Joy Ride: A Virgin Romance (Let it Ride Book 3) by Cynthia Rayne (17)

Damned (Biker Romance)

Trigger Warning

This book contains graphic descriptions and/or flashbacks of sexual assault, molestation, violence, homophobia, and self-injurious behavior.

Please read with caution.

Chapter One

She’s a hot mess.

Duke watched Rose Weston as she sat eating dinner with her older sister, Daisy, and his club brother, Cowboy. Rose tried hard to hide it, but he could see the chaos bubbling beneath the surface even two tables over.

Not that it was any of his fucking business.

 Hades, the Four Horsemen’s motel and diner, had quite a crowd tonight. The diner had a 1950’s feel to it with a black-and-white-checkered floor, red vinyl booths, silver stools, and Texas memorabilia on the walls like an old Route 66 sign and a Texaco star.

Tonight, the place was packed for another one of their brotherhood dinners. Voodoo, a brother who served as the Hades chef and proprietor, barked orders at the prospects.

Prospects, or potential members of the motorcycle club, had to be at the beck and call of all the full-fledged members to prove their worth. It was like pledging a fraternity, an illegal one specializing in vigilante justice. At the moment, they hustled to take drink orders and deliver food to the brothers’ tables.

Duke did a perimeter sweep of the room, a habit left over from his Special Forces routine. He noted the weapons his brothers carried as well as the exits and entrances, which they always kept clear in case some escape and evasion became necessary or E&E in military lingo.

He couldn’t help but stare at the train wreck of a girl again.

She did her level best to look normal. Rose laughed and smiled often. She even managed to eat most of the food on her plate. But her eyes told an altogether different story. Bleak, shuttered, and chilly, they reminded him of an abandoned home. And she couldn’t quite disguise the pain in their depths.

No one else seemed to notice, not even her sister. Maybe they were relieved she got home safe and didn’t look too close. Two months ago, Duke had pulled her out of a cage—a fucking cage. Some batshit crazy lawyer for the Raptors, a rival MC, kept her as a sex slave. Who knows what all the pervert did to her.

Cowboy saddled him with protecting Rose, but Duke didn’t consider babysitting or counseling to be part of the job description. So he kept his distance and watched her like a fucking hawk, in case her former rapist came calling.

Rose had decided not to move in with Cowboy and Daisy when his brother reclaimed his old house, and who could blame her? Pretending to be fine all the fucking time could be exhausting.

Duke had given up on being normal years ago.

And he couldn’t help but notice her. Her pain called to him on so many levels, and she fascinated the hell out of him, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

 While he appreciated her beauty, he usually went for older women, with loads of sexual experience and no inhibitions. Rose had long blonde hair which fell to the middle of her back and curled around her pretty face. She had wide-spaced, warm brown eyes, framed by pale lashes and even paler skin.

She’d been thin as a lamppost, but she’d filled out again, her hips and breasts rounding out thanks to Voodoo’s cooking—although he couldn’t see her new curves in all their glory. Tonight, she wore an oversized pair of jeans and a long-sleeved Dallas Cowboys shirt she kept tugging at, trying to force the sleeves below her fingertips.

That caught his attention. Something about the gesture bothered him.

Abruptly, her companions finished their food, and Rose hugged her sister and Cowboy goodbye. After they left, she sat alone at the table. Rose idly moved the salt and pepper packets around in their tiny blue dish. Then she shook her head, as though trying to focus. She lurched to her feet, grabbed her bag, and headed out the rear of the diner.

Duke forced his attention back to the hand-cut fries on his plate, slathering one with ketchup before bringing it to his mouth. He shot a glance at Shepherd, another of his MC brothers, who devoured a bacon cheeseburger. They sat at a table together against the wall.

 Voodoo stuffed the burgers with bacon, onion, and cheese, and they were tasty, though not his usual fare. Voo insisted on cooking because he couldn’t stand to eat inferior food. None of them argued about it. After all, how could they compete with an honest to God chef?

 “What the fuck are you starin’ so hard at?” Shep asked.

“None of your business.” Duke was in a crap mood, as per usual.

 “Haven’t you figured it out by now? Everything is my business, brother.” He tapped his VP patch like it was the biker equivalent of the S on Superman’s chest.

Shepherd could be a real nosy bastard. While he was only in his late twenties, he had the sharp instincts of a blue-haired biddy when it came to digging up dirt. He had no qualms about crawling through people’s private lives, so Duke rarely offered up much in the way of personal info.

He liked his private life to stay well…private.

“The hellion I’m currently fuckin’.”

Duke nodded to the busty bottle blonde he had on tap. Fuck if he could remember her name, though. The hellion preened when his eyes rested on her, thrusting out her chest and fluffing her hair, the brown roots showing through. He’d dubbed her Chesty, due to her ample assets. Of course, she’d told him her name their first night together, but he’d been shit-faced and horny as hell after years in prison with only his own slicked-up hand for relief.

The night of his welcome home from prison bash, she’d touched his thigh under the table and whispered it to him. He’d nearly come from her voice alone. He thought it started with an ‘L.' Linda? Leslie?

Who the fuck knew? It was too late to ask now without looking like a dick.

 Besides, talking wasn’t their thing. Whatever her name was, she had a kinky streak he enjoyed exploring, and she didn’t demand much of his time outside of bed. It was casual and fun, so it suited his needs fine.

The VP followed the direction of his gaze and rolled his eyes.

“Jesus Christ.”

“You got a problem with me gettin’ my dick wet?”

 “Pussy is a fine distraction, brother, but it ain’t a cure. It’s been known to cause more problems than it solves.”

“Like you’d know? You got mothballs in your boxers. When’s the last time you got laid?” None of the brothers had ever seen him with a hellion. Ever.

“No room for anythin’ but my own big, hairy set of balls.” Shep tucked a bit of a fuck you into his good ol’ boy grin.

“Last time I checked, I ain’t got an affliction.” Duke leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

 “We both know you’re talkin’ out your ass now.”

“Don’t even try to fix him, Shep. He was a psycho long before he went to prison,” Ryker interrupted. 

Duke glanced at Ryker and his old lady, Elizabeth, who sat at the table next to theirs. The asshat never missed an opportunity to run his big mouth. Ryker bugged the shit out of Duke.  And his initial critical opinion dove to new lows every second he spent with the asshole.

“Why don’t you go back to your date and shut the fuck up?”

Judging by Ryker’s full plate and the empty shot glasses, he’d drunk enough Jack tonight to takedown a heavy metal guitarist—on an empty stomach, no less.

“Ryker, let’s just have a nice evening.” Elizabeth placed a hand on his arm.

“We will as soon as I take care of some business.” He leaned forward in his chair, a smirk on his face. “Speaking of girlfriends, you look awful cozy over there with Shep.”

The VP muttered a curse.

Duke dropped his burger. “What the hell are you babblin’ about?”

“Oh, come on. You’re the one who’s supposed to be a brainiac. It’s a joke.” He widened his eyes. “Get it? You’re all intense, practically eye-fucking him.”

A cold-eyed stare was Duke’s reply.

“Jesus, learn how to take a joke. Like I give a damn who you fuck.”

 “Lay off the booze, Ryker, and eat your damn food.” Shep didn’t spare either of them a glance.

 “Come on, he’s right. You should eat something. Voodoo outdid himself tonight. These burgers are amazing.”

Ignoring her, Ryker stood and advanced on Duke.

“Get the fuck away from me, man.” Duke gripped the edge of the table.

Ryker laughed. “And here I thought you got used to men being close. You know, bendin’ over for the soap in the big house—five years is a long time to go without pussy, brother.”

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll sit down. Now.”

“Why don’t you make me, Duke?”

That’s it.

Duke shot up out of his chair and socked Ryker in the jaw, causing his head to rock back. Shepherd pushed himself between them, but Duke nailed Ryker with a blow to the gut. Ryker clipped Shepherd’s jaw before he backhanded Duke, sending him reeling into another table.

 Shepherd turned to the prospects. “Get your asses over here and run interference.”

They dashed over, but Duke ignored the commotion and circled Ryker, keeping his fists up. Ryker had been itching for an excuse to start some shit with him ever since he got paroled.

 “Both of you knock it off.” Captain jumped out of his seat and strode over.

Undaunted, Duke grabbed the back of Ryker’s head and slammed the bridge of his nose into a nearby table, causing blood to spatter and drip down to the floor like ketchup from a squeeze bottle.

Out of the corner of his eye, Duke saw Elizabeth withdraw the Taser Daisy had encouraged her to buy and launch herself at him with a battle cry. Fetch blocked her attack but fell shuddering to the floor in a haze of electrified pain.

Ryker tackled Duke to the ground, and together they rolled over and over, crashing into tables and chairs. Then a couple of prospects pried Ryker off and held him at bay. Pretty Boy held onto Elizabeth to keep her from pouncing again. The Taser lay harmlessly on the ground at her feet.

Captain arrived on the scene, and when Duke got up to have another go at Ryker, the Prez stepped in between them.

 “What the hell is wrong with both of you?”

 “He called me a fuckin’ fag.” Duke jerked a thumb at Ryker.

“No, I said you might like a dick in your ass—didn’t say you were gay.”

Captain sighed. “You’re givin’ me a headache. If you wanna kill each other, be my guest, but don’t break club property and don’t do it in front of the old ladies. Now get the fuck out of my sight and cool off.” Captain folded his arms over his chest, looking every inch the president of the Four Horsemen MC.

“This don’t concern you, old man.” Ryker wiped the blood from his nose.

“What did you say to me, boy?”

Everyone got real quiet.

No glassware clinking or chairs squeaking, not even the scrape of cutlery on plates. No one mouthed off to Captain—no one but Eddie.

 “Nothing.” Ryker glanced away.

 “I don’t want to see either of you for a couple of days. If I do, I might shoot you both. Meet me at Perdition the mornin’ after, and trust me, there’s gonna be hell to pay, boys.”

Duke scowled, and Ryker smirked.

Then he whispered something to Elizabeth Duke couldn’t overhear, but he’d bet his boots it was an apology. She crossed her arms over her chest, and her eyes softened. He kissed her forehead, and she dabbed at his bruised and bloody face with a napkin, then she placed her arm around him and escorted Ryker from the restaurant.

Fucking Ryker. He has it too easy.

 Duke hesitated at the edge of the room, long enough to draw some unwanted attention. Chesty got to her feet, but he shook his head. He didn’t want to talk to her—she had a tight pussy, but not much going on above the shoulders.

He felt like pounding his fists into the walls, but it’d earn him a beat down from Captain. So he wandered out to the parking lot behind the diner to walk off his bad mood.

At this rate, he’d have to hoof it to China.

After fifteen minutes of pacing back and forth, he stilled when he heard the scrape of the metal door behind him.

“What the hell crawled up your ass tonight?” Shep always cut straight to the chase.

Duke turned away. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. I’m fine.”

Shepherd pulled out a smoke and sparked it up in his unnerving, almost supernatural, far-too-patient way of his. He simply waited for Duke to start talking— like the biker version of Buddha.

“It’s nothin’.”

The VP lifted one disbelieving brow.

 “I ain’t some goddamn cocksucker, for the motherfuckin’ record.” The words exploded from his throat before he could jam them back down.

There goes my private life.

Shepherd leaned against the brick wall, barely beyond the floodlights overhead, which wreathed his face in shadows.

“I know you aren’t, brother. I can see he struck a nerve.”

Even though Duke had spent five fucking years in prison, he hadn’t resorted to dick. He’d slapped the snot out of the first lady-boy who’d hit on him, and he’d picked a fight with the biggest motherfucker on his cell block so he didn’t risk being anybody’s bitch. It was a matter of not being caught alone. Safety in numbers.

“Damn straight. I love pussy. If Ryker thinks—”

Shep made a disgusted noise in his throat. “Since when do you give a damn what Ryker thinks? He got a rise out of you because he’s pissed about Captain hittin’ on Eddie and can’t do a damn thing about it.  He used you to let off some steam.”

 “Yeah, I made a convenient punching bag.” He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.

Shep was right, of course. It was one of his most irritating qualities. He had a way of bypassing all the noise straight to the heart of a situation.

“I really hate the fucker.”

“You don’t say?”

“Kiss my ass, Shep.”

“No offense, but you ain’t my type, brother.” He blew a couple of smoke rings.

“You’re so fucking funny.”

 “You’ve got no idea, Duke,” the VP drawled, an edge in his voice. “But come on, I ain’t gettin’ any younger here. What set you off tonight? You and Ryker usually bug the fuck out of each other, but you seem pricklier than usual, emphasis on prick.”

“Nothin’ to tell, brother.”

 Ryker had blundered into dangerous territory and gotten the best of Duke. Not about his most recent stint in prison but his childhood—and he didn’t share that shit with anyone. Not his mother, not Eddie, certainly not the prison psychiatrist, and not his brothers either.

He kept it six fucking feet under—dead and buried where it belonged.

“Fine. Have it your way. You got it together now?”

“Yeah.”

The VP stepped back into the light, and Duke pondered how weary his brother appeared. How worn.

“What about you?” Duke noted the deep, dark circles beneath his eyes. He obviously hadn’t had a good night’s rest in weeks. “You look like you’ve been on a long bender in Vegas.”

“Thanks.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“No, no one can help me. Not with this.”

Duke studied Shep. Something was wrong. Really fucking wrong.

Maybe the role of VP weighed on him? He took on all of their problems, settling beefs between the brothers, scrutinizing new members and old ladies. It had to be a thankless job. Bikers weren’t known for their good choices.

“’Night, brother. Do me a favor and stay out of trouble.” Shep ambled back inside.

Duke stared at the closed door for a moment and made a mental note to check on him later, maybe offer to take on some extra responsibilities. He bitched about Shep all the time, but he respected him.

Ah, hell, he loved the bastard. He was the closest thing Duke had to an actual sibling. As he headed for the door, a bottle clattered to the ground on the far side of the parking lot, grabbing his attention.

When he investigated, he found Rose seated on a set of concrete stairs near the loading dock. She had a cigarette in her mouth and tried in vain to get a pink disposable lighter to work. Near her feet, an empty beer bottle rolled back and forth on the uneven pavement.

When she saw him, her eyes widened. Duke knew from experience she wanted to avoid his ass. He’d witnessed one of her most vulnerable moments. She’d been helpless, dressed as a fuck toy. Scary shit had to be shoved down, locked away—and he made it harder to do because he’d witnessed her degradation firsthand.

But he couldn’t walk away. Not yet.

Duke plucked the cigarette from her mouth and sat down beside her. She gasped in protest as he placed it in his own, but she didn’t snatch it away from him. He produced his Horsemen Zippo, etched with the club logo, and lit the cigarette with a flourish then handed it back to her.

She offered him the tiniest of smiles before placing the cigarette between her lips, exactly where his mouth had been moments ago.

And as fucking crazy as it sounded, it pleased him.

“Thanks.” She inhaled deeply and then coughed a bit. Rose wasn’t a smoker.

He grabbed a cigar from the inner pocket of his cut, as well as his stainless steel cutter. He preferred Ashton Symmetry cigars, which featured a crown emblem like the tattoo on his back. They had a spicy scent and an earthy taste he found comforting.

During his stint in the military as a Special Forces sniper, he’d gotten into the habit of smoking. Duke sparked one up after he’d taken out a target. He clipped the end of the cigar and heated the tip in the Zippo flame until the cigar smoldered.

Now, all he needed was a scotch and soda.

 She staggered to her feet, grabbed her bag, and the empty bottle.

“Not so fast.” Duke seized her leg, and she flinched. He released her, and she rubbed the spot as though she’d been burned. “Sit down.”

Her eyes flashed, a bit of spirit showing.

It cheered him. He didn’t want to think of her as broken, maybe because he’d been the one to free her.

“Why?”

Duke waited to be obeyed.

Rose stood there, staring at him, and he could see the emotions drift across her pretty face— annoyance, resentment, and then finally resignation.

She sat, putting a couple feet between their bodies, and heaved a disgusted sigh.

“What do you want?”

“I want to ask you a couple of questions.” Shep didn’t have the market cornered on being a nosy bastard. He hated to get involved, but someone needed to do something.

She smiled. It was the fake one she used on Cowboy and Daisy all the time.

“I’m fine.”

“I didn’t ask, but we both know you’re lyin’. I know you aren’t fine. What’s going on?” he asked.

Rose dropped the act. “Nothing.”

“I ain’t lettin’ it go, so you might as well save us both the time and level with me.”

Rose stared straight ahead, as though mesmerized by the asphalt.

“It’s nothing. I’m coping.” She gestured with the cigarette and bottle.

“How did you get the beer?”

“I, uh—”

“Stole it?”

“Borrowed it.”

“Borrowing means you were gonna give it back at some point.” Duke sighed. “You’re what? Twenty?”

“Nineteen.”

Fuck, she’s young.

 Duke would be thirty-nine next January, which made him an old man compared to her. Talk about a knee to the balls.

Wait. Why the fuck do I care how old the girl is?

“You know, the club could help you.”

“With drinking?”

“No, with documentation. Ryker’s in charge of ordering booze for Perdition and Hades. He accounts for every fucking beer. Trust me. He might be an idiot, but sooner or later, he’ll figure it out. If you had a fake ID, you could get your own hooch without anyone bein’ the wiser. I could get one made for you.”

“Um, okay. Thanks.”

Duke watched as the metal door leading inside swung open, and Chesty came trotting out, evidently impatient to be fucked. She lit a smoke, staring at him from across the lot. Thank God she didn’t approach them.

 “You can get the ID tomorrow,” he said to Rose. “But you have to promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“Drink somethin’ with a bit more kick than beer—like Jack or Jim. Self-medicating only works if you put your back into it.”

 “You aren’t going to tell my sister?”

“Why would I? Ain’t her business.”

She nodded, standing once more, and he jumped to his feet. Before she could walk away, he seized her sleeve, pulling it up her arm. He needed to check something.

“Hey.” She swatted him with her other hand.

Ignoring her, he examined her skin. As he’d suspected, she had a series of red lines crisscrossing her pale forearm. Yeah, she’d been cutting herself. He noted she’d avoided the veins in her arms, and the cuts were shallow, so she hadn’t done any serious harm.

Most people assumed cutting was a suicidal gesture, but Duke knew better. Cutting had more to do with survival than anything else. Sometimes focusing on physical pain instead of the emotional kind could be a relief. It was the world’s worst way to cope with excruciating shit.

“Let me go.”

He traced one of the lines. The skin had turned an angry-looking red and felt hot to the touch. “These are getting infected. If you’re gonna keep cuttin’, you need to take better care of yourself.”

“I—”

“No. You don’t need to tell me a comforting lie. I don’t expect you to be okay, or normal, or whatever the fuck they want you to be. I know you’re a mess, and you should be a mess after what you’ve been through.”

“How did you know?”

Across the lot, the hellion cleared her throat, and it echoed off the wall loudly. Duke didn’t bother making eye contact.

 “I saw you tuggin’ at your sleeves earlier and made an educated guess.” He wished he’d been wrong.  Duke read the question in her eyes. “No, I ain’t tellin’ your sister, but you gotta keep the wounds clean so you don’t lose your arm. What are you usin’ to slice yourself?”

“A paring knife I snagged from the kitchen.”

He released her arm. “You need a sharp blade, one you sanitize between cuts.” He withdrew his pocket knife and handed it to her. “Be careful with it or you’ll cut your arm off.”

“Why are you helping me?” She tucked the knife into the pocket of her jeans.

Fuck if I know. “Because I can.”

“Thank you.”

 “Don’t thank me. I’m just doing damage control, and I want you to think about something.”

“What?”

“You’re free. You got away from him, physically at least—but not mentally. Not yet. You gotta break the hold he has on you.”

Tears welled in her eyes.

“Don’t let him keep you in the cage too much longer or you’ll lose yourself, Rose. Oblivion is a comfort, but it’s an illusion. It ain’t the way out. Trust me.”

He went to Chesty, who beamed at him, eager for his attention. Duke put his arm around her and led her to a hotel room he planned on commandeering for a night of oblivion.

Duke had just given Rose some damn good advice.

 Too bad he’d never taken it himself.

Chapter Two

“Are you hiding from me, Goldilocks? Playing a wicked game?”

Rose drew her legs up to her chest and pressed herself into the furthest corner of the closet, as far away as she could get from him—the small, shadowy space felt safer. It was another barrier between them, but she could never escape Kent for long.

She screwed her eyes shut and tried to think of other things, tried to distract herself from the inevitable. He would find her, toss her on the bed, and rape her again. She’d lost count of how many times, how many ways, he’d violated her. It’d become a blur of pain, fear, and dread.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

 She could hear the disturbing excitement in his tone, the anticipation. Rose trembled. She needed to drift away once more, let her mind go elsewhere. Leave this place and him far behind. Let Kent do what he wanted to her body—he wouldn’t touch her mind.

The closet door flew open, and there Kent stood. Rose had nowhere to run.

 On the surface, Kent was a handsome man in his early forties. He had patrician features and blue-gray eyes, which held something cold and icy in their depths. His short black hair was streaked with white. And he had a lean frame she’d become horrifically intimate with.

