Nicole snorted. “And you don’t?”
“No, some of us are worrying about more important things, like our jobs and our friend’s well-being.”
It was noticeable and obvious why Emily left out her family from her list of concerns. She’d written her family off since her dad had been reported to DCFS—the Department of Children and Family Services—and she’d moved into my house at sixteen. And her parents didn’t do anything to get her back. Not that it mattered—Emily’d been an honorary member of my family since grade school. I tried to make up for the lack in her life, but sometimes I wondered if that was why she’d clung to her screwed-up relationship with that abusive asshole for so long. She’d dated Michael for a ridiculous amount of time, given how crazy he was and how badly he’d treated her. That one relationship had soured her on dating men. In the ten-year span of our dating years, I could count the number of guys Emily had gone out with on two fingers—the asshat Michael being one of them. She was so caught up in school, and then work at the library, I doubted she’d even noticed we were in our late twenties. Or maybe she didn’t care. God, that thought made me sad.
Nicole shrugged. “Maybe a biker is just the thing to get that stick out of your ass.”
I flinched. “Nicole! Not cool.”
“I’m not wrong.”
“No, what you are is rude.” Emily turned to me and ignored Nicole’s innocent look. “Are you going to tell your parents?”
“Which part? That I’m dating a biker or that I saw one of his ‘brothers’ selling drugs in the parking lot at work?”
Nicole abandoned her silent taunting of Emily and gave me an incredulous look. “Wait, you haven’t even told them about the drug deal?”
“No, I don’t want them to worry.”
“But you’re going to testify. They’re going to find out. It’s better if they hear it from you.”
“If it even goes to trial, it’ll be months from now. I just wish we had working security cameras on that level, and then this whole thing would be moot. They’d have film of it and I wouldn’t have an overprotective biker on my ass.”
Nicole smirked. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“He’s making me nervous. Doesn’t want me to go anywhere on my own. And he’s texting me every hour. It’s starting to creep me out.”
Emily traded a look with Nicole. “Like stalker-boyfriend creeping out, or homicidal-biker on-the-loose nervous?”
“What? No, not Zag. I mean, not totally. And Preacher is safely locked up since he couldn’t make bail. It’s just…I don’t know. I think Zag’s being overprotective and…”
“You’re scared he has a reason to be?” Emily finished for me.
“Yeah. This is totally not my world. I do family barbecues and movies with the girls. Not biker wars and drug deals. I just—” This time I broke off because my phone chirped with an incoming text message.
Zag: You still out with your girls?
I bit my lip and fought the urge to text back: Yes, Dad. Something told me Zag wouldn’t find it funny. Instead I held my phone out to Emily and Nicole. “See what I mean?”
Nicole winced. “Yeah, that does seem like overkill.”
I nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to install spyware on my phone so he can know where I am at all times.”
Emily shrugged. “I think it’s sweet.”
“What?”
“He cares about you and wants to know you’re safe. It’s sweet.”
“It’s nutty. I’m gonna have to talk to him about it.”
Nicole snorted. “Before or after you tell your parents you’re dating a biker? Or that you’re testifying in a drug trial?”
I closed my eyes and sighed. Nic had a point. If I could, I would avoid the difficult stuff in the naïve belief that it made my life easier. And yet…
I texted Zag back. We’re still at Mackay Mocha House.
Sometimes it was just easier to go with the flow.
Chapter 12
JUNE 29
“What do you mean I can’t watch the Dodgers game? I thought you liked baseball.” I looked at Zag incredulously.
“Those fuckers are never allowed in my house—in person or on TV. I don’t know how you can call yourself a Reno resident and not be a Giants fan.”
“Easy. I don’t live in San Francisco.” I had been trolling through the channel guide on his TV and stopped on the game. “I’ve been a Dodgers fan ever since I was twelve.”
“Holy fuck.” Zag stared at me with wide eyes. “I don’t think I can sleep with you anymore.”
My heart stuttered in my chest. He didn’t—he wasn’t going to break up with me over a baseball team. Was he?
