Rather Be Wrong: Ronacks Motorcycle Club

by Debra Kayn

  He threw his leg over the motorcycle and sat the seat. She climbed on behind him, comfortable in the way they traveled. Rubbing his thighs, she molded her body around him. Riding in the dark used to scare her when she believed men waited behind every corner wanting to harm Rod. Lately, though, she appreciated the cover of darkness.

  It was at night with the roar of the engine filling her head, the wind in her face, and the knowledge that she put her life in Rod's capable hands—something she never expected nor took for granted —that she could just...be.

  It was only the two of them. No club, no family, nobody speculating on what was happening between them.

  Rod rode away from the curb. She laid her chin on his shoulder and gazed ahead. Bright lights from headlights swerved out in front of them at the exit of the parking lot. Her body seized as a scream ripped from her throat.

  The bike skidded, tipping her. She clung to Rod and swallowed her shock when her elbow exploded in pain, and her body jerked in the opposite direction. Knocked of momentum, hands forced her off the motorcycle, and she landed on the ground. She cried out, disoriented and in pain, at Rod squatted in front of her.

  There was a car. Lights. A man. A gun.

  "Stay here." Rod removed his pistol from his ankle holster. "Don't get up or follow me."

  She cradled her arm. "Don't leave me."

  "You're safe. Just stay behind the motorcycle." He straightened and walked out from behind the bike.

  She rocked on her ass, wave after wave of heat shot up her arm and nauseated her. "Oh, God, please come back. Please," she chanted.

  Panicked that Rod would get killed, she let go of her hurt arm and tried to reach behind her to get the phone in her back pocket, but every time she moved her elbow the pain stopped her. She tried reaching behind her with her other hand, but couldn't reach the pocket sitting on the ground.

  Rod came around the end of the bike and kneeled down in front of her. "Let me see."

  His hand slipped underneath her arm, and he lifted gently. Her muscles protested, and she ground the layer of enamel off her teeth to keep from crying out. It was only then that she realized her arm was bleeding.

  "Can you bend your arm, sassy?"

  "I don't want to." She flinched when he lowered her hand while holding her bicep. "It's burning."

  His gaze intensified and he picked up her wrist, bending her arm in front of her. "Does that hurt?"

  She sucked in air and shook her head. "Not too bad. It's just throbbing and stings."

  "Road rash." Rod laid her arm against her side and ran his hands over her hips, legs, and ankles. "You kept your seat. Only your elbow hit the ground before I could tilt the bike back up."

  She had no idea what she'd done, but he seemed pleased. "W-where's the man?"

  "What man?"

  She shuddered. "I saw a man with a gun pointed at us."

  "Can you stand if I help you?" asked Rod, ignoring her question.

  She nodded.

  On her feet, she swayed looking around the area. The car and the man were gone. She hadn't imagined someone there pointing a gun at Rod or the way Rod had gone after him.

  "You need to get out of here." She held on to Rod's vest, her pulse racing. "I saw a man trying to shoot you."

  "Sh." He smoothed the hair back from her face. "It's okay."

  "It's not okay."

  Rod inhaled swiftly. "He's gone."

  "Who?"

  "My brother," said Rod. "Now, sit down on the Harley. I'm going to call your dad and have him come and get you. He can take you back to the duplex, which is closer and we can take a look at your arm."

  She sat and tried to wrap her head around everything that'd happened. While Rod discussed the situation with her dad, she couldn't forget that in the past Rod had told her that his family was gone.

  She thought he meant his family was dead.

  Instead, he had a brother who tried to kill him, and her. If he hadn't kept her from falling off the motorcycle, she wouldn't even be alive to wonder why he'd lied to her.

  Chapter Twenty

  Swiss wrapped the gauze around Heather's elbow. Rod stood near the door in Heather's side of the duplex. The tension in the room pushed him to the sidelines.

  As much as he wanted to stay by Heather's side, he caught Swiss's look to stay away from her. He gritted his teeth in frustration and kept his distance because his first concern was to make sure Heather received medical attention, and Swiss happened to be the only Ronacks member qualified to help her.

