CHAPTER NINETEEN

“One day I’m gonna get out of here and marry him…“- Angela

 

 

 

      "Sweetheart, you have to stay there, you know that." Zara had been on the phone to Angela for the last ten minutes trying without success, it was seeming, to talk her out of running away from her foster home. It was T-minus one hour until her dinner date with Rider. Already her belly was in knots, tight snakes of nerves, now dealing with teen angst.                

      What fun.

     "How are the people looking after you?" In two weeks Zara, hadn't used the phone within the clubhouse, nor had any calls come through the club for her, why would she, no one knew she was there. So, when Uncle Jed came looking, finding her elbow deep in cheddar cheese to let her know someone was calling the shop asking for her, she'd been mildly surprised, telling the old man it must be a mistake she'd cleaned off her hands and followed him anyway.

     "They suck." Characteristic teenager, Zara smiled, glad to hear she was talking typically, unlike the frightened girl she'd last seen. So much for a young girl to deal with, god, she'd only just lost her parents, was there an investigation to search for them, even? Not wanting to upset Angela, she didn't ask. So far nothing had appeared in the local newspaper which she found odd. Not even a report of two missing people, though Zara knew different, if the Raging Rebels were involved, those parents were likely dead in a shallow grave somewhere and not lost in the forest.

    "They can't be that bad, why do they suck?"

    "Is Lawless around?" Zara's brows arched up into her hair. Angela's voice was one hundred percent casual with an underlined curiousness that had Zara speculating in a direction she didn't approve of.

     Lawless had made an impression on the girl, not something she could figure out because as far as she could ascertain there was nothing likable about the guy, nor friendly in the slightest. And far too old for a little girl to be enquiring about him.

     "No, he's not. What about the folks, Angela?"

     "UUgh. They expect me to sit with them at dinner time, and lunch on weekends and I must do all my homework! can you believe that? I don't want new parents, they're so clingy always asking how I am. I think I'm going to split any day now. I'm practically fifteen!” she stressed “I don't need babysitters."

      "Angela." Her tone warned. "Listen, they sound like nice kind people, they care. That's what you need right now. Give them a chance."

      "I could come and live with you," hope in her small voice hurt Zara's throat. She stopped her pacing and leaned against one of the work benches within the bike shop. The five-port area was immaculately tidy, every tool in its rightful home, the workspaces cleaned off, and even the floor was cleared of debris. Rider ran a nice ship, she mused.

      Stop creating reasons to think of Rider.

      Her belly turned over in a slow roll again, only thirty minutes to go before they tried their first date.

      What it really was; a prelude to sex.

      Sex with Rider.

      Lord, have mercy on my girl-bits. Suddenly, she was finding it hard to concentrate of anything else, just that sharp hard thrust of him inside her. Forcing her mind back on the conversation, she was glad there were no insightful bikers around who could quite easily translate her every blush.

      "Sweetheart, you know you can't do that. I don't even have anywhere to permanently live, I'm only here temporarily. Ask your social worker if I can come and visit you, we could make a day of shopping."

      It was strange she felt an attachment to the kid, she'd only known her the better part of a couple of days, but in that place of monsters they'd bonded instantly, Zara becoming her protector, days there could have felt like a lifetime.

      She felt responsible for her, but even if it had been possible, there was no way she could be responsible for a growing young adult dealing with her own mess, as selfish as it was, Zara needed to fix herself, first, but she wouldn't abandon Angela, either. "How does that sound?"

      "I suppose it'd be okay." she heard the girl sigh. Then add. "Would we go back to the biker gang place. Maybe Lawless would be there. He played cards with me. I won three times, though, I think he let me. Which is kinda cool isn’t it?"

     "It's a club, sweetie." she reminded gently. "And I'm not sure if that would be allowed."

     "Can I ... if you want me to, that is if you don't that's fine ..."

     "What is it, Angela?"

     "Can I call you tomorrow? Bill, that's the guy, said they're taking us all out for ice cream, or whatever." Poor kid being treated to dessert. What a torture.  Zara grinned.

     "Sure, you can, I look forward to it. Soon as I get a cell I'll give you the number and you can call or text whenever you want to talk. I’m always here for you, sweetie."

     "I miss my cell phone and my friends back home. They said." Zara heard Angela's voice catch. "The head jailer said I can't go home, seeing as I have no blood relatives. I told them I can look after myself!"

     "Sweetheart, you are very capable." Treading careful, choosing her words carefully. "For now, those people sound super nice, let them take care of you, okay? and we'll get a day sorted I can see you."

     "'’kay, Zara. Hey and ... thanks for what you did for me. I gotta go. Bye." The call disconnected before Zara could reply. Just as well, her eyes filled with tears.

      She was safe at least, with people looking after her, making sure she ate, Zara told herself. There was nothing physically she could do for Angela, she was better where she was.

      No home. No car, not even a cellphone, god, she needed to get her life back in order and she would, soon, she promised. Soon. Maybe.

      Now she had a date to perfect if her body would stop reacting as if she was about to throw up ... starting with her clothes. She didn't have anything remotely sexy, but she'd laid out a pair of white jeans and a light pink tank top. She thought to all her clothes in her dorm room, and the ones she'd left at home at her parent's house, she had several things she could have worn to knock Rider's socks off.

