“I know you have doubts,” he continued, setting his helmet on the ground beside the bike.
“Zion . . .”
“No, just listen for now.” He took the three steps that brought him up beside me. Then he reached out and took the helmet from my hand. “I’m not asking you to be mine, not yet. I talked to Echo about you already. I just want you to know that I’m serious. Don’t listen to them talk shit about what I used to do. Listen to what I do now. Look at how I am with you. Give me a chance to find a way.”
“Even if you do change, that doesn’t change my plans,” I admitted quietly. “Williamsville is a pit stop. This isn’t my forever. I want to get my degree, to have a career . . . maybe teaching, maybe something else. I can’t be involved with a criminal, and I can’t stay here.”
“So if things with us work out, I get a different job and move wherever you go after here,” he said.
“Leave your family, the Wolves, everything? I wouldn’t ask that of you even if we were dating.” I thought back to what Noah had said, how troubled he sounded at even talking about it, and he wasn’t wearing the Wolves’ colors already. It was even worse for Zion to suggest it. I didn’t want him to hate me or even just resent me for making him give up his whole family.
“You didn’t ask me,” Zion reminded me. “That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t do it if it meant we had a shot.”
I shook my head. “How is it that I can go my whole life without meeting one guy who’s interested in me until I come here?”
Zion studied me for a moment before he said, “How many guys are you interested in, Aubrey?”
“I shouldn’t be interested in anyone,” I said.
“But you are,” Zion said.
I was too chicken to say there was only one. Noah and Zion were like two sides of a coin: Noah was measured where Zion was impulsive, calm where Zion was vibrating with energy. Then, in other ways, they were similar. They were both gorgeous and passionate. If I hadn’t met Zion first, or if I could get him out of my mind, maybe I could be interested in Noah. I wasn’t, though. The truth was that there was only one man who had my attention, and I didn’t want him to realize just how much of it he had. It was hard enough admitting my feelings about Zion to myself.
“Has Dash kissed you?”
“Please,” I asked, not wanting him to do this. I had talked myself out of kissing Noah again, but I wasn’t sure I could convince myself to do the same with Zion if he finally kissed me.
“That’s a yes.” Zion pulled me closer, and in the next moment, his hands landed on my hips. It felt like his skin was burning through my jeans and searing me everywhere we touched.
“Please,” I repeated. This time, though, I wasn’t sure what I was asking.
“It’s not fair if you’re kissing only him when there are two of us you’re interested in,” Zion said.
Only one, I admitted silently. Only you.
The mere idea of kissing Zion was enough to make me lose all common sense—even worse than last night with Noah.
“Don’t think he’s innocent, Aubrey. He might not wear the same patches I do, but he’s the son of a former Southern Wolves president. His dad died for the club. Noah’s had more pu—”
“Stop.” I shook my head. “Don’t talk about him like that. He’s your family.”
“Okay.” Zion slid his hands from my hips to my ass and pulled me closer. “No talking is fine.”
I didn’t try to resist, not anymore. I wanted this more than I’d ever wanted anything.
“Just one kiss,” I lied to us both. I already wanted the next kiss when the first one hadn’t happened yet. “Only one.”
“One for every time you kissed Dash,” he countered.
I was hip to hip with Zion. I wanted to be sensible, argue all the reasons this was a very bad idea, but the words weren’t coming. They’d be lies anyhow. I wanted this. I wanted him.
“And if you let him touch you”—Zion leaned down and breathed his words against my throat—“or hold you”—he slid one hand up my spine—“I get to do the same.”
Since I had convinced myself that there wouldn’t be anything more happening with Noah, it wasn’t as risky to let Zion set terms like that. Zion didn’t need to know that there was no competition, and to be honest, a not insignificant part of me reveled in the possessiveness in his voice. I liked the way it made me feel. I liked how he made me feel—like he needed me, like I was special to him, like I was worth his time and temper and kindness. From the night he’d rescued me, I’d wanted this feeling, and every moment I’d had it, at the bar or at my house, I’d treasured it.