The front door slammed against the wall and a slender baby-faced guy in all black sauntered in. “I’ve got the brews, bro, if you’ve got the h—” He cut off when his eyes clashed with mine. He looked from me to Zag and back again. “Hello. Sorry, man, I didn’t know you had company.”
Zag closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. “No, it’s fine, Bobby. It’s your place, too, now.”
Bobby closed the door behind him and walked cautiously across the living room. I half thought that if I moved too quickly, he’d jump out of his skin.
Zag grabbed one of the beers off Bobby’s six-pack and handed it to me. “Bobby, this is Jessica. Jess, Bobby, my roommate and a prospect with the Brothers.”
I gave him a slight smile and waved with my beer. Bobby smiled back, then ducked his head. He was cute in that little-lost-puppy kind of way, with his big, sad brown eyes and messy, overly long hair. I wondered if he was growing it out like Zag.
“Holy fuck. What are the Dodgers doing on your TV?” Bobby even sounded like Zag.
I would’ve smiled, but I was too busy trying to defend my beloved Dodgers. “Come on, they’re not that bad. I mean, it’s still baseball.”
Stunned silence met my statement.
Zag stared stone-faced at me but said nothing.
Not really keen on the undercurrents spinning around the room, I totally caved. “Or we could watch something else. Maybe the Giants are playing.”
It wasn’t my house after all. I held the remote out to Zag.
But still he didn’t take it or say anything. He just stared at me with that scary-as-all-hell angry biker expression.
“Or maybe I should go.” I stood to do just that but didn’t get very far. A tug on my hand brought me up short. Zag pulled me to him until I landed with a not-so-soft “oomph” on his chest.
He kept one arm around me and grabbed the remote with the other. “Let’s watch the Giants game.”
Bobby grunted and cracked open a beer.
I held my breath as the guys conversed around me about the Giants’ starting lineup. I didn’t know what to make of what had just happened. Were they just teasing me? I was used to the banter that came with relationships—both romantic and sibling—but something about the way Zag and Bobby looked at me didn’t make me think of playful teasing. Both had an inherent menacing air. Even Bobby with his lost-puppy eyes had turned cold in a heartbeat. Not sure if I was really welcome or not, I sat stiffly beside Zag.
But slowly over the next hour I saw a different side to Zag. He was just as passionate about his Giants as he was about…well, I didn’t have much to compare it to outside of the bedroom. And the way he was with Bobby was a lot like my brothers. Only rougher.
“Fuck you, man. The Giants have a solid pitching roster. They don’t fucking need—” Zag named the latest Giants pitcher to fall on the disabled list. “Besides, that kid they signed is a goddamn rock star.”
Bobby shook his head. “Bullshit, he’ll flame out in a season. If not sooner.”
“You’re so full of it. What do you think, princess?”
I blinked at Zag’s question. I’d been mostly silent for the last hour. Although he still had his arm around my shoulders, I’d begun to wonder if he remembered I was in the room. And suddenly he wanted to
know what I thought? I hadn’t been expecting that. My mind whirled. “Uh…I agree with Bobby. I don’t think your rock star has anything that anyone on the Dodgers’ roster couldn’t hit out of the park.”
Bobby closed his eyes with a soft curse. “She really knows how to pat you on the back with one hand while twisting your balls with the other.”
Zag just laughed.
I smiled at the unfamiliar but welcome sound and nestled closer to his chest. I could get used to this. “So what do you do, Bobby?”
Bobby reached over the coffee table and grabbed another beer. “I’m a prep cook at a restaurant in the Mother Lode.”
“Really? I’m a front-desk clerk there. How long have you been cooking?”
“Never said I could cook.”
I stared at him, flummoxed. “But you said—”
“That I was a prep cook. Yeah. I peel potatoes and wash vegetables. And if it’s slow, I wash pots and pans.”
“Oh.”
Bobby scratched his jaw. “The hours are better, though. If I was a chef, I’d have to stay till closing. Prep cooks get to leave early.”
