Roadhouse (Sons of Sanctuary MC, Austin, Texas Book 5)

by Victoria Danann

  “Wow. That’s pretty cynical.”

  “No. It’s just real.”

  “Hmmm. You know what’s not cynical?”

  “What?”

  “Taking in a perfect stranger. Giving her a job and dinner, letting her sleep in your bed, and talk to your dog.”

  He cocked his head. “You talk to my dog?”

  Nodding, she said, “She’s a great listener.” He flipped a pancake onto her plate and handed it to her. She took the plate but didn’t move. She just stared.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She looked up at him with an expression that was undisguised admiration. “Nothing is wrong. This pancake is perfect. As in perfection. I mean it could be a model for a magazine shoot.”

  That finally broke his lugubrious resistance down to the point where he could not help but emit a small chuckle. She jerked her face toward the sound, but he was already recomposed by that time.

  “Want another?” he asked.

  “Is that a trick question?”

  “I take that as a yes.”

  “Take it as a hell yes.”

  “Alright then. This is a sit down breakfast. Have a seat at the table like a big girl.” He put two pieces of bacon on the side of her plate.

  “For another one of these,” she said with a mouthful of blueberry pancake, “I’ll sit anywhere you want.”

  She grimaced, realizing that her comment could be taken as a sexual reference, but anything she said in follow-up would only make it worse. So she sat down and went about quietly consuming heavenly pancakes.

  “Have you talked to the mechanic?” She thought she saw Raze’s shoulders stiffen slightly.

  “He said he’d call,” Raze said.

  “I know. I just thought… Never mind.”

  “You eager to get on the road?”

  “Eager to find out how much it will cost to get the hunk of junk running. For me, I mean. I know it’s running for everybody else.”

  Raze slid another pancake onto her plate then sat down across from her. “Things are pretty quiet on Sunday nights,” he said idly. “And we close at midnight.”

  “Oh? Does that mean you don’t need me to work?”

  “No. It means you can have the work, but don’t expect to make as much.”

  “Okay.” She shrugged. “So. No dancing?”

  He ignored that and said, “We’re closed tomorrow.”

  “Really?”

  “Every Monday. If your car is ready, we can go get it.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  Raze was right. Sunday nights were nothing like Friday and Saturday. There were some locals who used the roadhouse as their pub, apparently came in for drink and conversation every night. No live music. Not much activity in the kitchen.

  She spent most of the time getting caught up on local gossip. Luke wasn’t bartending, but Carl was. And Carl turned out to be a talker. She heard all the juicy on every RRR employee, but when she asked about Raze, she hit a barrier.

  “Nuh-uh,” Luke said. “Draw the line at tellin’ tales about the bossman.”

  “Come on. Blur the line. I won’t tell.”

  He was shaking his head with a smile before she finished the sentence. “Wild horses couldn’t make me, sugar.”

  She came closer and whispered in a tone of conspiracy, “At least tell me if he has a girlfriend.” She was more asking for confirmation than information. Since she was staying in his house, she had inside information already. She knew there were no photographs. Of anybody. And no hint that women were ever there. No feminine shampoo. No pink razors. No loofahs. Nada.

  Carl’s head-shaking became even more vigorous. “Don’t know nothin’ about Raze’s personal life.” Clover slumped a little. “But I’ve never seen him with anybody. Never seen him show an interest in anybody.” He chuckled and looked at Clover pointedly. “Until last night.” Then he leaned close. “Oh. And there’s a rumor goin’ ‘round that a certain cutie pie is stayin’ at his place.”

  Clover jerked back like she’d been bitten by a snake. When Carl laughed, her eyes flashed. “You’d better not be confirming any loose talk if you know what’s good for you.” She smiled evilly. “I know the boss.”

  His laughter died. His smile fell. And he got very busy at the bar.

  She walked back to the house with Raze after he set the security system in what seemed to have become a routine.

  “Just gettin’ some clothes,” he said.

  “Maybe tomorrow we could see about a different lock? Um. For the studio?”

  Raze stopped on his way to get a change of clothes. It was the first time the woman had talked in terms of a next day in Dripping Springs. Something about that sat right.

  “Maybe.”

  Clover set the bedside alarm, determined to get up earlier and make coffee for Raze for a change. Maybe bacon and biscuits as well.

  She was pulling biscuits out of the oven when she heard the key in the lock on the kitchen door and saw that Bless was turning in anxious circles, barely able to contain her excitement that Raze was home. When he stepped through the door, the dog’s whines reached a loud and impossibly high pitch.

  After giving the dog her due, Raze looked over at stray girl. “What’s this?”

  Something different, an expression she hadn’t seen before passed over his face. It wasn’t a smile, but the lines between his brows appeared to be less pronounced, his jaw wasn’t quite as firmly set, and there was something in his eyes.

  If Raze was somebody else, she would have said he looked glad to see her, but Raze was Raze. Hard, if not impossible, to read. So she dismissed it as imagination or, God forbid, wishful thinking.

  “Biscuits. Bacon.” She waved at the stove. “I can make scrambled eggs? If you like?”

  “I like scrambled eggs,” he replied, seeming mildly pleased.

