By the time he’d pulled his Harley into the parking lot of Wolves & Whiskey, he felt more like himself. All he needed was to stay focused. No distractions. No trouble. No fights unless they were ordered by the club. All he had to do was focus on his job and the Wolves, and not let himself get invested in anyone else’s life. He could keep his distance from everyone. That was the one surefire way to keep his temper under control.
No more bad habits. No more mistakes—regardless of how good the reason for them was. Tennessee was going to be the beginning of a new lifestyle, one that would keep him out of trouble and enable him to build a stable home for his sister.
“ELLIE?”
Noah reached out, fingers catching a lock of hair and tugging like we were the kids we hadn’t been in years. Noah was turning twenty-four this year, old enough to have more of a plan for his life, old enough to stop running from anything that had even the shadow of commitment to it.
Somehow, I was the one who had it more together. I was only two years younger than him, but sometimes I felt older. He was a mistake I kept making and had been making since not long after I was old enough to get a driver’s license. Noah helped me learn, and we celebrated with what had turned into a decidedly unhealthy relationship. I wasn’t ever going to get my life together if I didn’t figure out how to change my bad habits, and Noah Dash was a bad habit. We were never going to be anything but friends who were naked together sometimes.
He was propped up on one arm in his bed, looking like we’d been doing exactly what we had been.
“Do you want a ride to the bar tonight?”
“I thought you didn’t want me on your bike where we might be seen,” I replied, my voice sounding a little more upset than I wanted to admit. He’d given me a lift to his apartment, but that wasn’t quite the same.
“What’s between us is between us,” he said, as if that answer was going to sound less irritating with repetition. It didn’t.
I rolled onto my side so I was facing him. “I’m going to drive myself.”
“Come on, Ellie, don’t be like that.”
“Leave it alone.” I folded my arms, feeling silly as I did so. It was hard to look stern while we were both naked.
“You know people would misunderstand if you were on my bike regularly.” Noah’s fingers trailed up my thigh. “Showing up at Wolves is like a statement.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want them to misunderstand.”
“There’s no one else on the bike.” Noah sat up and eased closer. “You know that, don’t you? I might go on a date or whatever, but that’s not anything. I just like a little strange, you know?”
“I know, Noah.” I’d known that he wasn’t particularly celibate before we were together, and that hadn’t ever changed. It was his way of making quite clear that he wasn’t in a relationship. He got his “strange”—sex with other women—and we agreed not to discuss it. I went on dates too, but rarely did those dates even make it as far as a kiss. I let Noah believe otherwise, but that didn’t make it true. The only rule I’d insisted on was no dating each other’s friends . . . and Noah quickly agreed to it after I’d gone out with his cousin.
I wasn’t sure whether I was more embarrassed that I’d wasted years in and out of Noah’s bed or that I’d resorted to manipulation to try to get him to see that we were having a relationship. Either way, the truth of the matter was that Noah Dash wasn’t going to change—and neither was I. I didn’t want forever, but I was over being someone’s secret. He wouldn’t carry me on his Harley more than once in a while because people might think I mattered. God forbid, they might even think I was his old lady. The truth was that I was his best friend and had been his regular bedmate since we were old enough to start exploring. That was it, though.
I used to think it was enough.
I used to think it would change, that he would change.
I even used to think I might change.
“Do you think you’ll ever let people know about us?” I asked, even now hoping that he’d tell me I was wrong, even now hoping that there was an answer he could offer that would let us keep this messed up thing that we had. Neither one of us had ever tried dating anyone else. We’d settled for this, and it was no good. Not for me. Not for him.
“What if people did know?” I asked, pushing a little harder for the answer I hoped to hear.
Instead, he looked like I’d just told him I loved him. Sheer terror was written on his face. “Ellie . . . come on. People know we’re friends. All they don’t know is that we do this.” He gestured between us at the bed. “Why would we need to tell anyone our business?”