“Yeah, this way he has time for the club.” Zag ran his hand up and down my arm. “Kinda hard to run with the boys if you’re always working.”
I shivered at Zag’s casual caress. It was so similar to something a boyfriend would do, I couldn’t believe it’d come from Zag. Even in our down moments, when it was just me and him, he’d never made such a gesture toward me before. I was afraid to move in case I spooked him like a nibbling bunny.
Although it wasn’t the only thing Zag did that reminded me of a bunny.
“That’s cool,” I said. Although I wasn’t sure if I was referring to Bobby’s flexible schedule or Zag’s bunniness.
“Well, I gotta get.” Bobby pushed out of the arm chair and headed for the door. “I’ve got patrol duty with Squints.”
Not sure I wanted to know what patrol duty consisted of or what a Squint was, I watched Bobby walk across the living room. He didn’t look drunk but you could never be too sure. “You sure you’re okay to ride? How many did you have?”
“Fuck me.” Zag’s chest heaved with his sigh. “He only had two beers in a little under two hours. He’ll be fine, princess.”
Bobby snorted. “If I didn’t know better, I’d ask if she was my ma.”
“Screw you, you bastard,” Zag sneered. “That’s not fuckin’ funny.”
“Later.” Bobby gave Zag a one-finger salute before closing the door behind him.
Both Zag and I sat silently cuddling on the couch as the Giants game droned on in the background. At least it droned on for me. Given the way Zag continued to stroke my arm, his mind was obviously elsewhere—most likely on the game in front of him. He was so cute, the way he was all intent on the screen. I couldn’t help but smile as his lips moved while he whispered his encouragement to the batter.
Zag let out a huge whoop the same time the crowd on the TV cheered.
“Yes! That’s it. There’s no way the Padres are coming back from that. Three-fucking-run homer.” He looked down at me and the smile slowly slid off his face. “What?”
“Nothing.” I silently kicked my ass for breaking the moment. Not wanting it to totally die, I snuggled into his chest and breathed in that scent that was purely Zag—mint and man. “Why doesn’t Bobby have a nickname, too?”
“Huh?”
“Bobby. I’m assuming that’s his given name, not a nickname?”
Zag nodded.
“Why doesn’t he have a biker name like you do?”
Zag lifted his shoulder in a half shrug and I rode through the movement, determined not to let him subtly push me away.
“He does, I just forget to use it most times. I’ve known Bobby from before the club. And he’s still just a prospect.” He grew silent and watched the TV. The announcers were replaying the highlights of the first five innings. “He’s come a long way over the past two years.”
Not sure whether he was talking about the Giants’ new pitcher or Bobby, I stayed quiet.
“I can’t believe it’s been two fuckin’ years,” he whispered to himself. He looked as though he was lost in some memory, one that didn’t look too pleasant, given his furrowed brow and deep scowl.
“Well, I liked him. He seemed like a nice guy.”
Zag jerked back into the present and gave me a sidelong look. “Oh, really? You think he’s nice?”
“Um, yeah…” That was a compliment, right? At least it was the last time I checked.
“So you like nice guys, huh?” He had a glint in his eye that had me thinking maybe it wasn’t a compliment to Zag or maybe it was an indictment against Zag that I liked Bobby.
He couldn’t be jealous.
“Sometimes,” I answered, treading carefully.
“Well, princess, you sure as hell don’t have one now.” Zag twisted on the wide couch, effectively pinning me beneath him. He scowled down at me. “Is that a problem?”
His mouth hovered a millimeter above mine.
“Sometimes nice guys are overrated,” I whispered half a second before his lips covered mine.
Oh yeah. Nice guys were definitely overrated.
Chapter 13
JULY 4
I held tight to Zag’s waist as we whipped down the freeway, weaving through the heavy Fourth of July traffic. I tried not to think about all I would be missing: the annual barbecue and picnic with my family, watching my nephew, Kaden’s face when the fireworks lit up the sky, and the traditional late-night bar-hopping with my girlfriends. Today was the first time I’d be missing all that. And maybe the first time for a brand-new tradition—a barbecue with the club.