She noticed his arousal, could see the bulge in his expensive trousers. Rose averted her gaze only to see a look of predatory expectation settle on his face. He reached for her, and she cringed.

“Come here, Rose.”

He seized her by the arms and hauled her to her feet, then he fit their hips together so she could feel his erection pressing low, against her belly. A knot settled in her stomach. He ground against her, a shameless moan escaping his lips. She refused to meet his eyes, staring down instead, willing her mind to flee the scene.

“My Rose.” He kissed her forehead before trailing kisses along her cheeks. His mouth invaded hers, and she opened for him.

There was no point in fighting. She lost every time.

God, she hated his kiss most of all, because she couldn’t detach from it. Rose could pretend everything else happened to another girl, but not something as intimate as a kiss.

 He murmured against her mouth, “You taste so sweet, Rose. My Rose….”

“Rose?”

Eyes snapping open, Rose sat up in bed with a startled cry. She blinked, disoriented from being thrown out of the dream world and into the real one—looked wildly around the hotel room, searching for some sign of Kent. But she was alone and at Hades. It wasn’t much to look at, but the room was clean, and she didn’t have to pay any rent. Plus, she didn’t share it with an oversexed psychopath.

I’m safe. Safe. He can’t get me here. Rose sagged in relief.

Someone banged on the door again.

“W-who is it?”

“Rose? It’s me.”

She recognized the voice now that she was more alert. No cause for alarm—it was Daisy. Rose vaguely remembered agreeing to have breakfast with her this morning.

She ran for the door and swung it open. Her older sister stood there with a pastry bag and a tray of coffee in one hand. Even at such an ungodly hour, Daisy looked put together.

She wore a pair of boot-cut jeans, a Camo tank top, and a pair of black shades perched on her head. Her blond hair had been pulled into a sleek ponytail. Meanwhile, Rose wore a long-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, which had seen better days. She hadn’t checked, but she bet she probably sported a wicked case of bed head as well.

“It’s a good thing you answered. I was about to go Chuck Norris on the door.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know, when I said we’d have breakfast, I meant at like eight or nine.” She glanced at the glowing red numbers on the alarm clock by the bed. “It’s only six.”

Daisy smiled, all sharp teeth and no regrets. “You can take the girl out of the Marines, but you can’t take the Marines out of the girl.”

 “Come on in, G.I. Jane.”

“Marines, not Army, remember.”

 Different branches of the military had some sort of rivalry going on. Whatever.

 “Are you hungry?” Daisy brushed past her and set the food down on the tiny table near the door. “Because I’m starving.”

Rose shrugged. She’d been forcing herself to eat for weeks, but she didn’t get hungry. Mostly, she ate to survive now—bite, chew, swallow. 

Daisy removed the coffees from the tray and opened the Devlicious Donuts bag, which featured a devil with donuts skewered on its pitchfork.

Nearly everything in Hell, Texas, carried the satanic theme. She’d had scones at the Bloody Hell Tea Room, ate habitually at the Hades diner, and downed a mocha at the Hot Damn Coffee Shop now and then as well. The name was inspired by the hot water springs that ran through the town, which carried a slight sulfur smell.

 “How’s it going at Casa Cowboy?” She sat and grabbed a coffee.

 “The remodel is right on schedule. We’ve gotten the master bedroom done as well as the kitchen. They start working on the living room and the guest rooms next.”

Cowboy had asked Daisy to move in with him, and they seemed to be on the fast track to the altar.  Cowboy’s former wife had committed suicide by overdosing on sleeping pills, taking their infant son with her in the process. For several years, Cowboy had avoided his home. To reclaim the house and make it his own, he’d started a huge remodeling project.

While it seemed like a lot of work, both Cowboy and Daisy were enjoying themselves. Rose thought she’d never seen her sister this happy. Daze deserved a man who loved her and a home of her own.

As children, they’d been forced into foster care when their mother, who’d been a prostitute and a junkie, died. Their fathers hadn’t been in the picture. Rose had eventually been adopted, but Daisy had been forced to stay in group homes in between foster care assignments until she turned eighteen and joined the Marines.

Rose emptied a couple packets of sweetener into her coffee and swirled it around before taking a sip. The caffeine rushed through her body, waking her up.

“Donut?” Daisy held out the pastry bag.

She took one and set it down on a paper napkin. The bakery added a red cinnamon glaze, which gave the pastry a satanic sheen. While she picked at it, Daisy bit into her crimson cake donut with gusto.

Daisy scooted back in her seat and then winced.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I got a new tat. It hurts like hell.”

“What did you get?”

Her sister suddenly stared into her coffee cup. “Um, Cowboy’s name.”

 “Cowboy likes to brand his women?”

“No, he didn’t brand me…it’s a club tradition.”

 “Let me see.”

Daisy lifted her shirt, and there was Cowboy’s name, right by the big cat tattoo she already had on her back.

Talk about a serious commitment. Daisy had gotten inked for Cowboy.

“Oh, my God.”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“You know what.”

Rose batted her eyelashes, trying to look above suspicion.

Rolling her eyes, Daisy polished off her breakfast and changed the subject.

“I don’t know what’s with me lately, but I’ve been ravenous the past few weeks.”

“Have you been working out more?”

Daisy had always been the athletic type. Rose was more of an indoor girl, and she preferred settling in with a good television show. Daisy had sought comfort in playing sports with the neighborhood kids, but Rose’s solace was fictional families and their happy lives, complete with logos and theme music. Sometimes, Daze watched with her, and they’d fantasize about living a perfect life with a mom and a dad and a real home.

 “Not really. I’ve been spending most of my time on the renovation, painting and stuff.  And there are a lot of chores to do around the barn. But I still go for a run now and then.”

“Maybe you’re having a growth spurt?”

Daze stuck her tongue out, then made a grab for her Marines rucksack and pulled out a file folder. She sighed heavily.

“Okay, I suppose we should get down to it. I have news to share.”

Rose tensed.

“The club has some Raptors intel.” She pulled out copies of deeds and a couple of grainy photographs of a fortified building with cameras, fences, and armed guards. “We’ve got a possible lead on the Raptors’ whorehouse.”

The Raptors, a rival motorcycle club, trafficked in drugs, weapons, and women. One of their biggest sources of profit came from prostitution. They seduced young girls into becoming prostitutes by using handsome bikers to wine and dine them into thinking they were in a relationship. The duped girls were asked to make a ‘love donation’ to the club.

Rose couldn’t think of a worse euphemism for turning tricks. She’d been a victim of their plan, too. She’d been stupid enough to fall for Rock. He’d been good-looking, smooth-talking, and had a way of overcoming any of her objections. Eventually, she’d run off with him.

Then his true nature showed itself.

He’d pressured her to give blow jobs to his biker buddies, and when she’d resisted, his façade dropped. Although Rose had never worked at the club’s whorehouse. Kent, the Raptors’ lawyer, had purchased her instead.

Rose wanted the operation thing shut down—it was the reason why Rock had preyed on her in the first place.

She couldn’t think about all the ugliness right now. Whenever the fear and anxiety didn’t take over, her mind took her to some very disturbing places—places where payback was bloody.

Sometimes, when Kent worked on her, she fantasized about getting retribution—the bloody kind. Thinking about making him pay had kept her sane.

But Rose refused to go there right now.

“What did you find?” Rose wrapped her chilled fingers around the hot coffee.

“One of the brothers hacked them. The club bought some land about an hour from here. It’s private and heavily guarded—so it might be the brothel. Unfortunately, there’s no sign of Kent, but they’re still looking.”

Kent had forced Rose to become his…well, she didn’t have a name for it. Girlfriend? Mistress? Property? Sex slave? A twisted mixture of all of the above? He didn’t make her service other men, but living with him had been a private hell. Kent had controlled her with a mixture of drugs—along with brutal mind games.

Kent had introduced her to sadomasochism—emphasis on the sadism. After he’d bought her from Rock, he’d declared himself her owner and set about training her to sexually please him. He even had his very own sex dungeon.

“So what’s the plan?” Rose asked.

“For now, gather more info. The Horsemen can’t bust in there with weapons drawn. It’d turn into a bloodbath. They’re working on a plan, trying to find the right time to go in and shut it down. Maybe they can find a window of time when it’s less guarded or something.”

“Still sounds like it’s gonna be bad.”

“I think so too. But the club is frustratingly vague about the whole thing. You know how they are. It’s all very hush-hush. Cowboy has even been tight-lipped about it.” She sighed. “Despite my best attempts at getting the info out of him.”

Rose grinned. Daisy was itching to get involved in the fight. Her sister never backed down from conflict. Funny, because Rose avoided battles at all costs. Sure, as a teenager, she’d been sassy and sarcastic, but she’d ultimately done everything her adoptive parents had ever asked of her—until she met Rock.

“Are you okay, Ro?”

“I’m good.” Honestly, she wasn’t, but would it do any good to tell Daisy? Could she do anything? No.

“No, you aren’t. Maybe you should see a therapist.”

“I don’t want to.”

Early on, Daisy mentioned counseling as an option, but Rose had balked at the idea. Daisy hadn’t pushed it. She couldn’t imagine sharing all of the details with someone, even a professional. How could anyone fully grasp what she’d gone through? Rose still had trouble making sense of it.

“I know, but you might need to.”

“I’ll think about it.” It was a non-committal answer which wouldn’t provoke any protest from Daisy.

 And then Daisy groaned, pressing a hand to her stomach.

“You okay?”

“The donut feels like it’s trying to crawl out of my stomach. I think I’m coming down with something.”

“Why?”

“I keep on puking my guts out, at least once a day.”

 “You’ve been throwing up? In the mornings?”

Daisy’s eyes rounded at the implication. “No.”

Rose wasn’t surprised the idea of pregnancy hadn’t crossed Daisy’s mind. Due to their upbringing, motherhood wasn’t something on her big sister’s radar.

“Are you sure? Have you two been, er, safe?”

“Of course, we use birth control. Oh damn—except the one time in the hayloft.”

“The hayloft?”

“Stop it….”

“It’s been a while since I had sex ed, but the teacher said it only takes one time.”

Daisy rubbed her temples. “No. It couldn’t be. This isn’t happening. I can’t have morning sickness.”

 “Oh, but it is.” Rose couldn’t stop grinning.  Daisy would be an excellent mother, once she got used to the idea.

“No, I get sick at odd times, every now and then in the morning, but not always. Sometimes I get queasy when Cowboy is making one of his ‘down home’ meals at night. Not in the morning.”

“Shouldn’t you take a pregnancy test anyway?”

“I don’t need to. I’m not pregnant.” She wrapped her arms around her mid-section.

Rose tried not to smile, but it was difficult. Daisy hadn’t wanted to date, get married, and have children. Somehow Cowboy had pushed his way into her heart and life. She now had a home, the love of her life, and she might have a baby on the way.

“You should make sure.”

“I’m not pregnant.”

Rose stared at her sister.

 “Fine, stop it with the patronizing face. I’ll get a test, but I’m definitely not pregnant. I’ve got a bug.”

“What’s the song by Pam Tillis? Cleopatra, Queen of Denial.”

“So subtle….”

Her lips twitched. Sometimes, all it took was a look, and they were both little girls again, squabbling about something.

“On that note, I’m off to Home Depot in search of tile and grout.” She grabbed her stuff and kissed Rose on the cheek. “Check you later, Ro.”

“Don’t you mean Aunt Ro?”

“I hate you so much.”

“Whatever. Bye, Mommy.”

“Shut up.” 

“Never gonna happen.”

Daisy banged the door shut behind her, and then Rose heard the roar of her Silverado as it pulled out of the lot. She couldn’t help but chuckle. Her sister might be freaking out now, but eventually, she’d come around to the idea.

***

Later in the afternoon, Rose sat on a bench outside of her hotel room drinking a soda and glancing around the parking lot. It was nearly empty, save for a couple of cars parked by the diner portion of Hades.

 After Daisy rescued her from Kent’s place, she’d spent most of her time holed up in her room, preoccupied with the trauma. After a couple of months to put the ordeal into perspective, she’d ventured out, though she rarely left Hades—being surrounded by a half-dozen or so brawny bikers made her feel safe.

She’d kept busy today by gathering up her dirty clothes and doing some laundry, hauling her trash to the Dumpster, and wiping down the room. She hadn’t let the maids clean because she didn’t deal well with strangers these days. Having someone in her room, touching and moving her things, would be too much. 

Duke came swaggering out of a room on the opposite side of the lot with the stacked blonde he’d presumably taken to bed last night. He leaned up against his Harley and spread his legs wide. The woman wrapped her arms around his neck and stood between his thighs. She kissed him, and rubbed her breasts against his chest. They devoured each other—it was a make-out session worthy of a PG-13 rating—tongues and some over-the-clothes action as well.

Geez. Get a room. No, go back to your room. And stay there.

Flushing, she forced herself to stare at the pavement, in case they thought she was a voyeur—but she didn’t need to worry. Neither of them paid her the slightest bit of attention.

Daisy mentioned the bikers had a group of, er, free-spirited women around the clubhouse. They were known as hellions, and she’d glimpsed them from time to time at Hades. The Raptors required the women who worked in their clubs to provide sexual favors while the Four Horsemen had a consenting adults approach to sex. The brothers didn’t apply any pressure, and the women relished their status as Horsemen groupies.

When Duke and his chippie finally came up for air, he smacked her ass. She strutted her way to the diner, tossing her hair and putting an exaggerated wiggle in her walk, all hips and sex appeal. She wore a pair of painted on jeans and a halter top which threatened to expose her nipples when she turned around to blow him a kiss.

Rose envied her self-assurance. She’d never grown accustomed to her own sexuality. In school, she’d focused on getting good grades so she could get into college. It was all part of her plan to please her adoptive parents. Rose didn’t want to disappoint them or make them regret their decision. She’d been convinced they’d get rid of her if she weren't perfect.

So she hadn’t paid much attention to boys growing up. Other than an awkward kiss from a boy she’d met in band, she hadn’t been involved with anyone until her freshman year at college.

Unfortunately, her experiment was Rock.

They’d met at a party, and he’d been persistent, texting and calling her several times a day. She’d given in and gone out with him. He’d been charming and attentive at first.  And then he demanded more and more of her time, encouraging her to cut class so she could hang out with him. He bought joints for them to share as well as ’shrooms. After being Stepford-perfect all those years, it’d been a rush. A release.

Then Rock separated her from her safety net. He began criticizing her friends and her adoptive family. By then Daisy was overseas, and their communication was spotty at best. If Daze had been stateside, she would’ve put a stop to it.

 Rose had naively thought he was the perfect boyfriend at first. He told her how beautiful she was and how much he loved her straight away. He’d fed her lines, told her what she wanted so desperately to hear. She was starved for love, for someone’s approval and attention, so she’d come away with him. And it’d all come crashing down around her when he’d offered her to his biker buddies…like she was some sort of party favor.

Throwing off her bleak thoughts, Rose focused on the parking lot once more. She watched as Duke prowled towards her. He carried a black leather bag, and his strides seemed purposeful. Her stomach flipped over as he approached.

She noticed he always seemed to be watching her. Cowboy had asked him to keep an eye on her, but Rose thought he had some sort of fixation.  And Daisy had warned her to stay away from him— Duke was dangerous. 

While she and Duke hadn’t spoken much, he’d always been more or less appropriate with her, if a bit terse.  Rose had zero sexual interest these days, but she’d have to be blind not to notice how good-looking he was. He reminded her of a pirate with his dark, penetrating eyes and the shadowy perma-stubble on his handsome face. He had tawny skin and a ripped body, which, as per usual, was encased in tight black clothing. From the stray grays at his temple, she put his age somewhere in his late thirties.

Technically, he was old enough to be her father, but he sure didn’t give off a paternal vibe. Rose also had a thing for older men—she’d lost track of how many crushes she’d had on teachers in school.

And she was curious about Duke. Maybe because he was so enigmatic. While the rest of the Horsemen were a tight-knit bunch, he held back. She often saw him on the sidelines of their group, observing—like Rose did.

“How are the cuts healin’?”

“Oh, um, fine.” She hugged herself.

Rose didn’t want to talk about the cutting with him or anyone. It made her feel weak and ashamed. Daisy had been through hell in a war zone, and she’d never resorted to hurting herself to cope with it. Rose wished she could be as brave as her sister—but she didn’t possess the courage gene.

“Mind if I check them out?” He lifted the bag in his hand. “Last night, I noticed some were infected.”

She hesitated a moment.

Rose had an aversion to touching now, but she should get the cuts checked. She hadn’t followed through on his advice, and Duke had already examined her body. According to Daze, he’d given her a pelvic exam, a series of tests for STDs, a pregnancy test, and buckets of antibiotics in case she’d contracted anything.

Rose didn’t remember much of Duke’s exam. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to look him in the eyes if she could recall all the details. Rose had been under the influence of the Rohypnol, and ecstasy Kent had administered at regular intervals. At first, she’d fought the drugs he’d given her, but then she’d welcomed the stupor they induced.

Rose had done some internet research and discovered the drug mixture made her more obedient and created a craving to be touched. Other than some scarring, both physical and psychological, there weren’t any long-term consequences from her captivity like a baby or an STD.

She focused on his question. “Okay. Sure.”

 “Do you want to do the examination in your room? Or mine? Which would make you more comfortable?” She saw genuine warmth in his brown eyes for once.

 “Mine, please.”

She wanted to be in her own surroundings. Rose led him to the room, settling herself at the Formica table by the window—the bed would be far too intimate. Pushing up one of her sleeves, she placed an arm on the tabletop.

He set the bag down, and she noted the gold hardware on the handle and latch had been engraved. Doctor Duke.

Duke followed the direction of her gaze. “It’s an honorary title. Eddie got it for me when I joined the club.”

“So you aren’t a doctor?”

“Not technically. But I went to medical school, and I served as a medic in the Special Forces—among other duties.”

Rose didn’t understand how someone who’d been on track to become a doctor ended up serving in the military.

 “Why would you leave in the middle of med school?”

 “Long story. Right now, let’s focus on your injuries.” Duke stretched a latex glove over his hand and encircled her wrist. Then he studied the dozen or so slashes on her forearm before he placed a palm on them. “I was right last night. These are warm, which is a sign of infection.”

He grabbed some rubbing alcohol and cotton balls from the bag and cleansed each of the wounds before applying antibacterial cream with a cotton swab. He kept his touch light and professional, and she relaxed. It was almost like he slipped on the role of doctor effortlessly, leaving the grouchy biker persona behind.

 Duke focused on his task, thoroughly probing each of her cuts. Afterward, he wrapped her arm in gauze and secured the bandages with white medical tape.

“I’m gonna leave you a supply of antibiotic cream and some rubbing alcohol, along with a few bandages. I want you to change them daily.” His expression was stern. “You’d better do it. I’ll be checking up on you.”

“I will.” Rose glanced at the floor, feeling a flood of familiar shame. Cutting herself seemed so self-destructive, but it helped in some twisted way.

Duke grasped the other arm and repeated the process. “There’s nothing to be fucking embarrassed about.”

Rose met his eyes. “I didn’t say I was.”

“You didn’t have to.”

She looked away, astonished. He was way too perceptive.

“You aren’t the first person to deal with shit by cutting yourself, and believe me, you won’t be the last.”

“Oh, yeah? I bet you’d never resort to hacking yourself up.”

He hesitated a moment. “You’d be wrong.”

“Are you serious?”

“I never used a knife on myself, but as a scrawny kid, I used to pick fights with guys much bigger than me. Know why?”

“Why?”

“I wanted them to wail on me.” He laughed without humor. “I didn’t slice myself, but the result was the same. I wanted to be hurt because I couldn’t deal with some bad shit I was going through.”

 Rose bit her lip, not expecting a confession from the big, bad biker. She’d seen him in action for weeks. He was surly, cold, and didn’t take crap from anyone as evidenced by his bruises and the skinned knuckles he sported. It was strangely encouraging to know someone so dangerous had once used pain to handle his trauma.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For sharing. I’m sorry it happened to you, but I’m glad I’m not the only one.” Maybe Duke wasn’t so bad after all.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, don’t repeat it to anyone or you’ll be on the top of my hit list.”

“I won’t.” Who’d believe her anyway?

He finished dressing the other arm and then glanced down at her thighs, which were shrouded in a pair of jeans two sizes too big.

“Have you been cutting anywhere else?”

“Nope.” Rose had slashed her thighs too, but she wouldn’t be dropping trou for any man—not even for a checkup. Her body was her own business.

 “And are you lyin’ to me?”

 “I’m telling the truth.” She gave him the expression she’d used on Daisy as a child when she tried to get out of trouble—wide, guileless eyes. 

A long, uncomfortable moment passed, and then he dipped his head. “I’ll take your word for it, then.” He packed his supplies away and checked the clock on the wall. “I don’t have plans for a while. Let’s get you the fake ID we talked about last night.”

“Um, okay.  Thanks.” Rose didn’t have any place to be.

“Don’t thank me. You’ve been through hell, so you got the right to settle your nerves with alcohol now and then—but it ain’t a solution to your problem.”

