by Lilly Atlas
In about an hour, when she was home, on her couch with a glass of wine and an unappetizing lean cuisine freezer meal, she’d regret the impulsive offer.
Now? Well now her heart beat a rapid, eager rhythm and her traitorous body hummed with unwarranted excitement. She looked down between her legs, where her sex pulsed as though reminding her it was empty and there was an attractive man nearby. “Knock it off,” she whispered to her crotch.
Oh my God. She was talking to her lady parts. She really had lost her sense. With a laugh, she dropped her face into her hands.
What the heck had she just gotten herself into?
Chapter Nine
Snake stepped out of the taxi and inhaled the clean, fresh mountain air. Amanda wasn’t kidding about the killer location of her property. Towering mountains behind him and a shimmering blue lake in front.
It was late August and the warm sun felt amazing on the skin that hadn’t felt the heated rays in a few months. About ten years ago, Snake had done a six-month stint in prison for assault. Being released from the hospital felt much the same as being released from prison. Gaining back control over his life. Dying for the feel of the sun. Relishing that first cleansing breath of non-institution air. Freedom.
If he had to spend the next little while somewhere, this was as good a place as any. Hell, it was probably better than anything he could have come up with himself. He’d be safe here, off the grid and could use the time to regain the rest of his strength while he perfected his plan to destroy Casper.
The money Cece sent had arrived three days ago. A few thousand dollars to get him started. There was no way she could send all of it at once, so she’d be mailing it in small chunks. As soon as possible, he’d buy a phone and let Cece know Amanda’s address. Then he’d find somewhere to stash what he wasn’t going to need for the next few months. Amanda’s ten-acre property should afford plenty of places to bury it undetected.
The next order of business would be to find out a way to get information on the club. He needed eyes on Casper if he was going to go after the bastard. Problem was, he didn’t know who to trust. But he’d figure something out. Taking back control of his club once he was fully healed was too important to attempt without a solid plan.
“Hey, Nick. Over here!” The yell came from one of two small cabins set a fair distance behind what had to be the main house. Amanda stood on the porch outside the cabin that appeared to be the sturdier of the two. She raised a hand in greeting and waited for him to join her.
Still needing the cane, though not leaning on it as heavily as he had been, he made his way down a long, paved walkway that curved around the main house then bisected and led to each of the cabins.
On first impression, the cabin on the right was a disaster. A tarp had been anchored to the roof, covering what was probably a giant defect. Fixing the roof should be first priority. With the amount of snow likely in the winter, it needed to be completed, however he wasn’t quite nimble enough to be climbing around a roof. Hopefully soon, but not yet.
A dull throb formed in his left thigh by the time he was within fifty feet of Amanda. The orthopedic surgeon warned he may have to learn to live with some mild discomfort from overuse. He supposed he should be grateful a dull ache was all he’d have to deal with, but the idea of weakness, any amount of weakness, was unacceptable.
“Sorry, I didn’t think about how long the walk would be. Your leg okay? You need any help? I could borrow a wheelchair from work if you’d like. I haven’t told anyone you’re staying in my cabin because I wasn’t sure how people would react. It’s a little unorthodox to invite a patient to live on your property at discharge. But no one would care if I borrowed a wheelchair for a short while, or anything else you might need for that matter. I want you to feel comfortable and functional while you’re—”
“Amanda.”
She stopped rambling and met his gaze. At work, she was the picture of confidence, control, and competence. She’d run his therapy sessions like a drill sergeant, demanding hard work and perseverance. There was something a bit entertaining about seeing her flustered and nervous, unsure of herself.
Her behavior wasn’t the only difference between Work Amanda and Home Amanda. Work Amanda wore baggy scrubs and a white lab coat that disguised her hot little body. Home Amanda wore a fitted T-shirt that molded to her breasts and finally answered the question that had been on his mind for weeks.
