by Debra Kayn
Out.
Her bottom lip glistened. He thrust, letting her take him. Hugged between her breast, he grunted. Her mouth greedily sucking on his head. Rolling tension swept through him as his climax exploded, leaving him depleted.
The stroke of her tongue as she drew harder on him made his legs tremble. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes as she took every drop from him.
He lazily rubbed her nipples until his cock fell out of her mouth. Stepping back, he caught his balance and tucked himself into his jeans, and latched his belt.
Twyla stood, dressed quickly, and walked into the kitchen. He reached under the cushion and grabbed his pistol, putting it back in his jeans.
Cupboards banged in the other room like gunfire. He watched her, searching in each cabinet. They were all bare from Angie moving her possessions over to Ringtails.
Twyla stopped, gripped the sink, and hung her head in front of her. He walked into the kitchen but stayed back from touching her.
She was right there with him moments ago, riding free, enjoying herself.
"You okay?" He grabbed a pack of smokes out of his vest pocket and put a cigarette in his mouth without lighting it.
"No." She inhaled deeply and turned to face him. "I need coffee. I need some right now. This minute."
"Okay."
"I can't think." She put her two fingers to her forehead. "I need caffeine...to think."
He picked up the phone. "I'll get you a coffee."
"Coffee doesn't come from a telephone." She scoffed. "I need to go to the store."
"Just hold on a minute." He dialed the clubhouse.
"Yeah?" said Banks.
"It's Whip." He kept his eye on Twyla, ready to stop her if she tried to leave the house.
"You missed calling in. Priest has a crew out distracting the cops in the area. Rick was going to split apart from them and make contact with you. Has he showed up?"
"No."
"Shit. Hang on." Banks yelled, "Someone shut that damn music off. I can't fucking hear."
He waited for his MC brother to tell him what was going on. It only took ten minutes or so to go from the clubhouse to Tenth Street. Rick should've been here and left already.
"You need to sit tight. Don't step outside the house until Rick or Priest contacts you. I'm going to ride out and see if I can find someone." Banks cussed. "Something's up."
"Did someone find out what was happening last night?"
"Brother, I'm not saying anything over the phone. Just hang tight."
"Right." He ran his hand through his hair. "Talk later."
He hung up. What the hell was going on?
Last night, he would've guessed the cop chasing him wanted to pull him over for some strummed up misdemeanor to make his quota. But with Tarkio riders out riding around Missoula and no one making contact with him, bothered him.
He wanted to ride out and see what was going on. The responsibility of keeping the members safe and free fell to him. If they were in trouble, he needed to go where they were. Not hide away in the house waiting for them.
"Is everything okay?" Twyla frowned. "That call didn't sound too good."
"I need to stay here for a little longer," he murmured, trying to figure out where the crew would go and what risks laid in their path.
"Well, you do what you have to do." She walked past him. "I'm going to clean up and go to the store. You'll be gone by the time I get back. I hope."
He hooked her wrist before she could escape. "I can't let you do that, sis."
"Why?"
"Until I know it's safe out there, you're staying here with me."
"You're the one the cops want, not me," she said.
"You're staying here."
"I'm only going to the store."
"It'll have to wait."
She studied him. He let go of her arm, and she used the opportunity to leave the room.
What had happened between them would have to wait. He walked over to the front window and peeked outside. There were more cars parked along the street, not quite time for people to leave for work, or they were staying home on their day off, seeing as it was Sunday. An older man walked a dog on a lease, going in the opposite direction.
What was out there?
Where was his club?
Chapter 9
Whip
The back door of Twyla's house shut. Whip lit a cigarette and waited for Rick to tell him why it'd taken until three o'clock in the damn afternoon for someone to make contact with him.
"Is she going to be listening at the door or window?" Rick looked over his shoulder.
"Don't know." He turned his back to the house and walked ten feet away and waited until Rick stood beside him. "What's going on?"
"Cusclan put a hit on you and gave intel to the police." Rick crossed his arms, keeping his voice low. "Last night, the P.D. had half the department looking for you."
"Is there a warrant?"
Rick shook his head. "More than likely, Cusclan has someone on the inside who is doing them a favor by bringing you in."
"Why the Missoula police?"
"It's easier than going to the Feds and involving themselves." Rick half turned toward him. "The police can't get you if you're not doing anything."
"I'm a felon. I carry a gun. I wear a vest." He took a hard hit on the cigarette. "Any of those things will give them an excuse to stop me. It wouldn't take much paper-pushing to take me into custody and hold me for however long they feel is necessary."
Rick dipped his chin, agreeing with him.
"Why is Cusclan after me?"
"You're Tarkio." He paused. "Do you want to hear my guess?"
"Shoot."
"You've had three-four encounters with Twyla lately," said Rick.
"She said she wasn't involved—"
"Would that matter if she was your woman or your ex, and you saw her hanging with a Cusclan member?"
He gritted his teeth. The threat of Cusclan hung over his head. They were the reason why he'd spent four years in prison for admitting he killed two Cusclan members in self-defense. Because they were all involved in motorcycle clubs, the jury concluded that he'd committed a gang war.