      At least raise his eyebrows.

      Zara had no idea what happened to her things she'd left in her college room, thrown out, she supposed when she never returned to pack them up after graduation. But what of her stuff at home? She filed that under things to deal with later. Talking to her parents right now wouldn't be a good idea.  Only one heart pumping task at a time.

      She was placing a napkin on the table next to the cutlery trying to make it look appealing for a biker when she heard him. One moment she was alone in the kitchen, the next he filled the doorway. Rider and his smile. "You're early. I like punctuality."

      Rider let go of a humming noise, otherwise didn't reply her wiseass remark, his raked hooded gaze said it all. He looked like he always did; rugged hair caught up in a bun at the back of his head, dark jeans encasing his legs, his wallet chain clanking against his belt, his shirt looked clean, a white long sleeve undershirt over a dark gray T-shirt.

      In other words, he was gorgeous.

      She shivered and knew the reason for his longing look a moment later, his long legs brought him over, Zara blinked in awe of his stature, the hotness of him licked all over her skin. She meant to say his name as a warning, yet it came out more of a moan.

      A wanted noise that mirrored in her eyes, why else would Rider have stepped forward, grasped her around the waist and crushed her mouth.

      It was a movie kiss, no tongues, just lips reluctantly to leave each other's mouths.

      Zara drew back first, his eyes were so dark now, rich dark arousal. She was convinced if it were left to Rider to decide they'd be using the table for a whole other reason than food.

      And now she was thinking about sex.

      Great.

     "Needed that first before you date me, Icy."

      She turned before he could see her blush. "Take a seat, Prez. I have food fit for, well, a president. I hope you like it." Ears attuned to his every movement she caught his feet shuffling away, and then he sat, she peeked over her shoulder, blue eyes watching her, streaking down her body and rested on her butt.

      He was determined to make this hard for her.

      Food first. Her jangling nerves dictated they have food first before anything … else.

      He looked good. Really good.

      "You cooked me food. I'll like it. It smells delicious."

      "A little bird told me you like chicken fried steak, and there are gooey mac and cheese with bacon bits and garlic green beans as sides. I don't like to brag, but they're pretty yummy."

      "Uncle Jed is a gossipin' bastard." he laughed guessing correctly who’d helped her prep for dinner.

      Thrilled with the noise, Zara watched his face soften. "I can't comment, I protect my sources, but I said I'd set him a plate aside."

      She told him of her phone call. “The kid is doin’ okay?”

      “Far as I can tell. Who knows what lasting damage there’s going to be.” her face changed with a grimace. “Only time will tell. I just hope her foster family can help her. She’s just a little kid still. It’s a lot for her to cope with.”

      “Zara baby. You know you can talk to me, right?” she met his eyes, saw his sincerity. Why did it make her heart clench? She discerned the answer and told him honestly.

      “I know. But. Rider. I’m never going to talk to you about what happened. You already know too much that makes me uncomfortable. No, let me finish, please. I think I’m going to have therapy, I read a leaflet in that clinic.  I don’t want you to know. I want to be just Zara to you. Not poor Zara. It happened, and fuck them all, now I make myself better. So, therapy. What do you think?”

     “Always got ears for you, know that. But if you want therapy I think it’s a good idea.” He’d braced both arms onto the table, fingers loosely laced, looking casual and gorgeous. There were so many layers to this man, she’d seen many already, and still she was not even close to the center of him, she imagined she never would be and that was just lovely. He was showing her who he was.

      Don't panic, it's just a date.

      The thought of being on a date with Rider was frankly, ludicrous. He was not the kind of guy you went on moonlit walks with, or to view a midnight showing of Harry Potty.

      He was the type of guy who pushed you into a room, locked the door and then did hot groping, a lot of dirty talk of everything he wanted to do to you, before doing them three or four times. No restrictions, just mind-blown, terribly wicked delicious things.

      Definitely no dating in that.

      She was a Disney Princess and Rider the rogue bad guy.

      Fated to never get along.

      But here they were.

      "Zara?"

      "Hm?"

      "You wanna turn around and look at me? I'm havin' a conversation with your back," he asked.

       "I need to watch these garlic beans if they catch on the pan the whole meal is ruined." she said weakly when in truth even having him behind her his voice was enough to wreck her composure.

      "Then it'll be fuckin' ruined, we'll grab a pizza. Look at me, baby. I wanna see your eyes when we talk." He chided gently, coaxing her in that whiskey tone of his that went straight to the core of her.

      So demanding. So bossy. Why was her belly flipping over? Wrinkling her nose, she turned hoping he'd ignore her cheeks and their heightened color. She'd accepted it long ago she was a blusher, it happened so often when she was younger.

      But now the MC president seemed to bring it out in her.

     "I see you. Is that better?"

      "Yeah, it is. You look beautiful, Zara. " he sent her one of those grins that stirred her heart and pierced a straight path to between her legs. She was getting wet from a simple smile and she was wearing new underwear, they'd be ruined. "Now get over here. You can't date me from over there."

