driving a Porsche, that he knew. Victoria was funding his new lifestyle—with Grizz’s money, club money. That had to eat at Steele, knowing how shitty Carver had been to Grizz and how much he hated the club—knowing that the asshole was now benefiting from it.
Carver had always been an outlier. As kids, they would play games. While Buck and Ax wanted to be the outlaws, Carver always insisted on being the one to catch them. Even back then he had some messed-up hero complex. That should have told them something. Victoria babied him. Grizz tried to make a man out of him. Steele was the only one who accepted him, even when he chose a badge over the patch. Because of this, Carver idolized Steele. But then Grizz was murdered and Steele was forced to step up and attempt to fill an impossible void. Carver took the case, which was a huge conflict of interest. Being Grizz’s son meant that it was personal. He was too close to it, but he wouldn’t listen to reason. Lines were drawn. Jake, along with Ax, Rider, and Sledge, temporarily took over the club duties. That’s when Buck got the call. The club needed his help. Grizz wasn’t just Steele’s dad and Ax’s uncle, he was also a part of Buck’s family—not by blood, but by respect and love—which in Buck’s view mattered more. The choice to help vindicate Grizz and his brothers was an easy one to make.
Buck never planned on staying. He was simply there to help. After two long weeks of recon, they finally got a break. Thanks to Jake’s flavor of the week, who unknowingly gave him the information, they knew who to go after. In one night, Steele Raiders took out the enemy. They didn’t teach a lesson. They annihilated them. When Carver found out, he went ballistic. He not only blamed the club, but he conducted a six-month investigation trying to prove their involvement. He went so far as to blame Steele for his father’s death, saying that Steele and the remaining members had orchestrated it. The worst part was that he convinced their own mother of it.
Six months into the investigation, Carver was ordered to shut it down. By this time, Buck had decided to stay. As a prospect on the fast track to full member, he was fully embedded in club life. He remembered the day Carver approached him like it was yesterday. Carver wanted him to turn on his brothers, said he would protect him when the case went to trial. All Buck had to do was tell him where the bodies were buried. Stupid fucker. There were no buried bodies. There was no evidence. Harsh words were spoken, punches were thrown, and Buck spent a long night in jail. He would never forget the look on Steele’s face when he told him what had gone down. For all of Carver’s faults, Steele loved his little brother. The club had suffered a major loss the day their brothers were murdered, but none more so than Arlan Steele. He lost his entire family.
Buck watched as Reyn finally exited the police station. Her blank expression gave nothing away. It also worried him. She spotted the truck and quickly headed in his direction. Leaning across the passenger seat, Buck pushed open the door for her. Reyn hefted herself into the cab, her scent wrapping around him like a seductive whisper. Fuck, he wanted her. He always had and always would. Eyes closed, Reyn dropped her head back onto the seat, and through a long exhale, she told him to drive.
“That bad?” he asked, pulling onto the road.
“Worse. Who is that man and why does he have such a massive axe to grind with your club?” Fucking Carver. Buck had called it. He had to be c
areful with what he told her.
“He’s Steele’s brother.”
Her head shot up. Her eyes turned in his direction and both brows lifted in surprise. “Seriously? Biological or adopted?” Jesus, she was cute.
“Biological.” She snorted and Buck laughed. “Hard to believe, huh? Suffice it to say there’s no love lost between those two.”
“That’s putting it mildly. They’re like a modern-day Smokey and the Bandit.”
Humored by her dry wit, he asked, “I take it he talked some shit?”
“The guy is slimy. He wanted to know what happened and I told him, leaving out the important details, of course.” Buck relaxed back into his seat. He knew she would make the right choice. “He then started trying to trip me up, as if I was lying. He claimed that he was worried for my safety, that the club was nothing more than a bunch of lowlife thugs. He offered me a safe place to stay for the duration of the investigation.” Her words stalled and Buck glanced over. “He offered for me to stay at his house. How creepy is that?” she finished, a look of disgust on her face. Fucking dickhead. “As tempted as I was, I had to decline.”
