Alamo laughed. “You mother sounds interesting.”
This time I was the one laughing. “Oh, you’ll meet her. Miss Bitty is like the local news when it comes to anything having to do with the Wolves. She’ll be coming round to get the scoop on you.”
We dropped to silence again for a few moments before Alamo said, “You don’t owe me an explanation, but thanks all the same.”
We were both quiet, but the ease that I’d been feeling had vanished. There was something else here, something I couldn’t let happen. There wasn’t any trouble coming right now, but I wasn’t ready to start being attracted to another man. I hadn’t done anything wrong, and I wasn’t looking to do anything, but I couldn’t deny the spark I felt with Alamo—not if I kept sitting here with him.
“Are you ready to head back?”
For a moment Alamo looked at me like he was studying me, but then he nodded, and that was it. My escape ended. Now all that was left was putting together my life as a truly single woman, instead of one who was only pretending to be single. I could do it. I knew that.
It still hurt.
Chapter 3
A LAMO HADN’T ENTIRELY BELIEVED ELLEN’S THEORY THAT Dash wouldn’t care that he’d had lunch with her, but he realized that she believed it. He didn’t know the guy, but whatever Dash had said or done was enough to convince Ellen that she didn’t matter to him. That much had been clear. Whether or not she was right remained to be seen.
A day later, Alamo was at Wolves & Whiskey, sitting at the bar and enjoying a drink. He needed to start work the following week, but until then he wasn’t doing much. He’d done enough unpacking to get himself sorted. He had pots and pans, towels and soap, bedlinens and a pillow, and of course his tools, in case the bike needed anything. Food, rest, bath, and bike were all in order. The rest could wait. That left him with time on his hands and no woman to distract him. In most of his life, that would’ve been a recipe for trouble. He was hoping that wasn’t the case now. Seeing Dash stalking across the dingy interior of the bar, however, was leading Alamo to think that trouble was determined to find him.
“I hear you picked Ellie up at my place,” Dash said, menace consciously in every bit of his body and voice as he walked up to stand next to Alamo at the bar.
Alamo shrugged and said, “Mike said the girl needed a ride. I picked her up in some alley.”
“She was at my place.”
Carefully keeping his attention on his beer wasn’t quite enough to keep his disdain hidden. He was new here, and he really didn’t want to be in a fight. He also really wanted to punch the idiocy right off Dash’s face. Instead, all he said was “Then maybe you ought to be the one driving her home.”
“She is off-limits to Wolves,” Dash stressed. “Stay away from her.”
Alamo stood and turned to face Dash. There was a “favored son” air to him that made it clear that he expected people to obey him, but he wasn’t backing that with fists or skills. It was a coincidence of birth that he was the young prince of this chapter. Regardless of why, it still should’ve been reason enough for Alamo to mind his own business, but something about Ellen made him feel protective. There weren’t a lot of things that made Alamo want to take a swing at a man without provocation, but leaving a woman in tears was one of them. It meant that he’d disliked Dash before they’d even met. Now? Dash was only adding to the growing distaste Alamo felt. Being talked to as if he was an underling wasn’t ever particularly good for his temper. If someone had the authority to do so, that would be different. Noah Dash didn’t.
They stood, neither speaking, neither backing up. Dash might have started this because he was an entitled prick, but he held his position like he could throw or take a punch. It raised Alamo’s regard for him infinitesimally. He grinned, and at his side, his hand curled into a fist.
“Everything okay here?” Killer’s voice interrupted the tension, not erasing it, but inserting a pause.
Alamo shifted his gaze to eye the man who had walked up behind Dash. He didn’t know many people here yet, but Killer had been present when he’d first reported to Echo. He seemed like good people when they’d talked—and he did have the authority to tell Alamo to step back.
“Just clearing things up about Ellie,” Dash said, his voice much friendlier. “I don’t think the new guy knew she was under my protection.”
“Does Ellie know she’s under your protection?” Killer prompted in the same light tone. “I thought you two were . . .” His words faded.
