by Lilly Atlas
Striker was right to call this place his sanctuary. The peaceful quiet of the open lake soothed her nerves and eased some of her fears. She felt safe here, away from the bustle of town. Lila let herself breathe and allowed some of the worry over the morning’s events to dissolve away. Whether it was strictly the location that relaxed her, or the man who owned it, she couldn’t say.
Neither spoke for several minutes, lost in thought. The quiet was welcome after the stress of the morning. Lila closed her eyes and had almost drifted off when Striker’s voice startled her back. “What was it that brought you all the way out to this bum fuck town from DC?”
“I just needed a change.” It was her standard answer whenever someone asked her about the topic that invoked so many negative emotions.
“That’s a very simple answer. I’m gonna have to call bullshit on that one.”
“Excuse me?’ Lila narrowed her eyes at him as her hackles rose. It was easier to get cranky then think about the things that haunted her. “Fine then, I’ll change my answer to none of your damn business.”
“I like it when you’re snarky, babe, but don’t get pissed. Sounds like I may have stomped on a nerve. It wasn’t my intention. I’m just trying to get to know you better.” He shrugged, and finished his beer.
“And is turnabout fair?”
“You bet.”
Lila took a long pull of her frosty beer, and stared out at the lake considering whether she wanted to open up to him. She must have paused for too long because he changed tactics. “Come here,” he said. He encased her hand in his larger one, and pulled her up from her chaise, over to his.
Lila sat down between his spread legs, and he arranged her so her back was pressed up against his chest with his arms resting around her midsection, just below her breasts. He plucked the beer out of her hands and brought it to his lips before returning it to her.
“What are you doing?” She sat tense against him, not exactly sure how to react.
“I’m enjoying the feel of you. You’ve been wrapped all around me on my bike a couple of times now, and I thought I’d reverse the position. Turnabout being fair and all that.”
As the warmth and strength of his body seeped into her, Lila closed her eyes and let the tension ooze out. Each of the many sides to this man fascinated her. He was a criminal, a badass biker that intimidated people pretty much for a living, yet he was also a protector, a serious flirt, and now apparently he was angling to be her confidant. Not ready to open her eyes despite the picturesque scene before her, Lila kept them closed and enjoyed the wonderful sensation of being held by this fascinating man.
When she was relaxed once again, with her head pooled against his shoulder, she decided to jump in with both feet. In the six months since leaving DC, there wasn’t anyone she’d shared her story with, not a single person who knew the real her, and the loneliness was becoming stifling. It would be nice to have someone know her beyond the surface, and know what drove her. “My father is Howard Dewitt.”
“Hmm, sounds familiar. Should I know the name?”
“He’s been in the news a bit lately,” she replied, unable to keep the disdain out of her voice. “He owns Eagle Bank.”
Striker stayed silent for a few seconds. “The one that’s about to be taken over by that other major bank?”
“Bank of the States, yes. Got it in one.”
“Holy fucking shit, babe.”
Lila laughed at his reaction, and absently stroked her fingers over his forearm where it crossed under her breasts. “I started using my mother’s maiden name when I came out here in hope of maintaining some anonymity, and so far I’ve been successful.”
“Jesus, Lila, your father is a billionaire, and wields a ton of power politically. Do your parents know where you are?”
She waived away the beer when Striker offered it. “You can finish it. And, yes they know where I am. There was no point in trying to hide it from them. With their connections they would have known where I was going before I did. Anyway, as you figured out, I grew up with money. Lots of old money. An obscene amount of money, really. And if I’m being honest, I have to say I had a wonderful childhood. I never wanted for anything material, and while my parents weren’t overly warm or involved in my day to day upbringing, I had amazing experiences that most would envy.”
Striker snorted at that, and polished off Lila’s beer. The bottle clanked as he set it down on the deck.
“I know what you’re probably thinking. This is going to turn into a ‘poor little rich girl’ story, and I suppose in a way it is, but money is just one part of what makes up someone’s life. It can certainly open doors, but it does not mean a flawless, problem free life. People always expect those with money to feel like they are so lucky and their lives are just wonderful.” She paused to gather herself before she got too worked up. “Sorry, I’m rambling. Talking about this always has the power to get under my skin, and I don’t want you to view me as a stuck up rich bitch.”
“Whoa, babe, I’m not judging you, not at all. I see how hard you work. Never would I think you’re stuck up or a bitch.” Striker lowered his head, and nuzzled the side of her neck. The contact soothed her. “Tell me the rest. I want to know more about you,” he said, and then dropped a gentle kiss where her neck met her shoulder.
Lila shivered when his lips brushed her skin. “By the time I was halfway through my teenage years, it became apparent that my purpose in life was to marry a man who would further advance my father’s career and financial assets. I had to dress a certain way, wasn’t allowed friends outside our social circle, and my mother constantly reminded me that my worth would be measured by the wealth and status of the man I married.” Lila shook her head and sighed.
“Damn, baby, that’s cold.” Striker continued to rub his lips along her neck, not kissing her but stroking her flesh with his mouth. It felt amazing, and the delicious physical sensations helped override the negative emotional ones.