“I know.”

 But a few beers helped her sleep at night, allowed her to push away the memories when it got too bad.  He’d been considerate, so she felt a duty to warn him.

“My sister will kill you if she finds out.”

“Like I give a damn. I ain’t afraid of her.”

Daisy had been her protector as long as she could remember. People who crossed her usually ended up on the receiving end of a hardcore beat-down.

“You should be.”

Duke laughed. “I’ll take my chances.” He headed for the door. “You want me to take a club cage? Or you okay riding on the back of my bike?”

Cage was a biker term for car or truck. The Horsemen kept a couple of pickup trucks around for hauling stuff.

Rose knew why he asked the question, and she was once again astounded by his understanding. To ride on his motorcycle, she’d have to wrap her arms and legs around him to hold on. She hadn’t been physically close to anyone since Kent, Duke’s medical exam notwithstanding.

She thought about it a moment. The idea of riding around town in the sunshine with the wind in her hair had an undeniable appeal. His offer hadn’t contained any sexual overtones she’d picked up on. He’d been platonic and professional with her for weeks. Her faith in men was at an all-time low, but Duke seemed trustworthy.

Besides, he was screwing the sexy hellion. Rose, with her barely-there chest, tomboyish wardrobe, and nut-case issues probably did nothing for him. Rose bet she didn’t even register as female, let alone as a potential sex partner.

She had nothing to worry about.

“We can take your bike if you want.”

His mouth fell open for a moment. “Good to see you still have a fire in your belly.” Smirking, he looked her up and down, taking her measure. “My brothers ask girls for panties as payment for a ride. It’s a club tradition.”

Instinctively, she knew he’d issued a challenge. Duke was testing her nerve, seeing what she was made of.

Rose had two options—freak out or sass him.

Growing up, she’d been feisty, able to throw verbal barbs right back at her sister even if she didn’t have Daisy’s gumption. For a moment, she wanted to be her old self once more.

 “I don’t think they’d fit you, but if you really want a pair, fish one out of my top drawer.”

Duke roared with laughter.

“I’ll pass.” He winked and headed out the door.

She followed him, an honest to God smile on her face.

Chapter Three

Ten minutes later, Rose clung to Duke’s back as they sped through Hell on his red and black Texas Chopper. The fresh air and the sunshine revitalized her. Rose closed her eyes and let the wind rush through her hair. She loved the way the bike thundered across the asphalt.  Rose had a total Titanic ‘king of the world’ moment.

The change of scenery and the fast pace improved her mood. As Daisy put it, she’d been a mole for weeks. Since she’d been here, she’d only left the hotel half a dozen times. Maybe she should start leaving more often. No, she should start living.

She hadn’t felt this free, this happy, in months.

Sure, the physical proximity to Duke was disconcerting, but it was worth it. He’d asked her to put her arms around his waist, but she placed them on his shoulders instead. While her thighs were on either side of his, she’d scooched far enough back so her crotch didn’t come into contact with his backside.

They pulled into the parking lot at Inferno Firearms. She was disappointed the drive was so short. Rose would’ve been happy to stay on the bike all day. The store sign had blazing handguns enclosed by a circle of fire. Not very subtle. 

“We’re getting a fake ID at a gun place?”

He parked the bike and hit the kickstand. They both dismounted and placed their helmets on the handlebars.

“Yep, this is a full-service kind of store. You’ll see.”

He led her inside. At the counter, she found yet another biker. This one was big, hazel-eyed, and had spiked dark hair. Rose didn’t remember seeing him before, but there were a ton of Horsemen, and she had a tendency to keep her head down these days.

“Hey, Steele.” He jerked a thumb in her direction. “This is Rose, Daisy’s kid sister. We’re here to see Coyote.”

“Why does she need Coyote’s, er, services?” Steele gave her a brief glance.

“None of your fucking business.”

“Would it kill you to be civil?”

“Probably.”

Steele rolled his eyes. “Watch your ass. Daisy’s next door at the shooting range, and if she sees you with her baby sister, you’re on your own—just for being a dick.”

“Like I give a fuck if she’s pissed.”

Duke stepped behind the counter and led Rose down a long hallway. They eventually stopped at a nondescript door.

“You in there, Yo?” He knocked.

Nothing.

Duke slammed his fist against the wood.

Still nothing.

 Duke planted a foot on the wooden door, right beneath the knob, and kicked it open, commando-style. Then he marched in the office as if he owned the place.

She hesitantly followed him. Her mouth fell open when she took in the scenery. It was nerd paradise. Framed Avengers posters were hung on the walls. The whole gang was there: Iron Man, Thor, The Hulk, Captain America, and one she hadn’t heard of – Two Gun Kid. Three bookcases were stuffed full of comic books in plastic sleeves, as well as some collectibles, like two huge, green Hulk hands.

At the desk, a young guy with enormous headphones watched his screen with rapt attention.

With a wicked grin that made Rose’s heart beat a bit faster, Duke tapped the other man’s shoulder, causing him to jump out of his chair and throw off the headset like it was a rattlesnake.

Wide-eyed and panting, he stared open-mouthed at Duke.

“What the hell is wrong with you, man?”

“Just checkin’ your reflexes. Very sloppy. Better guard your flank, Coyote, or it’ll come back to bite you on the ass one day. Mark my words.”

“Not all of us are paranoid like you and Steele.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “Holy shit. You took three years off my life, dude.”

Rose placed Coyote in his early twenties. He had long, straight black hair and copper skin a shade or two darker than Duke’s. Rose bet his heritage was Native American. He wore a Doctor Who shirt under his Horsemen vest, a pair of red high-top sneakers, and worn-in jeans with blowouts in both knees. Coyote was better suited to hanging out at a comic book convention than being a biker.

“Paranoia keeps us alive, my brother. Speaking of, if you ever call me dude again, you won’t be.”

“I won’t be what?”

“Alive.” Duke had an evil gleam in his eyes.

Coyote made a whatever face and then glanced her way. His expression brightened.

“Hey there. And who might you be?” Coyote offered her a hand.

“I’m Rose. Nice to meet you.” She shook it to be polite.

Duke frowned at their clasped hands. “Now that we’ve all practiced our manners, make her a fake ID.”

“What for?”

“Don’t ask questions.”

Coyote pushed a stray lock of dark hair behind his ear. “In case you’ve forgotten, I ain’t a prospect anymore. I survived Revelation last year, and I ain’t takin’ orders.”

Rose had overheard one of the prospects use the term Revelation before in a hushed, reverent tone. It was the club’s super-secret initiation ritual, and they all freaked out about the damned thing. Probably with good reason. She bet the ceremony didn’t involve kittens or puppies. More like guns and blood and screaming.

 “That so?”

“Damn straight.”

Rose watched the interplay with interest. Coyote might not be manly in the conventional sense, but he had some alpha characteristics. She doubted just any computer nerd could join a biker gang. This could get ugly, quick. So she interceded to save her rattled nerves.

“I need it to buy alcohol. Nothing terrible, I promise.”

 “Would you tell me if you were up to something terrible?” His grin was lopsided.

“Probably not.”

Coyote snickered.

Duke watched the interplay with his hands fisted at his sides, and a vein on his forehead was a tad more prominent. 

“She’s here for an ID and nothing else.” Duke turned his attention to her. “I’m gonna buy some ammo in the shop. Gimme a shout if you need anything.”

“Sure.” 

He strolled out of the room.

“Have a seat, and I’ll get you fixed up.” Coyote gestured to the chair opposite his desk.

“Thank you.” Rose sat as he began to type away. She surveyed the room once more. “So, you like Marvel?”

“No, I freakin’ love it. I’ve seen ‘em all in the theaters, own the DVDs and the comics, and I watch the television shows, too.”

“Who’s your favorite character?” Rose had seen the films but wasn’t as attached to them as he seemed to be.

“Easy. Coulson—because he’s human…well, human-ish, but works with powerful superheroes.”

“I saw him in the first Avengers movie. But didn’t he die?” Rose wondered if Coyote literally felt outgunned among so many macho, ex-military types.

“I cried some manly tears when he got himself killed. But he showed up good as new on Agents of Shield.”

Rose laughed. “So how’d you become a biker?”

“My hackin’ abilities got me into a bit of trouble.”

“Oh, so you’re a hacker?”

Now she understood why the club would want him. He’d have access to all kinds of databases they might find useful. Especially if they considered themselves vigilantes. Daisy had filled her in on some of the basics of the club. She’d been nervous when she found out another gang had rescued her, but Daisy said they were decent guys who lived a bit outside the law.

“I prefer the term hacktivist, and yes, I can hack with the best of them. I came to the attention of the CIA and NSA at age thirteen.”

“Wow.” She loved her laptop, but she’d never learned any heavy duty computer skills like hacking or programming. “Did they try to arrest you?”

“More like tried to recruit my fine ass.” He squinted at something on the screen. “Hmm, I think that’ll do. I need a picture now. Coyote flicked on a webcam attached to the computer and aimed it at her. “Can you flip down the blue material behind you?”

She turned to see a couple of swatches on the wall like the DMV used. She found the right background and then posed trying to look as mature as possible.

“You could crack a smile—look a bit less like you’re standin’ in a lineup or something.”

“Nah. No one looks happy at the DMV.”

“Fair point. Ready?”

“Yep, I’m ready for my close-up.”

She liked Coyote, and under different circumstances, she’d consider him friend material. Rose didn’t know if she could even manage a friendship with someone new. Right now, she had trouble with basic functioning like eating and sleeping through the night.

“Three, two, one.” Coyote hit a button and scrutinized the image for a moment. “Perfect. I’ll add the pic and print you off a brand new ID.” He glanced at her over the monitor. “Need anything else?”

“No, I’m good.”

After a couple of moments, a plastic card spit out of a large beige machine. Sure enough, the ID had her face on it along with a fake name, birth date, address, and other vital stats. Evidently, he’d captured another person’s license and substituted her image. According to the new card, she was twenty-two years old, which shouldn’t be overly suspicious.

Excellent.

This meant she wouldn’t have to swipe any more alcohol from the club. She could use the money Daisy kept stuffing into her hands to buy beer and store it in her room. The alcohol made it easier to sleep—took the edge off her anxiety and allowed her mind to stop racing.

“Hey, if you want to grab a beer or a burger or…uh, let me know.” Coyote focused on his own desk instead of her.

Rose didn’t know what to say. Did he mean as friends? Was he asking her out?

“Uh, thanks, but I have a lot going on right now.”

“Oh, hey, no worries. I know how it goes. See ya around.”

She waved goodbye, snatched up her new license, and went in search of her ride. By the time she caught up with Duke, he’d purchased several rounds of ammo and was busy tucking them in his saddlebags.

“How’d it go?”

“Fine.” She pulled the ID from her pocket and handed it over.

“Nice.” Duke thrust it back into her limp hand. “Did Coyote stick to business?”

Somehow, she got the impression her answer mattered to him.

“Of course.” She didn’t want any more drama.

He tilted his head to the side, studying her.

“Why you blushin’?”

“I’m not blushing.” But Rose could feel the heat burning her cheeks.

“Is the blush for me?”

Startled, she glanced up. Her mouth had gone dry.

“Calm down. I’m teasin’.” Duke reached for her, and she held her breath.

She couldn’t quite decide if she wanted him to touch her or not.

Duke seemed to sense this because his hand hovered there before he dropped it.

“Let’s make tracks before your sister catches us.”

They took off for Hades.

Rose grinned like it was Christmas morning and she had a pile of presents to open. She’d left the hotel, scored a fake ID right under her sister’s nose, talked to somebody new, and hadn’t had a mental breakdown in the process.

Things were looking up.

***

When they pulled up at the hotel, it was nearly six o’clock, and a small crowd had gathered at the diner. Over the last few months, Voodoo had made a name for himself with the locals, despite a biker gang owning the joint. She’d even seen an increase in diner traffic since she’d been staying here. Rose could see why the patrons couldn’t stay away. Voodoo was an incredible chef. True, she didn’t have much of an appetite, but what she’d managed to eat had been delicious.

“You hungry?”

Rose thought about it. Other than a couple bites of donut this morning, she hadn’t eaten anything. She should eat, even if she didn’t feel like it. Maybe some fries?

“Um, sure.”

They headed in the diner and took a booth near the rear, far away from the crowd of locals by the jukebox. No sign of any other bikers except for Voodoo and one of the prospects Rose recognized, Fetch.

The red-haired prospect wandered over to their table. “What can I get you?”

“Chili, the extra hot kind.” Duke glanced in her direction.

“I’ll have a side of fries.” It wasn’t the healthiest of meals, but nothing else appealed to her.

“You have to eat more than some fries.”

“I’m not that hungry.”

He smirked. “Are you a vegetarian?”

“No. Why?”

“Just checking.” Duke turned to Fetch. “Bring her a burger too.”

“No. I only want fries.”

Rose didn’t need anyone ordering for her. She could decide what food she ate all by herself, thanks.

Fetch, a lanky redhead, shifted back and forth on his feet uneasily, shooting looks between the two of them.

“Do I need to repeat myself? Follow my goddamn orders, prospect.”

Fetch shot her an apologetic look, and she slumped in her seat, far too tired to argue with Duke, especially about something as unimportant as food.

“Whatever. Fine.”

“What are you waiting for? Go.” Duke waved a hand in the direction of the kitchen, and Fetch scurried off.  He scanned her face, and she got the distinct impression she’d somehow disappointed him.

Had he hoped she’d argue with him? Make a fuss?

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. All letdown. Like I didn’t live up to your expectations or something.”

“I got no expectations, just curious is all.” He watched her with those black eyes. “You don’t always have to do what people tell you to, you know.”

She snorted.

 His eyes widened.

 “Maybe you don’t. But I always have to do what people tell me to.”

Having a disagreement with someone took so much effort, and she inevitably lost anyway. Any argument she’d had with her adoptive parents, her sister, and Kent ended with her eventual capitulation. So what was the point? Some people are meant to lead, and others are destined to follow. Rose guessed her lot in life was to take instructions, not give them.

“No, you don’t. Life gets a lot easier when you do whatever the hell you want, and if someone doesn’t like it? Fuck ‘em.”

“Then why’d you order a burger for me when I didn’t want it?”

“Maybe it was a test.”

“What kind of test?”

He smiled, a big toothy one. “Figure it out.” Then he changed the subject. “At least you got out today. You usually hole up in your room.”

Rose bristled. “Don’t make it sound like I’m a hermit or something. I’m not afraid, I’m—”

“Hiding?”

 She didn’t like people noticing what she did with her time. If Rose had her way, she’d be invisible and free to do her own thing with no one the wiser.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“Is that so?”

His tone was teasing, but she didn’t take the bait by commenting, wishing their food would hurry up and arrive already. When it did, they’d have an excuse not to talk.

“You got nothin’ to say?”

“Nope.” He seemed to be trying to get a rise out of her, and she found it bewildering.

Just to dizzy her, he switched topics yet again. “Your sister seems to like workin’ at the gun store and range.”

“She does,” Rose said. She couldn’t tell where this thought train was headed.

“And you? Got any plans?”

Rose hadn’t thought much about it. Daisy had mentioned she could go back to school next semester, but Rose didn’t know if she could handle it. She didn’t know if she could cope with a busy school schedule.  Rose knew she couldn’t be a recluse for the rest of her life, but it worked for her right now.

She shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. I’m still thinking it through.”

“The MC has a lot of businesses. You could work for the club while you figure it out. It might be good to focus on something else.”

Duke had a point. Maybe she’d start feeling better if she didn’t ruminate all the time.

“I think you might be right.”

“Of course, I’m right. I’m always right.” He tilted his head to the side. “You could work with me.”

Where had that come from? “Um, my sister would hate the idea. No offense.”

“I don’t give a damn what your sister wants. You’re an adult, and you can make decisions for yourself.”

“Says the man who forces people to order cheeseburgers.”

“Rose, you don’t have to eat it, but what good are fries without a burger? In my book, they’re a set. Like peanut butter and jelly or biscuits and gravy. You can’t have one without the other.”

Damn, she hated it when other people sounded reasonable. “Maybe I’ll have a bite or two. What do you do, exactly?”

“A little of this, a little of that. I have a highly specialized skill set I use for club business.”

“Which means…?”

He ignored the question. “I do some doctorin’ for the group. I could use an extra set of hands when there’s an injury. I also help out one of the local docs a couple of times a month. He does these low-cost mammogram days for women in the community.”

“You help with mammograms?”  She couldn’t picture him in a clinic for women.

“Yeah, they’re very important.” He seemed intense about the subject.

“Okay.”

“Or you could find another club business to suit you. We’ve got a ton of them. You could wait tables, work a cash register, whatever you want.”

“I’ll think about it.” It’d feel good to be useful again.

Fetch arrived with their orders as well as a manila envelope addressed to her without a return address. “Hey, Voo said this arrived at the front desk for you.”

“Thanks.” She tossed it on the seat beside her, figuring she’d open it when she got back to her room.

Fetch set their plates down and then shuffled off.

“Who sent the package?”

“Not sure, but I’m betting it’s from my adoptive mother. I stopped returning their calls so she’s stalking me via post office. I sent the last two letters back by marking them return to sender. I think she decided not to put a return address on it, so I’d have to open the stupid thing. I don’t want to have anything to do with them.”

“Damn straight. It serves them right for not trying to find you.”

Rose hadn’t expected such a vehement response. She figured he’d try to talk her into seeing them again. Forgiving and forgetting would be the adult thing to do—but she couldn’t bring herself to go through with it. Maybe one day she would.

They wanted to see her again and pretend to be the doting parents. Daisy had told them off in no uncertain terms. Her adoptive parents had written her off as a bad seed when she disappeared a few months ago. True, Rose had dropped out of college and started using drugs, which were stupid decisions, but she’d hoped they’d at least tell her sister she’d gone missing or put some effort into trying to find her. Rose thought if she were their biological daughter, they’d have cared more.

They finished the meal in pleasant silence. Rose ended up devouring all of her fries and half the burger.

It was the most she’d eaten in weeks.

Chapter Four

Rose huddled in the closet, knees to her chest.

Kent had gone to a meeting at the strip club and left a security guard with her—the one she dreaded, the one who wore the ugly, ill-fitting, cheap suits, Lester. The guards worked on a rotating basis, and it’d been a couple of weeks since she’d seen him. She’d avoided being alone with him.

The last time Kent had left her in the guard’s care, Lester had made her strip and mauled her body–tweaked her nipples, ran his hands over her hips, splayed her legs open, and stroked the lips of her sex. Thankfully, his shift had ended before he’d been able to do more. She feared he’d complete his assault this time.

“No time for games, slut. Your owner or whatever the fuck you call him will be home soon.”

She hadn’t told Kent he’d touched her because she thought he’d blame her somehow. He constantly looked for excuses to punish her. The belt was bad enough, but when he got angry, he used the whip. She wouldn’t survive another hardcore session—the last time he’d left her back a bloody mess.

“There you are, bitch.”

Lester threw open the closet and seized her by the hair, nearly yanking it out by the roots as he dragged her out. They were way out in the country.

No one would hear her scream.

He stood behind her, breathing heavy. “It’s time to give you what you deserve. I’d beat the shit out of you if I could, but the boss would have my ass.” He plucked a knife from his pocket, laying it against her throat. “You’re gonna be a good girl, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes.”

Lester was a big man, just over six feet tall, with a bodybuilder physique. She didn’t stand a chance of fending him off.

“Get down on your knees.”

 When she didn’t immediately obey, he withdrew the blade and pushed a booted foot against the back of her knee, sending her tumbling to the floor.

He paced around her until he stopped directly in front of her and made a big show of unbuckling his belt and pulling down his zipper.

She turned her head, but he grabbed her by the ponytail, wrapping it around his fist.

“You’re gonna suck my cock like a good fuck-toy, aren’t you?” Lester exposed himself with the other hand. His penis was already hard, straining.

“I’ll tell Kent.”

But they both knew it was an empty threat.

“No, you won’t. Know why?”

“Why?” She couldn’t stop trembling, despite her brave words.

“I’ll tell him you came on to me, and you wanted it. Wanted this. He touched the tip of his cock to her chin. He’d fire me, but he might kill you.”

God, he was probably right.

“No.”

“I didn’t hear you. You want me to tell him?”

“No!”

Lester yanked her head back, exposing her throat, scraping the knife along the length of it. “This ain’t personal, I just need a blow job.” He tucked the knife back in his pocket. “So open up, bitch. I’m gonna fuck your mouth.” But he didn’t wait for her to comply, just shoved his penis between her lips, gagging her with it. “You’re a good cocksucker, aren’t you? Yeah, you like it.”

She struggled at first, rearing back, but he held her steady, forcing his cock deeper into her throat until she choked. Using her hair as a handle, he drove himself down her throat relentlessly.

After what seemed like hours, he flooded her mouth with semen. He clamped a hand over her lips and pinched her nostrils closed with his forefinger and thumb so she either gulped it down or suffocated.

Rose managed not to vomit as she swallowed his sticky semen.