Dash said nothing, and Killer let out a low whistle.
“We had an argument or something, but she’s still Ellie.” Dash looked like he might be frustrated enough to try to throw a punch at both of them. Alamo almost felt sympathy for the guy. Clearly he had no clue what was going on if he wasn’t even certain whether they’d had an argument. That sympathy faded just as quickly as it had begun when Dash added, “She’ll calm down and come back. She always does.”
“Ellie’s got a temper on her that would send anyone smart into retreat when she’s all het up,” Killer told Alamo. Then he grinned in a way that made Dash’s hands ball into fists. “She’s always been a feisty thing, but there are times that’s not a bad thing at all. No guesswork about what Ellie wants or what she thinks.”
There was obvious subtext, but Alamo kept his mouth shut. Whatever Ellen did or didn’t do with either of these men was her business. He’d met her once, and although she was intriguing, she apparently wasn’t as single as he’d thought from the sounds of it. Maybe she and Dash were one of those crazy couples who were on and off again like a strobe light. She hadn’t seemed like that sort of woman, but Alamo had spent only a couple of hours with her and most of those were either riding in silence or listening to her sing.
Dash, for his part, looked like he’d been chewing glass.
Killer glanced at Alamo. “Dash says she’s hands-off, man. That’s clear?”
“Crystal.”
Killer nodded and turned back to Dash. All grins were gone as he said, “Don’t start shit with him for giving the girl a lift home because you fucked up again. You keep treating her like that and she’s going to stay gone one of these times. You want to keep her? Man up, cuz. If not . . .” He shrugged. “Just don’t start trouble in the house because of a girl who isn’t even your old lady. We clear?”
“I’m not a Wolf, cuz,” Dash said. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
Then he walked away.
Once he was gone, Killer pulled up a stool and motioned to the barmaid that she should get him and Alamo both a drink. Then he said, “Dash isn’t a bad guy, but he’s shit on sticking to anything. Club or woman. But he and Ellie have been screwing around for years.”
“I gave her a ride. That’s all,” Alamo pointed out.
“Clear over to Memphis,” Killer said blandly. “When Ellen sings, people talk. We got a call. Echo likes to know what she’s doing.”
“She was upset.”
“That happens a lot where Dash is concerned,” Killer said. “Those of us who know about them don’t say anything. He might not be patched in, but he’s family . . . so if he says she’s off-limits, she is.”
Alamo nodded.
Killer motioned to the barmaid. “Plenty of girls to go around, man. Dash certainly doesn’t limit himself. He just likes to have Ellen to go back to when he’s feeling like he wants a little talking or cuddle or whatever with his fucking. She deserves better, but for some reason, she puts up with him.”
The barmaid came over with their drinks. She was a cute little thing, all curves and smiles. “Here you go.”
Alamo took his drink from her, but he didn’t comment on Ellen. Whatever her deal was with Dash, it wasn’t Alamo’s business. He wasn’t getting involved. His temper was already an issue. That didn’t mean, however, that he was going to be a dick to Ellen because of Dash.
Once the rather pretty barmaid walked away, Alamo said, “Just so we’re clear: I told Ellen she coul
d call if she needed anything, and I’m not going to take my word back.”
Killer nodded. “Keep it platonic. I don’t need to deal with property issues between you two. You’re new here, and Echo’s happy to have you. Says you’re worth keeping here. Don’t fuck it up. If you do, it becomes my problem, and don’t neither of us want that to happen.”
“Makes sense,” Alamo agreed. He’d heard enough about Killer to know that he was a lot more experienced with violence than someone their age ought to be, but he’d been raised in the club and working for them since he was a kid. He was the current president’s son whether or not anyone said so. It didn’t take more than a glance to see their resemblance. Alamo had no intention of coming to blows with him, not because he couldn’t handle Killer, but because there was no way to win that sort of fight. Losing wasn’t appealing, but beating Echo’s son was risky too. Doing so might mean Alamo wasn’t going to be welcome in the club, and he needed the club.
