Breaking Free (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Grae McTavish

  LibraryLady: Hi, I’m a newbie, just checking things out.

  MadMorgan: Welcome. We’re all friendly here.

  JazzyGirl: Waz’ up LibraryLady?

  LibraryLady: I just found the website. I’ve always loved bikes, so I had to check it out.

  MadMorgan: That’s cool. You ever ride?

  LibraryLady: No, but lately, I’ve been wanting to. I feel kind of silly.

  JazzyGirl: Don’t, that’s how I used to feel too. My old man thought I was nuts till he got his own chopper. Now he loves it too.

  MadMorgan: And hey we all have to start somewhere.

  LibraryLady: But is it crazy to go out and buy a bike when you don’t have a clue what you’re doing?

  JazzyGirl: That’s basically what I did. Showed up one day on one. Like I said, my old man thought I’d lost it. I was amazed I remembered how to ride. I was a kid when I learned, and it had been over twenty years. But man now we’re both hooked. It saved our marriage.

  MadMorgan: You have a man? If so, what does he think?

  LibraryLady: No man, not anymore. Caught him cheating a few days ago. But he would definitely have had a cow.

  MadMorgan: That stinks, but hey sounds like you’re better off without that uptight jerk anyways. And biking is a lot of fun plus when you’re ready a great way to meet men. Trust men.

  JazzyGirl: She’s right. I’m not saying all bikers are gems, but the ones I’ve met treat their old ladies with respect. It’s kind of part of the biker code, you know.

  LibraryLady: Not sure if I’m ready for a new man, but the biking sounds like fun. I’m just not sure if I dare.

  JazzyGirl: Come on what have you got to lose?

  LibraryLady: Several inches of skin?

  MadMorgan: LOL! You find a good teacher. Most shops have classes or know where to get you lessons. Otherwise they wouldn’t have a lot of repeat business.

  LibraryLady: There’s a shop half a block from here. Guess it wouldn’t hurt to check things out.

  JazzyGirl: There you go! Make sure you come back and let us all know about your new ride.

  * * * *

  She spent the next few days researching the different makes and models so she wouldn’t look like a complete idiot when she went bike shopping. And truth be told, it took her several days to work up the courage, but with the weekend drawing close, she forced herself to brave the rough threshold of Smokey’s Cycles & Choppers the following Friday. Had it really only been a week since Wesley’s defection? Already her step was lighter, her outlook brighter. A thousand ideas danced in her head. The question was what she was going to try next.

  Chapter Two

  That first step over the scarred wooden threshold of Smokey’s Cycles & Choppers was tantamount to Neil Armstrong’s walk on the moon for the shy librarian. Her palms were drenched, and she had images of bikers rolling on the floor in their leather chaps, tattoos, and skullcaps. The idea was as thrilling as it was terrifying. She could make a complete fool of herself, or worse, end up confronting the small percentage of bikers that were truly dangerous. Fear clenched her insides and suddenly her legs forgot to work. The image of Wesley’s sneering face flashed in her mind, and she forced herself to move forward with determined feet. She immediately spotted Smokey behind the highly polished counter, working at his computer. Glancing up at the door chime, he grinned a toothy welcome.

  “Well, hello. What can I do to help such a beautiful lady today?” he questioned in a thick, gentlemanly Southern drawl.

  Blushing, she looked around the shop, not sure how to start. “I…uhm…” Lord this was hard. She was certain he’d laugh his big shaggy head off at her. “I was kind of looking for a motorcycle,” she mumbled, and he shocked her with his wide, genuine smile which held not a trace of condemnation.

  “Well, sweetie, you’ve come to the right place. Samuel Cavanaugh at your service, but you can call me Smokey. All my friends do.” Moving out from behind the counter, he approached with that easy sway big men have that says they aren’t intimidated by anyone. With a smile, he extended his hand.

  “Danika Eldridge,” she replied, accepting his handshake before giving a nervous laugh. Danika let her gaze sweep the room. “I didn’t realize they were so big.”