“What if I let you do something first? Do I owe him?”
Zion laughed against my throat. “I’m not negotiating for him, Red. Just me. Just my rights.” His mouth trailed down to drop kisses on my collarbone. “I don’t want to help anyone else have even a second of your attention.”
“Oh.”
And he kissed me.
God help me, the man could kiss. My lips parted under his assault, and I was grateful for his arms around me. I wasn’t sure I’d have had the strength to stand otherwise. I pressed myself closer to him and felt the hard length of him against me. For a desperate moment, all I could think was that I wished we weren’t divided by his jeans and mine.
That thought, however fleeting, was reason enough to jerk away. “Stop . . . please?”
He didn’t even hesitate. He stepped back immediately. “Whatever you want, Red.”
“Not what I want at all,” I admitted quietly.
“Good.” He reached up and cupped my face in his hand. “Remember that. You like me, and you want me. We can go from there.”
Calmly, I listed off reasons why this wouldn’t work: “I don’t date. I won’t be staying here. I can’t date a Wolf . . . that means you or Noah. He and I are just friends, by the way. I told him that, and he agreed. That’s all I can give anyone.”
Seemingly ignoring everything I said, Zion stepped back, adjusted himself, and swung a leg over his bike. “Come on. We’ll get you to work, then.”
Mutely, I picked up my helmet.
Before I could climb onto the bike, Zion pulled me into his arms. “I want you, Red. Not just because of this”—he leaned in and kissed me until I was all but boneless in his embrace—“but because I like talking to you. I like the way you try so hard, the way you don’t give up on your plans, the way you treat everyone like they deserve respect, the way you tilt your head when you study . . . I like you.”
“Oh.”
“I’m going to find a way to make you give me a real chance,” he vowed.
“I want that,” I admitted quietly. “I shouldn’t, but I do. I want to throw all the worries away and give in to this, but . . . there are things I can’t be okay with. The things you do for Echo . . . they aren’t things I can accept.”
“So I’ll change that,” he said, as if it were that easy, as if there weren’t insurmountable obstacles in our way. No one had ever made me feel like I was worth battling impossible odds. No one had ever made me feel like I was that precious.
We stood there with his hands holding me to him and kissed, not like we had been, but like people who were a little afraid of the fragile thing that was growing between them.
“It feels impossible, but I want to be wrong,” I said after several minutes of soft touches and tender kisses. “I want there to be a way that we can date.”
He smiled. “I’m working on that, Red. I talked to Echo some already. Just give me a little time and trust.”
I swallowed nervously and gave him one last kiss. Then I slid onto the back of the bike, already very comfortable there. Between Noah and Zion, I was very at ease as a passenger on a Harley.
Or maybe I was just relaxed as their passenger.
Either way, I put my feet on the pegs, scooted closer to Zion, and wrapped my arms around him. I knew that whoever had messed up my grandmother’s car wasn’t a friend, but the benefit of having Zi
on chauffeur me was almost reason to thank the mystery vandal.
Chapter 19
SATURDAY AT WOLVES & Whiskey was an experience I’d had only once so far, and that had been as a backup bartender. It hadn’t prepared me for walking in to discover that Mike had been called away.
“It’s all you, Aubrey,” Uncle Karl said.
Zion was silent at my side. I could feel the tension all but radiating from him, but I didn’t know why.
“So what does that mean?” I asked Uncle Karl.
“Trial by fire, li’l bit. Trial by fire.” He patted my hand. “Noah stocked the coolers, and we have a few cases on ice, but you’re going to work those muscles tonight. Hillbilly Bob is playing.”
“Who?”
“Country and blues band,” Zion said quietly. “Who’s on the door?”
“Billy.” Uncle Karl motioned to the front door. “I’ll be inside the bar in case of the usual ‘Bob trouble.’ Echo sent a few boys to handle the back door and be on hand if I need them inside.”