  Raze poured himself a cup of coffee, glanced at stray girl, and shuffled over to have a seat at the dinette where he could see every inch of the kitchen and every inch of the occupants in the kitchen.

  His only day off, which was rarely an actual day off, wasn’t starting off the way he’d imagined. He’d prepared to let himself into the house, feed and water his dog, then make breakfast for himself and the mystery woman who’d been occupying his bed for two nights. Without him in it.

  He expected to open the door to Bless turning in circles doing her best to say she was thrilled to see him. He did not expect the vision of stray girl bent over at the waist to bring a sheet of giant heavenly smelling biscuits out of the oven. Desire for the biscuits went straight through his nose and aroused his hunger, making him practically salivate. Desire for the woman went straight through his eyes to his cock and aroused his hunger, making him practically want to salivate.

  She opened the refrigerator to pull out the carton of eggs from the lowest shelf, which caused Raze to shift in his chair and surreptitiously shift the package to a somewhat less uncomfortable angle. But there was something more than the sexual interest his body was expressing for hers.

  The kitchen felt different. The whole house felt different. She changed the energy in drastic ways and amplified the feeling of aliveness. He even felt different about waking up in the morning.

  Bless had brought him a long way back toward the living. Stray girl, whether she knew it or not, was dragging him across the finish line and he was putting up less resistance with each minute that passed.

  The eggs were ready in five minutes. Clover didn’t ask what Raze would like or how much. She put bacon, eggs, and biscuits on a plate, set it in front of him, and said, “There’s more if you want. We don’t have any jam, but there’s butter. For your biscuits.”

  “That’d be nice,” he said, noticing that she used the pronoun ‘we’ when describing the food stores in his kitchen. He checked in with himself to see if that bothered him and found, surprisingly, that it did not. He was sure it was just verbal shorthand and cautioned himself not to read anything into it.

>   She moved the butter from the counter by the stove to the table.

  When she made no move to get a plate for herself, Raze said, “You’re not gonna join me?”

  “Oh,” she said, like she’d momentarily forgotten where she was and what she was doing. “Yes. I am.”

  She put food on a plate for herself, sat down, and smiled at the man who was nibbling on a bacon strip.

  “It’s weird to eat breakfast at noon, isn’t it?” she said.

  “You get used to it.”

  “I guess.”

  “So about today…”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “I’m gonna take Bless for a run.”

  “Okay.”

  “Then we can ride over and see how Press is comin’ on your car if you like.”

  She smiled. “Sure. It’s not like I’ve got anything to do. I mean, here I am in the Outback with no transportation.” When she stopped talking she realized that didn’t come out right.

  He studied her while he ate half a biscuit. When he swallowed he said, “You do know this is not the ‘Outback’. Right?”

  “Yes. Of course I know that. I just meant…”

  “Yeah. I think I know what you meant.” He watched her carefully as he said, “You meant that you’re used to being in a place so far away from here that everything about our way of life is alien to you. A metropolis. Teeming with people.” Even he could read the signals when her face and manner instantly sobered. She put her fork down and sat up straight, which looked a lot like a defensive posture. So he decided it was time to change the subject. “Anyway. We’ll go see about your car. Maybe go for a ride in the hill country. Have some Mexican food.”

  Her lips moved ever so slightly, like the smile was threatening to return.

  “Sound good?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yeah. And the lock.”

  “We’ll see.”

  While Raze and Bless were gone, she cleaned up, put on pink sneakers with ribbon laces, applied some light makeup, made the bed, arranged her stuff in piles on the floor next to the duffel then turned on the TV. Halfway through a Lifetime movie about a woman unwittingly living with a sicko killer she heard the kitchen door open and close.

  Bless came padding into the room panting.

  “Hello. Good workout?” Bless raised her head fleetingly, quirked her eyebrows then looked away. “Don’t want to talk about it, huh? I get that. Subject closed.”

  Bless flopped down in one of the several dog beds scattered around the house, that one in front of a low window where she could look out and keep watch while resting her chin on the windowsill.

  Half an hour later Raze came in fresh from a shower with hair damp at the ends.

  “You ready?” he said.

  “No! I can’t leave now.” Other than glancing up when he came in, Clover didn’t seem able to take her eyes away from the TV.

  Raze walked over, picked up the remote, hit record, then turned it off.

  “What are you doing!?!” She sounded as incredulous as if he’d just turned into a werewolf right in front of her.

  “Relax. It’s recorded. You can watch the rest later.”

  She looked from him to the TV and back again and decided that was okay. Standing she said, “I guess I’m ready then.”

  She followed him out to the free-standing garage, which she supposed he never used, because the truck was always parked under the adjacent carport between the garage and the house. He used a remote in his pocket to open the door and she followed him in to where a very large and very shiny black and chrome Harley sat in the middle of the room looking like a museum exhibit.

  When he handed her the helmet to put on, she started shaking her head. “No. No. No. No. No. Look, Ruin. You made me wait tables when I had no idea how to do it. Didn’t even know what ‘steak fingers’ were. You made me do that Louisiana dance in front of everybody in the world even though I didn’t know how and looked like an idiot. You made me put the Cheetos back in the store. But I draw the line at this. I am absolutely positively for sure not getting on this thing. Not ever in this lifetime.”

