Running Wild (Hell Ryders MC Book 1)

by J. L. Sheppard

  Had he just said that? Jesus. He really made it hard for her. Angry most of the time, but then he said things like that and did things like lift her off her closet floor and hold her close. It made her think there was much more to him than her brother said. “What?”

  “I get you’ve been surrounded by pricks, dickheads, and cheaters, so I’ll repeat it. A man with half a heart tries to console a woman who’s crying. A man who’s not a prick, dickhead, or cheater doesn’t tell a woman she can’t express how she feels.”

  He was still looking at her that tender way, and it made her want to believe everything he said. Worse, it made her think he cared. Right then, she couldn’t look at him and not think these things, so she looked away.

  Resting his elbows on his legs, he ran his fingers through his hair. Without meeting her eyes, he said, “You love him.” He said it like it pained him to admit it.

  Wanting to know if in fact it had, she looked at him. She knew she’d know staring into his eyes. His head cast down, not looking at her. She said nothing.

  “Do you?” He turned to her. His brows furrowed, his expression pained, really like it hurt him to have her admit it.

  The flood of tears came and slid down her face. She let them. “I loved him. I never…” She let the words trail off. “We were introduced by my father. There was something about him I didn’t like, but my father insisted I give him a chance. I did. We dated. After a while, I fell for the lies.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to be the woman who blames herself, but I do because a part of me knew. I let my father make the decision for me like I let him make every other decision in my life.”

  With one swift movement, he hauled her toward him. Cupping the back of her head with one hand, the other firm on her back, he pressed her against his chest.

  “Cry, Allie, fuckin’ let it out.”

  She did.

  After several long moments, he said, “I meant what I said.”

  She pulled away from him. Still close, so close if she moved a fraction of an inch, his lips would touch hers.

  “You—”

  “I know. If I feel it, I show it, right?”

  His jaw clenched. He didn’t say or do anything for several moments, and then as if reluctantly, he nodded.

  Chapter Eight

  Allie crying in his arms, crying those silent tears, holding back the gut-wrenching sobs he’d heard before. Her small body, pressed against his, trembled.

  He was helpless, powerless to undo what had been done. The only thing he could do—beat the shit out of the asshole who’d hurt her. He would have, too. He’d wanted to bash the bastard’s head against the door repeatedly until he physically suffered the pain she felt inside, but the fear in her eyes held him back. She was class, beyond fist fights, blood, and revenge.

  Pressing her tighter against him, feeling like the luckiest trailer trash on earth, he whispered, “I meant what I said.” He admitted it because he wanted her to know all he said, he meant. More importantly, he wanted her to know her worth.

  She pulled away from him slightly. Still, she was so close if he moved a fraction of an inch, he could press his lips to hers.

  He hadn’t finished his thought. Meaning to elaborate, he began, “You—”

  “I know.” She smiled the saddest smile he’d ever seen. “If I feel it, I show it, right?”

  He meant that too, but that hadn’t been what he wanted her to know. He wanted her to know he meant what he said to her ex-fiancé. She was classy, smart, sweet, and fucking beautiful beyond words. He wanted her to know, and yet he knew he made a mistake, acted irrationally, letting how he felt act for him instead of rationale. Knowing he should have never done what he attempted, he hesitated.

  To keep the words at bay, he clenched his jaw, and so he wouldn’t be tempted to say it again, he didn’t speak for several moments. Then, finally and reluctantly, he nodded.

  Coward. Scared. Tempted.

  He was all of it.

  He hated not having the guts to tell her, but knew he’d done the right thing. She was grieving for the man she’d loved and lost and didn’t need another man proclaiming shit. She was off limits, and most importantly, her ex was right. She was out of his league and deserved better than him.

  It had been clear to him from first glimpse, but one look at the apartment building where she lived with a doorman and reception area, and the knowledge slammed into him. One step into her apartment, and it seared his soul. Because her Manhattan apartment wasn’t an apartment but a penthouse. Extravagant and lavish, the type of stuff he’d seen in movies: two bedrooms, two baths, full kitchen, dining room, living room, and a study. Lined with floor to ceiling glass windows that gave you an amazing view of the city no matter what room you were in. Everything in it expensive. Expensive in a way you didn’t have to know anything about designers or décor to know its value.

