by Cat Porter
“You like that, don’t you?”
I raised my head at the sudden softness in his usually gruff voice. “What’s that? Signs from the universe?”
“No, Tania.” His eyes flickered at me. “Helping. Making a difference in the lives of the people you love.”
My heart skipped a beat. We’d only spent several hours together today, yet he’d figured out what was important to me, what made me truly happy.
Butler raised his glass. “Here’s to no more justs.”
I raised my glass, willing the tears gathering in my eyes to stop. “No justs.”
Clink.
Our eyes remained on each other as we drank.
“Looky what we have here.” A sneering voice sliced between us.
A sour smell filled my nostrils as a heavy arm seized my shoulders. I coughed up my soda.
Butler’s eyes glinted at the bearded biker who’d slid into the seat next to me. Every inch of Butler’s massive body tightened. “Let go of her now.”
The biker only grinned. A menacing ugly grin.
A threat.
“WHAT THE HELL?” I rasped.
The biker gripped my shoulders tighter, and I winced. He cradled my head with his hand, and I grunted as his damp rubbery lips moved against my skin.
“Your boyfriend’s famous, darlin’. Nothing like crossing paths when you least expect it.”
My gaze landed on his free hand, which was planted on the table. A broken, jagged black knife was tattooed on the back of his hand. Letters tattooed on his thumb and each of his fingers spelled the word Blade.
A Broken Blade from Nebraska?
I’d heard a few of the One-Eyed Jacks mention them in passing. And I’d overheard Catch mention them while talking on his cell phone when he was at our mother’s a couple of months ago.
“Um, I’m not his—”
“She’s not my girlfriend, but trust me, douchebag, you don’t want to involve her,” said Butler on a hiss.
The Blade’s thick fingers closed around my neck. “I don’t give two shits. I’m here to tell you that Notch don’t like you interfering.”
“I’m not interfering in anything.”
“You’re a One-Eyed Jack, and—”
“I sure as hell am, and I sure as fuck don’t answer to you or your club, only my national.” Butler’s eyes flared, his face as immovable as marble.
“Word’s out that you’ve been working with—”
In a blur of movement, Butler flipped his steak knife in his hand and jabbed it down into the Blade’s hand that was planted on the table. The Blade let out a grunt, but his greasy hold on my neck only tightened.
Butler’s eyes lit up as he dragged the knife down the man’s hand. Blood spurted from the slice. My breath throttled in my throat.
“Let go of the lady, or I’m gonna have to tell the Flames you messed with one of their own,” Butler said.
“What?”
“You know Catch, the Sergeant at Arms of the Flames of Hell?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure I do.” His voice was strained. He let out a tight grunt.
“This here’s his sister. I’m doing him a personal favor and seeing her home.”
“Ah, fuck.” The Blade shoved me away, as if I were a burning pot on the stove that he had touched by accident.
My body smacked against the nearby wall. “Ouch!”
Butler’s focus did not waver from the Blade, who winced and hissed. I sat up and flattened myself against the wall.
“Unless you want this knife all the way up your arm until I dig it into your neck, you best move along. Or I’m gonna have to call Catch and Finger.” Butler glanced at me, his chin lifted. “You got your brother’s number handy, babe?”
I slid my phone across the table toward Butler, and he caught it with his free hand, his eyes steady on the Blade.
Butler’s eyes blazed with icy blue fire. “What’s it gonna be?”
“My mistake. Huge mistake. Let me buy you two another round, huh?” said the Blade.
My eyes darted to his colors. The name Pick was patched on the front.
As in, ice pick? Or maybe for nose picker?
“It’s up to the lady. What do you think, Tania?” Butler dug the knife in deeper in the Blade’s hand, who let out a groan, his face twisting.
I cleared my throat. “Make that two shots of tequila, would you?”
“You sure that’s all you want?” Butler asked, his lips tipping up.
“And an order of chocolate cheesecake. Oh, and an apology.”
“You heard her,” said Butler.