That’s all this was to him: friends who sometimes had sex. That was the bald truth. We were friends, so we talked, and if we were in a bad way about anything, we knew that we could call at any hour of the day or night. And if we had a need for something other than talk, we had that too. It looked a lot like a relationship, and maybe it was. It wasn’t one that worked for me, though. I wasn’t ready for a husband or kids or any of that forever stuff, but I was ready to matter. I was ready to not be a dirty secret.
And I was ready for someone who knew why I was in a lousy mood this week, who cared enough to remember what week it was, who understood why I needed reassurance. I didn’t want to have to tell Noah to be kind to me because I needed a little extra this week.
Noah wouldn’t change, and I couldn’t. What we had wasn’t enough. I was done with that, with him, with being the girl who didn’t deserve more.
I started to climb out of bed to grab my clothes.
“Where are you going?” Noah tugged me back onto the bed and rolled me under him. “I just got you here, El.”
“You got me here six years ago, Noah.”
“I did, didn’t I?” He grinned down at me. “Beautiful Miss Ellen, all naked and in my sheets . . . so why can’t I take you to the bar tonight? It’s been a while. No one would think anything.”
“Just let it go. Please?” I asked, hating that he thought that my worry was being found out. I’d all but asked him to be open about us, and he still couldn’t hear what I was telling him.
“I’ll take you home later if you still want to get your car.” He was curled behind me, holding me to him as he only ever did when he was too exhausted to remember that friends don’t cuddle. He kissed my shoulder and murmured, “I hate when we fight, Ellie. Just think about it.”
And then he slept . . . and I slid out of his bed for the last time. I felt like a thief as I tiptoed over to gather my clothes, shoes, and books, but better a thief than a fool. Maybe there wasn’t anyone out there who would be happy to be with me. Maybe I was an idiot for caring that Noah didn’t want more. I didn’t mean to care, but I had enough of my heart in the mix that I couldn’t stay with what we were doing, not if I wanted to respect myself at all. The next time I let a man into my bed, he sure as hell wasn’t getting into my heart. Keeping sex and love in separate rooms was a safer plan. Regardless of which it was, though, I wouldn’t be hidden away.
“Never again,” I promised myself as I went downstairs.
At the bottom of the steps, I pulled the building door closed behind me. Not for the first time, I was left stranded because of Noah Dash.
I could call my mother—who was more of a roommate than a parent—but I didn’t know if I was in the mood for her counseling me on patience. For reasons I wouldn’t even try to fathom, she thought Noah could do no wrong. That left me with calling my friends who didn’t know about Noah, calling Noah’s cousin Killer, or calling the bar.
I called the bar.
“What’s up, Little Bit?” Mike asked.
“I need a ride. No questions, and no one who’d tell tales about . . . anything.” I walked farther from the building where Noah lived. I felt like a vagabond holding my boots, bag, and helmet, but I was afraid I’d wake Noah if I tried to put my boots on inside.
Mike sighed. “I can call a taxicab. Depending on who’s working, they might not tell Miss
Bitty.”
“Ugh.” I sat on the curb and shoved my feet into my boots. “Mama’s got everyone in her damn pocket. I swear she’d put a tracking chip in my ass if the veterinarian would do it.”
Mike snorted. “Don’t go giving her ideas.”
It was one of the mysteries of my life. My mother never put any restrictions on me, but she kept awfully close tabs on my comings and goings. There was no way that the local drivers wouldn’t tell her where I was.
“I can send the new guy to fetch you,” Mike said. “He just walked in. Seems a good sort. Wouldn’t tell . . . either of the young’uns.”
“That works.”
Mike paused and cleared his throat before asking, “Do I need to guess where you are or do I just assume you’re with one of the young’uns?”
“Got it in one.” That was the thing. People did know, maybe not everything, but enough for me to be embarrassed by the fact that Noah treated me like I was a secret.
“Do I need to send a helmet?”
“I have mine,” I said, glancing at it, trying not to think of going shopping for it with Noah and Killer. “I just need a ride . . . and if you can avoid mentioning it to Echo or Uncle Karl.”