“Such a good bitch. You drank the evidence. You love the taste of come, don’t you?” Lester zipped up and pulled her to her feet, then looked her dead in the eye. “You tell the boss about this, and I’ll kill you.” His beefy hand encircled her neck, squeezing it hard enough to make her panic. “If I lose my job, you won’t live to see another day. Are we clear?”

She nodded furiously.

“Good.”

Lester shoved her, and she fell on her back. When he walked away, she crawled on her hands and knees back to the closet. With shaky hands, she shut the double doors and scuttled back into the corner, trying not to make a sound.

A sharp knock on the hotel door woke Rose up. She sat up in bed with a cry, the nightmare still fresh in her mind.

“Who's there?” she called.

“Your sister. Open up.”

Suppressing a shudder, she threw off the covers and blearily peered out the peephole to find Daisy standing there.

She glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was barely five in the morning.

Rose needed to have a talk with Daisy about these early morning hours. She unlatched the door.

“What’s up?”

“This is what’s up.”

 Daisy had a pregnancy test zipped into a plastic baggie. The word pregnant showed in the display window.

Wow.

Daisy brushed past her and slumped down in a chair with her head in her hands.

“Ha, I was hoping you might be. Congratulations.”

Daisy shook her head.

“Once the shock wears off, you’re going to be psyched too.”

“Ro, I can’t be a mom. I’m not mother material. I’m a Marine—not a mommy.”

“You’re a former Marine, and let me assure you, you know how to mother someone. You’ve been parenting me my entire life. The mom gene didn’t miss you.”

“That’s different.”

“How?” Rose didn’t see a distinction.

“I was your older sister. You already had a mother. This is a hell of a lot more responsibility.”

“Mom had a drug habit and a career as a prostitute. She might have been my mother, but you were the one who raised me. When we were kids, you used to get me dressed for school, you tucked me in at night, and you taught me how to tie my shoes. If food was scarce, you always made sure I ate first.” She placed a hand on Daisy’s white-knuckled one. “Trust me. You got this.”

“I was being a big sister. This is a whole new level of nurturing right here.”

“Yes, it’s a big step, but you can handle it.” Her sister looked doubtful, but Rose knew she’d rise to meet this challenge, once she’d accepted it.

“I should see the gyno to confirm this before I tell Cowboy.”

“How do you think he’ll react?”

Daisy’s features smoothed, and a smile played about her mouth. She didn’t look nearly as worried. “I think he’ll be over the moon.”

Rose settled her arms around Daisy’s shoulders and hugged her from behind.

“I think so too. I’m already moonstruck over here. I’m psyched to be an aunt, and I’m so happy for you. You have a man who loves you, a wonderful home, and a baby makes it perfect.”

“I guess. I never thought I’d have any of those things.” She sighed, and her eyes widened in sudden realization. “Oh no.”

“What now?”

“He’ll want to get married too.”

She chuckled, already seeing a whole new level of panic in her sister’s eyes.

“Hmm, probably, but don’t you think you should make an honest man out of him? You’re living with the man and about to have his baby.”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts.”

“I guess.”

For all of her bellyaching, Daisy loved Cowboy. Sure, she’d freak out until she went down the aisle, but her love would prevail over any relationship issues.

“I think it sounds pretty fantastic to me.”

 Daisy had serious commitment issues, but Rose had never felt the same way. She’d always wanted the white picket fence, the two children, and the handsome husband. Rose doubted she’d ever have it now. Being normal was no longer an option—she was just too damaged. Besides, how could she even bring herself to let a man touch her? Let alone sleep beside him every night and raise his children.

“You think I can do this?”

It’d been such a long time since she’d seen Daisy scared. Not since they were girls.

Rose clasped her hand. “There is nothing to think about. I know you can.”

“Okay. Okay, I got this.”  Daisy smoothed her hair, tugged her shirt down, and blew out a long breath. “I’m going to head back to the house, do some chores, and then make myself an appointment.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” Rose gasped as Daisy engulfed her in a big hug, nearly squeezing the life out of her.

“Thank you for listening to me.”

“Anytime, big sister.”

“I wish I could help you.” Daisy kissed her forehead. “I love you, Ro.”

Tears pricked her eyes, but she held them back. She’d cried her eyes out for two months, and she was sick of it.

“I know, Daze.”

Daisy grabbed her stuff and headed out.

Rose thought she’d try to go back to sleep, but she couldn’t. She actually felt enthusiastic. She had a niece or nephew on the way.

Maybe life was starting up again? This had all the makings of a great day.

And then she noticed the mail Fetch had given her yesterday.

She hadn’t opened the package from her adoptive mom yet. She’d thrown it on the dresser when she got home from dinner last night. Maybe she’d send a letter back, this time, stating she appreciated the gesture, but she’d gotten her life together, and it wasn’t necessary.

It sounded like a way to move on without any messy scenes and tearful reunions. And once she did, an awkward gathering with them wouldn’t be hanging over her head anymore. Rose could fully concentrate on her recovery then.

She ripped open the envelope to find a DVD in a clear, unmarked case. With a sigh, she inserted the disk into her laptop, expecting to see some old home movies of her family during happier times.

Instead, she saw herself being raped.

Clamping her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming, Rose watched as a naked and erect Kent stood over her motionless body in the pixelated video. Her wrists were restrained to the headboard in a stress pose, and her calves had been tied to her thighs to keep them open. Her head lolled to the side, and it was obvious she was unconscious.

 Kent drove into her repeatedly, his buttocks clenching with every thrust.

Her stomach rolled, but Rose couldn’t look away—couldn’t make herself turn it off. It went on and on. Kent ran his hands over her possessively as he penetrated her again and again.

She could hear his muffled moans of pleasure when he ejaculated.

Mercifully, the screen finally went to a fuzzy gray, and then Kent appeared, seated at his desk.

 “Hello there, Goldilocks.” He smiled. “I thought I’d send you a reminder of our time together. Have you missed me, baby girl?”

She backed away as if he might reach through the laptop and grab her.

“Because I’ve missed you. You were always so obedient, so submissive. Such a good girl. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. I don’t want to waste time training someone else when I’ve already created the perfect slave. So I’ve decided to come for you.”

Her breath came in rough pants, and the room was starting to spin.

He continued on, the ramblings of a lunatic. “I know you didn’t leave me by choice. Your sister took you. But I swear to you, Goldilocks. We’ll be reunited very, very soon.”

Then he switched off the camera.

Rose ran to the bathroom, hit her knees, threw open the toilet lid, and retched. But her stomach was empty, so she just dry heaved. After puking bitter bile, she closed the lid and placed her forehead against the cool porcelain. In her mind’s eye, she could see Kent’s flushed face, feel his big body crushing hers as he slid his penis inside. Hot tears poured down her cheeks, and she swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to keep from screaming.

God, she felt dirty—used, all over again.

Rose stood and stripped off her clothes. She needed to wash him off her skin. Right after she’d been rescued, she showered several times a day, trying to feel clean again.

It never worked, but she did it anyway. What else could she do?

She pushed aside the shower curtain and turned the dial as far to the right as it’d go. Rose needed a hot blast of purifying water. When steam filled the air, she climbed in and stood beneath the shower stream. Pressing her palms to the white tile, she shut her eyes and imagined the scalding water disinfecting her, rinsing his smell and seed from her body. She grabbed the shower gel and a loofah and roughly washed herself, dragging it across her skin until it turned red and raw.

Maybe it was hopeless.

She’d felt protected by the club and by Daisy’s presence, but it’d been an illusion. Rose doubted she could ever find a place safe enough to hide from Kent.

She slid down the wall and crouched on the shower floor, rocking herself, letting the scorching water roll over her body for a long time. She wished there was some way to wash those images out of her mind.

Actually, there was.

Cutting herself always brought relief, albeit temporary, but it helped nonetheless. She shut off the water and threw a towel on the toilet seat lid before wrapping herself in another towel and perching on it. She fumbled in the drawer until she found the knife Duke had given her.

Rose hooked a nail in the groove on the blade and slowly pulled it from the sheath. She ran a trembling finger down the length of it—it felt sharp, cool beneath her fingertip.

Rose hitched up the towel and pressed the blade against her thigh, enjoying the scrape of metal on her bare flesh.

Just one cut.

She pulled the steel along her skin, and the blood welled in a thin red line—a hiss of pain and then sweet relief. She leaned back, nearly collapsing. The wound bled down her thigh, spattering the tile beneath her bare feet.

For a moment, she basked in the peace, the calm.

Then a blast of self-loathing spread through her.

Rose stared at her bloody thigh and the blade. Duke’s words came back to her. He was right. She might not be in Kent’s cage anymore, but he still kept her mind captive.

What the hell am I doing to myself?

She dropped the knife and pressed a washcloth over the wound to stop the bleeding. She hadn’t even sterilized the blade before she used it.

 What the hell was she thinking? A psycho was looking to abduct and rape her again, and she sat in the bathroom slicing her own body open.

This has to stop.

For months now she’d been existing, living in the pain. And now she was in danger from Kent again.

Rose wouldn’t let it happen again. She was sick of being a victim, tired of worrying, exhausted from the anxiety and the fear. Rose wanted to sleep soundly without nightmares—and she needed to deal with her problems without cutting herself.

She couldn’t live this way. Not anymore.

Enough is enough.

No more scalding hot rape showers. No more blaming myself. No more hiding from the world. No more punishing myself.

I’ve had it with being powerless.

And yeah, that was a real nice declaration—but thoughts wouldn’t save her. Rose needed to take action.

So what are you going to do about it?

Rose tried to think about this calmly, rationally, instead of succumbing to the blind panic threatening to overtake her. Her first instinct was to call Daisy, which she always did. She relied on her big sister for help, for protection. When Daze had joined the Marines, there’d been a huge hole in her life—one Rose couldn’t fill.

Daze had a family of her own to protect. She had a baby on the way, for pity’s sake. Rose couldn’t place her future niece or nephew at risk by asking for her sister’s help yet again. She couldn’t live with herself if anything happened to Daisy or the baby because of her.

And if she told Daisy, her big sister would ride to the rescue, like always—which meant Rose had to keep this a secret from her.

Rose needed to grow up and solve her own problems for a change. As much as she loved and trusted her sister, if Rose wanted to feel safe again, she needed to stand up. Relying solely on Daisy and the club made her vulnerable.

Rose wanted never to be vulnerable again. She was nobody’s victim—not anymore.

So what would Daisy do in this situation?

Daisy would call for backup if she needed it. While the club was on high alert because of the Raptors, someone needed to know Kent was actively looking for her. The man was crazy and determined—keeping this to herself would be stupid.

Rose had to tell someone she trusted. Daisy didn’t raise any fools.

Another problem was a lack of self-defense skills. Learning a few tricks to protect herself was now a top priority. Unfortunately, approaching Daisy for lessons was out of the question. No, Daisy couldn’t be her white knight anymore.

Luckily, Rose had a black knight in her corner.

Chapter Five

Hours later, Rose found Duke seated on a bench at the motel smoking a cigar. She liked the dark, earthy scent—a hint of oak and leather. He smiled when he saw her approaching then hid it behind his cigar. It was startling because he usually wore a scowl.

 It made the huge favor she was about to ask a bit easier.

“Hi.” She sat on the edge of the bench.

“Afternoon.” Duke eyed the space between them. “Afraid I’ll bite?”

“Why? Do you bite?” Rose didn’t know quite what to make of his statement. Was he flirting?

“Only if you ask me nicely.” His smile was wolfish.

Yeah, he was definitely flirting.

The problem was, she didn’t know what to say. Rose hadn’t had a lot of practice. Rock had flirted with her blatantly, and she’d turned red and mumbled something awkward every time he hit on her. And Kent… well, nothing about their interaction was even remotely playful. Sex slaves aren’t seduced.

She wondered for a moment what it might be like to touch Duke, to kiss him. Funny. Rose thought she’d never be interested in sex again.

 Too bad she couldn’t pursue it. She had to deal with a rapey lunatic instead.

 Rose pulled a cigarette from the pack she’d tucked into the pocket of her jeans. This time, she managed to make the lighter work and lit the cigarette. She sucked in the smoke and then started coughing.

She’d always read smoking relaxed a person, but it didn’t work for her. Maybe if she tried something else?

She eyed his cigar. “Can I try it?”

“No. You aren’t a smoker. Sooner you realize it, the better.”

“Yes, I am. See? Smoker.” She held up the cigarette in case he’d missed it.

“More like a cougher.”

She inhaled again which led to another coughing fit. Dammit. 

“I rest my case.”

She stubbed it out on the sidewalk and tucked what was left back in the pack. Rose had more pressing concerns than tobacco, anyway.

“I need to tell you something, and I don’t want you to repeat it to anyone. It has to be our secret.”

“If it’s somethin’ the club needs to know, I have to tell them.” He shifted closer.

“This isn’t about club business. It’s personal. Very personal.”

“And you want to share it with me? Not your sister?”

“I can’t tell Daisy, not right now anyway.”

“Okay, then. Out with it.”

Rose explained the message from Kent, although she glossed over the graphic nature of it.

“He sent you a video threat? Nothin’ else?”

Damn. She supposed if she was going to ask for his help, she needed to be honest with him, regardless of how humiliating this was for her.

“No, um, there was another video attached to it.” It felt strange to have this conversation in the bright sunshine. Everything about Kent was steeped in gloom.

“What other video?”

She hesitated. While she knew she needed to level with Duke, she couldn’t force the words out at the moment.

“If I’m gonna help you, I gotta know everything.” His voice was gentle, reassuring.

She stared at her feet then forced the words out in a rush. “He must’ve videotaped me while I was drugged. He liked to rape me while I was unconscious.” As she said the words, her flesh crawled. “Kent has control issues and… uh… having my body at his command excited him.”

“He’s one sick fuck.”

“Yeah, big time.” She darted a glance in his direction.

 His fists had clenched, and a muscle worked in his jaw. “Believe me, I’d be more than happy to take care of this problem for you, Rose.”

“But—”

Duke cut her off.  “The club has been looking for him. He’s completely off the grid now, not using any of his bank accounts or credit cards. As far as we know, he isn’t working for the Raptors anymore.”

“Because Daisy asked you guys to look into it, but it isn’t official club business, right?”

 “Since there were no leads, it’s been back-burnered, yes. Right now, we’re focused on finding the brothel, but I can bring this to the brothers, and we’ll put this dickhead in our crosshairs again.”

If this became general knowledge, Daisy would go out looking for him.

“No, I don’t want that. Not right now, anyway.”

He watched her for a moment before he nodded. “Fine. I’ll keep it to myself for now, but they’ll eventually have to know. I might need their help to bring this guy in.”

At least she could put off having to inform anyone else for a while. Hopefully, long enough for this situation to get settled without Daisy’s intervention.

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Rose, I need to see the video.” He stubbed his cigar out and then chucked it in the bin. “It might have a clue hidden in it. Some way to find him.”

“I know.”

She knew he needed to see it on an intellectual level—but it didn’t make it any easier. There was no other way to gather evidence, though.

“And I’ll have to share it with Coyote. He’s an expert when it comes to this cloak and dagger media shit.”

A blush rippled up her cheeks, burning her face. It was bad enough to live through all of this crap, let alone have to relive it on film. Now she’d have to share her violation with a stranger.

Rose supposed she should be used to being degraded now. Living as a sex object decimated her pride, her privacy, her sense of self.  

“No, don’t.” Duke lifted her chin until she met his gaze. “You did nothing wrong. You hear me? He’s a twisted asshole who abused you, and you’re blameless. It’s the motherfucking rapist’s fault.

She’d been hearing the sentiment for weeks, but she didn’t believe it. Not really. She’d taken up with Rock in the first place—Rose had cut classes and did drugs. While she couldn’t have known it’d lead to sexual slavery, Rose knew she was on a bad path.

Some sort of fallout was bound to happen.

“I know, but I still feel responsible.”

“You don’t have to explain it to me. I understand.”

“How could you? How could you possibly?”

“You might be surprised.” There was something deep and unfathomable in his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

He changed the subject. “I have a question for you. Why aren’t you tellin’ Daisy?”

Daisy’s pregnancy was her business. She wouldn’t break her sister’s confidence.

“It’s a long story and not mine to tell.”

“Okay, then. Let’s try another question. Why me and not Cowboy?”

Rose shrugged. “He’d tell Daisy.”

Duke laughed. “Ain’t it the fuckin’ truth? Speaking of your sister, Cowboy and I found you both because I put an RFID chip in her, to track her movements. She was pissed as all get out about it, but I’m hopin’ you’ll let me inject you with one. It won’t hurt much, and I can keep tabs on you.”

“Do it.”

His head jerked back, lips parting.

“Being held captive by a madman puts things in perspective.” Being tagged like a pet was humiliating, but it’d give her peace of mind—and she knew Duke and his brothers would come for her.

“I’ll get my gear together, and we’ll do it first thing tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” Now for the hard part. “I told you all of this, so I could ask you for a favor. Would you train me?”

 “Train you to do what?”

 “To fight back. I need some self-defense skills. If Kent is coming for me, I want to be ready for him.”

“You don’t think I can protect you?”

She got the impression she’d offended him. Cowboy had asked him to look out for her, but she’d assumed it was a brotherhood service he’d been forced into, not something he really wanted to do.

“I know you’ve been watching out for me, but I need to be ready for anything.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Rose, but you aren’t the aggressive type.”

“Yeah, I know—which is why I need your help.”

“To fight, you need grit, and I don’t think you have what it takes. If I taught you, it’d give you false confidence. I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

Rose tensed. “Good, I don’t want to get hurt either. I need you to teach me. I want to hold my own in a fight. And I need to protect myself.”

“No, what you need is me guarding you.” His smile was all teeth and aggression. “Know what the Special Forces motto is?”

“No.” And she didn’t care either.

“De Opresso Liber. Latin for ‘liberate the oppressed.’ This guy has oppressed you, and it’ll be my pleasure to permanently liberate you.”

“I’m not asking you to solve my problem. I want your guidance.” She sighed. “Let me show you what he sent me, and then you can decide.”

Duke studied her a moment. “Shit. You know, on second thought, you don’t have to show me the damned thing. Coyote will watch it and give me the rundown. I don’t want to put you through any more shit.”

“Trust me, you need to see it.” She stood and walked to her room. Duke followed her like a big shadow.

Once inside the room, Rose flipped open her laptop and inserted the disk, then she paced to the window. She didn’t need to watch it again—every moment had been seared onto her retinas already. Years from now, Rose would be able to close her eyes and watch every single frame of the video.

Duke made no comment while viewing it, but she could feel the tension emanating from him like a wave of fury—and she could see his reflection in the window. The tight set of his shoulders, the way his arms folded over his massive chest.

When it was finally over, he shut the laptop then slid the DVD out of the computer and into his pocket, along with the case.

 “I’ll have Coyote analyze this and give it back to you. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he keeps his mouth shut about Kent.”

She nodded. “Thanks.”

They both stood there in uncomfortable silence.

When he spoke, his voice was a low rumble. “He’s a dead man, Rose. I’m gonna kill him.”

It was like a switch got flipped, and suddenly, she wasn’t staring at the surly biker anymore. She was looking at the Special Forces sniper. He had a predatory gleam in his black eyes. Duke was a man with many sides—healer, vigilante, avenging angel.

“It won’t be quick or easy. He’ll die screaming.”

It sent a chill through her body… and then a rush, the really dark and twisted kind.

She shivered with anticipation, not fear.

“How?”

They stared at one another, and Duke cocked his head, as though somehow he could read her shady thoughts.

Rose dropped her gaze.

She didn’t like to dwell on it, but a shadow had grown within her while she’d been held in captivity, for lack of a better term. Rose had dealt with some of the terror and grief, but the darkness within seemed to be growing, asserting itself—and it wanted retribution.

In the quiet moments, when she was left all alone, bruised and bloody on the floor, she used to fantasize about it. Not about being free or even seeing her sister again. No, she daydreamed about getting some payback.

At first, she imagined bringing Kent to justice. The kind cops and lawyers specialize in, with evidence and a trial, in front of a jury. Then she realized she’d have to get up on the stand and tell everyone what he’d done to her.

Rose knew it was the right thing to do, but the punishment wouldn’t fit the crime. In time, a savage part of her wanted justice to be much swifter—and it didn’t involve courts or depositions—just blood and pleading.

She wanted to be the one who made her rapist pay. If she could overcome her fear, learn a few of Duke’s fighting skill—she might be able to pull it off.

What would it be like to hold Kent’s life in her hands? To hear Kent beg her not to hurt him? Men like Kent needed to be put down. The criminal justice system wouldn’t contain him. She’d given him a chance to walk away, but the video convinced Rose her instincts were right. Something more permanent than jail was in order.

She mentally shook herself. Focus.

“I appreciate it, but will you teach me how to defend myself?”

“No, I meant what I said earlier. You’ll only end up getting hurt. I ain’t Clyde, and you sure as hell ain’t Bonnie. I won’t be teachin’ you how to beat the shit out of him.” He nodded to the laptop. “He’s a piece of work. You aren’t like him or me.”

“Are you sure?” Because Rose certainly wasn’t.