  "I know it's going to hurt, but you need to keep moving your elbow as much as you can." Swiss bit off a piece of tape and fastened the gauze. "Keep the bandage on until tomorrow and let the antibiotic cream soak in the wound to fight infection. I'll change the gauze again tomorrow and work out any pebbles I missed that worked their way out."

  Heather groaned. "That's the worst part."

  "I know." Swiss stood, kissed Heather's forehead. "Do you want to stay with Gia and me?"

  Heather looked up at Rod and shook her head. "No, I'll stay here. My bed is more tempting than your couch."

  "Are you sure you don't want anything for the pain?" asked Swiss.

  "No." She leaned back on the couch, resting her arm against her body. "It'll make me nauseous. I'll take some Tylenol."

  "Try to rest." Swiss kissed her forehead again, picked up his First Aid kit, and walked to the door. In front of Rod, he said, "We need to talk."

  "Give me a second." Rod walked over to Heather on the couch. "I need to talk to your dad. I'll be right outside the door if you need me."

  "Okay." She held up her good arm. "Pull me up. I'm going to see if I can get undressed and lie down."

  He heaved her to her feet. "If you need help, wait for me."

  She walked to the bedroom slower than her normal pace, her shoulders hunched, and with every step, a soft moan escaped. His chest tightened. Tomorrow, she'd be sorer than hell, and it was his fault.

  It was time to face Swiss over the night's activities, and there would be questions to answer. He could no longer keep his personal life separated from the club. He wouldn't risk Heather's safety.

  Outside, he fished a pack of smokes out of his vest and lit a cigarette. The first hit of nicotine made him dizzy. He'd prefer a bottle of whiskey to get through the conversation.

  "You're one of the best riders in the club." Swiss leaned against the side of the duplex and blew smoke up into the air. "My daughter said there was a car that pulled out in front of you and a man appeared with a gun."

  Rod gritted his teeth.

  "Who's behind hurting Heather tonight?" Swiss rubbed his cigarette against the thigh of his jeans, stubbing it out.

  "I am," he said without hesitation. "I failed to see the situation in time and almost planted the bike going into position to put her behind the Harley and out of the line of the threat."

  "You know what the fuck I'm talking about." Swiss faced him. "That's three times now that shit happened to you when my daughter was around. The attack. The man at the bar. And, tonight. Do you still want to stand in front of me and claim you have no fucking clue on what is going on?"

  Rod tossed his cigarette. Backed into a corner, he decided to do what his role as vice president dictated. "I'll call a meeting for in the morning."

  "Fuck," muttered Swiss. "Are you really going to pull rank and keep me from knowing what is happening around Heather?"

  "You want to be involved, then I'll involve every fucking member of Ronacks." Rod needed time. Tonight's situation put him at a disadvantage. "I swear on my life. My problems have nothing to do with your daughter."

  "Fuck that." Swiss paused. "It all centers around you and I don't want Heather involved."

  Rod shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'm not letting her go."

  "You haven't claimed her."

  "No." He looked Swiss in the eyes. "I don't plan on it."

  "Then walk away," said Swiss.

  "I can't. Not yet." He sig
hed. "As long as I'm with her, the person responsible for the attack and the threats toward me can't get to her."

  "That's messed up, man, and only one reason why I should kick your ass." Swiss paced in front of Rod. "You're sleeping with my daughter and using protecting her as an excuse. I respected you, brother, and you're fucking with my family."

  "It's not like that." Rod took his hands out of his pockets. "I care about her and that part has nothing to do with keeping her safe. There's more shit going on. The man at the bar was the same man who wanted to threaten me tonight. I will remove him."

  "Who the fuck is he?"

  Rod steeled himself. "My brother."

  "Your brother?"

  Rod nodded. "My older brother, Tim."

  "You've never mentioned having family around in all the years I've known you."

  "I could say the same about you." Rod exhaled loudly, not wanting to get into the reasons why Swiss neglected Heather for over twenty years. "I'll take care of the situation. In the meantime, you're going to have to trust me."