“Anyway, for most of my life I went along with their plans. They are my parents, and it was all I knew. I played the good little daughter, never got in any trouble, told the media what they wanted, attended political functions with a smile, dated who they picked out for me, dressed in what they chose, those kind of things. But let me tell you, that person is not who I am inside, and I’ve felt like an actor in a play my whole life. When I broached the idea of going to medical school, I thought they would disown me. College was allowed so I wouldn’t appear uneducated, but then I was supposed to marry the man of my parent’s choosing, who would promote my father’s business interests.”
“Why did you decide to become a doctor? Like helping people and saving lives?”
She laughed. “Yes, there’s that. I suppose that’s always a factor when someone chooses to go into medicine. But I also just like the work. I enjoy the physical act of doctoring along with the puzzle of figuring out what is wrong with someone. Does that make any sense?”
“Absolutely.” He stopped nuzzling her neck, and interlaced the fingers of one hand with hers.
Lila enjoyed his touch more than she should. If she looked too deeply into the meaning, he might stop, so she continued to talk in the hope of prolonging the moment. “Throughout medical school I continued to date the men my parents chose for me. At the time, I had decided that I’d pick one who was tolerable, marry him out of duty, and derive enjoyment from the professional part of my life if not the personal. I didn’t have enough backbone to stand up to my parents. Plus, I felt I owed them for not ruining my plans to go to medical school. Problem was, I just couldn’t imagine myself spending my life with any of the men they chose, even in a platonic sense.”
“No backbone?” Striker interrupted. “I’m having a hard time imagining that, darlin’. You faced down a one percenter president without blinking an eye today.”
His comment brought a smile to her face. “I’ve grown a sturdy one since then, though I was a nervous wreck talking to Shiv. Glad I hid it well.”
“So, what was the tipping point?”
The sunset was amazing, the giant orange orb inched closer and closer to the shimmering water as each minute passed. “I fell for one of the guys they set me up with.”
Striker tensed behind her, his voice a harsh rasp. “Is there some asshole back in DC that thinks he can claim you as his?”
He sounded jealous. Could he be jealous? The thought was thrilling, and Lila squeezed the hand laced with hers. “No. Not just no, but hell no! Aaron and I seemed perfect for each other, complimented each other in every way. He got me, understood my feelings about the world we grew up in, and said all the right things all the time. Looking back on it now I should have suspected something was off by the way it all seemed so effortless.” She paused. The rest of the story was embarrassing. She’d been naïve, and beyond mortified when it all fell apart.
“So what happened?” Striker’s words were spoken softly. He must have realized this part of the tale was difficult for her.
After a fortifying breath, she plowed on. “One day I overheard my father on the phone. Turns out, my boyfriend was the son of Bank of the States’ CEO. He’d been trying to acquire my father’s bank for years. My father expressed interest in running for Governor of Maryland. He decided it was time to sell so he could put all his efforts into the gubernatorial race. This deal will make him tens of billions. He agreed to sell if the CEO agreed to have his son, Aaron, marry me. Can’t run for governor with an unmarried daughter near thirty. How would that look?” She laughed, a mirthless sound. “I was heartbroken and humiliated. Everything about our relationship was a lie, a business deal.”
“Are you fucking serious?” Striker spat out behind her. “What a bunch of fucking motherfuckers.”
Striker’s outrage on her behalf made her laugh, especially the deterioration in his language, which was vulgar on a good day. “I’m very serious. I couldn’t bear to stay, so I tucked my tail between my legs, looked for a job in an off the grid town, and left without a backward glance. They controlled the first part of my life, no way were they taking the rest.”
“I’m surprised your parents haven’t tried to drag your gorgeous ass back to DC.”
Lila flushed at the compliment. “I may have threatened to go to the media if they didn’t let me leave, and promise to stay away.”
“Devious, babe. Think you might need to give me this shithead’s address though.”
She snorted out a laugh. “No way. I can’t afford to have you arrested for murdering him. I do not want to get stuck staying with Jester or Gumby.”
“I have one question you’re not going to like,” he said.
She turned her head up to look at him. The sun had dipped close to the horizon, and the warmth of the day was quickly giving way to the chill of the night. Striker’s strong jaw ticked, hinting at his anger on her behalf. “I already thought about it,” she said, knowing what he was going to ask before he voiced the words. “My parents aren’t above using underhanded tricks to get me back in their web, especially now that the bank merger is basically a done deal. My father will want his picture perfect family intact when he throws his name in the governors’ race. It’s possible they didn’t believe I’d really go to the media, but I was serious, and will do it to protect my independence. Tomorrow I’ll call my father to feel out the situation.”
“I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s the Grimms, but it wouldn’t hurt to cover all the bases.”
It was becoming difficult to remain unaffected while she sat snuggled between Striker’s muscular thighs. The hand that wasn’t holding hers had slipped down to caress the skin of her belly between the end of the shirt and top of her low-rise jeans. Her nipples pebbled against her bra, and a heavy, achy feeling settled low in her stomach. She hoped Striker’s eyes were closed, and he couldn’t see the affect he was having on her.