“I’ll take care of him. There’s no need for you to get involved.”

“He seems pretty set on grabbing me again—I’m already involved.”

 His face was a stony mask. “He’ll have to come through me to get to you.”

She blew out a frustrated breath. “You know, this isn’t about what you want. It isn’t about you at all. It’s about me and what I need.”

“And what do you need?”

“I need to feel safe. I need to stand up for myself.” I need to be one who hurts him this time.

“I’m sorry, Rose, but I ain’t gonna set you up for more pain. I gotta go to Perdition.  I have an appointment to keep.”

Duke marched outside, and she followed him, ready to argue her case, but he jumped on his bike and headed out of the parking lot without a backward glance.

Well, crap. What would Daisy do now?

Her sister wouldn’t accept no for an answer.

Rose wouldn’t either.

Chapter Six

Duke was in a foul mood by the time he got to Perdition, even by his standards. The Horsemen owned Perdition—it served as the clubhouse as well as a playground for the brothers. Unfortunately, he was relegated to the parking lot for the time being. Both he and Ryker had to report to Captain for a major mea culpa session.

Rose’s revelation weighed on him.

Knowing Kent was stalking her made his blood boil. He had no patience for stalkers, rapists, and especially child molesters—any man who preyed upon those physically weaker than himself deserved whatever fiery hell the Horsemen rained down upon him.

Duke loved being center stage whenever that particular brand of vigilante justice got meted out. For him, all of those cases were intensely personal and in Rose’s case even more so. He might chafe at it, but he’d felt responsible for her ever since he freed her from the cage.

Kent wouldn’t go near her again—he’d make sure of that.

Duke found Ryker and Captain standing by a row of dirty motorcycles in front of the bar. The brothers had gone on a run the other day, and the bikes were caked with dirt, dust, insect entrails, and who knew what else.

Typically, the prospects would have to scrub it off, but Captain had two buckets, a hose, and a shit-eating grin on his face.

Vindictive bastard.

“Glad you could make it, Duke.” Captain tapped his watch for effect.

“Well, one of us is.”

“You aren’t gonna make us do this grunt work, are you?” Ryker asked.

Duke spared Ryker a glance. Damn. He hadn’t realized he’d done so much damage. His nose had swollen up real good, and he had a black eye. He’d stuffed wads of cotton up both nostrils, to slow the bleeding. He didn’t bother to suppress a laugh.

“The hell I ain’t. Both of you need to learn some respect,” Captain said. “The toxic shit going on between the two of you needs to stop. It is interferin’ with club business, which makes it my business. I’m the president, and I ain’t playin’ referee anymore.”

“But—”

Figures Ryker would try to get out of it.

“Shut the fuck up and let’s get this over with.” Duke grabbed one of the buckets and hauled it over to Voodoo’s chopper—the sooner they got started, the sooner this hell would end.

Captain resumed his speechifying. “Consider this an apology to me and your brothers for disrupting the brotherhood dinner. Whatever your beef is, I suggest you work it out while you clean because the next time you two go at each other, I’ll call for a vote to kick one or both of you out. Got it?”

“Yeah.” Ryker grimaced. 

Duke nodded but didn’t glance up from his task. At this rate, he’d peel the paint off Voo’s bike with his bare hands. At least it gave him something to focus on besides the rage. Right now, he felt like thrashing something, and Ryker would make a real good target.

“Here endeth the sermon.” Captain nodded.  

Just then Eddie Rollins pulled up in her SUV—as one of the club’s senior old ladies, she had queen bee status. Captain served as president, but since he didn’t have an old lady, Eddie was viewed as the female figurehead for the MC. Her old man, Joker, had died in prison when Ryker and his brother, Axel, were kids.

Eddie had a pretty face, cat-like green eyes, and a penchant for high heels. She also had the willowy body of a much younger woman—even though she was fifty-something, many of the brothers had a thing for her.  Could be the MILF vibe she gave off—but no one had been brave enough to pursue it. Ryker had put the hurt on anyone who so much as checked her out. Although Captain was hot on her tail.

She made a beeline for Ryker and kissed his cheek. “Hey, kid. How’s the shiner?”

“I’ve had worse.”

Duke smugly doubted it but didn’t say so.

She glanced at Captain. “Hello.”

“What? I don’t get some sugar?” Captain asked.

Ryker scowled, and Duke bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Those two had been mooning over each other for as long as he could remember. They should fuck already and quit dancing around.

“Uh, no.” Eddie ducked her head.

“Hey, Eddie. Do I get a kiss too?” Duke loved teasing her.

She didn’t even look in his direction and pointedly walked inside as if he hadn’t spoken at all.

What the fuck? He glanced at his brothers.

Both Captain and Ryker howled with glee. 

“Looks like you done fucked up, boy.” Captain shook his head. “Eddie don’t like it when you pound on her kid.”

“You’re lucky she didn’t throw a punch. Back in the day, she wailed on my little league coach when he spanked me.” Ryker smirked as he touched the side of his swollen nose.

Under normal circumstances, Duke could give a shit if people liked him or not, but he adored Eddie. She’d been nothing but good to him since he joined the club. Being on the outs with her messed with his head.

Fuck.

He’d have to apologize to her, but he wasn’t about to kiss and make up with Ryker. He should be punched a couple of times a day for being a spoiled asshole.

He plunged the sponge back in the soapy water and tried to think of something to say to her. Duke didn’t have much experience asking for forgiveness.

***

Five bikes later, Duke had formulated an apology to Eddie, but he needed to find the right moment to deliver it. He and Ryker hadn’t spoken a word after Captain stalked inside to hit on Eddie some more, which suited Duke fine.

 Since Captain had issued an ultimatum, he’d decided to ignore the other biker. Evidently, Ryker had come to the same conclusion—it didn’t solve the problem, per se, but it’d keep them both in the club, which worked for him.

When he went inside to get a beer after working up a sweat, Duke found Pretty Boy behind the counter and Shep seated at the bar.

 Pretty Boy’s model-perfect face sported a serious shiner, a purplish black ring, which had nearly swelled his right eye shut. He moved a bit slower than usual as he cut up limes and lemons for drinks.  Yep, someone had wiped the floor with him.

“Who fuckin’ hit you? This is the last time I’m asking.”

Duke sat next to Shep, and Pretty Boy handed him a Bud without a word. Duke twisted off the cap and took a pull on it. Ryker was also taking a break. Through the window, Duke could see him yakking on his cell phone, probably breathing heavy in his hot librarian’s ear.

“I told you, it’s not a big deal. Nothin’ you need to worry about.” Pretty Boy scrubbed at the countertop with a rag.

 “I’ll be the fucking judge of that. Were you sparrin’ with one of the other prospects? Did one of them sucker-punch you?” Shepherd asked Pretty Boy.

Duke thought it sounded like an unlikely scenario. The prospect was damn good in a fight. Sure, he wasn’t a big guy, but he had a wiry strength. He ran circles around the other prospects and wore his opponents out when they scrapped with one another. It was hard to imagine one of them getting a punch in, let alone beating the tar out of him.

“No.” Pretty Boy didn’t elaborate.

“Tell me who did this.” Shep’s features had settled into harsh lines.

Duke gawked at Shepherd. Pretty Boy was a grown ass man, and he should be fighting his own battles. Chill the fuck out, man.

Who cared if one prospect punched another? Well, maybe Shep had to. After all, his job was to keep the bastards in line. But still, the VP seemed to be taking this real personal.

Duke shrugged it off—not his issue. More than enough diarrhea had hit his particular fan for one day. He didn’t have the energy to deal with anymore.

 Eddie strode out of the back room with a huge bag of ice, which she set on the counter behind the bar with a thunk. Pretty Boy grabbed it and tossed it in the freezer, turning his back on Shepherd.

With a muttered curse, the VP stalked off.

Sensing his chance, Duke seized on it. “Eddie, can I talk to you a sec?”

“What do you want?” She crossed arms over her chest.

No point in being bashful. “I shouldn’t have gone after Ryker.”

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know.”

Well, damn. He had no idea what to say now.

“Let me give you a clue—it didn’t sound like an apology.”

“I’m… sorry.”

“For what?” Her long-suffering tone reminded him of patient preschool teacher.

“For beating on Ken… I mean Ryker.”

“See? It wasn’t so bad.”

If she only knew. “Are we good then?”

“Yeah, but don’t go breakin’ my kid’s nose again, or I’ll slap you upside the head.” She leaned against the bar, all mother lion fierceness.

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Then we’re square. Tell me what’s been going on with you. You’ve been keepin’ to yourself more than usual.”

“Screwin’ a hellion and workin’. I’ve been busy as a one-legged man at an ass-kickin’ convention.” No need to be delicate with Eddie.

“Try datin’ a girl now and then, not just bangin’ one.”

“Don’t start.” She’d been trying to play matchmaker since he’d prospected for the club. “She’s fun, and that’s about it.”

Eddie poured herself a shot of whiskey. “There’s more to life than chasin’ tail. When will you boys learn? Y’all ain’t gettin’ any younger.”

He winked. “I’d ask you out, but I think you’re spokin’ for.” Duke nodded to Captain, who sat in the corner watching Eddie.

“I got no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Liar.” He took a sip of beer.

“How’s Daisy’s sister? You still guardin’ her?” Eddie asked, smoothly switching topics.

He nodded.

“I’ve barely glimpsed the girl the past couple of months.”

“She’s fine, I guess. She keeps to herself mostly.” Duke, unlike the rest of the members, kept gossip to himself.

“Poor thing. I keep meanin’ to invite her out for lunch or something, maybe with a couple of the other girls.”

It sounded like a good idea to him. Rose could use a distraction right about now. “I think she could do with some company.”

Eddie gaped at him as if he’d announced he’d taken up ballet or something.

“What?”

“Nothin’, just never known you to give a damn about… well, anybody else. Besides me and Shep.”

“Don’t even go there.”

“Go where?”

“I’m her bodyguard. Nothin’ more.”

“And suddenly you care if she has friends?” She tapped her chin. “Fetch said you had dinner with her, but I thought he was full of it.”

Duke rolled his eyes. “We grabbed some grub at the diner. Ain’t like I took her to a French restaurant for candlelight and wine.”

“If you say so. Speakin’ of special occasions, I’m plannin’ a shindig in the next couple of weeks. I’ll text you the date when I settle on one.”

“Aww, hell. I hate parties.”

“You’ll come to this one and bring your girlfriend with you. For the record, you should be ashamed—Rose could be your daughter.”

Like it hadn’t already occurred to him. “I said—”

“Whatever, honey.” She patted his arm. “If you were smart, you’d leave her alone. Don’t come cryin’ to me when Daisy decks your ass.”

“Nothin’ is goin’ on.”

“Yeah, yeah. Bring her to Perdition. Rose should meet some people, socialize some.”

“I ain’t takin’ her anywhere.” He polished off his beer and stalked outside to violently scrub more motorcycles.

***

That evening, Rose found Coyote, Steele, and Duke seated at a table in the diner. They were eating in strained silence, staring at their plates, not even bothering to make conversation.

Head held high she walked over and sat at their table. “Hello.”

Steele nodded, and Coyote offered her a smile.

Duke grunted a hello as he moved the mashed potatoes around on his plate with a fork.

 “Do you have a minute? We need to talk.”

 “You’re fucking persistent. No, we don’t need to talk. I already know what you’re gonna say. The answer is still no—and, yes, my decision’s final.” Duke didn’t bother looking at her.

She’d expected as much. So Rose had Plan B already in mind.

“Then I guess I’ll have to ask someone else.” She turned to Steele. “So my sister tells me you’re a Marine too.”

“Damn straight. Semper Fi all the way.” He puffed out his chest. “What can I do for you?”

“I want to learn some self-defense skills. I was hoping you’d train me.” She glanced pointedly at Duke, and Rose wondered if she’d touched off some sort of brotherly rivalry.

“No, he isn’t gonna train you.”

“I don’t think it’s any of your business, Duke.”  It felt good to say no to someone for once.

“Yeah, what she said,” Steele put in. “I’d be happy to teach you, darlin’. Anything you like.”

Duke turned and stared down the other man. Steele didn’t even blink, just returned the favor. Both she and Coyote sat there dumbfounded, watching their silent battle of wills.

“Why don’t you mind your own fucking business, Steele?”

“Now, see, I think she just made it my business. Besides, we both know your average Marine is a better fighter than you Special Forces boys.”

Duke got to his feet. “Say that again, Jarhead.”

“Going deaf in your old age? I said Marines are better than Special Forces.” Steele’s chair scraped the floor as he slid it back.

Coyote leaned forward. “If I were you, I’d break this up, pronto, or we’re gonna have blood on Voo’s floor, and he hates that unsanitary shit.”

Rose cleared her throat loudly and sprang in between them, placing a hand on both of their chests. “Hey, I want a teacher. This isn’t about whose manlier. Beat each other up on your own time.”

“Like I said, I’d be happy to teach you.” Steele didn’t take his eyes off Duke.

Duke looked down at her, and a smirk settled on his lips. “I appreciate you wantin’ to learn and all, but a girl like you could get hurt. You’re like… Goldilocks and you’re dealin’ with a big, hungry ass bear. Trust me on this one, you don’t want to go anywhere near him.”

Goldilocks.

The nickname got under her skin. God, she hated that moniker and all the helplessness it implied. Kent had mockingly used it on her, reminding her she’d put herself in this position, that she’d brought this on herself through her own idiocy.

Well, not anymore. Goldilocks has got to go.

Before she fully realized what she was about to do, she slapped Duke, hard, right across the face. “Never call me Goldilocks again.”

The entire room fell silent.

The prospects paused by the grill, staring with open-mouthed astonishment. Coyote’s eyebrows scooted up into his hairline, and Steele’s eyes threatened to pop right out of his head.

Oh… crap. What did I do?

Rose stared at her own outstretched hand—which still stung from the slap.

Coyote stood, grasped her wrist, and propelled her backward away from the two quarreling men. “Easy there, slappy. No need to smack someone else. We got it—you don’t like fairy tales.”

Duke wore a faint red imprint of her hand on his cheek. He stood in stunned silence for a minute, and then a megawatt smile lit up his face.

“That’s the fire I was talking about.”

“What?”

“I can’t train someone who doesn’t have the will to stand up for themselves. Sure, you can be snarky, but I didn’t know if you’d come after me. Maybe there’s a bit of Bonnie in you after all.”

“You aren’t making any sense.”

“Bonnie. Clyde. Teachin’ you to kick ass and take names?” Duke laughed. “You’re gonna have to be faster on the uptake, though. I’m sayin’ I’ll train you. Let me make the first rule very clear— you can only clock me when we’re sparring.”

“Agreed.”

Rose sank down into a chair with a thud, thoroughly stunned. She’d gotten her way and slapped a biker too. Suddenly, she felt a lot better about this whole situation.

Maybe Kent needed to worry about her this time.

Chapter Seven

“Come with me.”

Duke headed for the door and expected her to follow, and Rose did. She trailed behind him as he crossed the parking lot, and he could tell she was nervous by how slowly she walked, probably because she’d hit him.

She had no reason to worry.

As he reached the hotel room, Chesty emerged from the diner, hot on their heels. She darted over to him, easily outpacing Rose, who dragged her feet.

“What the fuck are you doing with her?” Chesty placed her hands on her hips.

Dammit. Not now.

Duke engaged in monogamous fun with the women he slept with, but it didn’t mean they had any real hold on him. He didn’t need a scene, especially in front of Rose. For some reason, her opinion of him mattered.

“None of your business. Go back inside.”

Rose came to a halt a few feet from them. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked off into the distance, trying to give them a bit of privacy.

“Are you gonna fuck her?” Chesty asked.

He glanced at Rose, and she slowly turned, eyes wide as saucers.

Fuck.

Duke raised his voice. “I said go back inside. Aren’t you supposed to be workin’?”

She pursed her lips in an exaggerated pout, reading his anger and changing tactics.

“Yes, but I want you, Duke. If you need to fuck the girl too, I won’t get in your way. We could have a threesome, or maybe you want to watch the two of us instead?”

Again, he stared at Rose, and she turned ashen. She openly watched them now, not even trying to hide it anymore. Duke had to shut this thing down, fast.

He ran a hand through his hair and mentally counted down from ten, trying to keep his temper in check.

“I told you, I’m only fucking you, but you don’t own me, and I don’t like drama. Now turn your sweet ass around and go back to the diner. I’ll see you when your shift is over, okay?”

“But—”

“Okay?” he repeated, more harshly this time.

“Okay, baby.”

She leaned in to kiss him—pushing her tongue into his mouth and running a possessive hand down his chest. After she tried to suck his face off, she turned on her heel and walked past Rose with her head held high, convinced she’d marked her territory.

Duke groaned.

When he’d been locked up, he used to fantasize about having a woman again, and it’d been all creamy thighs and pillowy breasts—nothing but soft, wet pleasure. The aggravating reality of dealing with a vertical woman’s mood swings and general craziness made him long for alone time again.

He swung open the door to the hotel room he’d been using and motioned Rose inside.

Giving him the evil eye the entire time, she cautiously made her way inside.

When he shut the door behind them, she sat stiffly at the table by the window.

“Are you pissed at me? I shouldn’t have hit you.”

 The smart thing to do would be to reassure her, but his pride had been wounded. Did she have to act like sleeping with him would be horrible? He hadn’t missed the way she’d checked him out earlier.

Duke sat on his bed and patted the space beside him. “Come here.”

“No. I’m not having sex with you. Not ever.”

“Never say never. We both know you think I’m hot.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. Your body language told me. But I ain’t interested in fuckin’ you, so don’t worry about it.”

“You aren’t?” He didn’t know if she was insulted or relieved.

“Of course not.”

Duke was lying. Oh, he’d thought about it, wanted it, imagined it—jerked off thinking about it, but she was off limits. She’d been traumatized—and the little sister of an old lady. Touching her would land his ass in deep dog shit.

“Why not?”

 “Because you’re too young for me. So get over here already—I haven’t got all fucking night.”

Rose sat stiffly on the very corner of the bed. “What we doing in here? Shouldn’t we be practicing in a gym or something?”

“First off, I’m sorry I used the ‘G’ word to rile you up.”

She ducked her head. “Yeah, I understand you were trying to provoke me.”

“I won’t ever say it again.”

“Good.”

Duke reached for her, intending only to pat her arm, but she tensed, flinching before he even got near her.

 “Before we train, we need to get more comfortable with one another, and by we, I mean you. You need to let me in your space without freaking the fuck out.”

 “Why?” Rose frowned.

“Because we’ll be practicin’ attacks. After the trauma you’ve experienced, you’ll be extra sensitive to being handled—let alone being pinned down or grabbed.”

“I see your point—so what are we going to do?”

Duke patted the bed once more, trying to coax her closer. “We’ll spend some time together, but you’ll need to get used to me touchin’ you.”

She grimaced.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m gonna pounce on you or something. I’m only talkin’ about innocent touching. I want to build trust between us.”

She raised a brow, skeptical as hell and full of grit. Smart girl.

“And did your drill sergeant get handsy with you?”

“Only to push his finger in my chest or shout at me nose-to-nose. But when I learned hand-to-hand combat skills, my instructor got us more at ease with our bodies and lettin’ others into our personal space. Your opponent can use the discomfort against you—throw you off guard by grabbing you.”

She inched closer. “I am already… familiar with that particular tactic, but I see your point. What kind of touching?”

Kent had probably played some nasty psychological head games with her.

“The platonic type. We’ve already started it. You’ve been lettin’ me examine you, which most people are comfortable with, but I won’t be in medical mode when we’re sparrin’. I’ll be more aggressive, which might trigger you, so I’m gonna put my hands on you ahead of time and get you used to me. We’ll desensitize you. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Come here.”

She scooted over so they were only a few inches apart.

Duke took her hand in his, marveling at its small size—his engulfed hers. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held a woman’s hand. Fuck. He might never have held one’s hand, other than his mother. It was a courtly gesture, and he was all about hot, writhing bodies.

Rose sucked in an anxious breath, staring at their intertwined fingers.

He placed his thumb on her pulse point, and he could feel the blood pumping hard. As he suspected, she had a real distaste for being touched.

“See? I ain’t gonna hurt you. I’d never hurt you.”

“I know that.”

Gradually, she loosened up, her hand relaxing in his.

After a few minutes, he checked her pulse once more, gratified to see it’d slowed down. Time to push her a bit. Duke ghosted his fingertips up her arm, along her shoulder, and up her neck to cup her cheek. Supposedly to ease her discomfort, but the cynical part of himself knew he wanted to get closer—and now, he had the perfect excuse.

Duke knew he shouldn’t be lusting after her. After the hell she’d been through, she deserved to have one man in her life without an agenda. Rose had crawled right beneath his thick skin. She watched him with big brown eyes, and he wanted to help her, protect her—be her fucking hero, real fairy tale shit. Dangerous thoughts. Duke was an anti—and depending on who you asked, a villain.

If she knew half the things he was thinking, she’d run screaming from the room. Duke was a dominant man, ever since he’d started having sex of his own free will. And Rose had submissive written all over her—the shy glances, those soft, sweet smiles—whether or not she realized it. While her experiences with Kent had been horrific and non-consensual, they’d formed a sexual template of sorts.

