“You’re in jeans. You want to take the bike?”
“Okay.”
“Relax, Hot Rod, they’re gone.”
“I’m relaxed.” I’m such a big fat liar.
“Right.” He grins and holds the door for me.
I follow him outside, and he moves to his badass bike. Its sleek and low and a work of art. He pulls a helmet from the saddlebag and passes it to me.
“Here put this on.”
I set it on my head and buckle the strap as he throws a leg over his motorcycle, lifts it off its kickstand, and fires it up.
“Climb on.”
I scramble behind him and put my feet on the pegs.
“Hold on, babe.”
I wrap my arms around him, and he takes off across the parking lot. He roars out onto the street and shoots down the highway.
The wind blasts over me, and it’s exhilarating. I marvel at how completely different this is from riding in a car. I feel entirely immersed in my surroundings, a part of it as the bike moves through town. He rides surprisingly far before stopping, but I’m enjoying the ride so much that I’m almost sorry when he turns into the parking lot of a restaurant.
It’s a small barbeque place with some outdoor picnic tables set up under a vine covered pergola. He orders for us both, and we take our drinks and wait at a table outside for our food to be served. It’s not crowded, and we’re the only ones out here.
“So, let’s talk about what happened back at the shop,” he says, cutting to the chase.
I exhale and hedge. “What do you mean?”
“Babe. Come on. You looked like you thought you were about to be put in handcuffs. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Nothing. Cops just make me nervous.”
“Why’s that?”
I shrug. “Do I have to have a reason?”
“Hot Rod, you show up in town, obviously running from something, with a bagful of cash. First stop you make you buy a gun, one you don’t know how to use. Now you tell me, that doesn’t seem suspicious?”
“I told you why I wanted the gun. And where the cash came from.”
“Yeah, you did. But there’s a lot you’re not tellin’ me, Ashlynn. I get we just met, and maybe you don’t trust me. I get that, babe. But if you need help, all you gotta do is ask. Understand?”
I nod but stay quiet. I can’t meet his gaze, so I stab my straw at the crushed ice in my cup.
“You don’t want to talk, that’s fine. But I know there’s more to this story. You decide you’re ready to share, I’m here, okay?”
I nod again.
“Babe, look at me.”
It takes me a moment, because I’m afraid I’ll fall apart when I meet those penetrating eyes of his, and I’ve got to pull it together. I blink and look up, hoping he can’t read everything in my eyes.
“Ashlynn, babe.” He closes his hand over one of mine. It’s big and warm and comforting. I look down at our joined hands. He wears a big silver ring with crossed pitchforks. It must represent his MC, the Devil Kings. It reminds me of the kind of man I’m dealing with, but his tender gesture, reaching out to take my hand, is in such contradiction to the position he bears.
“I’m fine, Rusty.”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, you are. Finest woman I’ve met in ages. But are you okay?”
My heart lightens at his compliment. “Yes, of course.”
“Don’t bullshit me, babe. If you’re in trouble—”
I shake my head.
“You’re a stubborn one aren’t you?”
I smile. “Maybe.”
The waitress brings our food, setting two red plastic baskets lined with wax paper down in front of us. The aroma hits my nose, and I inhale.
“Oh, my God, that’s smells so good.”
“Enjoy,” she says, bouncing off.
I dig in, partly because I’m starved and partly because I want to end Rusty’s questions.
He watches me for a moment, and then, apparently content to let it go, he digs into his own food.
“Tell me about your club,” I say around a mouthful of food, licking my fingers.
“DKs? What do you want to know?”
I shrug. “How long have you been a member?”
He huffs out a laugh. “Seems like a lifetime. Joined up a dozen years ago.”
“And how long have you been president?”
“That’s a recent turn of events. Wasn’t really in my plans, but shit went down, our old president got sent to prison, turned out our VP was a fucking rat, and I ended up in the chair.”
“I’m sure that’s not something you just “end up” in, right?