by Nicole James
Undertaker remained seated on the tailgate of the pickup, swinging one leg and studying her.
She approached him. “It means a lot that you did all this for me. I mean it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She nodded toward where his men had gone. “They seemed uncomfortable when I thanked them.”
“They just don’t get talked to like that very often.” He wiped his face with a napkin, crumbled it up, and tossed it into the garbage. “Don’t worry, they got the message. And it’s good for their souls to do something nice and good for someone once in a while.”
“It doesn’t happen very often?”
He chuckled. “This bunch? Nah. Not often.”
“So, maybe you’re right. Maybe I was judging them before I got to know them. They don’t seem to be the badasses I was afraid of.”
He laughed again. “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far. Don’t underestimate them. They can be every inch the badasses you fear, but only if someone disrespects them or challenges them.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t. But you will.” He jumped down off the tailgate. “Now how about the keys to the Spider? You did promise me I could drive it.”
She grinned, pulled them from the back pocket of her jeans, and dropped them in the open palm of his hand. “Once around the block, mister.”
“You better come along, ‘cause around the block ain’t gonna cut it, lady.”
When they’d gone around the block a couple of times, he drove back onto the lot and they got out. Undertaker watched her eye his bike. “You ride?”
She shook her head.
He moved to his saddlebag, pulled out a helmet, and held it out to her.
She took it. “You always carry an extra?”
“Nope. Bought that for you.”
“For me?” she asked, stunned. Her eyes dropped to the lone sticker on the back. Sweet cheeks. “Cute.”
He grinned as he took his helmet from where it dangled from the handlebar and strapped it on. Then he threw his leg over the seat. “Climb on, sweet cheeks.”
She didn’t complain. She was too happy at the moment, and scrambled on behind him.
***
Delilah sat in the backseat of the Buick wondering how much longer they were going to have to bake in this heat. The car was parked in the lot of Our Lady of Sorrow Catholic Church.
Ronnie sat in the driver’s seat, licking a melting ice cream cone that they’d bought at the Dairy Barn where they’d rendezvoused with his brother. His eyes were focused with sharp attention on the business across the street, the one where the bike and pickup were parked.
“New Horizons Women’s Center,” he read the sign with disgust. “What a load of crap.”
Her eyes swung to the sign, and she read the words below. Helping women in abusive situations. Her hand trailed up to the bruise on the side of her face that still ached from Ronnie’s fist. She’d tried her best to cover it with makeup.
Donnie spoke from the passenger seat next to Ronnie. “You a ‘new woman,’ Delilah?”
They both chuckled.
Ronnie took another slow lick of his ice cream cone, his eyes aimed across the street.
The man and woman had returned in the little sports car, and were now talking next to the only bike that remained. There were a few other women carrying cleaning supplies and buckets to another car.
They watched as the couple climbed on the bike.
“Interesting,” Ronnie murmured.
“She means something to him,” Donnie responded.
“Yup,” Ronnie replied.
They both turned to each other, and the look that passed between them made Delilah’s blood run cold. She swallowed and glanced back at the couple, afraid of what Ronnie might be planning. His vengeance against this man consumed him. She didn’t wish the man harm, but she was glad for anything that kept Ronnie’s attention off her.
The bike rolled out of the parking lot and disappeared down the street. She expected Ronnie to start the car and either follow them or go home. He did neither. Instead, his eyes met hers in the rearview mirror.
“Go find out who she is,” he ordered.
Delilah turned to study the parking lot and the couple of women who remained loading supplies into the trunk of a car. When she made no immediate move to comply, she heard the creaking of leather. Her eyes shifted back to the front seat to see both Ronnie and Donnie swiveling to glare at her. Ronnie pinned her with his eyes. She knew what that look meant—either she complied or there’d be hell to pay.
Blowing out a breath, she reached for the door handle and climbed out of the car. She straightened her sundress and headed across the street, her cheap flip-flops thwacking on her feet as she dashed across the pavement and up on the opposite sidewalk. She tossed the remnants of her ice cream cone in a bush and rounded the hedge coming into the parking lot.
She feigned interest in the business, looking from the sign by the road to the building.
One of the women straightened from the trunk and noticed her.
“Hello,” the woman said with a smile.
“Hi,” Delilah replied, then she turned to stare at the building again, knowing it would give the woman a view of the bruise on her jaw. She heard the slight indrawn breath.
The woman took a step toward her and extended her hand out. “I’m Sharon.”
“D-Daisy,” Delilah lied, shaking her hand. She glanced nervously to the building, biting her lip, then asked in a hesitant voice, “Is this place open yet?”
Sharon dropped her hand. “Not yet. Do you need help, Daisy?”
When she didn’t reply, Sharon moved to lean in the passenger window of the car and pulled something out. Then she walked to Delilah and held out a brochure.
“There’s a number at the bottom you can call anytime, day or night.”
Delilah scanned the page. “Dr. A.J. Carter. Does he run the place?”
“She,” the woman corrected her with a smile. “You just missed her, and yes, she runs the place.”
Below the name, it read, Advocate for women in abusive relationships.