Chapter Eleven
Striker felt the moment Lila changed from relaxed and liquid to tense and rigid. He couldn’t prevent his body’s reaction to her. She attracted him on so many levels. The first few times he’d encountered her it was strictly physical, but the more he learned about the independent, compassionate, and intelligent woman who rested between his legs, the stronger the attraction grew.
“Um, Striker—”
“Yeah, I know, hon, just ignore him.”
“Not easy to ignore a baseball bat poking at you,” she muttered under her breath.
He chuckled. “You might as well get used to it, he’s never far away when you’re around.”
Lila tilted her chin, and he looked down at her beautiful face. He wouldn’t have blamed her if she moved back to her own chair, but for some reason she stayed. “Guess we’ll have to get your mind on something else then,” she said. “Your turn to spill all your secrets.”
“What do you want to know?” Striker asked. He stopped moving his hand, and rested it on her stomach, palm down. The silky smooth skin felt warm and soothing under his rough, callused hand.
“Well, to be honest, I’m very curious about how you got involved in the MC. You have to know all the rumors about you guys, and the reputations of clubs like yours are sketchy at best. I guess I just wonder what the draw is for you.”
“You go right for the tough questions, don’t you?” Like her, there were things in his past he preferred not to think about.
“I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer if it’s too personal.”
He lifted the hand that had been holding hers, and tugged at her ponytail. The action brought her face back into a position where he could make eye contact. “No, I promised you I’d open up if you did.” He let out a deep sigh and held her gaze. “I think the story is similar for many of us, at least the abbreviated version. Shitty childhood, not big on following the rules, rebellious, and of course an obsession with motorcycles.”
Lila placed her hand over the one of his that still rested, palm down, against her stomach. She intertwined their fingers and gave a small squeeze. “How shitty?”
“My childhood?” He turned his palm up and linked their fingers once again. It was sweet of her to return the reassuring gesture while he talked. “Less shitty than some, more than most. Grew up in a trailer park, here in town. My old man went to prison when I was ten. He plowed his car through the kitchen of a house somewhere near Vegas after about ten drinks. Killed three of the four people in the family. A few years back I got word he died in prison.”
Lila remained quiet, but tightened her hand in his.
“My mom was a junkie. After the old man went inside, she started disappearing for days, sometimes weeks at a time.” Long buried feelings of abandonment and fear sneaked to the surface. “Went on that way until I was eighteen, then one time she never came back.”
“God, Striker. I’m so sorry. Here I am complaining about my petty problems.” She shook her head. “How did you survive?”
“Lila, just because our issues are different, doesn’t make yours any less important than mine were.” It didn’t surprise him one bit that she’d try to downplay her own feelings to validate his.
“I had this neighbor, a crotchety old bastard who worked on bikes right there at his trailer.” He laughed as he recalled the redneck garage set up the man had. “He’d give me tasks, let me eat with him when I was done, and threw me a few bucks at the end of each project.”
Lila huffed. “I have a feeling you’re leaving a lot out.”
Striker smiled at her insight. She didn’t need to know how bad things got at times. How desperate he’d been for food or how he’d steal drugs from his mom’s stash and sell them to have money for the next time she split. Pity was the last thing he needed from her.
“So obviously you developed a love of motorcycles. Then what? How’d you get involved with the No Prisoners?”
“Well, there was no way to grow up around here and not be aware of the MC.” Striker paused. He wasn’t used to laying himself bare before anyone, especially a woman. It made him feel vuln
erable in a way he didn’t expect, and wasn’t quite sure how to handle.
Accustomed to comforting people, Lila must have sensed his unease. “You can trust me with your story, Striker. I’d never betray your trust by judging what you share with me. And I’d never dream of telling anyone.”
He knew that, but hearing the sincerity of her softly spoken words made him more than willing to share with her. It made him want to share. “The draw was the brotherhood, the family. I think it’s that way for most of us. A lot of the guys are misfits in society, men without roots or kin who are looking for a connection to similar people.”
He quieted and let Lila mull over his words. “I can understand that,” she stated. “I left my family because I didn’t fit, and I wasn’t understood. But after being here for six months, alone, I feel a gap in my life. Until you spoke of your connection to the MC, I hadn’t realized what was lacking for me. But that’s what it is, connection to people, a family. Not that I ever had a strong one, but it was still something. I can see the draw for you. The desire to form bonds with similar people who have similar experiences and values is a strong one. You’re lucky you have people who play that role in your life.”
Striker rested his head back on the lounge chair, and closed his eyes as her words brought him peace. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she understood him. “They are my life. The bond with my brothers is unbreakable. It’s the driving force for all of us.”
He felt her head move against his skin as she nodded, her hair tickled under his chin. “Close your eyes and relax, Lila. Today’s been a crazy day, and I want to take a nap with you here like this while the sun sets.”
Something had shifted between them this evening. Lila was as attracted to him as he was to her. It wasn’t something she hid well. The best thing he could do for both of them would be to stand up and retire to his room, but in this moment he’d rather ride his Harley through a field of broken whisky bottles than walk away from her. Striker felt Lila’s body soften as she dozed off. He opened his eyes in time to see the sun dip below the horizon before he allowed them to drift closed again. Sleep was not far behind.