Twisted Scars (Comanche Sons Motorcycle Club Book 1)

by Hampton, Sophia

  “I’m not going out with you.”

  “Didn’t ask you again, love.”

  She huffed; he smiled; and she whirled to march back into the fray. Chance resumed his vigil. It didn’t take her too long to wander back his way. By that time, he’d ordered a steak and was talking to Ryan. “You still here?”

  “I’m not leaving soon,” Chance said.

  She sighed, rolled her eyes, and glanced down at his nearly empty plate. “Should I get you a drink?”

  Although most bikers liked to chug down beers as it was water, Chance wasn’t the same. His father had been an alcoholic, and he longed to not repeat the same mistake. “No, love. Thank you.”

  She tapped her fingers on the counter. Her hands were smooth and pretty, and he liked the way she’d coated her nails a pretty peach. He appreciated a woman who took time to take care of herself. “You’re…not hoping that I would change my mind if you stuck around.”

  “Maybe.” He grinned. Chance liked the confusion in her eyes. She was a woman who was too sure of herself, and once in a while it was good for her to be surprised. He might want to do this more—once he got to know her better. “Would you change your mind?”

  “Not a chance in hell.”

  He laughed, and she snarled deep in her throat and then walked off. “It’s a risky game that you’re playing,” said Ryan. “I’ve never known her to date a man. She takes a man in only to drop him like a hot potato the next day. Isn’t much for settling, our Riley.”

  “You’ve known her for long?”

  “Only about a few months. She came in from another city, said that she was looking for a place she could stay in for a while.”

  “A while?”

  Ryan shrugged. “Her words, not mine. From what I’ve gathered, she has been all over the state and doesn’t stay in one place for long.”

  Was she running from something, or someone? Was there an abusive husband or boyfriend in the background? Chance didn’t peg her to be the sort who would take any blows. She wasn’t the sort to take any shit. Why would she then feel the need to move from one place to another? He didn’t quite get her, and that’s what made her so interesting. If he was determined to break through her obstinacy before, he was even more resolute now.

  Once the bar closed, Chance sauntered out and waited. As expected, she marched out. Seeing him, she stopped. Ryan came out from the door behind her. He laughed. “Are you walking us back again?”

  “That was the plan,” Chance said.

  “This is such a waste of time,” said Riley.

  “It’s mine to waste, remember.” He repeated the same words as they fell into step with each other. “It’s good that Ryan walks with you. This isn’t the safest neighborhood in the city.”

  “I know how to take care of myself.” She patted her bag. “And I’ve got a pepper spray.”

  She sure was prepared. “That’s nice. I’m glad that you take your safety seriously,” said Chance.

  “Just last week a woman was abducted while she walked home from walk and murdered. This city’s going to the dogs,” said Ryan.

  “They found the guy,” Chance said. “I read in the papers in the morning. Son of a bitch imagined himself to be some kind of an avenging angel. An abusive mother, shattered family, some kind of shit. I hate this psychobabble. Doesn’t matter if you were beat up as a child; you take responsibility for your shit when you grow up.” Riley gazed at him, and Chance sucked in a deep breath. “Sorry. Sometimes I get carried away. There’s never any excuse for violence.”

  “I agree with you,” she said.

  They marched on in silence. She dug into her purse to take out her keys, ran a hand through her hair, and gazed at him. “Bye, Chance.”

  “Bye, Riley.”

  She walked away and Ryan slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Real smooth, hero. At this rate, you should be able to ask her out in a year’s time.”

  Chance laughed, as he waved bye to Ryan. “You don’t know me, dude. Wait, watch, and learn from a master.”

  “If there was a bet, I’d put my money on her.”

  “That’s because you don’t know that my innate charm and persuasive skills are legendary.”

  “Sure, man, sure.”

  Chance went home, feeling a little happy now that she was actually talking to him. He couldn’t understand his reasons for pursuing her. Sure, she was pretty, smart, and kind, but she wasn’t the only woman in the world. He would have a far easier time with another willing woman, but he wanted her. She was the one he’d set his eyes on, and even though his mind told him to leave this alone, his heart just wasn’t convinced. He was convinced that with Riley, he’d hit pay dirt. She was special. He just knew it.

  Of course, he wasn’t ready for a committed relationship either, and she appeared to agree with him, but this wasn’t about getting her into bed. Although he was attracted to her, he wanted an opportunity to get to know the real her. For some reason, he felt compelled to do so. He didn’t know why his heart was so bent on her, but he was a man of instincts.

  Perhaps that was the reason why he showed up at the same bar for seven days in a row. It was always the same. She came around to ask if he wanted a drink. He stuck to one beer, had his dinner, and then walked her home with Ryan.

  On the eighth night, Ryan bent forward and clasped Chance’s hand. “I don’t know about her, man. But I’ve decided to date you. Take me instead of her.”

  With a smile, Chance tugged his hand free. He sure was becoming the butt of a joke. Even some of the regulars had noticed him and were taking bets on whether she’d agree to a date. So far, the odds were not in his favor. “Shut up.”