     "The food---"

     "Can wait. Come here, baby. I don't bite." his gaze smoldered, she begged to differ with his claim. But still she crossed the floor, drawn by an invisible thread from her to him, he pulled her down on his lap.

      "I think you have the definition of dating wrong, Rider. This right here is a date, in the same place, sharing food and conversation, requiring to be this close isn't necessary." She wet her lips nervously, saw how his eyes flipped down to watch.

      Her belly did that thing again.

     "This is how you date me, real close and personal and sat on my dick." To prove his point Rider leaned in and ran his nose along the curve of her cheek. "Mmm ... you smell fuckin' incredible, Icy."

      Desire crept up on her, teased her breasts, causing her nipples to pebble and press to the inside of her shirt.  Greedy little things wanting his attention, too. She had to draw a staggered breath before speaking "Do you always say what you're thinking?"

      "Don't like it?" he was amused, one corner of his mouth tilted up.

      So cocky.

      "I'm not stroking your already humongous ego, Prez, we might not fit you through the door after dessert."

     "You're my dessert. I'll have it right here." Another roll of his nose, this time down her neck, what could Zara do but arch her head to the side and allow him full access. Her pulse was hammering. "Let's get this food on the go, baby, then we can have that fuckin' dessert, I'm starvin' for you." he left her with a wet kiss on her neck, open mouthed, tongue licking, before lifting her off him.

      The man went right to her head quicker than any alcohol. While she plated up the food, he poured her a glass of a wine and grabbed a bottle of beer for himself. They ate in relative silence, the good kind of silence where you don't feel the need to fill in the blanks. Zara was enjoying watching him enjoying her food, he had two helpings.

     It was around the time Rider had her pinned against the sink after she'd filled the dishwasher, his hand buried deep in her hair, the other squeezing her ass and his mouth on the side of her neck that she quietly went a little insane with lust for him.

      It was strange. An emotion she hadn't felt in so long it was taking her breath as she grew accustomed to it raging through her body, making her breasts ache to want his attention, and she was wet. But she sure was revisiting all those old feelings she had for him.

     "Did we do enough datin’? just tell me and I'll dance you around this kitchen and whisper sweet dirty nothin's. if we have I'm takin' you to my room."

      Oh...

      Yes, yes yes.

      Kisses trailed down her throat, his tongue licking and she remembered how he once used that tongue between her legs. He drove her mad that night with that wicked tormenting tongue.

    "Rider. I.."

      He brought his face to hers. His mouth was right there in reaching distance, she could taste the air he breathed and she was doing some of her own panting, eyes so blue so unwavering were hypotonic, she was swaying towards him ready to take him up on his silent invitation to suck the shit out of his tongue when--- the door burst open breaking her spell.

      Startled, all three of them froze at the same time, though Zara suspected Rider's and his prospect's heart wasn't pounding out of their chests like hers was.

      Rider growled in greeting "The fuck, Slider?"

    "Daaaamn. Oh fuck. Sorry, Prez. Ms. Zara." the guy had the good grace to look repentant he'd interrupted their evening.

     "You can't read? note on the door, prospect, says for everyone to fuck off tonight." It did not. Zara had written a quite polite note, taping it to the door, asking people to please use other means of the kitchen for a few hours. Rider had no manners whatsoever, it made her giggle behind her fingers.

      He'd kept her plastered to his hip with one hand to her waist but punched a stare at Slider dark enough to murder the poor boy... Lusty tension clawed at her fingers, making her grip his shirt at the back, to lean hard into his ribcage feeling his heart rap heavily, she'd just wanted to kiss him, really kiss him, taste him, kiss him for days until they ran out of air. Rider's hand slid down her back, rested on her hip. "Not feelin' generous right now, spit it out, unless you're askin' for a bruise or ten."

     "Rider!" she gasped placing her hand on his chest. "He's not going to hit you, Slider.                  

     "Debatable. Waitin' prospect." Droll was his second skin. Why was that attractive?

      "Sorry, Prez. Hawk ordered me to get him a beer and---"

      "That jerkoff. Tell him he can fuckin' die of thirst and to stop sendin' brown-nosers to interrupt me." She thought the boy was incredibly astute when he turned and made for the door like he was on fire. "And, prospect, I see you without your vest again you'll be wearin' more than bruises, you get me?"

      "Sir. Yes, Prez. Sorry again, Ms. Zara."

      "He was nice and polite, you were hard on him, Rider," she said after he'd scuttled out. Rider rounded on her, crushed her mouth without warning, this time his tongue dipped in and went deep and wet, so slow she lost the power to think, just opened and moaned.

      It was over way too soon.

     "My room, now, Icy. or I'll fuck you on the stove, I don't care." his breath brushed her lips, desperate gulps of air to match the tempo her lungs were churning. Oh yes. Desire was pounding her insides, swirling into places she thought long since dead, all awakening for this man.  "I fuckin' need you now." He went on and she moaned again leaning against his chest, letting him hold her up 'cause she was in real danger of her knees giving out.  Oh, how she agreed. Now was a good time, right now was even better.