Mike’s tone shifted. “You know better than that, Ellen.”
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. Everything to do with Noah or Killer was reported to the Wolves’ president and to the biker who’d raised both boys. It was simply the way of it. Hell, I’d been the one reporting things in over the years. Everyone did it. Echo cared about every little detail of their lives. Nothing was considered too insignificant to mention. Killer had coped by devoting himself to Echo, becoming Echo’s right hand. Noah had done the opposite—refusing to even be patched in to the Wolves.
“What’s the new guy’s name?” I asked.
“Alamo.”
“Okay.” It was a little bit of a silly question. I’d know him when he arrived because he’d be wearing club colors, their insignia clearly marked on either a black leather vest or black leather jacket. Plus, there weren’t any Wolves I didn’t know other than the new guy, so a biker who arrived with club colors was obviously my ride. That said, I wasn’t going to be rude and not know his name.
I disconnected and sat on the curb. I wondered if anyone else realized that this week was the anniversary of my father’s death. Noah certainly hadn’t, and that told me more than anything else. A man who wasn’t there for me wasn’t what I needed. A woman didn’t need a man at all. Mama had been telling me that since my father died . . . but sometimes I wanted one, not just in my sheets but in my life. I wanted someone who cared about me, who remembered to hold me, who treated me like I was special. Instead, I was waiting for a stranger.
Chapter 2
TEARS WERE STARTING to streak down my cheeks when I heard the gorgeous growl of a Harley headed my way. There weren’t a lot of Harleys in Williamsville that weren’t ridden by Southern Wolves. It was almost an unwritten law that if you were going to ride for pleasure but not be a Wolf, you rode something else. It was odd to me, but folks seemed to think it was a sign of respect to the club.
Regardless of what I thought of the town logic, the result was that I knew that the sound of a Harley likely meant that I’d know the rider. Noah didn’t like drop-by visitors either. It was just another way to keep me hidden. Well, it had been. No more. I wasn’t anyone’s dirty secret as of the past hour.
“No one respects a woman who doesn’t respect herself,” I whispered.
Then I stood, wiped the tears from my face, and watched the arrival of my ride home. So far, Alamo had my respect. Loud pipes were always something I could appreciate. Good pipes meant I could hear him well before I saw him. People who didn’t ride thought pipes like that were about arrogance or intimidation, but after you’d seen a biker laid up in the hospital because someone had plowed into him claiming, “I didn’t see him!” you realized exactly why a Harley roared.
No one was going to miss Alamo. I was fairly sure that his pipes were only just this side of legal. As he cruised up the alley, I took a breath. I wasn’t looking for anyone to distract me from what I’d just lost, but if I were, I’d be glad my gaze fell on the man who’d just ridden up to me on a cherry-red Wide Glide. Alamo was tall; I’d guess he was over six foot. He had on a black leather vest that revealed broad shoulders and muscles that made him look like he should’ve been on a football field.
“Ellen?” he asked as he stopped beside me. Even with that one word, I heard a pleasant drawl. He’d obviously not moved to Tennessee from up north or out west. He was a Southern man.
I nodded, feeling oddly self-conscious. I’d heard that the new guy was from another chapter, but that was all. I hadn’t seen him, and no one had described him to me. I didn’t expect Mike to tell me that Alamo had almond eyes I could get lost in. Mike was as rough and blunt as most of the club.
“Climb on, darlin’. Bartender says I’m to carry you wherever you want to be.”
“Is that so?” I asked. “What if I want to go over to Wilmington and see the ocean?”
Alamo looked at me and grinned before replying, “Well, then, I’d hope you’re going to want to stop for a meal along the way because that’s . . . what? Nine or ten hours easy?”
I laughed, pleasantly surprised by Alamo’s relaxed attitude. Bikers, as a rule, were either wired too tight or mellow. Of course, I’d seen even the calmest of them turn from chilled to ready to throw down in a blink, so I wasn’t so naive as to think that what I was seeing was the all of it. A man as tall and built as Alamo had undoubtedly needed to have fighting skills because wannabe badasses would’ve tried him.
