Ruled

by Anne Marsh

James earns his goddamned paycheck. “He’s Ms. Kent’s fiancé.”

  This white lie earns me a seat in the waiting room. It’s not the happiest place on the earth, so I’m ready to go when James texts me an hour later that we’re good to go. I head out to meet them. Evie’s gonna need a ride home.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Eve

  NO ONE PRESSES CHARGES. Even though I’ve done absolutely nothing illegal, this still feels downright miraculous. Better yet, my mistaken arrest didn’t happen at a party, so I may be safe business-wise. I want to belt out “Miracle of Miracles” and get my inner Fiddler on the Roof on. Except this particular problem is just the tip of the iceberg, isn’t it? Rocker’s not striding down the hall next to me and the lawyer Rev provided—he’s still locked up somewhere.

  There has to be something I can do. “When does my brother get out?”

  James hesitates so briefly that I almost don’t catch it. “Mr. Kent has different legal representation.”

  “But surely his lawyer can get him bail?”

  “I’m not sure if the judge will refuse to set bail or not. In forty-eight to seventy-two hours, the District Attorney will bring charges against him at a hearing. You’ll know then.”

  You. Not we.

  I’m about to press for more details when I spot Rev leaning against the wall, waiting for me. I don’t know what to say or do—I’m pretty sure today is out of miracles and Rev scares the hell out of me at the same time he comforts me. Right now I don’t know how to work with that.

  Rev shoves his hand in my direction. “Let me take you home.”

  I’m too tired to protest. We head outside. There’s a brief problem when I realize that riding behind him on his bike in my princess costume is a challenge. We work it out, though, bunching up the fabric between us. It looks ridiculous, but I’m beyond caring. I manage to hold out most of the ride without talking or crying, but then I fold.

  “I can’t do this,” I tell his back.

  “Why not?” he asks.

  “You ride to my rescue, but maybe I wouldn’t need the rescue if you weren’t...”

  “If I weren’t what?” His voice is tense.

  I wish I had an answer to that question. Rev’s been good to me. I can’t deny it. He ponied up a lawyer and I’ll bet he had bail money ready, too. He’d promised to have my back and he did. Problem is, things happen around him. Illegal, rule-breaking, stressful-as-shit things.

  He looks around at me. “Is this about Rocker getting arrested?”

  Rev’s plenty of things, but stupid isn’t one of them.

  “Are you telling me you had nothing to do with that?”

  His grip on the bike tightens. “Thought you’d prefer that to the alternative. Usually, when I take care of a problem, the solution’s more permanent.”

  That kind of problem-solving approach is why we can’t be together. I use my words—he uses his gun.

  He curses loud enough to be heard over the bike’s engine. “Just tell me what you want.”

  “I don’t know.” Honestly, there are so many competing wants and needs in my head that by rights I should explode. Rocker walking out of that jail a free man tops the list, however. I’d like him to head off to a glorious future complete with gainful employment, a college degree and a two-story house with a swimming pool. I’d like to know that even if he doesn’t achieve those things, he’ll be happy with whatever he does decide to do. Given the minimum sentencing requirements in the fine state of Nevada, however, all of those plans will be on hold for at least five years.

  Way too quickly, Rev pulls into my driveway. It’s not a quiet entrance, thanks to the bike. Plus, the entire neighborhood seems to have a pressing need to take out their trash—and they’re taking their sweet time, eyes fixed on me and Rev. And since their last sight of me was in the back seat of a cop car, getting carted downtown, I can imagine all too easily what they’re thinking.

  Samantha comes rushing out to wrap me in an embrace. “Are you okay?”

  The short answer? No. No, I’m not. I’ve been arrested. Rocker’s gone and it’s unlikely he’s coming back. I’ve talked to more law enforcement today than I have in my entire life, and I now have a lawyer of my very own. The long answer is still no, but comes with a hundred-point, itemized bullet list of everything that’s gone wrong with my life in the last twenty-four hours.