  “You might as well give up, dude. She’s not thinking along those lines, and the more persistent you are, the more she’s thinking to stay away from you. This ship has sailed. You should’ve taken her home the first night, spent some time in bed, and gotten over this itch.”

  “It’s not an itch; it’s more like a slow burn that’s consuming my body.”

  Ryan peered into Chance’s eyes. “You’ve gone mad, dude. Trust me...it’s better to see a psycho guy now than later.”

  “A psycho guy?”

  Ryan picked up Chance’s empty beer bottle. “You know, one of those guys who wear those fancy suits and sit in these comfortable offices and charge you three-hundred dollars just to listen to you babble about your overworked mother and absent father.”

  “A psychiatrist,” said Chance. “I might need one if this doesn’t pan out.”

  Ryan shook his head and walked off. That night, they marched in silence back to her building. It was becoming quite a ritual now, but something made Chance stick to the routine. He liked being with her, walking with her, and talking about the day. If not his girlfriend, at least they were slowly becoming friends. Maybe once she was comfortable, she would actually agree to go out.

  Chance waved a hand when her building came into view. “Good night.”

  “Wait!” She glanced at Ryan and perhaps realized that he wouldn’t move away. Ryan was just as invested in this strange courtship as Chance was. “How…about you come up for coffee?”

  Ryan whistled. She slapped him on the shoulder, and Chance shook his head. Everyone knew that coffee was code word for hot, insane sex. A part of him wanted to rush upstairs with her and get his hands on her nubile, curvaceous body, but another part of him wanted to take it slow. “I want a proper date. You and me, lunch or dinner, some conversation, the works.”

  Ryan rolled his eyes. “Hard ass!”

  She bit her lip, as her gaze locked with his. He saw her fingers tremble, as she adjusted the strap of her dress. “Tomorrow’s my day off. Lunch?”

  Chance resisted the urge to pump his hand in the air and dance, but he smiled instead. “Great. I’ll pick you up at twelve. Dress casual.”

  She waved a hand and disappeared inside her building. He took a moment to savor the sweet victory. “Gotta hand it to you, dude, you’re insane. She want
ed you to come in and tango in the bed, and you turned her down.”

  Chance couldn't quite explain his reasons to Ryan. He was aware that when he got together with Riley in bed, it would be dynamite. She was sure to rock his world, but he didn’t want just that. He wanted more. Why? Even he couldn’t understand his reasoning. Why did he care about this woman? Why did he want to discover what made her tick? He could just walk away and save himself all this hassle. He’d never gone to such lengths for any woman, and sure, no woman had given him this hard of a time before, either. Riley was different, and what’s more, he was different with her.

  “When it’s right, it’s right, and this isn’t that time.”

  “You’re mad.” Ryan shook his head and walked off. Maybe he really was insane to turn down a beautiful woman who wanted to take him to her bed. Perhaps this was the stupidest move of his life, but it was his choice. He desired it to be this way—and now that he’d finally cracked through her security walls, he was all the more willing to be patient and savor the fruits of his effort.

  Tomorrow was their first date—and somehow he knew that it was just the beginning.

  Chapter Three

  Riley didn’t know what the hell she’d gotten herself into. Perhaps she was simply too tired and that’s why she caved in and said yes to Chance. The truth was that she didn’t have a clue as to why she acquiesced to his strange request. She was willing to sleep with the guy, but all he wanted was a date.

  Perhaps she was the sane one, and there was something wrong with his mind.

  Was he playing some games with her?

  As she checked her reflection in the mirror, she wasn’t sure if she’d made the right choice in clothes. Perhaps she should’ve worn a dress. Although the faded, dark jeans molded to her legs, they were really old and had seen better days. The white blouse was relatively new, but it wasn’t the sexiest thing that she possessed. But he said casual, so here she was. Generally, she wasn’t the one worrying over the way she looked. Confidence was her middle name.

  Today, however, she felt nervous and confused. Somehow or other, he’d gotten past her barriers, and she didn’t quite know how he did it. The man sure had some smooth moves. In any case, it wasn’t such a big deal. One date, really. What difference would it make? Sure, she’d not been on a real date for a long time, but it couldn’t be too difficult. She would simply sit through lunch, have a conversation to pass time, and then she would come back. Easy as baking a pie. This would get him off her back, and that would be the end of it. She didn’t intend to see him again. Sure, the man was handsome and charming, but she wasn’t too impressed.

  No way.

  No sir.

  This was nothing but a mistake, and she would correct it by telling him politely that she didn’t intend to go out with him again. He would get pissed off as men did when their ego was hurt, and he would yell and scream, and then it would be over.

  Almost as if on cue, her doorbell rang. Guess she’d run out of time to change. Good thing too, as she didn’t want to make much of an effort.

  She opened the door and was surprised to see him holding a bouquet of white tulips. Her mouth opened and closed. She didn’t quite remember the last time a guy brought her flowers.

  “Hi,” she said.

