His Loyal Rebel - Debra Kayn Page 0,39

use her as bait to draw Cusclan in. The fire was only one sign that the other motorcycle club would stop at nothing.

Putting his troubles aside, he concentrated on his surroundings as Twyla weaved her way down the streets in Missoula and parked in front of the clubhouse.

Curley stood outside with Hammer and Priest. He parked, walked over to Twyla's vehicle, and opened the door.

She studied him without saying a word. He cupped the back of her neck, letting her know that she and him were okay. That what bothered him had to do with the club, and not her.

"I'm going to talk to Prez." He lifted his chin, letting her know she should stay inside.

She frowned before walking away from him. He shut the door and approached the group.

"We've got a problem." He grabbed his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. "I took Twyla out to the cabin."

"This morning?" asked Priest.

"Just came from there." He opened the book of matches and lit his smoke. "Someone burnt the cabin to the ground."

"Fuck." Priest widened his stance. "When?"

"The rubble was cold. It's been a day or more. It's too hard to tell by the tracks in and out who has been there with all the ruts," he said.

"Cusclan," mumbled Curley.

Whip nodded. "That's what I figure."

"They're letting us know you took Twyla to the cabin." Priest looked over his shoulder at the clubhouse. "Now, she's here."

"They wouldn't try to burn down the clubhouse." Hammer crossed his arms. "There's too many of us here at any given time. They couldn't get close without one of us seeing them."

"That kind of thinking will get you killed." Priest exhaled heavily. "Cusclan is making their move."

Every motorcycle club in the Pacific Northwest and inner PNW knew the bloodthirsty club wanted to be bigger and more powerful than any other. Greedy sons of a bitches, they were moving while the iron was hot and the weapons were in their hands.

"They took using Twyla personal." Whip looked at each of his brothers. "I've already put my life on the line for her. She doesn't belong to Big. She never will. I'm not sending her away."

Priest walked away, stopped, and looked out on the street, then returned to them. "It's going to come down to mergers."

"No." Whip's body tensed. "That's bullshit."

The worst thing Tarkio could do was merge with another club to get bigger. There were over three hundred members. They could handle Cusclan. They only had to play it smart.

"Moroad is losing men left and right." Priest pulled his beard straight down. "Up in Haugan, Ronacks Motorcycle Club is already talking about ripping off the patch. Soon, Tarkio will have to decide what we're going to do."

"I'd rather die fighting." Whip's spine stiffened. "I'll never wear a Cusclan patch."

"You might not have any choice if we lose the upper hand," said Priest.

His lip curled. He wouldn't do that in honor of his family. He'd rather be six feet deep than go with those that killed his parents and ruined his sister's life.

Stepping back, he left the conversation. He wanted no part in dissolving Tarkio.

He walked straight to Twyla's bedroom. She'd left the door unlocked.

She raised her head as he entered. He made it to her in two strides. She stood. His balls constricted. He hated not being in control.

Undoing the snap on her jeans, he ripped the material down, taking her panties, too. She kicked her legs, freeing them of the material without questioning him. Turning her around, he pushed the upper half of her body forward until she was bent over in front of him.

Desperately needing to regain the control he felt slipping from his fingers, he grabbed a condom off the nightstand and undid his belt, yanking his jeans past his hips. Already hard, he put on the protection.

Grabbing her hips, he plunged inside of her with a hardness he always held back, too afraid of hurting her. She needed to know. She needed to feel. She needed to understand.

Twyla meant more to him than he could give her.

Tarkio needed him.

And, he needed her.

Chapter 19

Twyla

Brandy stepped closer. Twyla looked at the other waitress, seeing her stare out the front window of Mama Jean's Pie Shoppe.

"Am I going crazy, or does that biker sit out there every day?" Brandy closed the pie case. "I mean, I haven't worked in two days, but last week, when I was here, he hung around the entire time."

Twyla gazed outside. "It's my boyfriend."

"What?" Brandy grabbed her wrist. "I thought you