  His response was to take her face between both big hands and teach her the meaning of being kissed stupid. He reveled in the little gasp that was an involuntary statement of what he took to be both surprise and excitement.

  Raze was right on both counts.

  Surprised.

  And excited.

  She didn’t resist when he pulled her in. How could she? Her mind went blank. There was something about his smell that was an intoxicant, not to mention an accelerant. During the space of the full minute he was staking a quit deed claim to her mouth, Clover realized that her entire history of sexual encounter had been with boys. A series of boys. Minute by minute Raze was teaching her that her experience was irrelevant. Because he was a man. Hardened. Experienced. And accustomed to being large and in charge.

  When he was finally satisfied that he’d kissed the protest out of her, he pulled back. Stray girl’s eyes were closed and she was swaying on her feet. He kept hold of her just to be sure she didn’t fall over. When she opened her eyes, he searched them, first one then the other.

  She had no idea what he was trying to find there, but she supposed that had answered her inner question about whether or not he was exceptionally kind to the homeless, or interested in her - in that way.

  Raze didn’t know what it was about mystery girl that caused his body to do impulsive things without first checking in with his brain. It was weird. Unsettling. And exciting all at the same time.

  “Trust me,” he said. “You’re gonna love it.”

  Ten minutes later they were speeding north on 169 on the way to the SSMC compound. Stray girl was wearing the helmet he’d insisted on and had a death grip around Raze’s waist. He was shocked to realize he was smiling. He didn’t know if that was because of the ride, the woman whose arms were threatening to cut off his air, or the kiss. He decided he didn’t care. Moments of smiling for no reason had been in short supply in his life in the past few years. So he knew to appreciate such things if they turned his way.

  The next moment, when he realized he was smiling about a woman who was a complete mystery, who hadn’t so much as divulged her last name, his smile fell and the worry lines between his brows resumed their post. He couldn’t let himself fall for somebody who was obviously running from something. And, judging by the way she clammed up whenever innocent questions were posed, the something she was running from was more than likely shit that was leagues deep. He had to either find out what he was getting into or cut her loose. And he had to do it that very day, before he spent another fitful night with visions of red lacy lingerie. Before Bless started to get too attached.

  That, of course, was his way of saying before he got too attached.

  Sitting behind the wheel of her car with the window rolled down, she listened while the mechanic named Press talked to Raze.

  He was shaking his head. “I don’t get it. Never been stumped like this. Just on the off chance that it really is some out there mumbo jumbo thing, I had Garland and Brigid get in and start it when they were here. So it’s not that the car doesn’t like women.” He glanced her way. “It’s just her.”

  That caused Raze to look her way as well. “Okay,” he said. “If you need to pull it around back until I can get it picked up… Do what you need to. I’m gonna try to get her money back. Get her somethin’ else.”

  Clover’s ears perked up. He was?

  “Sorry, man,” Press said. “This is one for the books.”

  “Yeah. Thanks for tryin’.”

  Raze took her hand and pulled her out of the Toyota. “Let’s go. I’m gonna show you somethin’ cool then we’ll get some Mexican. Everything seems better with bean and cheese nachos smothered in jalapenos.”

  She blinked. “Jalapenos? I don’t think so. Are you really going to get my money back?”

  She was looking at him like he was some kind of knight in armor going on a quest f
or a lady. And fuck if he didn’t like that look. “Gonna try. How much you give him?”

  “Seven twenty-five.”

  He nodded. “See what I can do.”

  “Thank you.” She was grateful that he was going to make an effort to help her out. She was also relieved that he didn’t bend over laughing claiming that she’d been taken by a local barely-out-of-teens con artist.

  “You can thank me if I hand you the cash. Until then, it’s just an idea.”

  “Still.”

  “You like the last word, don’t ya?”

  She smiled. “Everybody likes the last word, Ruin.”

  As she was climbing on behind Raze, Arnold was coming toward the hangar.

  “That a woman on the back of your bike, Killer?”

  Raze looked at Arnold. “Time to get your eyeglass prescription checked if you need to ask that question.”

  “Y’all have a nice day.” Arnold smiled like the Cheshire cat.

  “Fuck you,” Raze said just loud enough for Arnold to hear.

  Arnold walked away chuckling and lifting his hand in a dismissive wave.

  Raze rode straight to Pedernales State Park and stopped overlooking one of thousands of limestone formations. That one made natural stair step terraces down to the river. Since it was a Monday afternoon, there was nobody else around.

  “I’ve never seen water that color before,” she said. “Emerald green.”

  “You like water? I mean gettin’ in it?”

  She shrugged. “Well, sure.”

  “Lots of places around here to swim or tube or just get wet. Just sayin’ that, if you end up stickin’ around, there’s stuff to do.”

  She smiled at that, liking the fact that Raze was trying to sell her on Dripping Springs.

  “I hear there’s also this great little roadhouse. Live music. Good food.”

  He nodded and slid his eyes sideways. “Nice things to look at.”

  She grinned. “And the owner puts on a nightly floor show.”