  “Allie,” he managed. “You’ll find someone one day who’ll think the sun rises and sets on you, and you’ll think the sun rises and sets on him.”

  She smiled. “Is that biker philosophy of some kind?”

  Fuck, no. That was him being a wuss, but he wouldn’t admit it. He wiped her tears with his thumbs, then chuckled. “Naw, just me.”

  Staring into her eyes, he savored the feel—her against him, her eyes on him, giving him that sad, fake smile.

  Woman like her, faking a smile for him made him feel like the luckiest trash on earth.

  The moment broken with a single knock on the door. His protective instincts jumped to the forefront, he tore himself away. “Go in your closet. Take your phone. Stay there. Don’t come out.”

  She didn’t argue. She didn’t ask questions. She nodded like she trusted him to take care of anything.

  Luckiest trash on earth.

  He dashed to the front door and looked through the peephole then swung it open.

  “Brother, what took you so long?”

  “Hiding Allie.”

  Army tensed. “What?”

  He ignored it. He needed to get Allie first. Not wanting her to worry, he headed to her room, opened the door, and instructed her to come out.

  “Trig, what the fuck?”

  Trig caught sight of Allie coming out of her closet, wiping her face before he responded. “Ex showed up.”

  Army unceremoniously dropped the take out bags on the dining room table. “What?” His gaze snapped to Allie and hardened. “He touch you?”

  Allie’s gaze shot to his. He nodded, knowing she’d understand his silent command. He gave her free rein to tell him first, whatever she wanted, whatever she didn’t. Why he did that, he didn’t know. Army was his brother and hers, and he should know the bastard put his hands on her.

  “It wasn’t a big deal.”

  Army’s hands in fists, his jaw hardened. “Alyssa Marie Holden, a man puts his hands on you, it’s a big fuckin’ deal.”

  “Ty, he grabbed my wrist. It wasn’t a big deal. Besides, Jace handled it.”

  Army’s gaze shot to him.

  He nodded.

  “Jace slammed his head against the door several times, then punched him. Oh, and he thinks Jace’s replaced him.”

  Trig tore his gaze from Allie to look at Army, wondering how he’d take this piece of information. The pent up anger had to go somewhere, and he didn’t think Army would be opposed to beating his ass, considering he made it look like his classy baby sister was dating a biker.

  “He looked scared. I mean, he didn’t even try to fight back, Ty.” Allie’s voice alight with amusement.

  The tension coiled around Army faded.

  Allie closed the distance between her and Army. She smiled big, thrilled he’d roughed up her ex. “He won’t be coming back.”

  Army crossed his arms over his chest. “May I ask why you were crying then?”

  She crossed her arms, mimicking her brother. “May I ask why it took you more than an hour to bring dinner when you know I’m starved?”

 
; Trig’s lips twitched, hiding a smile. He knew her game. She wanted to keep the details from her brother because Army, in an instant, would find her ex and beat the living daylights out of him. That would probably get him arrested.

  Her game, though, would only succeed in riling him. Army should never be riled, especially since he’d been practically foaming at the mouth moments before. Nonetheless, she did it and in the cutest possible way, proving he’d been right. She wasn’t scared of her brother in the least.

  His gaze shifted to Army.

  Surprising, Army too, fought a smile. “Alyssa, don’t rile me. Answer the question.”

  She lifted a brow. “Tyler, don’t rile me, and let me eat.”

  Army threw his head back and laughed, then shook his head. He pulled out his chair and sat mumbling, “Damn woman, you’re the only one who gets away with pulling this shit with me.”

  She smiled, cheekily. “I know.”

  Shocked as shit, Trig smiled, then followed her into the kitchen.

  “Ty, you know you could help,” she said over her shoulder.

  “I got dinner.”