  “Well, these are the larger, full-size models. What you need is one of our smaller 250s. We sell that size to ladies all the time. Not as powerful as these bad boys, but as tiny as you are, I doubt you’ll know the difference. And it’s the perfect bike for a beginner.”

  Relaxing, she chuckled. “I was hoping I wouldn’t come across as completely clueless.”

  Smokey’s deep belly laugh washed over her comfortingly. “That’s okay, darlin’. We get newbies in here all the time. We have a training class once a month for beginners, and you can also sign up for individual lessons. Tell you what, I just got a new cycle in that I think would be just perfect for you. It’s still in the back ’cause I just finished getting it set up last night. Why don’t I wheel it out so you can give it a look-see?”

  He was gone less than two minutes before he rolled in the most beautiful piece of machinery she’d ever seen. Who needed a vibrator with that between your legs? The bike was deep sapphire blue with sparkling silver flames emblazoned down the tank and fenders. The thick leather seats were buttery soft and outlined with silver chrome studs. It had the look of the bigger bikes but was smaller, more her size. And she recognized the logo. The flaming BACK-OFF!

  As he propped up the kick stand, she began to circle it, mesmerized. Practically drooling, she ran a lover-like caress down over the seat, up the sleek tank, to the polished chrome handle bars.

  “Why don’t you hop on, see how it feels?” he suggested, recognizing that look in her eyes. She was hooked. No doubt about it, she might appear conservative and meek, but she was a wild-cat at heart.

  Danika glanced doubtfully down at the straight, knee-length skirt she was wearing, but she wanted to, wanted to badly. Damn, why didn’t she think to change her clothes after work? Motorcycle shopping in a skirt, she must look like an idiot. Hell with it! She told herself. You’re turning over a new leaf. Not going to let anyone or anything hold you back right? Before she could give herself a chance to reconsider, she hiked up her skirt well above mid thigh and threw a long, curvy leg over the seat and settled herself onto the rich leather. Gasping as the cold steel touched the insides of her bare thighs, she leaned forward gripping the handle bars, feeling herself meld with the bike like she’d never melded with anyone or anything before.

  “I’ll take it!” she purred, not even looking up.

  “Don’t you even want to know how much it is?” Smokey laughed, clearly knowing darn well it didn’t matter.

  “Nope.” She had a nice, little nest egg in the bank from her mother’s life insurance policy. Wesley would have told her she was being wasteful, that she should save the money for a rainy day, but she didn’t care. How could she when this beautiful piece of steel felt a hundred times better between her legs than he ever had?

  She was so caught up in enjoying the feel of the bike that her mind barely registered the door chime signally someone’s entry into the shop. Only when the shadow fell over her, did she realize they weren’t alone anymore. Starting at the large set of feet standing just a couple steps away, her gaze traveled up thick, long legs clad in tight black jeans, across washboard abs, over wide shoulders, to settle on the steel blue eyes of the dark mysterious stranger she’d seen on the news with Smokey a few nights ago. A lump formed in her throat, and a raging heat enveloped her as she remembered the blinding orgasm she’d had just thinking about the man standing so close to her. Certain it was written somewhere on her forehead, I got off thinking about you, she fervently began to pray for a massive natural disaster to come along and swallow her up.

  He raised a dark eyebrow and scoffed. “You’ve got to be kidding.” For a horrifying second she thought he might have read her mind, but then she watched his eyes play ov
er the bike and realized how she must look with her hair in a tight bun, high-necked conservative blouse, sensible pumps, and skirt hiked up way past all legal limits.

  Smokey watched the play between the two before giving the man a censoring look. “Son, that’s not how you treat customers.” He turned back to her. “Danika, this lug nut is my son Gabe.”

  Son? Well that explained the similarity in size and build. They had the same blue eyes, but where Smokey’s were warm and welcoming, his son’s were cold and guarded. Yep, that’s where the similarity ended. And there she sat, caught in their silent battle, stuck like a deer in headlights.

  She glanced at the BACK-OFF logo, and she drew in a deep, steadying breath. The girls she’d chatted with would never let themselves be bullied by anyone no matter how good he looked or how intimidating he was. Clearing her throat, she climbed off the bike, giving it one last loving stroke. “As I said, I’ll take it,” she said, pulling out her bank card and driver’s license.