“I hope you let him down easy,” Buck teased.
“I told him thanks, but that we’d been friends for ages and I would just have to take my chances with the lowlife thugs. I can’t believe he’s related to Steele, much less his brother. Why does he hate you all so much?”
Buck laughed at her thug comment. “He blames Steele for Grizz’s death.”
“Grizz was their dad, right?” Buck nodded. “Ax mentioned him dying. How did it happen?” He really didn’t want to get into this with her now. He knew if he gave her an inch, she would want more. There were things he couldn’t talk about and Grizz’s death was one of them.
“Motorcycle crash,” he murmured.
“That’s sad. Poor Steele.”
They drove in silence until Buck pulled onto the two-lane road that lead up to the turn off to The Cave, and Reyn asked, “What happens now?” Now, he needed to get back and get on that video footage.
“I need to take care of a few things. You can rest in my room while I’m doing that.”
“You do realize that I have a life, don’t you? I have no clothes and tomorrow is Monday. I have a job to go to. I also need to find out the details about Tom’s funeral.” Her testy tone told him to tread lightly.
“I’m sorry your man is dead, babe” he replied, nearly choking on the words, “but you’re failing to see the big picture, here.”
“Please, paint it for me, oh wise one,” she countered sarcastically. Buck’s snappy reply died on his tongue when he noticed the truck on their tail getting closer. Too close.
“We’ve got company,” he announced, “and they’re coming in fast.” He expected her to freak out. The fact that she didn’t allowed him to focus on the incoming truck. Unfortunately, it was bigger than Tiny’s fairly sizeable Ram pickup.
As the massive Ford Raptor with a black cage-like cattleguard bumper bore down on them, Reyn asked, “Can you go faster?”
“I can’t open up because of the turns. Here, scoot closer and take the wheel. I’m going to try and stall them.” Buck reached under his seat where he’d stashed his gun. Reyn’s eyes widened. She started to say something, and he shouted, “Wheel!” She’d barely latched on when they were rammed from behind.
“Shit!” she screeched.
“Hold her steady,” Buck said as he rolled down his window and thumbed off the safety. Aiming at the front left tire, he pulled the trigger. A tire blew, and the truck swerved dangerously. “Got it,” he hissed.
“They’re stopping,” she called out, as if he couldn’t see for himself.
Regaining the wheel, Buck said, “Quick, see if you recognize them.”
“Incoming!” she shouted, while at the same time tagging Buck on the back of the head and forcing him to duck down. Glass rained down on them from the back window before a spiderweb appeared on the windshield around the location where a bullet exited.
“Ponytail’s driving,” she panted. “I don’t recognize the shooter.” Funny thing. Buck thought he did. He just couldn’t place where from. Buck wanted to go after them, but he wasn’t stupid. One of him against two guys with guns would get him dead fast. The knowledge that he’d missed the giant truck following them, that something could have happened to Reyn because he wasn’t paying attention, ate at him. He’d clearly underestimated the threat. Mashing his foot on the accelerator, Buck hauled ass back to The Cave.
The moment they were safely behind the gates, he slammed on the brakes, and shouted, “Fuck!” Rage punched through him as he turned, and said, “You want the bigger picture? That was just it! They will not stop, Reyn. Do you understand? They will keep coming until you are dead!”
“I get it,” she whispered.
“The second we get back you’re going to call your work and explain that you need time off. That shouldn’t be hard to get after finding your almost-fiancé murdered in your home. You will not go to the funeral. You will go nowhere until we figure out what the fuck is happening! Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes.”
Shifting back into drive, Buck steered the truck up the road to The Cave. It had been a long time since he’d felt fear, but he sure as hell felt it now.
Chapter Eleven
BUCK’S ANGER FELT like a slap to the face. The urge to tell him to shove his harsh words dangerously dangled from the tip of Reyn’s tongue, but she knew that he was right. She could no longer deny that what happened last night wasn’t by chance. A part of her thought maybe they’d made a mistake and gotten the wrong house. God, she wished they’d gotten the wrong house. If only she could dial her life back to yesterday morning. Better yet, if she could dial it back six months ago—when she figured out that Tom wasn’t the one for her—how different things would be.