Duke couldn’t stop fantasizing about giving Rose a good experience in the bedroom, one she actually desired. He wanted to teach her that sex didn’t have to be about shame and pain—she could receive pleasure at a dominant’s hand.

But she’d already been traumatized—gaining her trust and building a relationship with her would be difficult. Maybe impossible.

It’d have to remain a heated sexual fantasy.

Duke stroked her cheek. “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Because I asked you to.”

“Tell me something first. I hardly know you. Why do they call you Duke?”

His lips twitched. “The club gives you a road name. You don’t get to choose one on your own. They call me Duke because I came from a wealthy family.” Somehow, she seemed to pull confessions out of him. It was the damnedest thing. “And because of my fancy pants college boy talk. I dropped that shit for the most part, though—learned to blend in.”

She was silent for a moment, pondering what he’d said.

“I still don’t get it. How does someone from a wealthy family who went to med school end up being a biker?”

“Oh, you know, long story.”

She didn’t need to hear about his trauma. No one did. He’d shoved all of it down for years and never told a fucking soul—Duke had no intention of opening up about it now, despite her uncanny ability to reach him.

“Fine. Can you tell me your real name?”

“Tucker Collins. Feel better?”

“Yeah, a bit.” Her eyes fluttered closed.

His hand trembled as he began exploring her pretty face. He ran his fingers down her cheeks, over her pert button nose, eased gently over her soft eyelids, and finally down the long length of her white throat.

 Letting someone stroke your face was incredibly intimate, and he’d used it as a shortcut of sorts to build a bond. As a med student, he’d learned to be careful when doing facial examinations to ease the patient into it. As a dominant, he routinely stroked his submissives’ cheeks and lips—demonstrating both control and concern.

Her breathing slowed, and she grew even more pliable in his grasp, leaning into him.

“There, that’s not so bad, is it?”

“I guess not.”

He’d been half-hard since they walked in the room because he had her alone on a bed with him, but he’d surged to a full erection just from stroking her. While her eyes were still closed, he adjusted himself. The last thing he needed was for her to see his cock trying to bust out of his jeans.

Duke released her. “You can open your eyes now.”

She did, nervously licking her lips.

He bit back a moan. God, he wanted to kiss her so badly, one bitty kiss. He wanted to know what she tasted like—Duke imagined she’d be sweet as sugar.

Duke cleared his throat. “Okay, then. I need to give you some rules.” His dominant side took real pleasure in setting guidelines for her. “We’ll train three or four days a week at my house, depending on my schedule, starting tomorrow morning.”

 “Okay.”

 “You’ll borrow one of the club trucks so you can come and go as you please. If my brothers see you on the back of my bike all the fucking time, they’ll start asking questions—believe me, they’re nosy assholes. And while we’re on the subject, I’ll make sure Coyote and Steele keep their mouths shut.”

“Okay.”

“When we practice, you’ll wear non-binding clothes and good athletic shoes since we’ll be movin’ around a lot.”

Though he doubted she owned any other kind of clothing. He’d never seen her in anything form-fitting since the first day.

“Tell me when I make you uncomfortable. I’m gonna push your buttons.”

She actually laughed—it was a great sign.

“Yeah, I’ll let you know.”

“Excellent.” He tried to think of anything else he might have missed. “We’ll do some hand-to-hand combat, some yoga to help you limber up, and maybe other fightin’ styles once I see what your strengths are.”

“You do yoga?” Her eyes were wide.

“Anyone serious about being limber does.” Though he’d deny it if his brothers ever found out. “We’ll start your lesson tomorrow mornin’ at eight sharp. Come to this address.” Duke grabbed a piece of paper from the nightstand and wrote it down for her. “I don’t like to be kept waitin’.”

“I’ll be there.” She jumped to her feet.

He ogled her ass as she walked to the door.

Duke needed to slow his roll. He was getting all hot and bothered over some hand-holding and face-stroking. You’d think he’d invited her over to train as his sub from the way he was acting.

Giving her orders was… exciting.

She paused. “Anything else?”

“No. You’re dismissed.”

She gave him a cheery salute, smiled, and then headed out.

This whole thing was one big, bad fucking idea. Big sis and his club brothers wouldn’t approve—and he’d to keep himself from temptation after he spent the day manhandling her.

Christ Almighty. He’d wear the skin off his dick.

Speaking of, Duke fell back on the bed and freed his aching cock from his jeans. It was swollen and hard as a fucking rock. He thought about grabbing Chesty and making her suck him off, but he didn’t want her. The only woman he wanted right now was Rose. He hadn’t jerked off since he’d been in prison, but sweet Lord, he needed to right now.

The head of his cock was purplish-red— pre-come leaked from the tip. He used it to lube up his cock then started to stroke, slow at first. In his mind’s eye, Rose crouched between his splayed thighs while he watched, arms folded behind his head. She kissed his cock lovingly, running her lips and tongue over the entire length before sucking him deep into her wet mouth and drinking him in.

Duke lifted his hips, thrusting into her throat. He imagined holding the back of her head while she opened for him, her eyes drowsy with desire. God, he could watch that all day, his dick disappearing between her sweet lips.

He rubbed his dick harder, hands moving furiously up and down the shaft now. Duke wasn’t going to last long, wanted her too fucking much. The veins stood out on his cock, pulsing with need. He arched off the bed with a cry and brought himself off, streaking his hips and chest with semen.

 After a minute to catch his breath, he staggered to the bathroom, dabbing at the mess with a damp washcloth.

Dammit.

Duke wanted Rose and not being able to have her would take a toll. He had to keep himself in check, for both of their sakes. Sure, he wanted to fuck her, but despite himself, he felt for her. They had a connection, a bond—he, too, had been used, beaten.

And he thought maybe, just maybe, if he helped her put the pieces back together, it’d mean something. It was too late for him, of course, but Rose still had a chance. He’d been down the road she currently walked, and it’d been torture.

Duke could ease her through it and make it less painful for her. He just had to keep his dick to himself.

Easier fucking said than done.

And most importantly, Duke had to protect her from the growing darkness within herself. Oh, he knew it was there—could see it in her eyes, even though she tried to hide those shadows. Anyone who’d survived what they had been through had an inner void—a black hole—like that Nietzsche quote.

Something along the lines of… look into the abyss long enough, and the abyss stares back at you. But everyone forgets the first part of the quote—it’s a warning not to fight with monsters, for fear you could become one.

Duke had become a monster long ago.

But he’d keep Rose from giving in to her dark side—she deserved to live in the light.

Chapter Eight

“Wake up, Goldilocks.”

Rose flinched as someone slapped her cheek. Kent! Her eyes snapped open. She must’ve blacked out.

He loomed over her, surveying her body as she hung limply—Kent had looped chains over one of the ceiling beams in the basement then attached manacles to them, which he used to handcuff her. He’d made the chains so short, she’d been forced to stand on her tiptoes.

The last thing she remembered were his hands clamped around her throat, squeezing her airway shut. Part of her wanted him to end it—finish her off. Another part—desperate to live at any cost, had struggled in his hold, gasping for breath until she’d lost consciousness.

“You didn’t think you could escape from me by blacking out, did you?” He tapped the tip of her nose. “Naughty girl. You still have to take your punishment. Tell me.”

“I-I’m sorry.” Her voice was raw from being choked.

“For what?” Kent yanked her closer, pushing his erection into her side.

“For breaking your cup.”

When she’d been doing dishes, one of the coffee mugs slipped out of her grasp and shattered on the kitchen floor. Supposedly, she was being disciplined for cracking it, but it was an excuse—Kent got off on cruelty.

“Good girl. Now beg me.”

“Please forgive me.”

Kent unfastened her wrists with the key he kept around his throat. Rose tumbled to the floor, unable to stand. She’d lost track of how long she’d been hanging there like a dress on a clothesline. Her aching joints told her it’d been hours.

Kent grabbed her by the ponytail, gripping it tight, and dragged her as she half-crawled to the bed, gasping in agony all the while. He tossed her over it, sprawled on her belly, and then he was inside her.

 She shrieked as he slammed into her. She was dry, and the delicate tissues tore and bled under his assault. Bonelessly, she lay there while he pounded her and closed her eyes, trying to drift away from this awful place, away from her body—away from him.

She was grateful when he finally came. Kent slumped on top of her for a while, pinning her beneath his weight. Then he staggered to his feet and tucked himself back in his pants.

“Clean yourself up.” He zipped up his fly.

She started to cry.

Kent laughed. “Didn’t anyone tell you? Love hurts, sweetheart.”

He waltzed out of the room, whistling, sated and happy after violating her.

Rose was left with a stark realization. She’d become Kent’s masturbation object, like a discarded sock or a sticky magazine—that’s what her life had become. On shaking legs, she crept to the bathroom and into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the blood, semen, and tears.

A mechanical shriek broke the silence.

With a shout, Rose sat upright in bed. Wildly, she scanned the room and remembered where she was. Dammit. No matter how far away she got from Kent, her nightmares always carried her right back to him.

Shaking it off, she smacked the silencing button on the alarm and climbed out of bed. According to the clock, she had about an hour to get ready and then head over to Duke’s house.

She was eager to get started on her training; the sooner she did, the better off she’d be. Rose grabbed the clothes she’d laid out and went into the bathroom. She’d gotten a shower last night, but she felt like she needed another one. On a rational level, Rose knew she was clean. Kent hadn’t raped her in her sleep, but she couldn’t help it. She climbed in the shower and scoured her body anyway.

After the shower, she pulled her long hair up into a bun and then threw on a shirt and sweatpants before running down to the diner for breakfast.

When she breezed in the door, she found the place nearly empty. There was an old couple in the far corner, sipping cups of coffee. Fetch sat on a stool at the counter paging through the Victoria Secret catalog.

Yuck. He didn’t even acknowledge her for a moment, evidently mesmerized by a scantily clad model. Rose cleared her throat.

No response.

“Shopping for new panties?” Hmph. A little sass came out.

Stunned, he dropped the catalog to the floor with a small thunk.

“Uh, hi, Rose. What can I do for you?”

“I’d like a honey butter biscuit and coffee with cream and sugar to go, please.”

“Sure. No problem.” He frowned. “Did you say somethin’ ’bout undies?”

“No.” Rose rolled her eyes. Figures he would fixate on the unmentionables—the Horsemen and their underwear fetish.

Voodoo came from the back room carrying a couple of loaves of freshly baked French bread—they smelled amazing, like yeast and a warm, sunny kitchen.

“Good morning, cherie.”

He wore a tight pair of black leather pants and a red muscle shirt with a skull printed on the front. Voodoo was a couple of inches over six feet tall, and he had rich mocha skin and discerning silver eyes.

Come to think of it, Rose had never seen an unattractive Horsemen.

“Morning, Voo.”

He dusted off his hands and came out from behind the counter to sit on a stool beside her while Fetch poured her coffee and buttered her biscuit.

“Duke said you’d be borrowing the truck.” He handed her a set of keys from his back pocket. “Whatcha doin’ with him?”

“Um, helping him with some household chores.” Lying had never been her strong suit.

Voo shook his head. “That be a lie.”

“He has, uh, a lot of dishes. And laundry.” Get the lead out, Fetch.

“You’re a terrible liar, cherie. I can see the truth on your face.”

Voodoo continued to stare at her, trying to make her crack.

Rose said nothing.

Voodoo crossed his arms over his chest. “I can’t make you tell me the truth, but watch yourself. Duke is my brother, but he’s a bit of an asshole, no?”

Rose couldn’t disagree with the characterization, though she didn’t feel the need to be wary with Duke. He’d never hurt her.

“I will. You mind keeping all of this to yourself?”

“I see. It’s a secret then? From everyone or just your sister?”

Damn, he was insightful.

“Everyone.”

After a long moment, he nodded. “You may count on my discretion, cherie.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Order up.” Fetch appeared with a pastry bag and a to-go cup. He set them both on the counter for her.

Rose hopped off the stool and picked up her breakfast—then hurried out the door before Voodoo asked her any more uncomfortable questions.

***

As she drove, Rose ate her biscuit and sipped the coffee.

It felt good to be out on her own and away from the hotel. She’d been going stir crazy being cooped up all day—or maybe training with Duke had given her a sense of purpose, some optimism. Regardless, she was in a decent mood, despite the stalker issue.

Today, she’d start taking control of her life again, learn to defend herself.

Minutes later, Rose pulled into Duke’s driveway.

Given his penchant for privacy, it was no surprise that he barely lived within the city limits, and his nearest neighbor was two miles away. He owned a large three-story log cabin, set back from the road and flanked by enormous pine trees. There was a long wrap-around porch complete with old-fashioned rocking chairs, a great room visible through the large windows, and a slate tile patio to one side, along with a hot tub. She parked the truck, tucked the keys into her pocket, and headed inside.

***

Duke threw open the door to see Rose standing there, wide-eyed and a bit nervous. He’d have an uphill battle teaching her how to fight. She gave off a damsel in distress vibe, but he’d soon fix that.

“Mornin’, Firecracker.”

“Firecracker?”

“Yeah, I nicknamed you Firecracker as a reminder.”

“Why?”

“I want to see more of your moxie today—be the girl who slapped me.”

“I will.”

She lifted her chin slightly, and he could see the fire reignite in her eyes. Good, he’d dared her to prove herself to him, and she’d risen to the challenge.

Duke clasped his hands together, suddenly feeling awkward as ass around her.

“Come with me. We’ll go to the gym and get started.”

“Wow. You have your own gym?”

Calling the room a gym was a bit of an exaggeration. Sure, he had a few yoga mats, a set of weights, a stationary bike, and a couple of punching bags—but compared to his stepfather’s home, it was random workout equipment in a spare room.

Then again, his stepfather had a full-time personal trainer, an Olympic-sized pool, a steam room, stationary bikes, several sets of weights, a couple of treadmills, a rowing machine, and tons of other equipment.

Shaking his head, he indicated a chair near a rack of weights, and she sat. Duke paced back and forth, speaking off the top of his head. He’d thought of all sorts of training ideas last night. Why hadn’t he written this shit down?

Oh, yeah, because he’d been sexually obsessing over her and touching himself like a teenager. Now she was all alone with him, and he kept fantasizing about taking her downstairs to The Vault. He could spend the day training her to be his submissive instead.

Fuck.

Duke forced his thoughts to the present.

“Okay, then. We’ll treat this exactly like a workout. We’ll warm up a bit, spar, then cool down to round things out. And I have my RFID kit, and I’ll inject a chip before you go. Remind me if I forget.”

“Will do.”

“Time for ground rules. We’ll use the traffic light system.”

“The what?”

“I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise. Kent didn’t use it with you?”

She shook her head.

It was the bedrock of safe, sane, and consensual BDSM play. He used the rules with new submissives he played with, until he’d built up more trust with them. With an established partner, he had a better idea of what she enjoyed and didn’t like as well. In those cases, an ordinary safe word worked unless they pushed her limits. It felt strange to use them in this context, but Rose needed to be completely at ease with him.

Or maybe you want to think about it later while you’re fucking your own fist.

Duke ignored the sly voice in his head.

He listed the lights on his fingers. “Green for go, yellow for caution, and red for stop. If you’re feeling uncomfortable, say yellow, and I’ll slow down, or if it’s really bad, say red, and I’ll stop. Got it?”

“Gotcha.”

“We’re gonna warm up with some stretching, and then I’ll teach you a basic fightin’ stance, and we’ll go from there.”

Duke grabbed a couple of yoga mats and set them a couple of feet apart on the wooden floor. They went through some basic stretching–the calves, quadriceps, hips, and other muscle groups. He made a real effort not to stare at her, but when she bent over to hold on to the back of her legs, he checked out her ass again.

“So, do I get a gun?”

Duke flinched. Right…platonic training. “Why do you need a gun?”

“Um… to shoot people.”

“Have you ever used one before?”

“Well, no, but I could learn.”

“Hell no. You’re a novice, and it’d take you months to become capable with one. I’m only teachin’ you to defend yourself. I ain’t makin’ you into the next Bonnie Parker.”

“Yeah, but Daisy has a gun.” Rose pulled one arm across her chest, flexing it.

“Daisy was a Marine.” Duke stretched his arms over his head.

“Don’t you think I’d be safer with one?”

Most people assumed it was a matter of pointing and shooting. He’d had extensive weapons training in the military, and it was a lot harder than it looked.

“Fuck, no. Any idiot can go to Wal-Mart and buy a piece, but you gotta know how to use it. Respect the gun, or it’ll get you killed. I should know, I was a sniper in the Special Forces.”

“Holy hell. You must be a good shot.”

“I’m an incredible shot.” Duke could put some poor bastard in the crosshairs and pull the trigger without hesitation.

“So you’d make a terrific teacher then...”

He busted out laughing at her technique. She was putting him through his paces, trying to get him to agree to what she wanted. Duke was relieved Kent hadn’t quashed her spirit entirely. She seemed to be getting better, inching towards the girl he assumed she used to be—but of course, she’d never be exactly the same

“Nice try, but we’ll stick to self-defense.”

After a few minutes, he spoke again.

“Okay, I think we’re stretched for today. I’m gonna teach you a fightin’ stance.”

He prowled around her while she stood standing, facing forward. He could tell he still made her nervous. She kept her shoulders tense, and her hands were fisted at her sides.

“Bend your knees. Stay ready to spring into action.”

She did as he asked.

“Excellent. Now move your elbows in against your torso while keeping your hands near your face so you can block an opponent.”

Once again, Rose complied.

“Good.” But Duke noticed how stiffly she held herself. “But you need to limber up. You’re tense.”

“You’ve no idea.”

Duke chuckled. “We can fix that. Instead of stretching, we’ll cool down with yoga.”

“I still can’t picture you doing yoga.”

“I got banged up pretty good in the military, and I did yoga as part of my physical therapy. It helped loosen me up.”

He’d taken some shrapnel in the thigh. It hadn’t been a huge deal, but he’d been laid up while it healed. Yoga, along with physical therapy, helped get his full range of motion back.

“Okay, keep practicing the stance.”

Duke grabbed a couple of punch mitts from a drawer. They were shaped like an umpire’s gloves, only more padded, so she’d be able to hit him without causing any injury to either of them.

“Ready to hit me?”

“I guess so.”

Duke stood in front of her and held up the punch mitts so she could take a shot at him.

“Go for it.”

Rose bounced from one foot to the other. “I should hit you?”

“Yeah, hit me.”

It was hard to harness anger in a fight. Men had an advantage since they were rough and tumble as children—schoolyard fights and wrestling with their brothers. If Rose wanted to defend herself, she’d have to use her fury on an attacker. The trick was utilizing the anger, but not letting it consume you in the process.

“Let’s try some visualization. Close your eyes.”

Rose shut her eyes.

As a recruit, images of his stepfather in his mind’s eye fueled his wrath. He bet Kent would have the same effect on Rose.

“Picture the bastard who held you prisoner.”

Her nostrils flared, and her breathing picked up.

“Imagine he’s standing in front of you, trying to haul you into his car.”

She trembled.

“No, no, don’t get scared. Get pissed off. He’s trying to kidnap you, rape you again, keep you against your will, and you’re not gonna let it happen again, are you?”

“No.”

“Say it again. Make me believe it!”

“No!”

“What? I can’t fucking hear you—scream it loud enough to bust the dick’s eardrums.”

“NO!” Her features settled into a fierce mask.

There it was.

“Damn straight. Now hit me and don’t you dare hold back.”

She opened her eyes and then went after him, fists flying. While she didn’t have the technique down, she had the right energy—raw pain and fury forged incredible strength. Rose punched at his hands, grunting as she pummeled him. Duke blocked her attacks, letting her expend the emotion in a safe way.

Eventually, she tired herself out, arms falling to her sides, breathing heavy, and sweat streaking her brow.

“Okay, enough for now. We’ll build up your endurance. You need to eat more calories and get more rest because we’re gonna expend a lot of energy.”

“That was….” She paused, searching for the words. “Amazing.”

His sentiments exactly—she was amazing.

She stared down at her own hands as if they belonged to someone else. Duke knew the feeling. Finding out you carried a deep well of rage inside could be disturbing at times but exhilarating too.

It was the closest thing anyone had to a superpower—it made you faster, more violent, and nastier than the other guy. Anyone who’d gone through the kind of ordeal they’d both experienced had an ace in the hole concealed and ready to unleash if needed.

“I didn’t know I could go after someone like that.”

“I hoped you had it in you. You’ll need it if he comes for you.” Duke checked the clock on the wall and then pulled off his mitts. “We’re out of time. Tonight, I want you to practice getting angry again, and then you’re gonna punch something. Try your pillow for starters, and I’ll give you a speed bag you can hit tomorrow. There’s one at Hades in the gym, but since we’re keepin’ this real quiet-like, I’ll put it in your room.”

Rose nodded.

“Now, let’s cool down, I’ll chip you, and you can be out the door.”

***

The next couple of weeks passed without incident.