  I pick the most obvious problem. “Rocker got arrested.”

  Samantha sighs. “Yeah. I heard about that.”

  “I think he’s in trouble for real this time.”

  Samantha gives me a no shit look that urges my sorry ass to move out of the land of denial, stat. Rocker’s definitely in trouble, the kind of trouble accompanied by a six-figure bail bond and an urgent, pressing need to find the very best of lawyers.

  The neighbors’ stares bore into me, and it’s far too like that last time I left Rocker and came home to find him sitting on the couch with Officer Friendly making plans to take him away from me. I should have done something different, done something more. There had to have been some way to fix this before things ended with Rocker in jail and me accepting legal advice from a lawyer working on retainer for a motorcycle club.

  Bottom line?

  I failed Rocker.

  Again.

  Rev stands behind me, his hand on the small of my back. It’s actually quite nice and supportive. Downright polite and civilized, except that I can feel every inch of that touch burning through my dress, making me want to drag him inside and lose myself in him. Hot sex followed by a side of orgasm-induced oblivion is tempting, but I’ve already tried it.

  It hasn’t worked out well for me.

  Rev

  Evie gives me a death glare. “This has been the worst summer ever.” And then she fucking smacks me in the middle of my chest. Hard. “I blame you.”

  I’ll take the blame up to a certain point. “Rocker came up with his shit drug-running plan all on his own.”

  Her face sort of crumbles and she chews on her lower lip, blinking her eyes like crazy. Screw the plan to stay away from her—I pull her into my arms, ignoring Samantha.

  “Sorry, babe,” I whisper against her hair. I am, too. I’d like to kill whoever approached Rocker and talked him into dealing. I either break shit on purpose or I fix it. That’s how I’m wired. My old man was in the business of fixing people’s souls, but I’m more practical.

  “Promise me you’ll help him,” she orders.

  I run my hand down her back. Avoid her ass, too, because I’m a gentleman like that. “You gotta learn to ask nicely.”

  “Maybe you need to learn to do what you’re told.”

  Yeah. Not a fucking chance of that.

  “I do requests,” I offer.

  “This is why we’d never work out.” She sighs.

  “Not disagreeing with you.” I ignore the unfamiliar stab of something at her casual dismissal of an us. She’s not wrong, and hooking up with my hostage is downright stupid.

  We stand there for way too fucking long. The Colombians could swing by and make a house call and there we’d be. Standing in plain sight. Might as well paint a target on our chests now. Not bad here, though, holding my girl. Evie’s soft and warm against my chest as she leans into me. Parts of her trust me, at least when she’s not talking.

  “Please,” she says finally, although she says the words to my shirt and not to my face. Guess she needs some practice, too.

  “It’s club business.”

  “You guys are crazy,” she announces and I can’t disagree with her. When you ride with the club, you live by a different set of rules. In my world, you figure out who made shit explode and then you go after them. If the cartel came into our territory and stirred shit up, we’ll hit them back hard. Otherwise, they’ll keep pushing and taking until there’s nothing left.
/>   She hates my club. To be fair, I think all MCs are on her shit list at the moment, with the Black Dogs sitting at the top. She doesn’t understand what makes a bunch of men decide to ride together, to band together and pledge their lives to one another and a largely unwritten set of rules. We’re family the same way she and Rocker are, and I’ve just put my family first at the expense of hers. I rub my hand up and down her back, but there’s no way to fix this now. The only way to right the wrong I’ve done her would be to magic her dumbass brother out of jail and back into her life.

  I’d like to tell you I’d do it, too. That I’d give her whatever she wants, when she wants it. In bed, that’s true. Hell, pretty much any other time it would be true. But this thing with Rocker is bigger than both of us.

  I’d like to give him back to her, but I can’t.