Buck’s whispered, “Jesus,” pulled her from her thoughts. That’s when she noticed a crowd of menacing looking, badass bikers, standing on the porch. She immediately picked out Steele, Ax, Rider, Ink, and Tiny. The rest she didn’t recognize.
Her gaze turning to a still angry Buck, she asked, “Why are they standing there?”
“My guess is they saw us pull in and spotted the damage.”
“Yes, but how did they do that so quickly?” Her question went unanswered as he was already out of the truck. She watched as the men he called brothers surrounded him. As they pulled him in for hugs and back slaps, she was struck by the thought that she’d never had that. No, that wasn’t true. She’d had it a long time ago—before Texas. Before Zeke. Before her life had blown up in her face.
All eyes came to her as she exited the truck. The thought that they might blame her, that she’d somehow brought whatever this was to their doorstep, sat heavy on her shoulders. Not sure what to do, she looked at Buck, who was busy talking to Tiny, probably trying to explain what happened to his poor truck.
Steele broke away from the crowd and headed in her direction. Reyn knew what was coming. He was going to rescind his offer to protect her. Most likely kick her out. Last night she couldn’t wait to leave and now? Now she wasn’t sure what she wanted. This wasn’t Stockholm syndrome. It was something else, something entirely too scary to define. Just the thought made her face flush. She’d already made a fool of herself. No need for a repeat performance. Eyes focused on the ground—wishing that it would swallow her whole—she waited. A pair of kickass biker boots stepped into her field of vision, and she braced for the ass-chewing. Instead, she found herself folded into a pair of strong arms. The feeling of his warm embrace stole over her and her breath seized in her lungs. No, she thought, as her nose began to itch, and her eyes started to water. She would not cry.
“Glad you’re okay, darlin’,” Steele murmured into her ear, and the breath she’d been holding, along with her feelings of fear, anger, and helplessness, gushed from her mouth in a sob. She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her. “I’ve got you,” he sai
d, as tears poured from her eyes. Embarrassment cascaded into humiliation at the thought that she was snotting all over him.
“I’m sorry,” she cried.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Her heart squeezed at his compassionate tone, making her cry harder. If only he knew. She should have told Tom she didn’t love him. Because of her selfishness, he was dead. She should have refused Buck’s help. And because she didn’t, his club was now in danger. The only way to make this right was to leave. The more she thought about it, the more she knew it was the right thing to do, even if she didn’t want to.
“I need to go. You’ll be safe if I go,” she sniffled against his chest.
“The only place you’re going is inside,” he replied, his deep voice reverberating through her. He was so nice. They all were. That she’d judged them so unfairly brought forth another wave of tears.
“It’s probably shock,” she heard him say, as she was passed to a second pair of arms. Buck’s masculine scent enveloped her, and like a drowning kid who’d been tossed a floatie, she latched on. Therapy had taught her many things, one of which was the ability to acknowledge that it was okay to be wrong. It was okay to make mistakes. How one chose to atone for those mistakes was what mattered. Reyn had some serious atoning to do. First, she was going to apologize. After that, she would thank them for watching out for her. Then she would leave. Her friend Piper knew people in North Carolina that could help her. They would know what to do.
Buck took her hand. Gently lacing his fingers with hers, he turned to address someone behind them. “Give me a minute to get her settled.”
“Take your time,” she heard Steele reply.
When they reached the porch where Tiny was standing, Reyn gave Buck’s fingers a squeeze. Grumbling under his breath, he halted long enough for her to apologize and offer to replace the shattered windows. Tiny’s response was to pull her in for a hug. The guy was huge—as in, her head barely reached his chest—huge. Still grumbling, Buck pulled her away. Ignoring all of the pity stares, she let him guide her inside.