“Sorry,” muttered Pick through gritted teeth. “Very fuckin’ sorry.”
Butler unstuck the knife from Pick’s hand and wiped the blood off on Pick’s sleeve. “Get moving.”
I tossed a few napkins on the table before him, and Pick grabbed them, pressing them over his wound, as he trudged off toward the bar.
“I never thought my brother would ever come to my rescue, but there you have it,” I said.
Butler slid the steak knife to the opposite end of the table. “You okay?”
“Peachy. What the hell was that about?”
He got up from his seat and slid in next to me, his arm around my shoulders. “That was bullshit. He recognized me and thought he could take advantage. Everyone’s got a bone to pick these days.”
“Terrific.” I brushed my hair behind my ears, ignoring my pulse spiking at the touch of his fingers on my shoulder, the press of his warm, hard body next to mine.
“You sure you’re okay?”
I glanced up at him. “How about you? Are you okay?”
“Me?” He dipped his chin, turned his head to the side, and fiddled with the paper place mat on the table.
I had asked a surprising question.
“Yes. Are you okay?” I touched his chest, and he seemed to wince as he took in a deep breath.
“I like your perfume. It’s…”
“Peppery.”
“Yeah, that’s what it is.” He shook his head, as if my perfume had gotten stuck inside there. “Pepper and flowers. What a combination.”
“There are all sorts of peppercorns, you know—red, pink, white, green as well as good ole black. Each has its different charms.”
“Very different.” He leaned in closer to me, his nose brushing the side of my jaw, his heat fanning my skin, and I held my breath.
A waitress brought over two shots of tequila and two bottles of beer. Butler pulled back and adjusted himself in his seat.
“Thank you.” I grabbed one of the small glasses and tossed it back. The sting roared down my throat, and I wiped at my lips with my thumb. “Ah, shit.”
“Been a while?”
“Mmhmm.” I nodded. “So, what was that with Mr. Pick? One of those never-ending crazy vendetta things?”
“Something like that. Notch, the Blades’ president likes making waves and grandstanding. His hatred for the Jacks goes back to Dig’s time. And the Flames and the Blades used to be friendly, but the past decade-plus, not so much. Word is the Blades aren’t doing well financially anymore. They’ve been losing members and a few of their chapters have even shut down. Notch is outnumbered, and he knows it.”
My eyes shot back to the bar where the Blade was sitting with another biker. A biker from another club.
“Look, he’s hanging out with someone from a different club. No vendetta shit there.”
Butler’s head snapped toward the bar, his eyes landing on Pick sitting with a man who had a patch on the back of his jacket which read, Smoking Guns MC, Kansas. I pursed my lips at the logo of a skeleton with a satanic grin on his face, holding two revolvers in his bony claws.
I knew that image. I’d seen it before.
Butler muttered something under his breath.
“What was that?”
“You remember how I got my road name?” he asked, his voice curt, low.
“I sure do. You were a prospect. Another club was visiting, a
nd one of their members was an asshole to you, making you his slave for the night until you couldn’t take it anymore. You exploded and rammed a broken beer bottle in his neck, yelling, ‘What do I look like? Your fucking butler?’”
“Good memory.”
“Good story.”
“Luckily, I didn’t kill him, but I left him with a huge scar.”
“That’s good, I guess.” I grabbed a beer bottle and drank.
He tilted his head toward the bar. “He was a Smoking Gun.”
“Oh, shit. Is that him?”
“I don’t think so. But the Smoking Guns are also the club that carved up Finger when he was a prospect.”
My stomach tumbled. “You going to drink your tequila?”
“No.” He slid his glass to me, his face drawn.
I knocked the liquor back, and the heat of the alcohol spread through my insides, quelling the riot there and inciting a new one.
Butler’s face remained tight, grim. He was assessing.
I’d been kissed by danger, blood, and sudden threats, and all the while, I’d been under the shield of Butler’s crazy cool.
He leaned into me. “We should go find a motel.”