Yes, her tits looked as fantastic as they felt cushioned against him while she assisted him with his exercises. And that was fully clothed. They weren’t huge, but they certainly weren’t small. Just over the tipping point to the larger side. And they were high and perky. Damn, he’d love to see her minus a few layers of fabric.
Then there were the fitted jeans that outlined her curves. Somehow, they performed a spectacular optical illusion, making a five-foot-two woman’s legs look miles long. If only she’d turn around so he could get a glimpse of her ass.
He closed the distance to the porch, ascended the three steps without much difficulty, and came to a stop closer to her than he should have been. Her eyes widened and she took a quick step back.
Yeah, flustering her was the most fun he’d had in a while.
“The walk wasn’t too far. My leg is sore, but it was shattered to shit, so…” He shrugged. “All things considered, a little soreness ain’t so bad.”
She nodded. “Sorry about the babbling. I, uh…” She shrugged and chuckled. “Anyway, come on in. I’ll give you the nickel tour then let you get settled. I imagine it feels pretty good to be out of the hospital.”
“You have no fucking idea.” He trailed her into the cozy cabin. From a contractor’s viewpoint, the place needed work, but appeared structurally sound. Unlike its counterpart that didn’t seem like it would survive a stiff breeze.
“All right.” She turned and gestured with her arms. “Welcome home. Kitchen is here on the right, den on the left. There are two bedrooms and two bathrooms down the hall. The master has an attached bathroom and a set of French doors that open to a Jacuzzi.” She beamed at him. “It’s in full working order. It was the first thing I repaired after I took over the property. This is the only house of the three with one, though I plan to put one in each of the other houses at some point. There is nothing better than relaxing in that hot tub and gazing out at the lake. You’ll see. It will probably feel fantastic on your leg.”
The image of Amanda lounging in his hot tub, languid and relaxed, tits bobbing just at the surface stole his breath. His cock filled as he imagined taking a warm, soft nipple in his mouth and coaxing it to a hard point against his tongue. She’d rest her head back against the top of the tub, giving herself over to the pleasure until—
“Nick?”
He blinked and ran a hand over his hair. The short strands still surprised him every time. Christ, had he really just been fantasizing about Amanda in the hot tub? Since when did he moon over a woman and fantasize about reveling in her pleasure? Never. He saw one he wanted and took her. No imagination necessary.
“Sorry, I was just thinking about something.”
“Okay.” Her eyes widened. “Oh gosh, I don’t want you to think I’m going to be sneaking down here bothering you and using the Jacuzzi. You’re house, your toys. Don’t worry. I’ll resist temptation and stay away.”
Ugh. Was she really that naïve? Did she not realize her talk of temptation and toys stroked along his dick as tangibly as her hand would?
He needed to find a woman to work out his sexual frustrations. Now that he had some freedom and some cash, maybe he’d take a cab into town and find a willing female at a local bar. Anyone would do. As long as she had the ability to kneel and get him off, he’d be good.
“Do what you want. You own the place.” His comment came out a little gruffer than he’d meant, but she’d survive. She didn’t need to like him and they didn’t need to be friends. Last thing he wanted was for her to learn anything about his life or his plans for his old V
P. It would put her at risk should someone discover who he was.
Plus, for some reason he enjoyed the anonymity. Amanda looked at him a certain way, with a light in her eyes. Like she was interested in him, as a person. Like she was proud of all the progress he’d made. Like she liked him.
If she knew who he really was and what he’d done that light would go out faster than a candle in a windstorm. Nothing he’d done in the name of his club had ever bothered him before. He owned every act he’d committed, no matter how heinous.
So why did he give a shit that Amanda might be disappointed in him?
Amanda frowned then shook off his brusque reply. He was her tenant and contractor of a sort. They didn’t need to be buddies. In fact, it would probably be easier and safer if they maintained a professional relationship. She still had suspicions that his injuries were a result of nefarious activities gone awry.