No one considered that his parents were murdered, and his sister had to witness her parents killed in front of her.
"Your association with Twyla is going to keep that target on your back," said Rick.
He should've never stopped and told Twyla to leave Missoula. He for damn sure never should've found a way for Ringtail to continue seeing Angie.
Glancing at the house, another complication clouded his thinking.
He was attracted to her.
That morning, he'd gotten a small taste of her and instantly wanted more. While he had no claim to her, if she'd lied and Big was still in her life, watching over his property, he had a seriously big problem.
"Priest thinks it's best if you lay low at the clubhouse until we have a bigger grasp of the situation. Cops are hanging around the area six streets deep. It took all day for me to get here without having a tail. We'll have to find a way to get you inside, and then Tarkio will make sure nobody but members can get inside the clubhouse." Rick took a bandana out of his pocket, rolled and tied the material, and slipped it on his head.
"What about Twyla?" he asked.
"What about her?"
"If Big's aiming for me and he can't find me, he's going to make Twyla pay." The shithole he'd gotten himself into started filling up. "I can't leave her here unprotected."
"Tarkio can't afford to protect her. Cusclan will take that as a sign of war."
Whip ran his hand down his face, pulling on his beard. "I'll stay here."
"Bro—"
"Better yet, tell Priest we'll be staying at the cabin at the river." He pulled out another cigarette. "I'll have the mountainside at my back. Nobody can come down the trail without me knowing. I can keep her safe while we figure out how to deal with Cusclan."
"The police will notice us, escorting you out of
town."
He slapped Rick's shoulder. "Don't worry about that. I'll get her there."
"Let me call Priest." Rick turned toward the house.
"Tell him we'll need supplies for the week." He looked at the door, knowing how Twyla would react once he told her that he was uprooting her life.
But there was no other option. He wasn't leaving her alone.
She'd already tried to shoot Big. Unless that was all a show.
A week would give him enough time to get the truth out of her.
Chapter 10
Twyla
Twyla followed the path from the Clark Fork River, keeping an eye on the sky. Smoke from the cabin swirled in the air. It was the only sign that Whip hadn't left her out here alone.
Water ran down her leg. She hefted the bundle of wet clothes higher on her hip.
For how much trouble it was to wash the clothes in the river, it would've been easier to go swimming, fully clothed, with a bar of soap.
She entered the clearing and dumped the clothes on the towel spread out on the hood of her car. It'd been four days of living in the cabin with Whip.
Four long days.
She tested the rope strung from the handle of her car door to a nearby pine tree, then draped the clothes over the line. Thank goodness, she remembered Mrs. Guilihad hanging up clothes next door while she was growing up. At least she trusted the clothes would dry. Though she had no idea how clean they would be seeing water skippers on the surface of the water near the river bank.
"Where're my clothes?" asked Whip behind her.
She rolled her eyes. He acted like she would break her silence if he kept asking stupid questions.
His clothes were exactly where he'd dropped them on the bank. He could wash his own things. She wasn't his maid.
He hadn't asked her to come with him. Whip and his cronies gave her no choice but to go with him to the cabin. She'd missed two days of work, including picking up her check. All because they thought Big sent the cops after Whip.
She couldn't believe Big would do this to her.
Exhaling loudly, she picked up the last pair of panties and hung them over the clothesline. Actually, she could imagine him making her suffer. The jerk couldn't believe she wanted to leave him. That's why he kept trying to get her back.
Big was delusional. He wanted what he couldn't have, and once she told him she was done shacking up with him and didn't want to be involved with him anymore, he'd turned into an asshole.
She wasn't going to move in with anyone to save a few dollars on rent. If she couldn't swing a monthly payment by herself, she'd work two jobs until she could.
Whip ducked under the line and walked toward the river. She glared at his back. He was no better than Big.
She should never have let him in her pants. Just like Big, he got what he wanted and then never touched her again until he got an itch.
Obviously, Whip's itch didn't need scratching because he hadn't touched her again.
Done with her clothes, she sat on the hood of her car, letting the sunshine warm her. There was no use going in the small cabin. Without television or something to grab her attention, all she could do was stare at four walls or Whip.
She leaned back on her hands and tilted her face to the sky. Closing her eyes, she exhaled loudly.
At least Whip had allowed her to call into work and talk to the lead waitress before carting her off to a cabin out in BFE. She was able to have two other waitresses cover her shift throughout the week, allowing her to keep her job.
Whip promised to have her back to the house by Sunday.
The whole situation was frustrating. She wasn't sure if Big was a threat or not. Not to her, at least. She wouldn't doubt that Big sent the cops after Whip. He had a jealous streak. But she found it hard to believe that Big or Cusclan would physically hurt her.
"Sis?"
She kept her eyes closed and never moved. "Why do you call me that? I'm not your sister."
In fact, after what they'd done together, calling her sis was an insult.
The car moved underneath her. She opened her eyes to find him setting his clothes beside her on the hood.
"I don't know why I do it." He picked up a wet pair of his jeans and stepped over to the make-shift clothesline. "It just comes out of my mouth."