“I’m not going to start anything,” Alamo said.
“Good. That mess in Carolina seem to be following you here?”
Alamo shrugged. “Not so far. It was good of Echo to be willing to take me on.”
“Wolves are family,” Killer said, as if that policy was easy. It wasn’t, but the simplicity of it was that the club was a lifeline to almost all of them at one point or another. The Southern Wolves had one another’s backs.
“If it looks like it followed, I can move on,” Alamo offered. Protecting the club was a priority, as much as the club protecting the members was.
“No need.” Killer flashed teeth. “We got it. Just keep us updated.”
Business concluded, Killer motioned the bartender over again. His intimidating expression faded into a warm flirtatious assessment of the young bartender, who preened under his attention. “My boy here is new to our chapter. I need you take him out and show him the town tonight, okay?”
“Anything you say, Killer.” She smiled at Killer and then at Alamo. “Best job I’ve been offered.”
Alamo couldn’t deny that she was a pretty little slip of a thing, but he was a lot more interested in the beautiful singer he’d met earlier than the sweet girl in front of him. Nonetheless, he saw Killer’s move for what it was and went along with it. He smiled at her and asked, “What’s your name, darlin’?”
Chapter 4
TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT ME TO SAY,” NOAH SAID when I walked out the front door a couple of days later. “I don’t know what I said, but—”
“Nothing.” I stepped around him.
“Bullshit.” He stayed at my side as I walked to my car. “You ignore my calls. You haven’t come by at all . . . So what did I do this time to piss you off?”
“Let it go, Noah.”
“Is it someone else?” Noah stepped in front of me, forcing me to back up or shove him aside. I backed up. I wasn’t ready or willing to touch him even casually. I had self-control in most things, but Noah was a bad habit. Resisting him wasn’t easy, even now.
“It’s not someone else,” I told him, even as the thought of Alamo flitted through my mind. Alamo wasn’t why I left Noah. I’d not even met him when I walked out on Noah, but I knew that I was noticing Alamo because I was over Noah. There was no way to explain that well, though. Telling him I’d been thinking of another man wasn’t going to do anything good for Noah’s temper.
“So what then? I don’t understand, Ellie.”
Noah didn’t often admit to having feelings for me, and I wasn’t sure that the ones he had would’ve ever turned into enough. Tonight, though, they were raw in his expression. Whether he could own it or not, he wanted more than this mess we had between us. Leaving him was good for both of us.
“I’m not angry,” I said. “I promise. I’m just . . . tired.”
“Are you sick?”
I laughed. I didn’t mean to, but he had been my best friend for too long for me to forget the person he was when we weren’t whatever we’d been trying to be. He was dense.
“I’m fine,” I said gently. “I’m just not happy.”
“So . . . you took a break,” he said slowly. “You’re not mad, but you’re tired and unhappy.”
There was something sweeter in him than I got to see these days, but in that instant I saw it again. He didn’t understand. Even now that I’d explained it, he couldn’t follow what I was saying.
“Don’t you ever want . . . I don’t know . . . to matter? To be in love? To get so drunk on someone that you don’t want to get out of bed?”
He stared at me for a moment. The frown that flashed on his face was echoed in his voice as he said, “But you always have fun when we—”
“Never mind.” I took a steadying breath. I didn’t want to argue. I wasn’t trying to talk him into anything. I had decided, and I was terrified that if I tried to explain, he’d talk me into staying. He’d done so often enough as it was. It wasn’t something I could let happen again.
Sometimes saying goodbye was exactly what a woman meant—not a trick, not a plea to change. Noah and I weren’t ever going to be what I needed or what he needed, and discussing it wouldn’t change reality. It was sad and it hurt, but that didn’t mean it was the wrong choice.
“Let me go, Noah.”
He looked up and met my eyes. Maybe he understood. Maybe he was willfully obtuse. “Sure. You need to get to class.” He smiled a little. “I could give you a ride.”
“I’m fine on my own,” I said levelly. “Just step aside.”