  Swiss blew out his breath. "You're not giving me enough."

  "It'll have to be enough for tonight." Rod's temple throbbed.

  "Do what you wish. In the meantime, my daughter is staying beside us in the duplex, and I'll protect her." Swiss walked off and entered the other side of the duplex.

  "Fuck," muttered Rod. He'd sworn to walk away from his family and never go back. He'd spent years beating down his reasons for leaving and had put the past behind him.

  A dog barked in the distance. Rod pulled out his phone and called LeWorth.

  "Yeah?" answered LeWorth.

  Rod rubbed his hand over his head. "I need a favor."

  "Name it."

  Rod gazed the length of the street from left to right. "I'm staying with Heather tonight. Can you run over to my house and fill up Girl's water and food bowl?"

  Every time he turned around he had to disappoint someone. Heather. Swiss. Girl.

  "No problem." LeWorth paused. "How's Heather?"

  "She'll be okay. She's tough." He inhaled. "Thanks, man."

  He disconnected the call, opened the door and went back inside to take care of Heather. There was nothing more he could do tonight to change the situation.

  Inside the bedroom, Heather lay in bed sleeping with the light on. She'd managed to strip down to her panties and shirt. If only he'd managed to keep the motorcycle two inches straighter as he braked into the skid, she would've come out of the situation unharmed. As it was, her elbow scraped the ground, and he was lucky she had the common sense to hold on to him as he pulled to a stop and never came off the seat of the bike.

  All that'd gone through his head at the time was to get the Harley between the man with the gun and Heather. It wasn't until he went after the man that he recognized his brother.

  Or, the side of his brother he was used to. He wasn't sure he even remembered a time when Tim appeared rational. If he would've known who he was dealing with, he would've ridden over the fucker, brother or not. Rational or not. Right or not.

  He stripped out of his clothes and laid down beside Heather. Afraid to touch her in case she woke in pain, he propped his head on his hand and watched over her.

  When he'd started flirting with Heather, he never gave a thought to his brother contacting him. It'd been years since Tim made a move on him. He thought it'd be safe.

  At first, he believed the attack was random. Twice a week, he was in charge of taking the cash out of the bar and keeping it safe for the night. The other nights, Swiss picked up the bag and handed it off to him before work. It was more likely someone had cased the bar and found out the rotation of the money. It could've just as well have been Swiss who had been attacked.

  Until he remembered the laughter when he was stabbed.

  Chapter Twenty One

  The rumble of Rod's motorcycle shut off. Heather set down her hairbrush on the bathroom counter and walked out to the living room. Despite her dad's warning that she'd be stiff and sore today, she was feeling pretty good. As long as she was careful and kept her elbow from bumping into things, she could do most everything.

  She even managed to shower—with Rod's help— and put a little makeup on—after she told Rod to leave her alone for fifteen minutes. Hence, the reason why he went out to tinker on his motorcycle.

  Opening the door, she stepped back when Rod stormed inside. She grinned at the way he studied her silently. She'd unconsciously confused him by asking to be alone and never realized until she put on her mascara that he'd assumed she was mad at him.

  It wasn't her intent to confuse him, but now both of them had doubts on their minds about everything happening. She couldn't forget that he had a brother. A brother that caused her injury and appeared to want to kill Rod.

  He kissed her gently on the lips. "Is it safe to come in now?"

  "When I said give me space, I only meant I wanted you out of the bathroom." She sighed. "I have only-child syndrome. I like the bathroom to myself and the door shut."

  "That's the stupidest thing I've heard." He tilted his head. "You were only putting makeup on."

  "I don't want you to know everything about me yet."

  "Like what?"

  She rolled her eyes. "I don't wake up beautiful."

  "I've seen you, and you do."

  "Wow, Rod, Vice President of Ronacks Motorcycle Club, noticing natural beauty on a woman. I am impressed." She melted. "I think I could get used to having you around."

  "Women," he muttered, scratching the back of his head. "How's your arm doing?"

  "Nice save." She sat down on the couch and wiggled her foot into her sneakers. "It's okay."

