“I thought the hot meal and the warm body would do.”
“You sell yourself short.” He tapped her nose. “You’ve got a lot more to offer than a bed and breakfast.”
“I was just joking,” she mumbled. Of course, now that he’d called her on it, she felt ridiculous. “I enjoyed the evening.”
“So did I.” He pecked her with a kiss across her lips. “Let me get cleaned up.”
She silently watched as he rose from the bed, mesmerized by the planes and angles of his muscles as well as the tattoos crisscrossing his chest—images of wolves encased in armor with Gothic letters, a large ‘M’ and a large ‘W’.
He bent over and picked his clothes from the floor, then made his way to the connecting bathroom, giving her a mouthwatering view of his muscled back and tight sexy ass.
Even though she was salivating, she knew what came next—the awkward moment when it was time for him to let himself out. She’d known it was coming, since he’d so vehemently argued against spending the night, even when she’d offered him the couch.
But that was before we enjoyed each other so much.
Her heart tried to reason with her brain, but when he emerged from the bathroom fully clothed, her brain taunted her heart.
See? I told you. Better pick your pride off the floor and wish him a good night. At least he doesn’t have a cell phone so you won’t have to worry about whether he’d text or call.
Terri hurriedly yanked the sweater over herself, neglecting to put on her bra. She pulled her pants up and got off the bed.
Forcing a smile on her face, she touched his arm. “Would you like to take some of the brownies with you?”
He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “You’ve given me enough already. Thanks, but I should go now.”
Even though she expected it, her heart sank just a little further. She nodded quickly and said, “Sure. It was fun,” leaving “let’s do it again” unsaid.
Wasn’t this the story of her life? Not only did she get second pickings, but even if she managed to get a man into her bed, he always made an excuse to leave. Not even the prospect of a comfortable bed was enough to keep a homeless man—although admittedly, he could be pulling an entire line of bullshit over her head about his sob story.
“If you have any work for me, could you leave a message with my buddy, Axe?” He scribbled a phone number on a piece of paper. “You understand why I can’t stay, right?”
“Sure, I didn’t expect you to. I was just being kind, thinking of you out in that drafty barn. I mean, I have to work tomorrow and I need my rest. Don’t need to have you around, but if you ever want to share a meal, just come by the shop.”
“Terri?” He tipped her chin up. “You have a heart of gold. I’ll be around.”
“Sure, well, you know where to find me.” She watched him make his way to the door, knowing she should be opening it to let him out, but unable to move her feet toward him.
The doorbell buzzed right when Ryker opened the door, bringing him face to face with—her mother.
“Who are you?” Mom exclaimed and blocked the doorway. A frown drew her eyebrows down as she craned her neck and took in Terri’s disheveled appearance. She turned her attention on Ryker, her nose pinched as if she smelled a skunk. “I hope that’s not your Harley parked in my spot.”
“Mom, it’s a visitor’s spot. Anyone can park there,” Terri said lamely. “Actually, he was on his way out.”
“I can see that.” Her mother sneered.
“It’s nice to meet you.” Ryker offered a tiny wave without looking her mother in the eye. “Terr, I’ll see you at the shop.”
Terri was too frozen to the spot to reply as Ryker and her mother exchanged places, sliding by each other as if the slightest brush would cause the exchange of unwanted ticks, fleas, or cooties.
“Well, well, well.” Her mother shut the door and plodded straight for Terri’s bedroom.
“Mom, seriously, can’t you leave it alone?” Terri’s feet sprang alive as she moved to block her mother from invading her room.
“No, I can’t. Not when you persist on sneaking off with that kind of scum.” Her mother parked herself in the tiny hallway and crossed her arms. “I came over here to tell you that Stuart Fiske, that’s Dr. Stuart Fiske, proctologist, has agreed to take you out this Friday to the symphony. Mind you, it took a lot of horse trading at the country club to get that done. I had to volunteer for Stella Fiske’s Memorial Day basket committee.”
“I don’t need you to arrange dates for me.” Terri faced her mother, mirroring the arm crossing and foot stomping. “I can find my own men just fine.”