Honestly, even the thought of what was ahead filled me with jitters. What if they didn’t like me? What if I didn’t fit in with the other women? What if things deteriorated into a full-on orgy? I mean that was what I’d been led to believe by my brothers’ “Letters to Penthouse” that I’d stolen and read. My fingers flexed on Zag’s waist at the thought. Something told me he wouldn’t be the type to willingly share—those caveman instincts of his ran deep. Plus I knew I wouldn’t have to worry about drugs. Zag had made his stance on that crystal clear. I made a mental note to dig deeper there. I could tell there was a lot this man was keeping buried.
But it might take a jackhammer to get it out of him. Anytime I brought up anything deep, he found a way to turn my attention to more naked things. Like him. As though he knew where my thoughts had turned, Zag reached down and ran his hand over my jean-covered thigh before gripping the handlebar again. Even through my pants, I shivered at the contact.
I turned to the scenery flashing by to distract myself from dry-humping my man on the freeway. We’d left the city far behind, as the suburban houses had turned to warehouses and now rich, green pastures. Zag checked over his shoulder, then wove dangerously close through two pickups as we darted to the freeway exit. I looked at the grazing cattle and small grove of aspens and had to admit that this was the last place I’d thought the leader of a motorcycle club would live. But judging from the collection of motorcycles, we were in the right place.
My nerves arose anew. Shit, what was I doing here? My one intro to Zag’s life had been bumpy to say the least. I just had to keep my smart mouth quiet and get the lay of the land. These were normal people, right? I could do this.
And yet when Zag parked his bike and I got off, I still had the crazy urge to jump back on the bike and demand that he take me home. I couldn’t do this. I didn’t know these people, and the few I had met didn’t seem to like me much. I could be home with my family. That was familiar. Easy. This so was not.
Something about my body language or expression must’ve indicated my unease to Zag, because he grabbed my hand and tugged me to him. “Hey, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
I looked down at him still sitting on the bike and nodded, while I tried to give him my I-don’t-give-a-shit smile.
Zag’s eyes narrowed
, and he pulled me down until I was sitting sidesaddle on his lap. “When you’re with me, I don’t want you to worry. That’s my job. And here with these guys you’ve got nothing to worry about. Besides, I’ve got you.”
I melted into his chest and couldn’t resist the urge—I cupped his cheek in my hand and kissed him. But very quickly—like always—Zag took control of the kiss. His tongue slipped into my mouth, teasing me. Provoking me. My skin burned and soon the only thing on my mind was how soon I could get this man alone. And naked.
“Hey, you coming inside or you planning on sucking face all day?”
And now I burned in a whole different way. I pulled away from Zag with a gasp, then hid my flaming face in the hollow of his throat. Or at least I tried to.
Zag just laughed, clutched me in his arms, and swung off the bike before setting me gently down on my feet. “Don’t think I’m done with you, princess.”
“You can think whatever the hell you want because I’m sure as hell done. I don’t do public displays. At all.” When I kissed him a few seconds ago, there hadn’t been a biker in sight. Unlike now…
“Introduce me to your lady.”
I looked over toward the deep booming voice and the huge man standing just a few feet away. In all my embarrassment and anger, I’d briefly forgotten there was someone else still with us. And he was huge. Taller than Zag by an inch or so, he towered over my five-foot-ten frame. Add in his gray-tinged buzzed head, neck tattoos, five-day stubble, and the serious expression that his sunglasses didn’t hide, and I was trembling. I had a hard time picturing this guy smiling—ever. He was huge and intimidating.
“Reb, princ—I mean, Jessica. Jessica, this is Rebel, the Brothers’ prez.”
Since Reb didn’t hold his hand out for a handshake, I gave him a little awkward wave. Reb just grunted in reply. I tried not to take it personally. But then it was hard not to as he seemed intent on giving me the obvious and slightly disrespectful once-over—no, make that twice-over.
And then they started talking about me like I wasn’t even there.
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