I choked on the fire in the back of my throat. “Wh-what?”
“A motel. There aren’t that many around here, and I just hope we can find one with rooms available.”
“Oh, right.” My stomach clenched. “Good point.”
A waitress placed two dishes of chocolate cheesecake drizzled with caramel sauce on the table.
“Can we dig into this first?” I asked.
“You got a thing for chocolate, huh?”
I slid a spoon into the wedge of lusciousness before me. “Chocolate is my answer for all of life’s little ups and downs.”
“WE HAVE ONLY ONE ROOM LEFT with a king-size bed.”
“One bed?” I asked.
The motel clerk shot me a look from behind his computer monitor. “Yes, one bed.”
The first motel had no vacancies.
This motel had only one room available with one bed.
“Since when has South Dakota become such a hotbed of tourism?” I asked.
“It’s still Sturgis season, ma’am,” replied the clerk.
“Sturgis is all the way across the state, and the rally was last month!” I said.
“Be that as it may, people are still here, road-tripping from all over the country and Canada to see the sights in our great state.” His eyes darted to Butler, then me, and then Butler again. “Will you be taking the room?”
“Yes,” I said.
“You sure?” asked Butler.
“It’s fine. I need to get lateral and soon. I’m sure you’re exhausted. All I ask is that you don’t smoke in the room.”
“No problem. We’ll take it,” he said to the clerk.
And I’ll take a few more tequilas to knock myself out pronto.
Moments later, we were in the room, throwing our bags on the floor. The door clicked behind us, and my chest squeezed. The room wasn’t huge, but Butler was.
“You can have the bed. I’ll be fine on the floor,” he said.
“Don’t be ridiculous. The bed’s huge. Anyway, you don’t have to be concerned about my virginity or reputation.”
“Hell, woman, that’s a relief.”
I grabbed my messenger bag and slugged his side with it, and he laughed.
“Are you sure, Tania?”
“Yes.”
He gestured toward the bathroom. “I need to take a shower. You want to get in there first?”
“Oh no, go right ahead. I’m sure being on a bike all day…”
“Yeah.” He slid his gun from his back, his blond hair in his face.
My pulse skipped a beat.
Butler was beautiful and rough around the edges. Holding that sleek yet ominous chrome gun, he was a menacing rogue, a sleek mercenary, a brutal angel heralding danger, deliverance, and the fulfillment of dark vows and dreadful promises.
He placed the gun on the nightstand, settled on the edge of the bed, and took his boots off.
I’d enjoyed our conversations today. Tomorrow, we would both be back in Meager, jump-starting our new lives. Hopefully, we could continue with this new, improved friendship.
Within ten minutes, Butler emerged from the steam-filled bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist. His broad, defined chest was still damp. Water dripped down his smooth skin from his wet hair, which fell just below his ears. His long legs were contoured with hard muscles. I was in the presence of male greatness.
I shot up from the bed, beauty bag in hand. “I’m going to take a shower, too.”
He let out a long sigh, his one hand stroking down his middle. “Felt great.”
My breath caught in my throat at the sight of that small movement. He was like some sort of vibrant energy force filling this dinky, bland motel room. He checked his cell phone, and his skin glowed in the dim light given off by the small lamp on the nightstand, the shiny metal of his weapon glinting.
I scooped up my PJs and darted off to the bathroom.
After my shower, I smoothed lotion on my skin and put on my thin cotton pajama shorts along with a loose-fitting cotton tee on top of the camisole that matched the shorts.
Butler was lying on his stomach under the covers of the bed. The skin of his bare back shimmered in the soft light.
Is he naked under there?
Oh, shut up.
Taking in a deep breath, I turned away from the visual of Mr. Hunk of Blond Steel in Repose and deposited my clothes on top of my duffel bag on the floor. I trotted off to my side of the bed, sliding under the covers. The air-conditioning was set to perfectly cool.
“Tania?” His gruff throaty voice made my insides jump to attention.