Inviting a criminal to live in her cabin was crazy enough. Trying to be all chummy with him was another level of foolish. Last thing she needed was the FBI showing up at her door in the middle of the night looking for someone she’d come to know as Nick Gould.
Too bad the man had to look so darn good. He’d bulked up in rehab and she could only imagine what a few additional weeks of manual labor combined with sunshine would do for him. If she thought his tattooed arms were sexy now, she might have to staple her mouth shut to keep from licking his biceps once they had rounded even further and the skin surrounding his ink was dark and tanned.
Enough. Time to get back to business.
“Um, that’s pretty much it as far as rooms. You can see I started ripping up the carpet there.” She gestured to a corner of the den. “There’s hardwood underneath. Anyway, I’m looking to renovate the kitchen and bathroom in here as well as the floors. The other cabin is a mess and needs a lot more work, but I’ll show you that tomorrow. If you have a minute and enough in reserve for some more walking, I’ll show you one more thing, then leave you to it.”
“I’m fine.” He headed out the front door and waited on the porch.
With a sigh, Amanda followed. The man confounded her. Grouchy and barely speaking to her at first, then personable, almost chatty. Seemed they were now back to clipped answers and a hard shell.
She wandered outside and down to the walkway. “Follow me.” She wasn’t going to waste her breath trying to engage him in conversation when he’d made it clear he’d rather not speak. To the left of both cabins, a good few hundred feet away, was a detached three-car garage. She and Kat hadn’t bothered to use it. The walk to the house was too far, especially late at night when the surrounding area gave new meaning to the word darkness. She’d freely admit she was a bit skittish alone at night in the pitch black surrounded by nothing.
After unlocking it, she hauled the heavy garage door open, revealing a rusty pickup truck that had to be thirty years old. The rattletrap still worked, however, and the most surprising thing was that it only had forty thousand miles on it. “You’re more than welcome to use this truck whenever you’d like. It’s not pretty, but it’s functional. Actually, here.” She tossed him a ring of keys that he swiped out of the air, one handed. “House and car keys. Neither my roommate nor I use it. I figure you’ll need some wheels and this is good for hauling supplies as well.”
When he failed to respond, she turned toward him. “Nick?” He was staring at something to the right of the truck.
“That your Harley?” he asked. A spark of interest lit his eyes, the first she’d seen since he arrived.
“Huh? My what?”
Truth be told, she didn’t really know what was in the garage beside the truck. Clearing the space out had been on her list, but kept getting bumped due to other priorities.
“The Harley,” he said. “Motorcycle. There’s one back here in the corner. I’m guessing by that confused look on your face, it isn’t yours.”
And now he was smiling, a rare feat for him, but one that had her hormones surging. Blasted man.
With a laugh, she shook her head. “Uh, no that’s definitely not mine. I’ve never so much as sat on a motorcycle. I think it may have been my uncle’s from years ago. God knows if the thing even runs.” She walked over to where he stood. “It’s huge. Looks like a beast.”
He snorted out a laugh. “That’s cuz she’s a man’s bike, babe. Mind if I tinker around with her and see if I can get her running?”
“You a big motorcycle fan?” She tilted her head and considered him. Yeah, she could imagine him in leather and boots, flying down the road with his long hair sticking out the back of a helmet. Or the long hair he told her he had before his accident.
He opened his mouth then closed it again as though reconsidering what he’d originally planned to say. “I ride.”
“Well, knock yourself out. It’s yours. No one else is going to use it around here. I’d rather see someone enjoy it than have to haul it to the scrapheap. But it looks like a hunk of junk to me. You really think you can bring it back from the dead?”
He ran a hand over the dusty leather seat in a loving fashion. His fingers were long, strong. Was she really envious of a piece of dried-out cow hide?
“Aw, don’t be that way. This baby has some good potential. And it’s a her, not an it. Give me a few weeks and you’ll be amazed at how sexy she looks.” He turned and winked and she nearly swallowed her tongue. Excitement and passion blazed in his eyes. “Make you a deal?”