Rose hadn’t heard anything more from Kent. Duke created a grueling training schedule—she trained with him and then practiced for a couple of hours a day by herself. Thankfully, no one at the club had commented on her absences. She seemed to be making progress and having a chip made her feel a bit more secure, like a backup plan in case things went south.

One morning, she walked into the gym to find Duke looking solemn, standing in the morning light.

Duke took her breath away—his skin had a golden hue, emphasized by the Horsemen tattoo on his arm. She had the oddest desire to stroke the ink, run her fingers over the outlines.

Rose was attracted to Duke, and it confused the hell out of her. Gawking at him had become a hobby. In the beginning, she’d only wanted to train with him, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Her hormones had a mind of their own, and they’d fixated on him.

Tension had built up between them. She often caught Duke watching her out of the corner of her eye. Lord knows she had trouble keeping her eyes off him as well. Rose didn’t know what the attraction was. Maybe because he was her protector and kept her safe.

And whenever he touched her, something stilled inside—and the world quieted down. Rose wanted more—a kiss, a more intimate touch. When she was alone at night, lying in bed, Rose sometimes pictured his hands on her, touching her everywhere.

She had no idea what to do with those feelings—so Rose ignored them. Or tried to, anyway.

“We’ve done some drills so far. Mostly hand-to-hand, but I want to step it up. You’re ready to fend off a more threatening attack.”

Rose startled, and her heartbeat picked up, bringing her back to the present. She’d asked him to train her to defend herself so she’d be prepared when Kent came to collect her.

She still had nightmares about the asshole—the way he pinned her down, forced her legs open. Could she handle the experience again, even if it was only playacting?

“You look worried.” Duke scanned her face. 

Rose sucked in a breath. “I am, but I want to try anyway.”

Duke moved toward her in measured strides—trying not to scare her with sudden movements.

“It’s normal to be jumpy. You remember the system we worked out?”

“Yes.” Some of the tension uncoiled in the pit of her stomach. Duke was here to help—not to hurt her. She braced herself, ready for him. “I can do this.”

Duke sprang on her.

Before she knew it, she was on her back, and he straddled her hips. Her arms were pinned above her head, and he held her in place. It happened so fast, she couldn’t think, didn’t even have time to block the attack. She felt dizzy, and the room spun.

“Fight me off.”

Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead, streaking down her temples, and her heart thundered. In her mind’s eye, she was beneath Kent once more—he held her down, ripping at her clothing.

Rose shook her head—tried to channel her anger and tamp down on the fear, but she could feel the panic rising.

Duke stilled. “Come on, focus, Firecracker. It’s okay—it’s just me. You’re safe. Break my hold on you.”

Rose tugged her arms down, but his upper body strength easily outmatched hers. She strained, trying to shove him off, but she struggled for purchase on the floor.

“You can do it. Come on.”

Panting, she tried again to dislodge him, but she didn’t get anywhere. Again, she thought of Kent on top of her, the dead weight of him, the feel of his erection pressing into her. Her arms started to shake, and her stomach churned.

“It’s me. Not him. Nothing will happen to you—I promise. Do you need to say the word?”

“No.”

She wouldn’t give in to the panic. It’d ruled her life the past few months. She had to push through the dread, find the courage within. Rose closed her eyes and gradually relaxed, the anxiety dissolving.

“Better?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” With a grunt, she moved her leg up, planting her heel on his thigh, and pushed, sending him back a few inches. It gave her enough room to scramble away from him. Rose lunged at him, pressing him backward, and lying flat on top of him instead, straddling his hips.

Rose grinned. “I did it!”

She laughed at his expression–equal parts pride and annoyance. Of course, she knew he’d gone easy on her, but the victory felt good nonetheless.

“Did I pass, coach?”

“Yeah, you passed.” He shifted his hips, and she became aware of the warmth of his big body. His scent overwhelmed her—a mixture of earthy cigar smoke, clean skin, and musk.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. The tension blazed.

Duke licked his lips. “I hate to cut it short today, but I gotta go.”

She could tell he was lying from the way he wouldn’t meet her gaze. But Rose got to her feet anyway, and he stood as well.

“We’ll do a cool-down fast.” He turned away from her and gathered up the mats, before placing them at their feet. They did a quick yoga cool-down, though it didn’t calm or center her.

Rose wanted to be on top of him again.

Duke bent over, and she followed his lead. They both grasped the back of their calves, holding the pose, and the muscles in the backs of her thighs jumped in protest, but she persisted. She’d been sore the past couple of weeks, exhausting muscles she’d never used before.

“Feel that?”

“Yes.”

She was positioned slightly behind him and made the mistake of glancing at his backside. Rose was far from an expert, but he had a firm butt, and she admired the curve of it. Her fingers itched to explore him.

She used to think she’d never be interested in sex at all, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. Sure, having a crush on Duke was awkward, but maybe it was a sign she was getting better? Rose had been slowly working on her issues the past few weeks.

Duke glanced back at her.

Rose could feel a blush creep up her cheeks. She’d been so lost in staring at his behind, she hadn’t been paying attention.

“Move into Downward Facing Dog.”

He stretched forward and placed his palms on the floor, extending his body, and she copied the move until they both perched on all fours, backs arched, facing the yoga mats beneath them. She had to work at learning poses. Rose lived more in her head than her body, and athletics was never easy for her. She had a difficult time committing things to muscle memory.

Duke stood and circled her, evaluating her pose.

“Very good, but you’re overextending the hips a bit.” He placed a hand on her right thigh, pushing it in slightly.

Rose gasped. His fingertips burned straight through her clothing. She turned her head, locking eyes on his, and neither one of them looked away.

“Your hips should only be a shoulder’s length apart.” His voice had gone deep, dark velvet.

“I’ll get it right next time.” Rose got up and suddenly found herself pressed against his chest. They were both breathing heavily… and not from exertion.

Duke bent and kissed her—it was tentative, a brushing of his lips against hers, over in a moment.

But it made her crave more.

“I’m sorry.” Duke shook his head.

“You are?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Oh.” He licked his lips, eyes flicking to her mouth once more.

For a moment, she thought he might kiss her again, but, with a grunt, he ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry, anyway. We shouldn’t be… it won’t fucking happen again. I promise.”

“It won’t?” Christmas was canceled.

“No, it won’t.” Duke glanced out the window. “I’m here to train you, not hit on you. I’m gonna be late. I gotta go. I’ll see you Friday for another session.”

And then he all but ran from the room.

Rose gathered up her gear and headed home. As she drove back to the hotel, she kept touching her mouth. She could still feel Duke’s lips.

And Rose craved another kiss.

Chapter Nine

Days later, the night of Eddie’s party at Perdition arrived. Daisy and Cowboy insisted that Rose go with them. They were going to announce their pregnancy, and there was supposed to be another big pronouncement as well. Being in a large group of people made her nervous, but she’d suck it up for Daisy.

Daisy persuaded her to wear a dress for the occasion, which she bought at the local dress shop—Hell’s Belles. She stood staring at herself in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door and felt exposed. She hadn’t worn anything but baggy clothing since she’d been rescued.

Although the long maxi dress was modest by anyone’s standards—it came down to her ankles, for pity’s sake. The sweetheart neckline made her anxious because it revealed so much skin. Daisy had also bought a black and white shurg to pair with it, and Rose wrapped it around her torso tightly.

Daisy knocked on the door, and Rose opened it to find her sister standing there in a calf-length sky blue sundress paired with a matching cardigan. She had the slightest hint of a baby bump. Her cheeks held a rosy hue, and her hair fell softly around her shoulders. Daisy had slicked on some lip gloss and eyeliner as well, and she looked luminous.

Rose’s heart clenched. Daisy deserved every bit of happiness.

“You ready?”

Rose stifled all of her doubts and nerves. She wouldn’t ruin Daisy’s day for the world.

“Absolutely. Let’s go.”

Arm in arm, they walked out to Cowboy’s truck. He had a wide grin on his handsome face—looking blissful and utterly content. Cowboy offered Rose a friendly wave, which she returned. Daisy climbed up and scooted in close to him. Rose sat on the opposite side of Daze.

“I’m a lucky man.” Cowboy wrapped an arm around her sister. “I’m arrivin’ with the two prettiest girls.”

His eyes were on Daisy, so much love in them it made Rose shiver. Some day she wanted a man to look at her as if she were the only thing in the world—but Rose doubted it’d ever happen. 

When they arrived, the party was in full swing.

A mixture of hard rock and country played on the jukebox. Several long buffet tables had been set along the wall—all of them were laden with food. Mostly Texas-style eats–ribs, brisket, corn on the cob, corn bread, beans, and the like.

Daisy and Cowboy got in line for the buffet, and she followed behind. She wasn’t hungry, but she didn’t want to be rude.

Rose spotted Duke seated at a table with his hellion. The woman draped herself over him, kissing him, placing his hand in her lap. Rose tried not to stare, but it was impossible—she was jealous, which was ridiculous. She had no claim on Duke.

Duke glanced up sharply, meeting her gaze, and she swore to God her heart almost stopped. He’d evidently felt the weight of her stare.

 Damn.

She hadn’t wanted to bring attention to herself. He smiled at her slowly, almost like they shared a private joke.

Rose couldn’t help but grin back.

She turned her attention back to the rapidly cooling food on her plate and walked to the table where Cowboy and Daisy were seated. Rose tried not to listen as they sweet-talked each other—at this rate, they’d have another baby next year. Rose brought a forkful of baked beans to her lips and forced herself to eat.

Later in the evening, Captain climbed on the bar and held his hand out to Eddie, who took it after a moment of hesitation. They looked like a couple. When Rose had first arrived in town, she’d assumed they were. While Eddie might not return his affections, Captain was all about her. 

Captain was an older man but still had a powerfully built body. Rose placed him in his forties, with spiked blond hair and a hint of gray at the temples. Slight lines crinkled around his blue eyes, and he had a well-groomed mustache and beard.

Captain whistled loudly to get everyone’s attention. “Stop your jawin’ for a second and pay fucking attention.”

The crowd immediately quieted down.

He addressed the group. “I’m happy y’all could make it here tonight. The Horsemen aren’t just an MC. We’re a family, and when one of us has good news, the group shares in it. We’re lucky bastards tonight because two of the brothers have some damn fine news to share.”

Everyone cheered.

“I’d like Cowboy and Daisy to stand up,” Captain called, a grin splitting his face. “Share your news with the group, brother.”

Cowboy wrapped a protective arm around Daisy, his hand resting on her stomach. “I’m pleased as punch to say Daisy and I are expectin’.”

The crowd stomped and cheered loudly.

“A boy or a girl?” Shep shouted over the din.

“A girl!” Daisy yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth to amplify the sound. “Her name is Violet May.”

Daisy met Rose’s gaze.

Rose couldn’t stop tears from falling—Daisy, Rose, and now they had a Violet in the family. Their mother, Sunflower, had started the flower name tradition, and now it’d continue into the next generation.

The bikers pounded the tables and roared while the hellions screamed and clapped.

Eddie smiled. “Congratulations, Daisy and Cowboy! I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to bring the mood down. I have some very sad news to tell you.”

A hush fell over the crowd.

Then she laughed. “Well, sad if you’re a hellion, anyway. My baby boy is officially off the market.” She turned to Ryker. “Tell ‘em your news, kid.”

Ryker got to his feet. “Elizabeth has agreed to make an honest man of me. We’re officially affianced.”

Elizabeth raised her right hand, showing off one hell of a rock. “We haven’t set a date yet, but all of you better be there.”

The Horsemen clapped again.

Next, Steele stood to address the group.

“Ryker might be taken, but I’m free, single, and definitely easy, ladies. If any of you hellions need some consolin’, I’m available for your use.” Steele ran his hands along his body, as though anyone hadn’t picked up on his unsubtle message.

Everyone laughed, and a couple of women slid a bit closer to him.

Rose smiled at his audacity.

The bikers eventually went back to their individual conversations, though a group of well-wishers surrounded both Ryker and Elizabeth as well as Daisy and Cowboy. Rose backed off into the shadows, watching the party rather than participating.

Some of the men pushed back the tables to form a small dance floor, and a few couples danced to Whitesnake’s Is this Love.

Rose felt a prickle on the back of her neck.

She turned to find Duke watching her from across the room—an invitation in his eyes. His hellion was nowhere to be seen, but a quick scan of the room revealed she was part of the group surrounding Elizabeth, admiring her ring.

“Would you like to dance?”

Rose turned to see Coyote standing at her elbow. Rose tensed, wondering if he’d seen the DVD yet. Maybe he’d already told Duke, and they hadn’t found anything of use?

Coyote smiled. “I ain’t very good, but I think I can manage not to step on your foot.”

Flushing, Rose shook her head and forced her thoughts away from Kent’s media mind games.

“Um, no thank you. I appreciate being asked, but I don’t dance.” And the thought of being that close to a strange man made her queasy.

Yet she never minded when Duke touched her. Hmph.

Coyote ducked his head. “No problem. You have yourself a real good night.” He turned and walked away.

Great.

Now she felt like crap for turning him down. He’d been nothing but sweet to her, but she wasn’t interested in Coyote. By all rights, she should be—he was the right age, handsome, kind. He also didn’t appear to have any hellions tucked away for special favors either.

Rose only had eyes for one man.

She watched as Duke sauntered over to the jukebox and selected a tune—just as the Whitesnake song ended, Firecracker by Josh Turner started up.

Her breath caught.

Duke winked, and his mouth moved as he sang along with the lyrics. He hadn’t asked her to dance because it wasn’t his style, but he’d still played her the song.

What did it mean, though? Where was it going?

“What’s the deal with you and Duke?” Eddie asked.

Rose nearly dropped her drink, she was so shocked.

“Geez. Where’d you come from?”

“Hmm, maybe you should’ve been payin’ better attention. Somethin’ got you all distracted?” She nodded to Duke, who was abruptly interested in the beer he was holding.

Rose fixed the older woman with a blank look. “No.”

Eddie took a sip of her margarita. “Oh, come on, now. It’s obvious to everyone, and by everyone, I mean me. Though I’m bettin’ my nephew will catch on pretty quick. Shep is smart as a whip.”

“My love life is my own business.” Rose wished she would go away so she could sit there and watch Duke, see if he sang any more of the song to her, but Eddie seemed determined to butt in.

“Love life, huh? So there is something to tell.” Eddie pulled her to a corner table. “Come on, honey, you can tell me everything. I’m the mother figure in this particular group. Spill it.”

“I already have a mother figure.”

“Daisy?”

Rose nodded.

“She’s a strong woman. I bet she took care of you when you were kids.”

“Yes, she was part mom, part sister.”

Eddie sat back in her seat. “Yeah, but she’s family, and I bet you haven’t told her you got a thing for Duke. If I know Daisy, and I do, she wouldn’t approve.”

Rose flinched. “I don’t have a thing for Duke.”

“No?”

“No.” Her chin notched higher, daring the woman to contradict her.

“Then why you pinin’ for him from across the room?” Her eyes twinkled with mischief.

“I am not pining for him.” Although, Rose thought about Duke way too often.

“Honey, I could coat this whole conversation in a layer of whipped cream and cherries, but I don’t see the point. I’m too old to be coy. I’m gonna lay it out there. I know you’ve been through hell.”

Rose blanched, feeling torn. The Horsemen had helped Daisy save her, and they’d provided her with food, shelter, and protection. She certainly owed them, but discussing her trauma felt too personal. Invasive even.

“I don’t know everything. And I don’t want to know. That’s your business—but your sister and Cowboy painted a word picture for me. Duke is a mess too—he’s even more tight-lipped about it than you. He hasn’t told me a damn thing, but I’ve made an educated guess.”

“I know he’s a mess.”

“I bet you do. You two have been spendin’ time together?”

Rose hesitated unsure what she should divulge and what she should keep private.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Duke’s too old for you.”

“Do you think age matters?” Duke seemed like the only person who understood her.

Eddie paused a moment, mulling it over. “I’d like to say that age is just a number, especially because I’m on the backside of fifty, but it helps if you are both at the same stage in your lives.”

“What about you and Captain? He’s younger than you, but it’s obvious that he’s in love with you.”

It was Eddie’s turn to be uncomfortable.

She didn’t speak for a moment. “Oh, honey, I’m too old for him. Captain was a prospect for the group when I was already an old lady. We’re just good friends.”

“Yeah, he wants to be more than your friend.”

Eddie raised a brow. “You ain’t intimidated, are you? Kent didn’t break you.”

“No, he didn’t, but he gave it his best shot,” Rose said coolly.

“I hope the bastard dies slow and painful, but back to the subject at hand, I ain’t young and lookin’ for love like all of you. The only thing in my future is some grandbabies and my, er, canning.”

“Canning?” Rose couldn’t imagine Eddie picking green beans and tucking them into Mason jars. It seemed so domestic—this woman was fierce, feisty.

“Yes, you’re too young to have any, but I make some damn fine preserved beverages.”

Preserved beverages? Did that mean moonshine? But Rose refused to be diverted from the topic at hand.

“You think love has an age limit?”

“I think I had my shot—the love of my life is dead.”

That brought the conversation about Captain to a close.

“Well, I’m not in any shape to be dating someone anyway. I’m a hot mess.” Rose wished she’d just drop it.

“Aren’t we all?”

“I’m only friends with Duke.”

“You tryin’ to convince yourself or me?

Rose said nothing.

“Two people who have survived so much might be good for each other—as friends. Anything else would be very complicated.”

“We’re friends. Nothing is going on, and besides, he has a hellion.”

“Oh, honey, a man don’t stare at a woman he wants to be friends with the way he was eyeing you. I’m only givin’ you some friendly advice.” Eddie nodded to Daisy, who watched Duke with narrowed eyes. “I think your sister’s catchin’ on. This is gonna be entertainin’ as hell.”

Eddie got up and joined another table, leaving Rose deep in thought.

***

Duke tried to keep his mind on the hellion next to him. Chesty was fucking frisky tonight. He hadn’t gotten laid in forever, but he wasn’t in the mood despite all the filthy suggestions she whispered in his ear.

For one thing, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Rose.

He’d never seen her in anything so feminine. Well, that wasn’t true. When he’d rescued her, she’d been dressed in lingerie, but that’d been a royally fucked up situation—Rose hadn’t been wearing it of her own free will. Tonight, she wore a dress, and she looked beautiful. He kept thinking about leading her onto the dance floor, holding her close—which was fucking ridiculous.

Duke didn’t ask, and he didn’t get moony over chicks. Usually, he sat in the corner at these stupid bashes, being surly and difficult. If he had any goddamn sense, he’d take the hellion to a hotel room and fuck her senseless. Maybe it’d drown out his desire for Rose.

Then Daisy came barreling in his direction and the night went straight to shit.

Oh, fuck me. She suspects something.

She had a glass of sweet tea in her hand, and for a moment, he wondered if she was about to splash it in his face. It’d serve him right, just for being a dickhead—sitting here leering at her sister.

“Hey.” Duke got to his feet, hoping he could get away before she let him have it.

No such luck.

Daisy spared a glance at the hellion. “Leave, I need to talk to Duke.”

There was a hierarchy in the club, and old ladies had power over the hellions, mostly because of their close affiliation with club members. Chesty didn’t argue—instead, she stood and walked away hips swishing.

“Didn’t we have a talk about Rose and how off limits she was? I saw the way you looked at her tonight.” Daisy poked a finger in the middle of Duke’s chest.

Sugar-coated shitballs.

“Yeah, I remember, and if you recall, she’s a grown woman.” He hadn’t planned on pursuing anything with her anyway but fuck if he wanted to be told he couldn’t.

“Barely. She’s young enough to be your kid.”

Duke couldn’t dispute the logic, but he didn’t have a fatherly relationship with her.

“Yeah, but she isn’t.” He spotted Eddie across the room—silently asking for help, but she held up her hands. As if to say, sorry, honey, you’re on your own.

Fuck, he couldn’t shout at a pregnant woman. Even one who’d been a Marine and could hold her own in a fight. For one, Cowboy would shoot him. For another, it was a good bet Eddie wouldn’t speak to him again. Though he finally figured out why Rose hadn’t told her sister. Daisy was stubborn enough to track Kent down with a baby on board.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble.” Duke held up his hands.

“Too damn bad, you got it anyway.” She moved into his personal space, trying to back him down. “Stay away from her.”

“Well, want in one hand and shit in the other, and see which gets filled first. Rose can choose who she sees. As it happens? I’ ain’t datin’ her.”

“Then why do I hear you been spendin’ time with her?”

Fuckin’ gossips.

“We’re workin’ on a project together.”

Daisy placed her hands on her hips. “What kind of a project? The kind where you put your dick in her?”

Duke stared down the little Marine, and his temper started to boil. “I told you I ain’t fuckin’ your sister—accept my word for it and move the fuck on.”

“Well, you need to accept my word. If you touch her, there ain’t a hole deep enough in Texas to hide in. I’ll find your ass and kick the snot out of you.”

Damnation.

“Yeah, I hear ya, but there ain’t nothin’ to worry about. I ain’t after her or anything so take it down a notch.”

The lie worked because Daisy stalked off and grabbed Rose, heading for the door.