  When he moved to help her, she shook her head and tied her shoelaces herself. "I really am okay. Since today is my day off, I should be fine going back to work on Tuesday."

  "Don't rush it." Rod sat on the coffee table in front of her. "We can work something out with Raelyn if you want to take the week off."

  "God, no." She laughed at the casual way Rod conducted club business. "I'll be good to go."

  While waitressing and serving drinks at the bar was a far cry from working on her karma points helping abused women at the shelter in Seattle, the perks of taking off work when needed without anyone blinking an eye came in handy. Until Rod's attack, the lack of stress at the bar fit her new lifestyle while she got to know her dad again and put all her heartbreak behind her.

  "Your dad is going to come over any minute and change your bandage, and then I'm riding to the clubhouse for a meeting," he said.

  "On a Monday?" She scooted forward on the couch and grabbed his hand. "Is this about your brother?"

  He nodded.

  "Speaking of your family. I thought they were dead," she said. "That's what you made me believe when I asked about them."

  Even she could hear the accusation in the tone of her voice. Too much had happened between them. The talks, the sex, the mutual caring. He should've told her the truth.

  "I wanted you to think I had no family." He squeezed her hand. "If Tim hadn’t of shown up, I would've kept you believing that they were dead because that's the way I want it. I don't want Tim anywhere around you."

  "I don’t understand." She let go of his hand and scooted backward. "He was pointing a gun at you and he's your brother."

  "Family doesn't mean shit to me, sassy." He bowed his head, and his chest expanded.

  Despite the recent realization that there were things about Rod that he'd kept from her, she was drawn to him for the simple fact of making him feel better. She hated seeing him in emotional pain, and family was obviously a sore subject.

  He raised his gaze. "When I return later, I'll explain why I feel the way I do."

  She swallowed. "Rod? If it's something that is too painful—"

  A knock at the door jolted her. She gasped. "Shit. Why does everyone have to sneak up on me?"

  "That'll be your dad." Rod stood and opened the door.

  Her dad w
alked in and took Rod's place in front of her. "How is your arm today?"

  "I can already tell that question is going to get old fast." She lifted and extended her elbow. "Better. It only hurts to touch."

  "Good." Her dad opened up his bag. "Let's get the bandage off and put more antibiotic ointment on the wound after we see if there's any more gravel that needs to come out."

  "Ugh." She shivered. "Don't explain. Just do what you've got to do."

  Rod slipped outside, shutting the door quietly behind him. She couldn't blame him for not wanting to be around while her dad cleaned her elbow.

  Her dad worked the edge of the tape loose. She held her breath through the sting of the gauze coming off.

  "You took a shower?" asked her dad.

  "Rod put a plastic garbage bag over my arm so the bandage wouldn't get wet." She hissed, closing her eyes. "Okay, that hurt."

  "Hold still." Her dad leaned closer holding a pair of tweezers. "You've got some dirt and gravel that is stuck in—"

  "Please. Really. Don't tell me what you're doing." She opened her eyes and gazed up at the ceiling.

  Her dad chuckled. "When you were little, you liked those Band-Aids that had the different Disney characters on them. You insisted on having them on your skinned knees even if there was no blood."

  "Ariel, the mermaid," she whispered. "She was my favorite."

  "I'd go out and buy you a pack of Band-Aids with that red-headed swimmer on them if I knew it'd help."

  She believed him. At least she wanted to. Lately, everyone seemed to tell her what they thought she wanted to hear and leave out the facts.

  "Did you know Rod had a brother?" She glanced down and found it safe to look again at her elbow.

  "No." Her dad gently spread the ointment on her wound with his finger. "It wasn't my business to know."

  "I'm not too sure about that. You've known Rod for over twenty years." She failed to understand how men could claim to be friends with another man and not know each other's personal life. Her dad lived by a different code than she wished to live by and it seemed like Rod was too much like her father. "Why would Rod's brother pull a gun on him?"

  Her dad put the tape in his mouth and bit through the material. "That'd be something you'd need to ask him."