“Billy was supposed to be at Grandma Maureen’s, though,” I said, confused.
Uncle Karl looked at Zion and said, “Echo wants Billy here.”
“We can take the car to a garage,” I started. “That way you’re not short staffed, and—”
“We aren’t short staffed,” Uncle Karl cut me off. He turned his attention to Zion. “He tells me you get special rules from on high.”
Zion tensed, but he said nothing.
“I don’t appreciate you going around me,” Uncle Karl said.
The way Uncle Karl was watching Zion made me realize that about half the conversation was in subtext I was starting to fill in for myself. I had a growing suspicion that whatever Zion had done, it had to do with me. “I don’t understand.”
“Killer here will be hanging around tonight looking after you. The boss gave him the night off from any other responsibilities.”
“So Echo sent Noah away, and he’s sending others here to help mind the door?” I asked.
“Correct.” Uncle Karl bit off the word.
“And he’s ordering Zion”—I caught myself and corrected quickly—“Killer to be here at the bar. What’s the special rules part?” I suspected I knew, but I wanted to be sure. I did want to be with Zion, but I didn’t want trouble.
Uncle Karl looked from me to Zion. “Why not come to me?”
“I answer to one man these days, Uncle Karl. I work for Echo,” Zion said levelly.
“And Aubrey works for me. I don’t like being told how to run things in my bar.” Uncle Karl crossed his arms and glared at Zion. “You need to think about someone other than yourself, boy.”
Zion said nothing, and I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t say for sure whether or not I’d broken the rules. We hadn’t really even gone on a proper date.
Uncle Karl was still staring at Zion. “Think about what you’re gambling with here. She’s not cut out for this life.”
“I’ll be at the front door until Billy gets here. Then I’ll be at the bar with Aubrey.” Zion glanced at me briefly before turning and walking away.
“He was raised by the club.” Uncle Karl put a hand on my shoulder. “He’s never asked for anything but to work for Echo, and Eddie Echo . . .” Uncle Karl cleared his throat. “Take a good look at him, at both of them, before you make any decisions about what you’re getting yourself into here.”
I thought about the club president, trying to remember what he looked like. I hadn’t spent a lot of time studying him. Staring at the biker who ruled the roost wasn’t something that had seemed like a particularly bright idea, but when I thought back on the things I knew about Zion, I had a good suspicion as to what Uncle Karl expected me to see.
“Killer has more ties to the club than anyone says outright,” Uncle Karl remarked, just in case I was slow to catch the clues he’d already put in front of me. “He just used those ties to get permission to date you without you getting fired.”
I nodded, but it wasn’t the job that was suddenly pressing. Zion’s offers to leave the Wolves were a lot more serious than he had admitted.
“And he knows?”
Uncle Karl shrugged. “Echo’s been harder on him than on most when it comes to training, but he also indulges Killer. Dash too. He treats the boys well. Always has. Killer’s all but marked to fill Echo’s shoes someday.”
I glanced toward the door to the bar. Zion must be standing outside, since I couldn’t see him. The hope I’d started to let myself feel when we’d kissed felt like a weight in my chest now. I walked over to the bar and started double-checking that everything was ready to go. So far, there were only a few people scattered around, but the band would start in a couple hours and I’d be too swamped to think.
WHEN HILLBILLY BOB came through the back door an hour later, I was as ready as I could be. The band wasn’t what I’d expected from the name. For starters, Hillbilly Bob appeared to be five people, and one of them was a woman in the tightest pair of jeans I’d seen at the bar, which was saying something. She had a leather jacket without any patches, fire engine–red boots, and straight blond hair that brushed her red belt.
“New barmaid?” she said as she approached me.
“Aubrey.” I held my hand out. “Can I get you a drink?”
She took my hand and squeezed it. “Just water right now. I’m Bobbie.” She motioned to the band. “They need three longneck Buds and a Miller Lite.”
Silently, I pulled her beers out of the coolers. Bobbie ignored me, looking around as she perched on a stool. Up close, I could see that she was in her late twenties or maybe early thirties.