At that, he tensed, and I knew he understood far more than he wanted, but instead of making things easier, he gave me this determined look and said, “Take your space and rest or whatever it is you think you need, but . . . I’m not going anywhere.”
I sighed. Where was this determination when I wanted him to take a chance on us? Where was it when I wasn’t already walking out the door? I wasn’t going to go backward—and even if I wanted to, he wasn’t offering me something worth going back to. He might not be going anywhere, but he wasn’t willing to claim me as his woman or even publicly acknowledge that we were dating and had been for a long time. Noah might believe that what we had in private was enough, but it wasn’t. Not for me. Not anymore.
Never again, I reminded myself.
Noah opened my car door, and I slid into the seat without another word. It would almost be easier if I were mad at him. Getting ugly was something I could do. Yelling was high on my skills list. Walking away wasn’t something I’d ever done. It felt like failure, and I didn’t particularly like the feeling.
I swiped at a few stray tears as I drove away from him. It was for the best. He might not see it yet, but if we stayed the way we’d been, I’d end up hating him. Right now I thought I could still find my way back to friendship. It wasn’t going to be right away, but I believed it was possible. First, though, I had to manage to stay quit of him.
The next few weeks felt a lot harder than I anticipated. It wasn’t that I necessarily thought it would be easy after Noah and I stopped being whatever we were, but I don’t think I expected it to be as hard as it was. Stupid little things throughout the day made me think of him, and I kept starting to text him or email him or call him only to realize that I couldn’t. We’d been in each other’s back pockets for most of our lives, and going from that kind of closeness to total silence was hard.
By the third week, I realized that I really missed my friend, not the man I’d been sleeping with, and somehow that made things even less comfortable. There was something a little heartbreaking in the realization that what I wanted back in my life was my friend, not my lover. I wanted to find a way to have one without the other, but I wasn’t sure we knew how to do that yet or if I could ever have Noah’s friendship once I started dating someone else. I wanted to believe that we were adult enough to do that, to go back to where we had been, but we had never been known for bringing out the best in each other.
I was able to distract myself soon enough, however. Not only did the new
semester start up, but my old English teacher’s granddaughter, Aubrey Evans, moved into Williamsville. Echo was interested in her, and I wasn’t foolish enough to ask whether it was because of who Aubrey’s grandmother was or because Killer was sweet on her. It didn’t matter, though. I simply did as I was told—sent Aubrey out to the bar, kept my eye on her when I saw her on campus, and let her know I was around if she needed anything. It wasn’t just spying for the club. I liked her too. It had taken all of three minutes for me to like her enough to want to call her a friend.
Nothing I did was unethical. I sent her to apply for a job, and I gave her my phone number. I might have done both without knowing Echo wanted her looked after. As it was, it was both a genuine act of concern and obedience to the Wolves. It worked out. If it hadn’t, I would’ve defaulted to club orders. That was simply the way of it.
There was no harm in it.
The harm came from the way that watching Aubrey put me in Alamo’s path again. I was at the ice cream shop indulging in some well-deserved dessert therapy when I ran into him. Dairy Delight had a small yard behind the shop, so after buying a cone, most people went through the back door to the benches, tables, and chairs out there.
I stopped in shock at the sight of Alamo. He was sitting on a picnic table outside the shop with a red-and-white cone. It was an oddly adorable look for a leather-vest-wearing, six-foot-plus, muscle-bound biker.
“Strawberry and vanilla?” I asked. The shop had only four flavors: the standard vanilla and chocolate, plus two daily specials.
“Better than that.” He crinkled his nose at my chocolate and pistachio cone. “You got a problem with strawberry?”
“I like things that are either dark or have a bite.” I shrugged and stepped up to the bench. I had a moment of wondering if I ought to be thinking about propriety, but shook it off and sat on the table like I always did if it was cleanish. Alamo’s gaze dropped to my bare legs briefly, and I had to hide my smile by licking my cone—which made his gaze shift abruptly.
Unruly Page 3