She studied him. He continued hanging his clothes as if things weren't strange between them. He'd probably already forgotten about having oral sex with her.
"I don't get you." She hopped off the car and walked to the cabin.
If he was going to stay outside, she'd go inside. Climbing the ladder, she went to the loft and crawled over to the bed. To her surprise, the mattress was more comfortable than any place she'd slept lately.
A lot had to do with Whip leaving the window open every night. The fresh air and snuggling under a heavy blanket in the summer were absolute heaven, despite the circumstances.
She closed her eyes. Time went incredibly slow, not having anything to do.
A low rumble vibrated within the cabin. She blinked, looking around the loft, then finally sat up the louder the noise grew.
There was a biker coming. She scrambled off the bed. Holding on to the ladder, the adrenaline rush left her shaking. Could Big have found them?
Her chest tightened. "Whip?"
Her foot slipped, and she jumped the rest of the way, landing on her feet. She needed to warn him. Hurrying out the open door, she found Whip standing in the clearing in front of the cabin, looking toward the trail.
She rushed to his side. "Is it—?"
"It's Priest." He glanced at her. "My president. He's bringing my bike to me."
She rocked back, relief swarming her. "Does that mean we can leave?"
He ignored her as three bikers rolled around the corner slowly and came to a stop in front of them. As soon as they turned off the motorcycles, Whip said, "Everything clear?"
"It took over sixty of our riders to push the police back, allowing us to get here without anyone trailing us." The lead biker got off the Harley. "Pressure is high, brother."
The man looked at Twyla. His gaze narrowed, making her feel like an intruder. She wasn't mixed up with Big like they accused her of being. Big was in her past. She wanted nothing to do with him as much as they wanted him gone.
"Where does Big live?" asked the man.
She opened her mouth to answer, and Whip said, "Don't involve her, Prez."
So, that was Priest. The man Whip spoke of with respect.
She understood the workings of a motorcycle club. Everyone listened to the president. Then, there were officers. The rest of the members fell in line.
In Cusclan MC, Big was one of those at everyone's beck and call.
The man kept looking at her. "You tried to kill him. If she can aim a gun at him, she can open her mouth and tell me his address."
She pressed her lips together. If she had wanted Big dead, she would've shot him in his cold, angry heart and not at the ground by his feet.
"Where does he live?' repeated Priest.
"Jesus Christ." Whip walked away, shaking his head.
She chewed on her lip. The conversation upset Whip.
Who was he protecting? Weren't they staying at the cabin because Big was trying to get Whip arrested, and he was afraid Big would come after her if he wasn't around?
"Twyla," said Priest.
She startled, snapping her gaze to the president of Tarkio. "He, um, lives in Stevensville."
"Address?"
"Slocum Creek Rd." She swallowed. "Twelve. The house number, I mean."
Whip rounded on Priest, ignoring Twyla. "How many people witnessed her taking a couple potshots at him? Carl from the parts store was standing right by Rick and me that night. There could've been ten other people on that block who stuck their heads out of the buildings lining the road. If Big ends up dead in his own fucking house, the first person they're going to question is her."
Twyla shivered. "Wait a minute. You're goi
ng to kill him?"
None of the men answered her. She looked to Whip. There had to be some other way to deal with Big. If Whip worried about her, she would need to convince him that she could take care of herself.
She stepped toward him and grabbed his arm. "Can I talk to you? Privately?"
He stepped away from the group of bikers. She stuck close to him, not wanting the others to hear.
"You need to go back to your club. I'll go back to work and never see you again. This has gone too far. Big isn't going to hurt me. And if he tries to contact me, I'll call the police." She lowered her voice. "I'll be fine."
"You're no match against him if he comes after you."
Her throat closed, touched by his offer to protect her. She never asked him to look out for her, but here he was, offering to take care of her, despite the risk to his freedom. In that second, she softened toward him.
He might not be attracted to her after their one little tryst, but he'd make a good friend.
She hadn't had many people in her life that she trusted. Most were fair-weather friends, and while she enjoyed hanging out with them, she wouldn't trust them with her life.
"Besides going to work, I'd be at the house. I can lock the doors and make sure he can't catch me outside or alone." She squared her shoulders. "Despite what you think, I can take care of myself, Whip."
They should've had that conversation before leaving her house. She was caught up in her lust for him and then her anger. She should've made it clear that she wasn't prone to run off her emotions all the time.
Of course, that's all he'd seen of her. First her temper with Big and then practically begging him to keep licking her that morning on the couch.
"Really. I'll be fine." She leaned closer. "You need to take care of yourself and your club. Nobody needs to get hurt."
He frowned. She squeezed his arm.
"I'm not your responsibility, Whip," she whispered. "Big has the cops after you because he's a jerk. Go take care of yourself."
When he kept studying her, looking as if he would argue, she walked away from him and his MC brothers. She wanted to leave and go back to the house in Missoula.
Inside the cabin, she climbed the ladder into the loft and gathered her bag with her essentials in it. All she had to do was grab her clothes that hung outside, and she would be ready to go.