Page 117 of Ridin’ Dirty

One syllable, and I was on my feet, chasing after him. I spared one last look over my shoulder as I went. Max’s eyes found mine, and I forced a smile I hoped was encouraging. She flashed a sad smile in return, and then I was gone.

No one called after us.

Just like everything lately, so much happened in the blink of an eye. I was still processing it all while simultaneously trying to figure out what Riley needed. He was livid. I could feel it wafting off him like a thick cloud of smoke. Not yet sure what to say, I didn’t say anything as we approached his hog. When he climbed on then wordlessly offered me his hand to assist me while I did the same, I understood my silence was welcome.

Before we sped off, he revved his engine multiple times—his Road King yelling on his behalf. I tightened my grip around him, wanting him to know he wasn’t alone, and it was then that we took off into the night.

We were less than five minutes from the house, but we didn’t pull into the driveway until an hour later. I didn’t complain, understanding how much he needed to feel the wind in his face and the road beneath him.

Rather than climb down after he turned off the hog, I propped my chin on his shoulder and asked, “What now, baby?”

“You got somethin’ to say? If so, let’s hear it.”

“Something to say?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. I don’t need your protection.”

“I wasn’t—” I started and then stopped, not wishing to argue. Not tonight. Not about this.

In fact, I had a lot of thoughts. A few questions, too—our ride giving me the time and space to replay the night over again.

“Honestly?” I shook my head. “The thought of Carmy being part of a club that sells women like that—it makes me sick. It makes me think, I don’t know…maybe I never knew him. And that makes me sad.

“As for the rest of it?” Tightening my grip around him, I continued, “I’m glad to know why you did it. All of it. It explains a lot. About Max. About you. About the bond you two share. And maybe they were right back there; maybe you shouldn’t have kept it a secret, but I told you what went down at the diner tonight and your first instinct was to tell the truth.

“You’ve been protecting her in your own way this whole time. To me, that’s not selfish, it’s admirable.”

For a moment, we sat in silence. Then he held out his hand and demanded, “Off.”

I obeyed, no longer sure where his head was. As soon as both my feet were on the ground, he tugged me toward him, forcing his thigh between my legs. He let go of my hand only to bury his fingers in my hair, pulling me close.

“You asked what now? Now, you go inside, you take your clothes off, you stretch out on your knees, and you wait for me.”

“Okay, baby,” I breathed.

He pressed a hard, closed-mouth kiss against my lips, and I melted into him a little before he yanked on my hair, pulling me away. This was crazy—but this was the life. It was our life. Messy and dangerous and complicated and everything I signed up for.

Excitement shot straight to my core, and I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, already anxious for what would come next.

“Go, angel.”

I didn’t have to be told twice.

Things were a bit tense after Tuesday night. I wished I could be an actual angel, following Pistol to work the next day. Not to protect him. He didn’t need that from me—but to be there as a calming presence.

Riley slept fitfully that night. While I wasn’t usually a light sleeper, his restlessness made me anxious, so I didn’t sleep much better. It spoke volumes that he could kill a man—an act he didn’t commit casually—then sleep soundly, without a haunting nightmare to speak of. But a fight with his brothers was his undoing.

Given the way we left the clubhouse, I wasn’t sure how many of the Stallions in that room were on his side. I hoped, even if they would have chosen differently, they could try to see things from his perspective.

When I got home after my late shift the following night to find him on the floor, propped up against the couch, with Reaper snuggled up against his side, I somehow understood it had been a tough day. Rather than ask him about it, I grabbed what was left of my gelato along with a couple of spoons and joined the two of them on the floor. We watched three episodes of Master Chef before we went to bed.

I woke up alone Thursday morning—a breakfast burrito waiting for me in the kitchen. It felt so normal, and I hoped it was a sign of a brighter day.

Though, when we were starting from pitch black, that wasn’t saying much.

Things at the diner, while not tense, were strange. Rusty was no longer merely the bartender on staff; he was the Stallion muscle on every shift, indefinitely. Viv was leaning on all of her wait staff to cover for Max. Given how much time off she let me have over the previous month, I was quick to volunteer any free time I had until the situation was resolved. This was how I found myself working a double on Thursday.

When Joker showed up—like he did the day before, and the day before that—it was hardly a surprise. My stomach twisted itself into a knot at the sight of him. Not because I was nervous, but because it was hard not to feel anxious around any Copper King, given what I now knew. What he was capable of, what they were all capable of, went beyond the tolerable.