“Uh, sure.”
He chuckled. “You look like I’m about to lead you to slaughter.”
Are you? God, he very well could be. He could be a murderer for all she knew. A rapist. A sadistic madman. What if he was one of these outlaw bikers that Kat was investigating? What on earth had she been thinking, allowing him in her life like this?
“I’ll get her all spruced up and running and you go for a ride with me.”
“A ride?” On the motorcycle. With the possible madman. Sitting behind him, thigh to thigh, her breasts pressed against the muscles of his back as he steered the bike… “I’m not sure. I mean, you know where I work, right? I’ve seen all sorts of horrors from motorcycle crashes. We tend to call them donor cycles.”
He threw back his head and laughed long and loud. Like an idiot, she just stared, not even caring that he was laughing at her.
His eyes held a challenge that tempted her bad boy loving side. “I promise I’ll take care of you.”
That’s what she was afraid of. Oh, what the heck. She only lived once, right? “Okay, fine. If you’re able to fix it, I’ll go for a ride on it.”
He raised a dark eyebrow and shifted his weight to his stronger leg, leaning a bit heavier on the cane.
She rolled her eyes and tried not to giggle. “Her, sorry. I’ll go for a ride on her.”
“Deal.” He held out a hand.
She stared at it for a moment before placing her much smaller palm against his. “Deal.”
His hand was warm and rough, so different from most men she encountered. He rubbed his thumb across her pulse point, just below her thumb and she jumped. “Right, uh, I’ll leave you to get settled in. You have my number. Ring or come knock on the door if you need anything.”
He nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
As she left, she swore she could feel the weight of his gaze on her ass. She couldn’t help it. She slowed her gait and swung her hips as she walked…just a bit.
Nick was a very confounding man. One she’d be smart to stay far away from. Especially given her recent poor choices in the dating department. If she couldn’t handle the changes in John who was supposed to be a good, sensible guy, how the hell was she supposed to manage one who reeked of bad boy? Keep her distance, that’s what she needed to do.
Hard to pull off with the man living on her property and helping her with her renovations.
Even harder to do when she was agreeing to go on motorcycle rides with him.
And hardest of all to do when her body hummed and sparked every time he was n
ear.
Chapter Ten
“Honey, I’m home!” Kat burst through the front door and dropped to her knees, placing a dramatic kiss on the tiled floor in the foyer. She’d had gone to a four-day biker rally near Boise. The first trip in her quest to learn about all things motorcycle club.
Amanda wandered out of the kitchen and burst out laughing. “Welcome home, girl. Missed it much?” She’d left before Nick’s arrival. Amanda was glad to have her friend home. Having a third person around might help prevent her from doing something stupid. Like agreeing to ride on the back of his motorcycle.
“Oh my gosh, you have no idea. I’ll never again take my shower for granted, or my bed, or my hairdryer, or Starbucks.”
Leaning against the wall, Amanda smiled at her best friend. “So, camping isn’t really your thing, huh?”
“No, it is not. Though I’d do it again in the search for justice. But now that I’m home, I’m going to take a three-hour bath and use every beauty product I own.” She’d been eager to soak up the full experience and decided to camp instead of staying in a hotel.
“So, did you meet lots of outlaws? Can you officially claim you’re a biker chick now?”
“Are you making fun of my research?” Kat rose from the floor and jammed her hands on her hips.
Amanda giggled. “I would never. The first one was a serious question. Were there a lot of outlaw bikers there?”
“Actually yes, there were more than I was anticipating. I mostly went just to soak up some of the biker culture, but I did get to observe some of the one percenter clubs.” She shuddered. “They are some sketchy dudes, girlfriend.”
“One percenters?”
“Yeah,” Kat said. “It’s biker speak for the outlaw clubs. Something about how only one percent of motorcycle clubs are actually outlaw. The rest are just a bunch of dudes who ride together.”