“Sure looks like you’re skimming the bottom of the barrel. Thank God he was on his way out. Not that there’s any comparison, but Dr. Stuart Fiske would definitely not sleep with you on the first date, and even if he did, he would at least have the decency to spend the night and take you out to brunch the next morning.”
Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.
“Out. Out. Out.” Terri pointed to the door. “Just because you’re my mother doesn’t give you the right to insult me.”
Her mother turned her large frame and waddled to the kitchen. “I’m only telling you the truth because I care about you. Here I go, working my tail off to get you a decent, upstanding man, and you’re doing everything you can to sabotage my hard work.”
“I don’t need you to set me up with anyone.”
Her mother took a knife and cut herself a jumbo chunk of brownie. “You’re almost thirty. I hate to have to keep worrying about you. If you were married, my job would be done.”
“Your job is already finished. How’s Dad doing? I’ll be by to visit and catch a game with him. Here, have all the rest of the brownies.” Terri made quick work of wrapping the tray with plastic wrap. “I’m sure Dad would love some, too.”
“Can you at least agree to go out with Dr. Fiske?” Her mother eagerly took the jumbo pan. “I know you young ladies like bad boys, but you’re turning thirty and it’s time to grow up. Dr. Fiske can provide you with the lifestyle you’re accustomed to, and you won’t have to slave away at the flower shop once you start having kids.”
“I like the flower shop, and I’m happy with the lifestyle I’m providing myself.” Terri eased her mother toward the door. It was a delicate balancing act. She wanted to stand up for herself, but dreaded getting into a prolonged argument.
“I know you’re happy right now, but you have to think about the future. You’re not getting any younger, and desirable men like Dr. Fiske will be whisked away quicker than your bad boy waltzed out the door.”
“Mom, you’re insulting me again.” Terri felt her blood pressure explode.
“The truth hurts, darling. I saw it with my own eyes. I presume he slept with you and was retreating as fast as he could.”
What could Terri say? Her mother had witnessed yet another blow off. Part of her crumpled up like used wrapping paper. It was all she could do to usher her mother out the door without falling apart.
As tough an image as she portrayed to her friends, about how she didn’t care if she was the maid of honor without a prospect of ever being a bride, how she made fun of the blind dates everyone kept setting her up with, how satisfied she was with her life and her flower shop—no man needed, all that was blown away as soon as she tasted a ride on the back of Ryker’s bike.
“Promise me, you’ll try and behave,” her mother said. “I don’t want you embarrassing me with your loud manners. Let me pick your outfit. We want something classy that hides your fat at the same time. Don’t forget, I’ll get a report from Stella, and I really, really want to chair the Veteran’s Day Gift basket committee. I’ll even put in a huge order from your flower shop.”
Terri hadn’t recalled agreeing to a date with Dr. Fiske, but she needed her mother to leave, so she made all the right noises and told her mother she’d sit through the symphony on Friday evening. After all, maybe a fancy dinner and a classy date could make up
for the way Ryker had rode all over her feelings.
The next time she saw him, if he ever deigned to come around and ask for a few hours of work, she wouldn’t be so vulnerable and stupid. Why, she just might be sporting a huge rock to shove in his teeth.
Chapter Twelve
Ryker hated the way he’d left Terri with that hell on wheels mother. That was almost as bad as the time he was caught kissing the underaged daughter of the president of a rival motorcycle club. It hadn’t mattered that he was ten and she was older, or that she’d been the one to lead him behind the barn at a rally and show him her tits.
What was he supposed to do when she asked him to kiss them? They were the first tits he’d ever seen up close, pink nipples like strawberry ice cream over beautiful white globes. Of course he’d complied and kissed them and yes, he was guilty of touching and fondling them.
But he’d been caught by the girl’s father. Nothing happened right away, but the next night, the Storm Demons retaliated and set fire to his father’s garage, destroying half the club’s bikes.
Once his father found out Ryker was the reason for the war, he was beaten and made to sleep in the burnt out garage for a month while their club, the Metal Wolves, sought revenge.