  His eyes lit at the sight of her. It was another first for her. Men usually reacted like this when they saw her out of the clothes. He thrust out the flowers at her and said, “For you.”

  Even though she wanted to run a mile away, she accepted the flowers. Now, she didn’t have a choice but invite him inside while she set them in a vase. “Thanks. Come in.” He sauntered in, looking around closely at her one bedroom apartment. Pretty basic, but she did keep the place neat. Well, she wasn’t Ms. Money bags, and he certainly wasn’t interested in her for that, so she didn’t really care. Riley opened a cabinet and took down a vase. “This will take just a minute.”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  She filled the vase with water and took off the string from around the tulips. “You didn’t need to do this.”

  “I wanted to. Initially, I thought roses, but a woman as unique as you deserved something a little off the usual, so I figured tulips were a good choice.”

  Unique? “You don’t need to flatter me. I’ve already agreed to go out with you.”

  He took a seat on the stool and glanced at her, as if he was seeing her for the first time. “Are you always this prickly and suspicious with men, or is it just me? It was a compliment, nothing more and nothing less.”

  Color flushed her cheeks. He had a way of making her feel as if she was behaving crazy. “I’m just not used to being…”

  “Wooed?”

  Her eye widened as she stared at him. God! He was handsome, and the man damn well knew it. “Is that what you’re doing? Wooing me?”

  “Perhaps.”

  She didn’t like this one bit. He didn’t want to sleep with her, but instead he wanted to wine and dine her, and now he brought her flowers. She wanted to run away to a place where he wouldn’t ever find her. She didn’t want romance and flowers, and she didn’t believe in happily ever after. “It won’t get you anywhere. I’m not looking for something permanent,” Riley said.

  “You’re the original footloose and fancy-free woman. I get that. Trust me; I’m also not looking to slip a ring around your finger.”

  She noticed that he didn’t appear to take offense at her blunt talk, which was good. She liked a man who could accept the truth. “So then why waste time? Let’s just get into bed and get it over with.”

  “Oh, love. You’ve been hanging out with the wrong men. Trust me, we’ll get to bed but before that, we must set the stage, make the mood.”

  Too much trouble. Still, he appeared intent on it. “Fine, have it your way.”

  “That’s the spirit.”

  She couldn’t avoid the laughter that spurted out of her. She was honest enough to admit that he intrigued her. He claimed not to want something permanent, but he didn’t seem to mind taking his time about something that wouldn’t really last. She didn’t understand his logic.

  She set the vase on the kitchen counter. “So where are we going?”

  “I’ll show you.”

  After they walked down the stairs and marched into the parking lot, she surveyed his bike. Riley had ridden with many men before, so it wasn’t anything new, but his bike was a thing of beauty. Black and chrome, he’d lovingly cleaned and polished it. She liked that he appeared to take care of his things. It showed a neat personality. Score one for Chance.

  She accepted the helmet that he handed her and sat behind him. He drove with control and yet she enjoyed the way the wind whipped around her. When they came to a stop outside a seafood joint near Boston Harbor, she was pleasantly surprised. It was an upscale place, not enough to make her feel dowdy in her old jeans, but it was a far cry from the pub where she ended up taking most of her meals.

  He’d reserved a table. Fancy! The man sure had some moves for a biker. Most of the guys in Comanche Sons were happy to feast on anything that she put in front of them after half a dozen bottles of beers. He was different. The waiter gave them the menus, and she glanced at it. “I’ll have the clam chowder.”

  “Good choice. I’ll take the same,” he said.

  After the waiter left, she looked at him. He appeared comfortable in this place. “Have you come here before?”

  “Belongs to a friend of mine, so yes. It’s one of my favorite haunts, and their food is good.”

  She cocked her head as she studied him. “You don’t seem like the other guys in the biker’s club.”

  “I’m unique, too.”

  “Yes, you sure are. So when did you join the boys?”

  He shrugged. “Nearly four years ago. I was at a loose end, didn’t have much to do, anyplace to go…so well, they seemed like a nice fit. There isn’t that much work pressure. All I do is handle the supplies’ department for all the bars, and the rest of my time is mine.
No office where I’ve got to clock in hours; no pants, shirts, and ties; and I get to ride my bike as much as I want.”

  “You went to college? Got an education?”

  “How do you know?” he asked.

  She grinned. The waiter brought their food, and she gazed appreciatively at the soup she’d ordered as an appetizer. “Have you heard the way most bikers’ speak? You’re different, more cultured…I’m guessing at least a bachelor’s degree.”

  “I was in the army.”

  The spoon that she’d dug into her soup clattered, as she stared at him. “You were…what?”

  “Got admitted. Went through basic training, the works. Was posted in Afghanistan. Did a couple of years. When I came back…hell! They called it post-traumatic stress syndrome, but I just thought it was basically shit hitting the fan. Was in a pub, got into a fight and lobbed a guy hard enough to send him to the hospital for three months. He recovered, but I couldn’t. Was thrown out and had to find other employment.”