  Trig helped her grab plates, utensils, and headed back into the dining room. The square table, made from a deep, dark wood, seated four. Allie sat to her brother’s right, he to his left. They dug into the food immediately. For several moments, no one spoke.

  Allie broke the silence. “Both of you should take the beds. I’m smaller and can sleep on the couch.”

  Trig, in the process of swallowing, almost choked. He gave her his best angry, disbelieving gaze. “Fuck, no.”

  “What the fuck?” Army said, simultaneously.

  “You have to admit it makes perfect sense. I’m smaller. A lot smaller. Both of you are—”

  He shook his head.

  Army shoved a fork full of meat in his mouth. “Allie, I’m not letting you sleep on a couch.”

  “No—” She began to protest.

  Trig took a sip of beer. “I’m taking the couch.”

  Allie’s gaze snapped to her brother. “Why don’t you let me take care of you for a change?”

  “I’m a man, Allie, and I’m your older brother. I take care of you. Always.”

  She shrugged. “Fine, be stubborn.” Her gaze shot to him. “Both of you can sleep on the couch and wake up grumpy.” She shrugged. “See if I care.”

  Trig took a bite, and then, because he couldn’t help it, he chuckled.

  Allie lifted her brows. “It’s not funny.”

  He swallowed before he answered. “A man doesn’t let a woman sleep on the couch.”

  Her eyes softened, and she turned her attention to her plate. After a moment, she met his gaze. “Thanks for beating up my ex.”

  “I didn’t beat him up.” He wished he would have, but he couldn’t. Even knowing she wouldn’t mind, he wouldn’t have.

  “He roughed him up, but…” Army’s gaze shot to him. “…you should’ve.”

  “Deserved worse, but not something I wanna do in front of a woman.”

  She surprised him by saying, “He had it coming, so thanks.”

  He took a gulp of beer. “That means I have your permission to beat the shit outta him next time I see him?”

  “I got dibs on kickin’ his ass,” Army said.

  She laughed. “It’s a moot point. Don’t think either one of you will ever run into him again considering we’re leaving tomorrow.”

  “You’re forgetting I’d pay good money for a flight to come here and kick his ass, Allie.”

  Trig would do it right then if he could. “I second that.”

  She met his stare and smiled softly, a smile that was just for him.

  Yeah, he was the luckiest trash on earth.

  ****

  “Allie, why haven’t you packed?” Army asked.

  It was morning, and they were scheduled to leave early that afternoon.

  Allie poked her head out of the closet, pointed at the boxes in the corner. “What do you call that?”

  Army walked toward her. “What about the rest of this stuff?”

  Trig agreed. From the look of the three boxes stacked in the corner, she’d barely packed anything. He’d been inside her closet the night before, and it was huge. He couldn’t recall how much she’d packed in there. He’d been focused on the tears streaming down her face and the sadness emanating from her hazel eyes, but he bet she hadn’t packed much of that either.

  Allie sighed then headed into the closet. Army followed her. Trig right behind. Once inside, his gaze raked the entirety. As he’d predicted, she barely packed a thing. Her closet, bigger than the trailer he’d lived in growing up, was nearly filled. The right side was lined with shelves small enough for her shoes. At the far end, another series of shelves stacked with purses. To the left were her clothes: dresses, skirts, pants, blouses. In clothes alone, what she planned to leave behind was four times what he owned and probably worth more than his GI bill.

  “I have what I need.”

  Army’s arm shot out, pointing out the rest of the clothes, shoes, and bags. “What about the rest of this?”

  That would’ve been his question.

  “I’m donating it. My friend—”

  “You should take most of this with you,” Army insisted. “And donate what you don’t want, but come on, you’re gonna tell me you don’t want any of those designer purses, that you don’t want some of those shoes?”

  Her shoes. Damn. They were all heels, high as hell and hot. She had them in every color and style, with straps, without, closed-toed, sandal-looking ones, sling-ons. Some even had red bottoms instead of the normal black.

  She sighed. “I don’t need them. Where am I going to wear half this stuff in a small town? It’s too fancy.”