The war had escalated until his father set fire to a meth lab operated by the Storm Demons. The explosion killed almost the entire membership, and the ensuing shootout claimed lives on both sides, including his eldest brother and heir to the club.
His father was tried and found guilty of arson and manslaughter and sentenced to life in prison, but he continued to direct their lives from behind bars. Ryker’s brothers took over the hierarchy, and Ryker was trained in all the arts of war: shooting, sniping, knife fights, and martial arts with a single objective.
Vengeance against the Storm Demons, starting with their president, Terror Terkel.
Five years ago, the plan had been put in place. Ryker’s father had gotten wind from an informer that the president was hiding in plain sight as a war veteran.
He’d changed his name, bought respectability with his family’s money, and was no longer associated with the motorcycle club. That hadn’t mattered to Ryker’s father or brothers. The orders still stood.
Find Terror Terkel and make him watch as the Metal Wolves tortured and killed his eldest child—the same girl he’d kissed in the back of that barn. Ryker was the cause of the war, and therefore Ryker had to mete out the punishment. Even his mother had agreed.
Instead of following orders, Ryker broke with the motorcycle club and turned his back on his brothers. He destroyed the paperwork pointing to Terkel’s identity and sent a warning to him through Axe, telling him about the snitch.
He then joined the Marines, intending on staying in war zones overseas for the rest of his life. He’d be one of the good guys. He’d save lives, not take lives. He’d rescue hostages and keep civilians safe.
Except now that he was back, his mother and brothers had started the war again. They wanted revenge and if he wasn’t going to take it, they’d step up and settle the score themselves.
Add to that, the remaining members of the Storm Demons had regrouped and had taken over some of the businesses along the coast. They’d also vowed revenge for their dead, and rumor had it that they had a large arsenal of weapons bought by an unnamed donor.
Which meant it wasn’t safe to be a Metal Wolf or a Slade or anyone associated with them—especially for an innocent woman whose only fault was being too big-hearted and kind for her own good.
Ryker rode hard and fast, turning down La Honda Road. There was no time to luxuriate in the glow of the best sex he’d ever had, or to fixate on the gorgeous woman he would have loved to hold for the rest of the night.
He shouldn’t have left Terri there with her mother, but he had no choice. Despite the gray hair, the added pounds, and sagging skin, the sneer on Terri’s mother’s face seared through his memory.
It was the same woman who’d grabbed him by the ear after the rally and dragged him into the women’s room, then humiliated him by repeatedly shoving his head into the toilet and kicking his balls until he’d begged for mercy.
That night, he’d lost his innocence and swore revenge—not to Terror Terkel, but to the bitch who was his old lady.
Chapter Thirteen
Instead of collapsing in the corner and inhaling a gallon of ice cream, Terri called in the cavalry: Jolie, Nikki, Sherelle, and Leanna.
They came bearing gifts: chocolate, tea, wine, tissues, cookies, popcorn, and movies. They crowded around Terri on the large sectional and listened while Terri kicked herself for how stupid she was.
“I should have gone by my instincts.” She threw her hands up dramatically. “He was too good to be true.”
“What really happened?” Jolie gave her a sympathetic hug. “You say he showed up to work and then you guys came here for dinner?”
“He scarfed up my lasagna and half the raspberry brownies.”
“That’s horrible.” Sherelle cast a glance at the kitchen. “I love those raspberry brownies. Are there any left?”
“There was until my mother showed up. Right as Ryker was leaving.”
“Oh no. That’s awful,” Nikki joined the chorus of concerned friends. “Did your mother figure out he’s a biker?”
“She took one look at him and decided he’s vermin. Biker scum. Ryker couldn’t zoom out of here fast enough.”
“Hasn’t your mother ever heard of boundaries?” Sherelle wagged her finger. “Seriously, you need to put a stop to her barging in.”
“At least she didn’t catch us.” Terri’s face reddened at the thought of what her mother could have walked in on.
“Doing what?” Jolie’s expression sharpened with interest. “Don’t tell me you slept with him. Did he attack you?”