Her eyes lifted to Sharon. “Can I keep this?”
“Yes, of course. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you? Do you need help, Daisy?”
Delilah wanted to scream yes, but instead, she shook her head and shoved the brochure in her small purse. “Thank you.”
“If you ever need help, please don’t hesitate to call the number.”
Delilah nodded and hurried off down the street. She walked a block down, before doubling back and returning to the Buick. By then the women were gone. She climbed in the backseat and slammed the door.
Ronnie’s head swung around to her. “Well? What’d you find out?”
“Her name’s Dr. AJ Carter. She’s a psychologist.” She took the brochure from her purse and passed it over the seat to him.
He snatched it from her hand, his eyes scanning it. “A doctor, huh? Well, ain’t he highfalutin, hangin’ out with the likes of her. An advocate for women.” He handed it off to Donnie. “Find out everything you can about her.”
Donnie nodded, then chuckled and glanced back at Delilah as he crumpled up the brochure and tossed it out the window. “You won’t be needing this.”
Her eyes went to the crumpled ball lying on the hot pavement, but she remained silent as Ronnie shifted the big car into reverse and pulled out.
***
AJ clung to Undertaker’s back as they rode through the streets of Slidell. She’d never been on the back of a bike before, and she was finding it exhilarating.
They turned off into a residential area near the shoreline, and Undertaker rode slowly, keeping the roar from his drag pipes to a low rumble. They rolled past homes on stilts, grassy yards, and tall southern pines. A bayou was on one side, Lake Ponchartrain on the other.
At the end of the street, past the last house, a sign read North Shore Beach Park. The area was deserted, prob
ably because a storm was blowing in. The sky was windswept with low gray clouds, and the scent of rain hung in the air.
Undertaker pulled to the side in a gravel area and shut the bike off. They walked the short distance to the sandy beach area. It was only about a hundred yards wide. There was a picnic table at the edge of the grassy area, its boards a gray driftwood color. They ignored it, standing in the sand.
“That was fun,” she said, glancing back at the motorcycle.
Undertaker smiled. “First time on a bike?”
She nodded.
“Special day, then, huh?”
She grinned. “You’re right. I should commemorate this.” She dug her phone out of her pocket and held it up to take a selfie, squeezing close to him. “Smile.”
He dipped his head next to hers, putting them cheek-to-cheek.
She took it, then stared down at her phone.
It was a great shot.
He peered over her shoulder. “Send me a copy of that.”
She did, then put her phone away and inhaled deeply. The fresh air was exhilarating.
Undertaker’s eyes swept over the horizon with a hawk-like quality that made her believe they missed nothing.
“The cool breeze off the water feels nice,” she murmured.
His gaze flicked skyward to the fast moving clouds. “Rain’s comin’.”
“Yes. Perhaps we should head back,” she suggested, also scanning the sky.
His eyes cut to her, and the wrinkles around them deepened as he smiled. “Afraid you’ll melt?”
“We’re on a motorcycle,” she stated the obvious.
“Don’t worry, Allison. I’ll have you back before the first drops fall.”
Her gaze again flicked to the sky, doubting his weather forecasting ability.
“That rain is still a half hour out,” he assured.
“How do you know?” she asked the innocent question.
He glanced away, his mood suddenly shifting. “Just know. Spent too many years in the fields not to be able to judge how far off the rain is. It’s something you pick up quick when there’s a chance of being caught out in it.”
The fields. At his reference, the truth dawned on her. He was talking about Angola. The fields he spoke about were the thousands of acres contained in the prison farm. No wonder his mood had darkened.
He squatted, scooping a handful of sugar-white sand, his eyes again scanning the horizon.
She looked away, not quite sure if she should change the subject or let the silence between them linger while he let the bad memories shift through his conscious thoughts like the sand through his fingers.
She sat down in the warm sand, her legs out and crossed at the ankles, resting back on her palms. A sailboat cut across the lake, its sails full as it headed for a distant marina trying to beat the storm in.
His deep sexy voice drew her attention from the picturesque scene.
“I’d like to see you again. There’s a party at the clubhouse tomorrow. Say you’ll come.”
She turned to him, her eyes clear and open, her answer direct. “I’m not the party type.”
“It’s a barbeque. Nothin’ fancy, nothin’ too wild. I promise.”
She bit her lip, considering, her eyes back on the water. It would give her a chance to observe Holly and the situation at the clubhouse.
“Come. You’ll have a good time. You decide you want to leave, say the word, and I’ll take you home.”
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
“Why’s that?”
She gave him a look that told him his question didn’t bear explaining.
He grinned. “I’ll make you a bet.”
“A bet?”
He lifted his chin in the direction over her shoulder. “I hit that sign over there with a rock, you come to the clubhouse tomorrow.”
“That little road sign over there? There’s no way. It’s gotta be fifty feet away.”
He scooped up a rock the size of a golf ball, tossing it in his palm.
“Fine.” She nodded toward the sign. “This I have to see.”
He leaned back like a pitcher on the mound and flung the rock. She watched it sail through the air, smacking the metal with a loud bang.