  He had to agree with her, and yet those fuck-me heels she should take. Any man would appreciate them. On her, they’d hand over their balls.

  “It’s a small town, but we got nice restaurants. Not far to the opera and—”

  “I hate the opera.”

  “You should take the shoes,” Trig said without thought.

  Their attention turned to him. Her jaw dropped. Army’s eyes widened.

  Shit. Maybe he shouldn’t have blurted that. Too late to back down now. “When you start dating, you’ll want them, and your man will appreciate them.”

  Army smirked. “You giving my sister dating advice?”

  Shit. Why the fuck had he given her advice on how to turn on another man?

  She smiled. “Fine, I’ll take some of the shoes, but I don’t want—”

  “Allie, you should take some of the clothes and purses, too,” Army insisted then looked to him.

  “Women get tired of wearing the same shit. You should take the clothes and purses, too.”

  She chuckled. “And you know this because?”

  “Gotta sister and a niece.”

  “Fine. You’ve both exasperated me, but I’m not taking the furniture.” She paused, her eyes narrowed on Army. “Ty, I’m serious. Do not have it shipped.”

  “It’s your stuff.”

  She turned away from both of them, grabbing purses from one of the shelves. “No, it’s stuff Dad insisted I buy. I didn’t even get to pick out my bedroom furniture.” Facing them with purses in hand, she finished, “I don’t want it.”

  He hoped he didn’t run into her father, ever. He did, he’d have to teach the bastard a lesson, and he didn’t think she’d like that.

  Chapter Nine

  Her phone rang. Allie dashed out of the bathroom with a towel tightly wrapped around herself and into her brother’s room to pick it up from the bed where she’d dropped it. Looking at the caller ID, she smiled.

  She picked it up and brought it to her ear. “Hello.”

  “Ms. Holden?”

  “Yes, this is she.”

  “This is Regina Carter from Merriweather Group Corp. I’ve called to inform you we’ve decided to hire someone more suitable for the job.”

  “Oh.
” She couldn’t help the disappointment in her voice. This was the third company who’d called to inform her they wouldn’t hire her despite her degrees and three years’ experience at a larger company.

  “While your resume is impressive, we’ve decided to go another way.”

  She’d been to four interviews the week prior. The interviews had gone well, too well, and she left feeling confident she’d be hired. Friday, she received two calls from two different companies to say the same. She couldn’t understand why, so she asked, “I mean no disrespect, but may I ask the real reason?”

  A long moment of silence at the other end. Regina, the human resources manager who’d interviewed her, contemplated whether to tell her. “This stays between us.”

  Allie swallowed, a hollow feeling forming in the pit of her stomach. “Yes, of course.”

  “We didn’t receive good recommendations from your previous employer. They cited tardiness, missed work days, and the inability to perform at a high standard.”

  In an instant, all the love she once felt for her father vanished. He’d done this. To her. Her father hired her out of college, but she started at the very bottom. She’d been hired as an accountant’s assistant, although she was a certified public accountant, and she worked her butt off, days, nights, and weekends to make it to the top, to gain his approval, and to gain the approval of her co-workers.

  “I understand you worked for your father’s company, Ms. Holden. It came to my attention, via the news media, you left recently. It wouldn’t be farfetched to presume there is some family issue between the two of you. Because I figured as much, I spoke to several employees. Because of the comments they made, my hands are tied. I cannot hire you regardless of your experience.”

  Her father was a bigger asshole than she’d thought. It was one thing to make false claims about her work ethic to suit his motives, another completely to force his employees to do it. She should’ve expected it. Her father would do anything and everything to get his way. More than anything, he wanted her to return to New York and marry a man who hurt her. All to give his company publicity and make more money.

  “I understand. Thank you for your honesty.” She hung up then slumped on the bed and ran her fingers through her wet hair, wondering what the hell she should do now. She had to find a job, the sooner the better. Unused to being inactive, she was antsy. Perhaps, though, it was a blessing in disguise. With her father bad mouthing her skills, she’d be forced to look for a job outside the accounting profession she never liked. Though she didn’t know who’d hire her without experience.