“So the beach is a little too far,” I said.
“It is.”
“Any other restrictions?” I prompted.
Alamo shook his head. “Barman said you were in need of a ride, no questions and no trouble.”
“Mike’s good people,” I said. “The Wolves don’t put up with folks who aren’t, though.” Despite everything, I looked back in the direction of Noah’s apartment. Noah was a good guy, just not good for me.
Alamo looked at my tear-wet face and added softly, “Let’s say we get going?”
I nodded and took a step toward Alamo. This was it, the start of a life without Noah. For years, he’d been tangled up in my life, and I’d been waiting for magic to happen. Sometimes you just gotta cut bait and go. The magic I wanted wasn’t going to happen for me—or for Noah—if neither of us was willing to move on.
“Do you have anywhere you need to be?” I asked impulsively.
“There’s a mountain of boxes over at my house that needs unpacking, but . . .” He shrugged. “They’ll still be there later.”
“Have you ever been to Memphis?”
“Not yet.”
“I’ll treat if you want to go,” I offered. “I could go for a little music.”
I knew that music wouldn’t fix everything that ailed me, but it would go a long ways toward making me feel better. My father had played, so I grew up with music until he’d passed. It used to be a joke that the best way to tweak my mood was with music, but no one tried it anymore—not since Daddy died and I stopped singing. Today, though, I wanted to sing. I wasn’t going to make a habit of it, but I could break my silence for a little while.
“I’m in,” Alamo said.
“Perfect.” I put on my helmet and climbed onto the bike behind Alamo, careful to keep some distance between us. He might be easy on the eyes, but this wasn’t a date or an invitation for anything other than a meal. I didn’t want either of us to get the wrong idea. He wasn’t acting like he had, but the reputation bikers had for casual sex wasn’t all lies and exaggerations. Most of them had no trouble getting regular loving, and only a few of them turned down a little strange if it was offered up. I wasn’t offering.
“You good?” Alamo asked as I settled my feet on the pegs.
“I will be,” I said, surprised that I wasn’t lying.
He started the engine, filling the quiet street with the sound of his Harley. Briefly, I wondered if it would wake Noah. On the one hand, he hadn’t come down when Alamo pulled up. On the other, the initial silence-shattering growl of the bike starting was a lot more noticeable than the sound of one passing by or stopping.
“Go,” I urged, a little more forcefully than I might typically have done. I didn’t want trouble, though, and seeing me ride away with a stranger wouldn’t go over well with Noah. In a few days, he’d realize that we were done, but right now, it would be awkward if he came outside.
Alamo eased us into the street and headed out of town, and I let my mind go silent. All that mattered was the feel of the road. Every curve and dip resonated through the machine, and the rush of the wind—even at lower speeds—was tantalizing. There was no metal frame, no cage between us and the world. There was no radio to distract us. It was air and nature. It was speed and elegance. Alamo handled his bike like it was an extension of his body. There was no doubt in his management of the road. There was no hesitation in choosing the right speed for each twist or turn.
I gave him directions when needed, and an hour or so later, we were tooling down the streets of Memphis.
“Where to?” Alamo asked.
I directed him to B.B. King’s Blues Club; it was a great spot for everything I needed just then: blues, food, and a great atmosphere.
By the time we had placed our order, Alamo got a call. He frowned and said, “I need to grab this.”
I nodded, but he was already gone. I wasn’t particularly displeased by the timing. I’d never been much for small talk.
I sipped my drink and watched a couple of women dance. The beauty of blues bars was that there wasn’t some sort of computer-made music. Here it was the traditional stuff—guitar, drums, bass, and voice. It was the sort of music that I still sang in the privacy of my house. Whether it was blues, rock, or country, the classics worked for me.
Undaunted: Knights in Black Leather Page 23