Her mouth fell open. “How’d you do that?”
He grinned, those lines around his eyes deepening again. “Used to play baseball in high school. I had a pretty good arm.”
“That’s not fair. You never told me you were some kind of pro.”
“You didn’t ask.” He winked. “I’ll pick you up at four.”
She huffed out a breath in defeat, her gaze back on the water. “And what does one wear to a biker barbeque?”
“Anything you want, Allison.”
“I go by AJ now.” She’d told him that several times, but he stubbornly ignored each reminder, as he did now, not replying, but instead pulling her to her feet. Her mouth parted at being brought chest to chest with him. His hands landed on her hips, and she couldn’t deny the reaction his touch had on her.
“Let me ask you something. When we’re close like this, are you still thinking about why we’re wrong for each other?”
Her eyes just naturally dropped to his mouth. “I—”
And then his hands tightened, tugging her that last step forward, and that sexy mouth found hers. All she could think about was what a phenomenal kisser he was and how very right they were for each other, at least physically.
A strong, cold breeze blew over them, and he broke the kiss to grin down at her.
“Come on, Allison. We better head back if I’m going to keep my promise and get you home before the rain starts.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
AJ stared down at the pile of clothes on her bed, then glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was 3:30 p.m. and she wasn’t anywhere near ready. Derek was supposed to pick her up in half an hour.
She never imagined picking an outfit would be so hard.
Her cell phone rang, and she picked it up off the nightstand, glancing at the readout. “Hello.”
“You ready?”
“Not quite.”
“I’m sorry. Something’s come up, and I won’t be the one picking you up. I’m sending Cat over to get you. Okay?”
“Sure. But if you’re busy, we can do this another time.”
“No way, lady. You lost the bet. You’re not getting out of this that easy.”
“Fine. When is she coming?”
“She should be there any time now. See you soon.”
He disconnected, and she stared down at her phone. Damn.
Ten minutes later, there was a tap at her door. She opened it to find Cat standing there with a bag in her hand. She pulled the sunglasses from her face, her eyes sweeping down the length of AJ. “You’re not wearing that, are you?”
AJ glanced down at her outfit—tennis shoes, jeans, and a blouse. “What’s wrong with it?”
Cat pushed her way in, tossing the bag and her purse down on the couch, then turned, her hands landing on her hips. “Show me what you’ve got. I imagine it’s spread out all over your bed, am I right?”
AJ bit her lip. “Maybe.”
“Lead the way.”
AJ reluctantly led her into her bedroom.
Cat glanced around, taking in her modern furniture. “Nice digs.”
“Thanks.”
Cat wandered into the walk-in closet. “Do you have any boots?”
“Boots? Like, biker boots? Uh, no.”
“Surely you have some type of boots.”
“I have that pair of Roberto Cavalli’s on the top shelf, but they’re not for a barbeque. That’s ridiculous.”
Cat took them down and inspected them. They were exquisite black leather with a stiletto heel and came up just over the knee, a silver chain around the ankle. “They’re perfect.”
“Have you lost your mind? Do you know how much those cost?”
“And how often have you actually worn them?” Cat challenged.<
br />
“I’ve worn them,” AJ defended meekly.
Cat examined the sole. Not a mark on them. She gave her a look.
“Okay. So I haven’t had the perfect occasion yet.”
“This is the perfect occasion. You’ll have Undertaker struck mute when he sees you in these. Please! I can’t wait to see the look on his face.”
AJ rolled her eyes, but had to admit, after everything from the past that had gone on between them, she would like to get the upper hand. Maybe these boots were just the ticket to do it. At least put him off balance a bit, give him a taste of what that’s like after all the times he’d made her feel that way. “What would I wear with them?”
“Tight jeans tucked into them. You have a pair of those don’t you? Please, God, tell me you have jeans tighter than those.” She nodded to AJ’s faded denim.
“Fine. And what top?” AJ gestured to the clothes on the bed.
“I’ve got just the shirt.” Cat left the room and came back a moment later with the bag. She pulled out a shirt and tossed it to her. “Undertaker sent this for you to wear.”
“Oh, he did, did he?” She held it out at arm’s length. It was a black tank top that had Support Your Local Evil Dead MC emblazoned across the chest in white.
She shoved AJ toward the closet. “Don’t come out until you’ve got it all on.”
Five minutes later, AJ was cursing Cat under her breath as she stared at herself in the full-length mirror. “There is no way I’m going dressed like this.”
“You look smokin’ hot, girl! You have to wear that! You’ll blow Undertaker away.”
“Are you sure?”
“Hell, yes.”
AJ turned to her. “Why are you so interested in seeing Undertaker knocked off his feet?”
Cat grinned. “I’m not. But Blood is, and he made me promise to make sure you wore something sexy as hell.” She shrugged. “He likes to torment his President. What can I say?”
AJ rolled her eyes. “You’re all crazy. Every last one of you.”
Cat stared at her, her expression getting serious. “He likes you, you know. Really likes you.”
AJ glanced down, rubbing her hands on her denim covered thighs. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”