“Who’s on shift with you?” she asked.
“Billy, a few guys I don’t know, and Z— Killer.” I lined up the bottles on the bar. “Dash is off, and Mike’s away.”
“So you’re manning the bar alone?” She gave me a surprised look and tsked. “You poor girl.”
I straightened my shoulders. “I’ll manage.”
She laughed, not in a friendly way. “Sure thing, babe.”
Then she lifted her water in one hand and gathered the four beers in the other with the sort of careless grip that only someone used to carrying a lot of drinks can make look easy. I made a mental note that it was wrong to hate her for her attitude, but I still frowned at her as she strolled across the bar with a sway in her hips that made every man in the room watch her.
I was grateful that Zion was still outside. At least I was until she dropped off the beers and went out the door where I knew he stood.
Apparently, Bobbie didn’t need to help with setting up. The rest of the band was at work, but she was off chatting up my . . . I didn’t know what Zion was. He wanted more, and he’d managed to get Uncle Karl to suspend the rule about dating. I felt like that meant we were moving in the right direction—or at the least, moving in the direction I wanted us to go. None of that entitled me to be quite as possessive as I suddenly felt.
I shook my head and turned my attention to the bikers and locals who were starting to come into the bar. I hadn’t understood what Uncle Karl had meant when he said that Wolves & Whiskey wasn’t a private club, but now that I’d been here a couple of weeks I understood. The bar served more than the Wolves. It was obviously their hangout, but it wasn’t closed to others. It was a place where the Williamsville residents could socialize with Wolves, and I could see that it resulted in a lot more comfort than I suspected there would be without a chance for people to mingle.
It was already clear too that the Wolves went out of their way to do just that. Sometimes in the afternoons when it was mostly bikers, they seemed more serious, and I’d learned that there were business meetings that happened in the bar, but in the evenings it was different. The Wolves greeted townspeople and made them feel at ease. It was obviously a sort of PR move, but it quite evidently worked.
Only a few minutes passed before Zion was back inside. Bobbie followed him. They were just inside the door when she reached
out to him. He looked at her hand on his wrist and then at her.
“Hello?” someone said.
As I looked away from Zion, I could tell that he’d just said something Bobbie didn’t like. She looked irritated as she walked past him and joined the band.
I couldn’t help the bright smile I gave my customer before I asked, “What can I get you?”
That smile was a bit less bright an hour later when the crowd had started to grow to the point that I wasn’t sure why there was only one bartender.
The customers weren’t disagreeing with my silent thoughts.
“What in the hell is Karl thinking?”
“When does the second bartender get here?”
“Darlin’, you are doing jus’ fine. Steady and focused. Get the order, move on, work your way from end to end,” one older biker drawled.
“And don’t make eye contact,” the woman next to him added. “They’ll take it to mean they’re next and get pissed when you don’t agree.”
“Thank you,” I said, handing them their drinks.
“It gets easier,” she said as he tucked more money in the tip jar. “And if they disrespect you, shut ’em off. You have the power.”
“Don’t teach her your bad habits, Shelly,” another man teased.
Another added, “Go back there and give her a hand if you want to be useful.”
“Mind yourself,” the previously sweet biker with Shelly growled, pulling her closer to him.
The man who’d suggested Shelly help me held his hands up.
“And that, Red, is why there’s usually a rule about not working here if you date one of us,” said Zion from my side, where he’d apparently crept up without my noticing.
Then he went to the other end of the bar and started taking orders.
Together, we managed to get everyone served before the first set. When the music started, the crush at the bar let up, but I had no illusions that it would stay that way.
Zion came over to stand behind me. “It looked like you needed a hand.”
“Or three.” I leaned back against him briefly before I caught myself and pulled away. “Sorry.” I looked over my shoulder at him. “Something you meant to tell me earlier about the rules for barmaids?”
Undaunted: Knights in Black Leather Page 15