  Twin pairs of blue eyes swung to stare at her. Smokey’s filled with admiration and humor, his son’s filled with anger and something unreadable.

  In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought and barreled ahead. “I’d also like to sign up for some private lessons as soon as possible.”

  “Great, I’ll get the paperwork started!” Smokey grinned before he ambled off to his computer. “Gabe, why don’t you get her fitted for a helmet?”

  Turning to the stranger who was apparently named Gabe, she lifted a challenging brow. “The customer’s always right,” she taunted with a sweet grin.

  Scowling, he led her over to a tall display of helmets in all shapes and sizes, from the small beanie style to the full-face style. She’d done some research into this as well, and had read several articles comparing the different types. With the small helmet, she’d have a better view without the face shield in the way, but the face shield offered extensive protection for flying rocks, bugs, and other road debris. She’d already decided to opt for safety, figuring if she got a nice enough helmet, the vision distortion would be minimal. Based on that, she moved to the left of the rack, doing her best to ignore the imposing presence behind her.

  “Have you ever even ridden a motorcycle, or did you wake up this morning and decide to try something new?” he questioned disdainfully.

  “I don’t know what the hell I ever did to you, but you can kiss off. I’ll do what I want, when I want, and if you don’t like it, you can just kiss my fat ass!” Boy! Did that feel good! Taking a deep breath into her heaving lungs, she felt liberated, as if she’d told off everyone who’d ever put her down, held her back, or disrespected her.

  His full, sexy mouth dropped open in surprise. Danny got the feeling that he wasn’t used to anyone standing up to him. His big blue eyes stared at her incredulously.

  “’Bout time someone gave that big old bully hell. Good for you girl!” Smokey said with a deep belly laugh.

  The sneer returned to his face and Gabe said, “Fine, this should be perfect.” He jerked a full face helmet off the wall with matching blue and silver flames and jammed it unceremoniously on top of her head.

  Grumbling, she yanked the helmet back off, pulling her hair loose from its bun in the process. It spilled down long and thick around her in dark ebony waves. Marching away, she missed the stunned look on Gabe’s dark, dangerous face.

  * * * *

  Gabe felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut. He literally had to bite his lip to keep from groaning. Some guys liked legs, some liked feet, but as weird as it sounded, he loved hair. The silky feel of it as he ran his hands through it. The feathery touch of it as a women rode him, the sensuous strength of it as he wrapped it around his hand and took her hard and fast from behind like a mare in season. There was no mistaking it. This woman was dangerous to his sanity. He’d been leery the moment he’d laid eyes on her, as if sensing his life would never be the same from that second on, but now, now the woman had to go! He opened his mouth to say as much, only that’s not what came out.

  “I’ll make a deal with you,” he challenged, stalking her through the store as she browsed the rest of their merchandise. “You go out riding with me tonight, and see if you still like the feel. If you still want to learn, I’ll teach you myself.” Ah hell, why had he added that last part? He wanted to get the hell away from her, not consign himself to hours of purgatory, spent lusting after a woman who would certainly never dirty her dainty little hands with the likes of him. He’d just have to scare the hell out of her, drive her away so that she gave up any thought of riding a motorcycle.

  He watched uncertainty play across her face, and he felt like a dick as doubt filled her eyes. Her chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath, and it was as if she pulled her courage back on like a blanket. Determination filled her face. “You’re on. But if I survive the ride tonight, you have to give me a full week of one-on-one tutoring on the house.”

  Gabe fought to control his shock. She was going nose to nose with him, and her pert little nose barely reached his mid chest. “Agreed. But if you chicken out, you have to go out to dinner with me.” Damn it, he just kept getting himself in deeper and deeper, he silently cursed. Hell he didn’t want to eat dinner with her. He wanted to eat her, and she seemed as torn as he was.