  He’s a fucking menace who runs arms and sells drugs, and I can’t let him do that anymore. And don’t tell me it’s not my job to stop him. I may not be an FBI agent, a cop, or a member of the goddamned SWAT team, but I have a responsibility to say something when I see shit that’s not right. You ever see those signs in the airport? “See something, say something”? That applies here, too, and Evie knows it—she’s just not ready to admit it yet.

  And so no matter what I tell her, no matter how nicely I rub her back and promise her that everything’s going to be okay and I’ll do what I can to help the dumbass, we both know it’s not entirely true. At some point, I’m going to let him hang himself with the noose he made. I wouldn’t bring him back even if I could, because then he’d just do it all over again.

  And that’s not right.

  Think she’s got that figured out finally, because she steps away from me and grabs Samantha’s hand. “Thanks for the ride.”

  She’s dismissing me.

  I grunt something as she heads inside, but fuck if my feet don’t move. It’s like they’re permanently planted in Evie’s driveway, watching her walk away from me. I get that she doesn’t trust me.

  Hell, I wouldn’t trust me, either.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Eve

  EVERY KID DESERVES the birthday party of his or her dreams. I’ve brought some weird requests to life—kids ask for the strangest things and then enjoy the shit out of them. There’s no point in not going for what you want—or in letting other people make you feel weird or bad for your own personal preferences.

  Rev’s like that in bed, although I’d rather not think about his prowess in the context of kids. That’s just creepy.

  After I left him standing on my driveway like the ending of a bad, sad movie, I went inside and did some thinking. Lots of thinking—it was days before I came to any conclusions. I found Rocker a lawyer. I learned that the district attorney considered him a major flight risk and bail had been denied. I visited, which was thirty minutes of awkward on my part followed by fifteen minutes with a box of tissues afterward. I hope he’s going to be okay. We all make choices every day, and I still want nothing but the best for him. His recent choices, however, have been the wrong ones and they come with a price tag.

  In a few years, I hope he can make new, better choices. I hope he finds a new beginning and a new life, even if the old one is now on hold. Forgiveness. Atonement. Redemption. Pick a noun. I wish all of those for Rocker. Today, however, I’m making a choice for myself.

  The day’s sunny, the weather perfect for BBQ and beer. The bikers aren’t my usual crowd, but a few kids run around the bikes like sugar-fueled maniacs. Mary Jane brought hers and Tío gives me a head nod from across the courtyard.

  When I called Vik, I thought he was going to have a stroke. You remember the offer he made me the last time I was here? About bikers sharing? Yeah. I told him I wanted to take him up on it. He almost hung up on me, which was both cute and inconvenient. Not that he’s opposed to a threesome in bed, but he’s decided I belonged to Rev and my pussy has a no-poaching sign on it.

  I straightened him out.

  I want to share Rev with the Hard Riders MC.

  Which is why I’m here now. It’s Rev’s birthday today, according to the driver’s license he flashed in my direction the day I met him.

  Vik slides me a glance. “You sure about this?”

  Nope. Not at all. But I want my man back. I want the guy who discusses favorite colors with a five-year-old girl, who eats cupcakes and takes me for rides in the desert and who believes oral sex is the answer to every argument. He’s not a nice guy, but he’s mine and I need him in a way I’ve never needed anyone before. And if he’s a biker who comes with a bunch of rough, loud, filterless bikers, I’ll love that part of him, too, because they love him and they’re his family.

  Rev tears into the courtyard, going too fast as always, and then he brings the bike to a fast stop. Does some staring.

  We redecorated when he rode out this morning. The Princess Mobile is parked on one side of the courtyard with enough balloons to float the thing into outer space. We’ve got cake and beer, and yes, we have fairy wings. I tried to convince the club to jump out and yell “surprise,” but Vik said that would get us all shot and then he and Hawke started arguing about how many guys would get plugged if Rev was startled.

  Rev straddles his bike, silently taking in the scene, but it’s a good sign he doesn’t point his bike toward the exit and leave. His gaze moves down my body, taking in my outfit.

  What there is of it.