Chesty plopped back in his lap, and Duke tried to think of an excuse to get out of sex tonight—a first for him.

Honey, I got a headache wasn’t gonna cut it.

Chapter Ten

Another week dragged by.

Kent hadn’t shown up, thank the sweet Lord.

Duke had begun to wonder if the dickhead had only wanted to scare her. Or he could be waiting for the right moment to snatch her. Kent was more twisted than a pretzel factory, so it was probably the last option.

In other news, his pants had gotten fucking tighter and not because he’d been eating at Voo’s too much. No, he had a single-minded obsession with Rose. Neither of them mentioned the kiss or the song he’d played for her at Perdition, but they both haunted him. Duke wondered what would have happened if he kissed her again, pulled her flush against his body, or hell, even pulled her to the floor.

Fuck it all.

Duke had no business touching her. He still didn’t know what had fucking possessed him to give in to his impulses. She was a rape victim, not some sexed-up hellion looking for fun and he shouldn’t have laid a hand on her.

Thankfully, she hadn’t retreated from him.

Duke had been waiting for the fallout, but nothing had happened. They had an awkward, unspoken agreement to ignore it. To his credit, he tried to forget about her, but it was impossible. Duke couldn’t get Rose out of his thoughts.

He’d chalked up his momentary stupidity to horniness. He hadn’t had a play date with Chesty in weeks, not since he’d started training Rose and he told himself he didn’t have the time.

Or maybe because you don’t want her anymore.

Duke ignored the thought. Maybe he should make some time to fuck Chesty before he lost his mind and groped Rose again. He couldn’t get it up for the hellion anymore, quite literally. The last time he’d run into her at the diner, she’d pressed up on him, kissed him, and murmured a truly filthy proposition in his ear, but he’d made an excuse and got the fuck out of there pronto. While the mere thought of Rose got him hard and aching.

He’d been finishing up a tricky enforcement gig for the club, which took up a large portion of his time. It forced him to make a training appointment with Rose at night instead of in the morning.

Stalking somebody was a big ass time commitment.

For some reason, meeting her in the evening felt like a date. He’d even considered inviting her over for dinner before the session but managed to shut it down before he’d brought it up.

Unfortunately, he was distracted. Mostly because he was fantasizing about taking her downstairs to The Vault, spreading her out on the padded St. Andrew’s Cross, tying her arms over her head, and… fuck.

As Duke put Rose through her training paces, he didn’t see one of the corners of a mat had flipped up, and she tripped over it and twisted her ankle. She gasped in immediate pain, clutching her leg.

“Lemme see.”

Duke knelt in front of her and placed her foot on his knee, and then gently removed her shoe before sliding down her gym sock. He probed her ankle, and she hissed at the slightest contact.

“Okay, I need you to wiggle your toes for me.”

She did, slowly, but he could tell from the way she grimaced it hurt.

“Good. Now flex your foot, and point your toes.”

She winced as she complied.

“Excellent. Put some weight on it for me and take a step.”

Rose took a step backward but kept most of her weight on the other foot.

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?”

“About a two.”

Duke nodded. “I don’t think you have a break, just sore muscles, and a slight sprain. It’s my fault—I should have given us more of a warm-up tonight. If you want, we can go to the clinic in town, and I’ll do some X-rays.” Duke doubted it was necessary, but he wanted to offer her the best care he could.

“No, I know it’s not broken.” She hobbled over to a chair and slid her sock and shoe back on. “I broke my big toe once, and it hurt a lot more than this.”

Duke stood and snagged a bottle of water—taking a chug before offering it to her.

Everything becomes erotic, even a stupid plastic water bottle, when he couldn’t touch her, taste her, fuck her.

He forced himself to think about her injury, to bring his thoughts under control. “You know, I got somethin’ that might help your foot.”

“What?” She finished lacing her shoes and glanced up.

“A shot of tequila and a dip in the whirlpool should help you feel better.”

It was a cure-all he’d used many times. When he’d been in the military, he’d had to settle for a hot shower instead, but the general principle was the same.

“And if you’ll let me, I’ll give you a massage. It should help ease your muscles.”

Rose didn’t say no out of hand. He supposed it showed some progress. She seemed to trust him a bit more every day.

“You know how to give massages?”

“Sure do. When I was in the army, I was sore all the fucking time, starting from boot camp on. So I checked out a few books, then took a couple of classes, and figured it out. It should make you feel better and take the edge off the pain.”

And it would cause Duke a lot of pain—the blue ball kind.

Rose searched his face, eyes intent.

“What do you think?”

Duke tried to sound completely casual when he was anything but. He itched to touch her, and he knew he shouldn’t do this, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. The desire to get closer to her was overwhelming. He promised himself he’d be content with some platonic touching.

“Will you let me put my hands on you?”

He waited, in agony, for her answer.

***

Rose swallowed the lump in her throat. His voice was a low, sexy rumble, and it made her insides twist into little knots. There were dozens of reasons to say no.

Duke already had a sex partner. From what she’d heard around the club, he practiced serial monogamy. A massage was an intimate activity, and she didn’t want to ruin his, er, relationship. Well, maybe it was a lie… yeah, she was sitting here lying to herself. She wanted to kiss him again, maybe more. Rose hated imagining him kissing the beautiful blonde and taking her to bed.

But there were other reasons to say no.

Because a massage was so up close and personal, it might trigger her. She’d only had one incident with him, but allowing him more intimate access to her body might touch off another episode. Then there was their professional partnership to consider. This touchy-feely stuff might make it awkward for both of them.

And there was only one reason to agree.

Rose wanted his hands on her. No, she craved it.

“Yes. Okay.”

Was it her imagination or did his face light up at the news?

Duke crossed and uncrossed his arms, then shuffled his feet. He seemed nervous.

Why would he be nervous?

“I’m gonna start up the whirlpool.”

Duke headed out to the deck, and she limped after him—mindful of her sore foot.He had a slate tile patio with a small wood-burning chiminea, a wrought iron fire pit on stilts, which he’d placed next to the water.

Rose remembered seeing it when she’d first arrived at his place. It was a cool, early autumn evening, and steam hung over the hot tub. The tub itself was black and filled with jets, which circulated the water. Behind the whirlpool was a rock wall, which had three small waterfalls flowing into the tub directly from the hot springs. Rose could see a ditch had been dug from the river—it zigged and zagged around Duke’s property.

“I don’t have a swimsuit.” She glanced at the bubbling water.

His eyes raked over her, and she knew he pictured what was beneath her clothing.

“Don’t worry. You don’t need one here.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.” The hair raised on her arms and the back of her neck—like every cell in her body was surging to life.

Their eyes met for a moment, and neither one of them broke the gaze. 

Duke spoke first. “I promise I won’t be gettin’ in with you, and the water will be churning so I won’t see a thing.”

She thought she heard him mumble something, which sounded like “damn shame” under his breath.

Then Duke went inside to retrieve some supplies.

Rose shrugged off her clothes and slipped into the heated water.

God, it felt good.

Rose instantly relaxed, her muscles going slack. She closed her eyes.

When he returned, Duke sat on a bench a couple of feet away and fiddled with the controls on the unit.

It was strange to be nearly naked with a man she hardly knew. Yet he didn’t make her uncomfortable, just intensely aware of his presence. He’d taken great pains to put her at ease.

Duke handed her a shot glass full of tequila along with a lime wedge. The rim of the glass had been encrusted with salt. She licked it, bolted the shot, and then pushed the lime wedge in her mouth. It tasted harsh, but a lick of fire ran along her throat, settling into her stomach. It drifted throughout her body, imparting a languid sort of warmth that matched the warm water surrounding her.

“Thank you.” She handed him the glass and leaned back into the embrace of the water, letting it rush over her.

“Another?”

“Please.”

Playing bartender, he poured her another shot, and she had an easier time downing it. Again, it snaked through her body—imparting a sense of serenity.

Yeah, definitely feeling better. She had a good buzz going, but she wasn’t drunk.

Duke pressed a button on the remote, and the bubbles increased. A jet shot out from the wall, pounding against her lower back.

Oh, yes. She relaxed into it, letting it batter her muscles into complete submission until they gave way, relaxing. This was exactly what she needed—her tension drained away.

Duke went into the house and re-emerged a few minutes later with a couple of towels. He knelt by the edge of the tub until they were at eye level.

“I’m sorry you got hurt. It’s my fucking fault. I shoulda been payin’ more attention.

She shrugged. “Don’t be. It isn’t your fault I’m a klutz.”

“I shoulda secured the mats.”

“It’s all good, Duke.” She patted his arm, leaving a trail of water droplets. “I’m not going to break. Believe me, it was nothing.”

“I think you’ve your fair share of beat-downs and then some, Firecracker.”

“What do you know? I got my very own bodyguard.”

“Yeah, and don’t you forget it.” He flicked another switch on the tub, which caused the jets at the base to fire up. “Forgot to turn these on.”

Rose squinted at the foamy water surrounding her. Lots of tiny bubbles fizzed around her body, and they grazed her legs as they rushed to the surface. Then the water started to churn, even more bubbles slid up her thighs, over her abdomen, and delving between her thighs. As another wave hit her, she nearly doubled over.

“Oh, my God.” Rose wasn’t in pain—no the sensation was unexpectedly pleasurable. Very pleasurable.

“You okay?” Duke cocked his head to the side.

“Uh, I'm fine. More than fine.” Unless you counted the embarrassment, she was getting turned on.

“Then why’d you make the noise?”

“It was, er, surprising.” More foamy water cascaded between her thighs, and she clutched the edge of the pool. “Oh, Duke.”

His eyes widened. “Are you…?” His eyes never left hers. “Does it feel,” he paused, tongue darting over his dry lips. “Does it feel good?”

“God yes.”

“Do you want to get out?” Duke reached for her, holding his palm up.

She grabbed his hand, but somehow, her legs wouldn't work, and she didn't quite possess the will to go anywhere. The water felt so good, so intense.

Rose moaned. “I don't think I can.” She sucked in a breath. “I’m not sure I even want to.”

Duke made a rough nose.

The atmosphere changed, became charged—like it did when he’d placed a hand on her hip, just before he kissed her.

Rose surged in the water, positioning herself over a big jet at her feet. The bubbles hit her in all the right places—floating along her thighs, swirling up around her nipples.

A half-strangled cry escaped her throat. “I think I might… I think I might….”

“Orgasm?” His voice had gotten impossibly low, a near baritone. It gave her the shivers, made her body throb even more.

She nodded furiously—self-conscious, but so aroused she couldn't help it.

“There’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about, Rose. If you want to…come, you should. There’s no one here.”

“Except for you.”

“Except for me.” His eyes held her captive.

She bit her lip, torn.

“You want me to look away?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Oh… Rose.”

“Duke, I need…."

She moved to the edge of the pool, wanting more contact with him.

“What do you need? Ask and I’ll give it to you—anythin’ your heart desires, Firecracker.”

Duke was inches from her, though the tub separated their lower bodies.

“I need this.” Rose pulled him into her arms, burying her face in his neck. “I need you.”

She wanted to be close to him, to feel him against her—surprisingly, he didn't protest. Instead, he seized her, pulling her to the very edge of the water, and kept his hands positioned at her waist.

“I got you, Firecracker.” Duke tangled his fingers in her hair, soothing her.

Writhing, she opened her legs wider and let the water work its magic. The jet hit her clitoris head on, and Rose trembled as the unyielding pulse drove into her.

“Duke!” Rose moaned in his ear, rocking in the water as she was wrapped in his arms.

“Say it again. Say my name.”

“Duke.” Rose teetered on the edge, she was so close—she could feel the orgasm building, about to wash over her.

He tilted her backward. “I want to see your face when you come. I need to see you. Come on, Firecracker—take your pleasure on your own terms.”

“Oh, yes.”

It finally hit her—speeding through her body like the tequila had–a rush of pleasure so intense she nearly passed out. She shuddered in his arms, gasping with desire.

Duke held her until she quieted and went motionless in his hold, like a rag doll.  He released her and stood.

She’d gotten his shirt damp, and Rose could see the bulge in his jeans—he hadn’t been unaffected by her display, but he’d made no move to act on it.

Rose couldn’t worry about that right now. She yawned, feeling sleepy all of a sudden. The orgasm had left her sated and gratified in a way she’d never been before—almost victorious. She’d had an orgasm all by herself, and it’d been about her own gratification. Rose hadn’t been used or abused in the process.

“Let’s get you out of there before you turn into a prune.”

Duke gathered her up in a towel. The night air felt cool on her heated skin, and steam rippled off her. He hauled her into his arms and carried her into his bedroom.

Under normal circumstances, this would make her jumpy, but she wasn’t—not even a bit. As if being held by Duke were the most natural thing in the world.

He’d set out a couple of towels, and she laid down on her belly, the other towel still wrapped around her backside.

Lying on a man’s bed injured, naked, and vulnerable wasn’t new territory, but this was a very different man. Duke would never take advantage of her weakness.

“Ready for a massage?”

All she could manage was a nod.

Duke grabbed a bottle of cocoa butter from the bathroom and squeezed some into the palm of his hand, warming it, before he touched her. He stroked the backs of her thighs, then her calves, and then captured one foot in his hands. Duke rubbed the heel and then moved to the center, his touch gentle, which made her toes curl, and she moaned, pressing her face into the pillow as he patiently kneaded her foot. Then he focused on her calf, holding it in his big hands, manipulating the length of it. She relaxed, leaning into his touch. Rose could feel the muscles relaxing, disengaging under his expert touch.

“Roll over for me.”

Still clutching the towel around her body, Rose obeyed.

His warm palms slid up the sides of her legs–ankles, calves, and then pushed the towel up to reveal her upper thigh, which was marred with red slashes—one very recent.

“You lied to me about cuttin’ your thighs.”

Damn. Rose had forgotten all about it. She sat up, trying to pull the towel back down.

“I—”

“Shh, no lies.” He cupped her chin in one hand. “Your safety and well-being are fuckin’ important to me. I’d hoped you stopped slicin’ yourself open.”

“I know, and I have.”

“You tellin’ me the truth?”

“Yeah, I’ve taken the knife out a couple more times, and it was touch and go for a bit—but I haven’t cut myself since the one on my thigh. I swear! I think the training helps—it gives me another outlet for the pain and anger. When I feel like hurting myself—I pummel the speed bag instead.” Although hitting the pain was far from pain-free, but it was a healthier outlet than cutting.

“Good. I… care about you.” The words seemed to be torn out of his throat as if they were very difficult to say. “Who the fuck knows why? But I care.”

Duke crossed to a small cabinet just inside the attached bathroom and grabbed a tray full of first aid supplies. After bringing them back into the bedroom, he placed them next to her thigh.

“I keep this on hand for accidents.”

Duke removed a few alcohol pads and swiped at her cuts to clean them. Then he applied ointment, along with four large Band-Aids to each side. After finishing, he secured them with medical tape.

“I’m sorry I lied.”

“I understand why you did, but you don’t have to. I get it, and I’ll never judge you.”

“How do you know these things?”

There were times when she didn’t understand everything she was going through, and she’d lived through it. Duke was far too empathetic, even for someone who’d trained as a physician. She wondered if he had personal experience with trauma.

Duke inspected her shoulders, and his expression darkened.

Crap. He could probably see the scars.

“Are those whip marks?”

Before she could answer, he plunked himself down behind her on the bed and pushed the towel lower to reveal the web of scars crisscrossing her back. The lashes from Kent’s whip had left deep welts, which hadn’t healed well.

“Fuck it all. It didn’t even occur to me to check your back during my first exam. I was preoccupied with doing the pelvic and the tox screen. Kent did a lot of damage.”

“Yeah, and most of it wasn’t physical.”

For all the scars on the outside, Rose had countless emotional ones. Kent had ravaged her body, but the destruction he’d inflicted on her mind was far worse.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him.”

“Get in line.”

Before she knew it, Duke pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. His face settled into the curve of her shoulder.

While she could feel his erection, she felt so safe in his arms. How strange. Rose had been wondering if she’d ever feel safe again. It felt good to be held with no expectation of anything else.

Duke stroked her back, tracing the lines of the scars with the tips of his fingers. She’d never truly be free of Kent—every time she looked at her own body, she saw him. Kent had made it his forever.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Look at you? Touch you? Firecracker, you’re beautiful.”

Rose shuddered, and tears pooled in her eyes.

She didn’t feel beautifulmost days, she felt damaged, used, soiled, and blown apart—sometimes she thought she’d never feel whole again.

“I’m ugly, disgusting,” she said hoarsely.

At one time, she’d had lovely skin, but Kent had left a patchwork of scars all over her body, which she’d added to with her cutting habit. None of them had healed properly, leaving raised marks on her body. Kent hadn’t taken her to a hospital for care. Instead, he’d given her antibiotics, some bandages, and hoped for the best.

“Bullshit.”

She shook her head. “I know exactly what I look like, and it isn’t beautiful.”

“Then you don’t see yourself clearly.”

Duke grabbed a porcelain bowl from the nightstand and handed it to her. It held some odds and ends—a lighter, coins, a pocket knife. After taking a closer look, she noticed a gold vein running through the bowl—it’d been smashed and pieced back together.

“Ever heard of kintsugi?”

“No.”

“It’s the Japanese practice of mendin’ items with gold. Once the object is put back together, it’s believed to be even more attractive, more beautiful, than the original.”

She touched the gold streak in the porcelain—and no, she hadn’t missed the symbolism of the cracked bowl.

“I suppose it’s pretty.”

“You’re damn right it is—and so are you. I bet you’re a hell of a lot prettier than before, inside and out. Adversity is an excellent character builder.”

Duke kissed the back of her neck. As kisses go, it was chaste, but it made her shiver. He’d hit a very sensitive spot.

She wished she could see his face, but she didn’t want to spoil the moment.

“I haven’t been repaired with gold.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Rose. To me, you shine.”

Tears threatened to fall again. How could he not see how contaminated she was?

Duke pressed a kiss to one of her scars.

And they sat together in silence for a few moments. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Rose swallowed the lump in her throat. “I can’t.”

She hadn’t told anyone everything, especially about the whippings. Daisy had pieced together a complete picture of what had happened to Rose, but Rose had resisted all attempts to discuss it further.

“Yes, you can. You can tell me anything.”

Rose turned around. She saw only compassion in his eyes. This man had been her protector for weeks, her champion, and her knight, to put a fanciful spin on their relationship. He’d been training her how to fight, healing her injuries. If she was going to tell anyone in the world, it should be Duke.

“I’m not ready yet, but I want to tell you, and I will. Just not right now.”

“I hope you do. Let me show you something that might help with your decision.” Duke gently lifted her off his lap.

She set the bowl down and watched as he walked to the end of the bed and peeled off his shirt. He had a lean, muscular body and deliciously tawny skin she wanted to touch, to kiss. On one shoulder blade, he had a three-pronged crown tattoo.

“Is the tattoo in honor of your road name?”

“Yeah, I got it when I joined the Horsemen, but you ain’t seen the important bit yet. Look again.”

Rose noted faded scars on his back as well, long stripes which had washed out to a pinkish-white color.

Someone had abused him as well.

“You were whipped too.” Rose swallowed thickly.

“Yeah. So nothin’ you can say will shock me.” Duke sat on the end of the bed facing her. “You aren’t the only one who is fucked up, Rose. I am too.”

“What do you mean… exactly?”

Duke blew out a breath. “We’ve danced around this topic before, but I’m gonna lay it out. I can relate… because it happened to me too.” A muscle worked in his jaw.

Sure, it was a vague admission, but she could read between the lines.

Oh my God.

Duke had been raped as well. No wonder he’d been so kind, so understanding. He’d gone through the same kind of torment.

“Who? Who did that to you?”

“This stays between us, yeah?” His eyes were black as night, glittering.

“Of course.”

“It was my bastard of a stepfather. It started the night of my thirteenth birthday and didn’t stop until my senior year.”

Rose didn’t rush to say she was sorry or express outrage at what had happened to him. She knew firsthand those sorts of platitudes felt empty.

Her chest tightened. Rose wanted to touch him, share his pain the way he’d shared hers, but his body vibrated with tension—instead she talked to him.

“He beat you and… raped you?”

Her own violation had come at the hands of a stranger, someone who didn’t know her and wasn’t supposed to love and protect her. She couldn’t imagine how Duke had endured such a betrayal.

“Yeah, he reamed my ass for four years.”

Duke said the words without a trace of emotion as if he spoke about something mundane like the weather or a traffic report.

He turned away from her. “I used to lay there at night, listenin’ for his heavy footsteps. I’d think about killin’ him—I fantasized about it, like it was a game. Killing Justin. I imagined him dying all kinds of ways.”

Rose recognized the defense mechanism, had used it a lot herself. Distancing yourself from the dark emotion–from the violence, the pain–helped for a time.  Eventually, you went numb, and you couldn’t feel anything anymore.

Tentatively, Rose reached for his hand and squeezed it—a wordless sharing of his misery.

“And your mother? Did she…?”

“Fuck, no. She never knew, and I made damn sure she never found out. My mom was sick at the time, real sick. She was diagnosed with stage four breast cancer.”