“Yeah?”
“That thing with the condoms?”
“What about it?”
“That really is pathetic.”
I grabbed a pillow and threw it at his head.
He roared with laughter. “Hey! Being honest.”
“Are you enjoying my humiliation?”
He grabbed the pillow and propped his head on it over folded arms. Arms that screamed strength. Arms that were muscular, defined, and emitting gamma rays of pure male power.
What would it feel like to be held by those arms? Held tightly?
“No, I’m not enjoying your humiliation.” A small smile played on his lips as he raised himself up on an arm, resting his head on it. “It sucks.”
“Ah, you’re showing your support then? Your compassion?”
“That’s right.”
“Great. Now, shut up. I don’t want to talk about it ever again.” I stared at the ceiling.
“I’m glad you shared it with me.” His voice had softened.
“Why? So, you can continue to tease me? Fantastic.”
“No, I meant, because you trusted me. Means a lot.”
I turned to face him across the bed. Butler was thanking me for a gesture of friendship. For my frankness. My fingers curled in the top sheet.
“You want to hear more?” I asked.
“Sure.”
“Kyle used to change the topic of conversation anytime things got too real between us or if I tried to delve too deep. Handling emotions took a lot of effort. When I got upset at the news of my mom being diagnosed with MS, he only patted me on the back. I guess it made him uncomfortable to reach out and support me while I skidded.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know how.”
I lifted my head up on my arm. “But that’s what I wanted. What I needed. Was I asking for too much?”
“No, you weren’t. Is that what you think? You weren’t. What’s the point if you can’t be there for your partner?”
I only let out a sigh.
That’s over now, and I made that happen.
“I appreciate you listening to my whining.”
“You aren’t whining. You’re not a whiner. I think you’re a shu
t-up-and-put-up-with-it kind of girl. And you know what, Tania? You shouldn’t have to be that way.”
No, I shouldn’t. And he knew that. Butler knew that. But I’d made it a lifestyle, even before Kyle.
I smoothed down my pillow. “Thank you for listening.”
He touched my arm, a lock of his blond hair falling in his eye with the movement. “Glad I could help.” The warmth of his fingertips on my skin lingered.
“I’ll shut up now and let you get sleep.” I let out a sigh. “I’m exhausted myself. What a long day.”
He turned over, facing me, his hair falling in his face once again. “It was fun. Except for Pick coming at us, of course.” His hand curled lightly over my upper arm. “How are you doing with that, by the way?”
“I’m fine. Once that tequila kicked in…”
“And the chocolate?”
“Definitely the chocolate,” I murmured.
He released me, and I reached out and flipped the switch on the bedside lamp. The room was engulfed in darkness.
“You want your pillow back?” Butler asked.
“Yeah, actually, I do.”
The pillow landed on my head.
“Hey!”
I punched him with the same pillow right back.
Butler laughed, and so did I.
THE WATER RUSHES OVER MY FEET, around my ankles, and I let out a sigh. That feeling will never get old.
I glance over at him. His eyes twitch as the water surges around his bare legs and then recedes once more. He doesn’t care that the bottoms of his rolled up jeans are wet. He’s transfixed by the water, the sight of Pacific infinity, the breaking of the waves over the rocks. He’s an explorer who’s reached the edge of the world.
“So, what’s the plan?” His deep voice tears my attention away from the liquid sapphire before us. A roll of waves swells in the distance.
“Huh? What plan?”
He turns to me, his golden brown eyes glowing in the first light of dawn. “You looking for something out here?”
I shrug. “Um…nah, I’m just…”
He slants his head at me. “Why the fuck not?”
I woke up, struggling for air, the sheet in my grip, an acute pressure in my chest. That pressure. I gulped at air to push back the nausea. I wiped the sweat from my neck and chest, rubbed my eyes, but the image of him, like some biker Jesus beckoning me on the beach of my youth rattled through me. I breathed in, I breathed out, but he wouldn’t go away. His question squeezed around my heart.