  Since this is a biker princess party, I’ve made a few modifications. My dress is still pink and sparkly, but it now stops mere inches south of my butt. I’m wearing black motorcycle boots (with pink laces) and a leather vest I borrowed from Vik. It doesn’t have any patches on it, but I improvised and embroidered Happy Birthday on the back. It’s silly, it’s fun, and...

  I have no idea how Rev will react.

  Maybe...

  “Happy birthday.” I walk up to him, still watching his face closely. Then I lean in and put my hands on his thighs as I brush a kiss over his cheek.

  Oh my God. What if he lied about his birthday on his license? What if today isn’t his day?

  He looks me over. “That’s one hell of an outfit.”

  “Dress for success, right?” I pivot slowly so he can get the full effect. He must like it because he lifts me up onto the bike in front of him. There’s not a hell of a lot of room, so I end up facing him, my legs wrapped around his hips.

  “Hey.” He drops his forehead to mine.

  “I missed you.”

  Please let that be enough.

  He’s quiet for a moment. “Is that all you have to say to me?”

  “You want me to sing to you? I do a mean rendition of ‘Happy Birthday.’”

  “I want to know where we’re at.” His thumb teases the corner of my mouth.

  “Truth?”

  “Always.”

  “I want to choose you. I want you to be in my life, both when I get up in the morning and when I go to bed at night. I want to wake up with you and fuck with you and do a whole lot of loving and living together. I want us to ride and then come home and do whatever it is that couples do when they’re not fighting or having makeup sex. I want us to figure it out together, and I want you to be happy.”

  He pulls me closer, so close that I’m straddling his dick. His dick’s ready to kiss and make up, or maybe that’s because I wriggle a little, just in the interest of getting comfortable.

  “Makeup sex?” His mouth brushes my ear.

  Please.

  “I want another chance at us.”

  He wraps his arms around me. “That it?”

  There’s one thing I haven’t told Rev yet, and I need to do it before I chicken out. “No. I love you. I know you don’t do relationships and I’m pretty damned rusty at them. I overplan and overthink, and I’ve never met a rule I didn’t like, while you’re more of a saddle-up-a
nd-ride guy. I have a plan and you have a mission, and we’re bound to fight. But... I love you and everything else is just a detail.”

  Rev’s hands slip beneath my short skirt and cup my butt.

  “So I’d like you to tell me if you’re willing to give us another shot. Tell me what you need to make this happen, and I’ll figure it out.”

  Rev stares me. He looks a little stunned.

  “You love me.”

  “I do.”

  See? That wasn’t so hard to say.

  And then he makes me wait. He stares, his mouth dipping to my mouth and lower. His fingers tighten on my butt, and time sort of stretches out and out and out.

  God, he’s killing me.

  “You made me a promise.”

  “Uh-huh. Said all sorts of things.” He buries his face in my neck.

  “You promised I’d be safe with you, that I’d never be hurt again. And then you made me an offer.”

  I’m stretching the truth a little, but it’s in a good cause.

  He raises his head, frowning. “Who the fuck hurt you?”

  “You can.”

  His frown gets deeper.

  “Better tell me how, because I promise you I’ll never fucking do it again.”

  “I want us to stay together and I want to be your old lady. You promised to keep me safe, and I’d like to think that means my heart, too.”

  I study his face anxiously, because maybe he’s changed his mind, or maybe he didn’t mean it at all. I’ve thought of a thousand different maybes since I walked away from him.

  “Fuck yeah,” he growls. “I love you.”

  Rev

  No fucking trumpets. No bells, no fireworks, no sign in the heavens. I pour out my heart to Evie and she stares at me, wiggling nervously on my lap. Don’t think she knows what she’s doing to me, but she’s gonna find out soon. My dick’s already skipped ahead to our happy ending.

  “Gotta get a couple of things straight, though.” I appreciate her coming here and the birthday party’s cute, but we haven’t done enough talking recently.

  “Okay,” she says, more slowly this time.