  Gabe watched her mouth open and close with obvious shock, but then she seemed to make up her mind. The smile on her face seemed strained, but she answered. “Just let me go home and change. I live down the block in the loft over Petterson’s Antiques. You know it? I should be ready in a half an hour.” Turning to Smokey, who really looked like he was doing his damnedest not to grin, she took her bank card and driver’s license with a wink. “I’ll be back later to sign the paperwork.”

  She was a few feet from the door when Gabe’s deep, challenging voice stopped her. “What’s your name, little girl?”

  Throwing her hair over her shoulder in an attempt to appear sassy, she grinned. “Danika Eldridge, but you can call me Danny.” And she walked out the door.

  Chapter Three

  Staring at herself in the long, narrow mirror on the back of her bathroom door, Danny could hardly believe she’d had the nerve to do it. “Danny,” she said the name out loud. She hadn’t been called that for years. Somewhere along the way, she’d decided it wasn’t dignified or grown-up enough. Now though, she saw it differently. Danika might be meek and shy, but Danny was bold and adventurous.

  Studying her image again, she decided her look reflected her adventurous new attitude. Stifling a giggle, she could just picture the look on Wesley’s face if he saw her now. No more hiding clothes in the back of her closet, afraid to wear them. On her feet were black studded leather boots that came up to mid-calf with a thick, three-inch wedge heel. Tight faded jeans, ripped in the knees and indecently across the ass, revealed the barest hint of the black lace thong she wore. The shirt had been the hardest decision. She’d finally decided to stick with the basics and pulled on a plain white button-up shirt belted with a wide, black leather belt.

  She decided the look worked, tough, sexy, but not too slutty. Her hair had been somewhat tougher. She was tired of always putting it up, but having it loose would leave it in a tangled mess by the time she was done. Eventually she’d settled on a single, long braid. It made her look young and tomboyish. Giving her reflection a final cheeky grin, she headed for the door. She’d already heard a single beep seconds ago, and knew he was downstairs in the back ally waiting for her.

  She paused on the landing, staring down at the man and bike waiting below. Holy cow! she silently cried. What had she gotten herself into? If the massive rumbling beast of a bike was intimidating, then the impressive rider upon it was doubly so in his long black duster and faceless black helmet. A hundred years ago he would have been called a desperado or an outlaw. Now he was enough to make an average man tremble and a timid woman run in fear. Fear wasn’t the problem, she acknowledged. Lust raged through her at just the sight of him. The idea of actuall
y climbing on behind him brought a rush of white hot desire zinging through her. It would be like a giant vibrator. Lord, she was going to make a fool out of herself if she didn’t get her raging desire under control.

  Taking a deep breath, she forced her reluctant feet to keep moving. There was no way she was going to let him know just how overwhelming he was. She almost laughed. He thought he was being intimidating. Little did he know.

  * * * *

  Gabe was glad the full-face shield of his helmet hid his expression, because the sight of her sexy little body in those tight jeans and low-buttoned shirt was enough to have him drooling. Some might consider her plump. He knew she didn’t fit the Hollywood twiggy type, but he liked curves. His height made all women seem small, and Danny was no exception. To him she was perfect, tiny but full in all the right places. The sight of her long hair in a thick, rope-like braid gave him wicked ideas. He could see himself using it as leash as he forced her to her knees before him, pulling her head back and putting that smart-ass mouth to good use on his cock. He shifted slightly on the seat, as his jeans continued to grow uncomfortably tight.

  Taking a deep breath to calm himself down, he tugged off his helmet and set it conveniently on his lap, hoping she wouldn’t notice the growing hard-on distorting the front of his jeans. Time for a subject change, he told himself. “So you’ve never done this?”

  Grinning sheepishly, she shook her head. “It’s a long story, but no, I didn’t just wake up this morning and decide to buy a motorcycle. It’s something I’ve always wanted.”

  “What changed your mind?” Now he was curious. She seemed perfectly stable, but then you never knew what lurked beneath the surface. He was a prime example.

  “Well, that’s part of the long story. Maybe I’ll tell you one day, but not now. It’s…well…it’s a little too personal.” Her embarrassed stammer told him there was more to her story, but he let it slide.