hadn’t spoken to him like a father—more like a favorite uncle. The relief I feel at this annoys me. It’s as annoying as the hope that there isn’t more between him and Jules than just being close friends or family.
I shouldn’t care whether Spider and Jules are involved, or whether they have a child together. I need to forget about what we shared after Cap nearly died. Forget the memory of his strong arms around me, of his warm body wrapped around me as we lay in his bed. About the part of his heart he shared with me. How the bond between us could have just disappeared, I don’t know, but clearly it means nothing to him now. I need to find a way to stop holding onto something that will only cause me pain.
My throat tightens, and I blink back tears.
Minutes yet drag on, and the blue-grey sky darkens to a gun-metal grey splashed with orange. The sun is setting. An hour must have passed.
Where in God’s name is Spider?
The last time he did something like this, he left me for hours. He’s not going to do that again, is he?
I groan, my arms starting to feel like they’re going to fall off.
Shutting out the pain, I try to focus on something else, but my thoughts only end up dwelling on the meeting he’s having down there.
It’s weird, but as mad as I am, in the back of my mind, I wonder what he’s down there talking about for this long. It has to have been a lot longer than a half an hour since he left.
The discussion probably had something to do with the guns we were transporting. It stands to reason he’s told Dragon about what happened to me. Dragon is the president, and he would have to know that a woman one of his men is connected to was kidnapped. He’d have to have been told what delayed Spider getting here.
It’s that infamous club business I keep hearing about. As crazy as it is, the meetings have always made me curious. What does an outlaw biker club talk about? Do they talk about who they’re going to kill, or the next crime they’re going to pull off the way the Colony members talk about next Sunday’s sermon?
Of course, he might not have been in the meeting this whole time. He might be down there having a cold one and shooting the breeze with the men while I’m up here hanging from the bed posts, waiting to be subjected to more of his torment.
He might be leaving me waiting up here just to make me squirm.
The front of the clubhouse grows louder, a party kicking into full gear. Someone gives a long yodel, and a bike engine roars.
Full darkness comes, plunging the room into near blackness, except for silvery moonlight that casts long shadows on the walls. The racket outside continues unabated.
Exactly like the night of Diesel’s party, I feel like I’ve been trapped in the middle of a gathering of savages, the captive of some barbarian tribe.
A key rattles in the lock.
My head jerks around to the door, my heartbeat speeding up.
My barbarian captor? A familiar mix of hope and dread tugs at me. Hope that it is him and not some lusty biker who didn’t heed the warning he gave the whole club earlier, and dread for what he’ll do to me now that his meeting is over.
“All right, kid, disappear.” Spider’s voice, and he’s talking to Pip. My heart races faster.
Pip’s footsteps are barely audible on the stairs.
The door opens. Spider strolls in, keys jingling as he pockets them and shuts the door. The lock clicks. He’s carrying a saddlebag and two bottles of water in his hand.
Setting the bag down, he saunters over to the nightstand, sets one of the bottles down, and turns on the lamp. “Alone again at last.”
Completely casual.
Lord. Every time he leaves me like this, naked and trussed up, I always think that when he returns, he’ll look different, more like the dark and twisted animal he is. Not so. Each and every time, he’s as gorgeous and perfect as ever.
Whatever he uses to keep his hair back is still holding it in place, except for a few blond strands that hang in front of his eyes. The hint of road dust on his face makes him look tough and gritty, and I have the absurd urge to wipe it off.