“No, I kind of threw myself at him.” Terri hiccupped and hid her face at the shame of it all. Still, nothing felt better than unloading with her besties. Having them here muted the hurt. They always had her back and could make her laugh even in her most dire straits.
“Was he any good?” Leanna leaned forward, finally paying attention.
“Leanna!” Sherelle snapped. “It doesn’t matter whether he was good or not. He walked out on Terr and that’s bad.”
“I know he’s bad news, but if he was good in bed, at least Terri had a better evening than we did sitting around browsing dress designs,” Leanna said. “You should see the ruffles on the one I picked.”
Ruffles were the least of Terri’s concerns. Fine. She’d lost the bet, but Leanna didn’t have to gloat.
“He was awesome. Huge, hard, and furious.” Terri lifted her head to do some gloating. “Perfect. He even cuddled with me afterwards. Everything was great until he went to clean up.” A flurry of tears flooded back into her eyes. “It was like a switch flipped, and when he got dressed, he decided he had to bail.”
“Maybe he had somewhere he had to go.” Nikki crowded in and patted Terri’s back. “Somehow I’m not buying the homeless vet story. Whoever heard of a homeless guy with a vintage Harley?”
“He says his buddy kept it for him while he was deployed,” Terri said. “But you’re right. He’s definitely hiding something.”
“Maybe he’s a serial killer on the run,” Leanna said. “You should count your lucky stars that he left.”
“Oh, stop making her feel worse.” Jolie gave Leanna a shove. “I can see it now. You’re trying to be next in line.”
“Am not.” Leanna’s lower lip jutted and her eyes flashed darkly. “I don’t steal boyfriends.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” Terri flung the damp tissue across the room. “I just don’t know why I felt a connection when there obviously wasn’t one. My bad.”
“You’re too kind hearted,” Nikki said. “That’s not a bad thing. But you do have to guard your heart better.”
“Next time, play hard to get.” Sherelle, ever the wise one, crossed her arms authoritatively. “Get him wonder
ing why you’re not interested.”
“At least he showed his true colors quickly,” Jolie said. “It’s better to get it over with. He shoots. He scores. He stinks.”
“You’re too good for him anyways.” Nikki picked up the TV remote. “What do you guys want to watch?”
“Not 27 Dresses,” Terri huffed. “And nothing wedding related.”
“But that would be my entire collection,” Jolie said, flipping through her stack of discs. “My Best Friend’s Wedding, Made of Honor, The Wedding Date, Something Borrowed …”
“Enough wedding talk.” Terri put up her hand. “I concede the ruffles. With my luck, I’ll look like a Thanksgiving turkey at a harvest hoedown. How about we go out for a drink? That's how guys deal with stress.”
“Anywhere in particular?” Jolie bounced off the sectional. “Shall we go to a biker bar? Maybe we’ll see him there.”
“Yes, let’s find out why he had to leave so quickly,” Leanna said. “Maybe he had to do a drug deal.”
“Hey, I can have him investigated,” Jolie said. “Warren knows some bikers who hang out at Club Rachelle. He’s there tonight doing undercover work.”
Warren was Jolie’s fiancé and a narc investigating the meth trade in the backwoods of Silicon Valley.
“Won’t that be dangerous?” Sherelle said. “You might bust his cover.”
“Nonsense,” Jolie said. “We’ll pretend we don’t know each other, but he’ll have our backs. I’ll text him and let him know we’re on our way.”
“I don’t know about this,” Nikki said. “Biker bars might be dangerous. Don’t they have turf wars and such?”
“Not as much as before,” Jolie reassured. “Besides, Warren and his guys will be there so we have nothing to worry about.”
“Coolio!” Leanna wiggled her shoulders. “Nothing gets me hotter than ink and leather.”
“Everything gets you hot,” Sherelle noted. “I might as well tag along and make sure you girls stay out of trouble.”
“Stay out of trouble?” Leanna hooted. “Trouble is exactly what we’re looking for, right Terr?”
Bad Boys for Hire: Ryker (Bad Boys for Hire #1) Page 5