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“I got it,” he insisted, making sure his tone told her that he wasn’t leaving any room for an argument.
He reluctantly released her, but he did not miss the goosebumps that followed the trail of his fingers as he slid them along her skin. He also didn’t miss when her nipples once again tried to punch through her thin sweater.
He dragged his eyes away and grabbed her bag before he grabbed something else.
Her bag was heavy because it was packed solid. She was probably the type of efficient packer that rolled everything so damn tightly, she could fit an entire wardrobe in her bag. Whip had seen someone demo it on a TV show that Reilly was watching in the office one day. He certainly never traveled anywhere in his damn life to need to pack for a trip. Some of their club runs were the farthest he’d traveled.
“Just grab your helmet. Room number?”
When he glanced up, he noticed her lips slightly parted and her eyes dilated. “One,” came out a bit breathlessly, too.
Her “What’s going on?” once again circled his brain. The hell if he knew, but he was interested in finding out.
He mentally shook himself free as he nodded and followed Fallon in the direction of Room One. Reilly said she had booked Fallon a room on the end and she wasn’t kidding.
Fallon slid the keycard into the lock. Once it clicked and turned green, she shoved open the door and stepped inside the dark room. After she flipped on the lights, he followed her in, propping her bag against the foot of the bed.
He turned. “Gimme your number, gonna text you tomorrow as soon as the Honda’s back so you ain’t stuck here.” He pulled his cell phone out of the front chest pocket of his coveralls and pressed the side button to take it out of sleep mode.
She didn’t hesitate to rattle off her digits. He added them to his phone and immediately sent her a text so she had his number, too. He heard it buzz in the pocket of her windbreaker, now thrown onto one of the two queen-sized beds, but she didn’t dig it out.
“‘Kay. Gotta get back before Dutch has my fuckin’ head for not gettin’ that Ford done. Now you got my number, so if you need anythin’, just shoot me a text. Or go into the office and ask for Ozzy or Shay. They’re aware you don’t got wheels right now.”
Her brow furrowed. “Ozzy?”
“The manager of the motel and Shay, the woman that checked you in, is his ol’ lady.”
“Ah, yes. Reilly explained the whole ol’ lady thing. So, I guess this Ozzy is a part of your club, too?”
“Yeah.”
“You said he’s the manager. Who owns the motel, then?”
He paused. There was no point in lying since it was common knowledge. “Our club.”
“It seems you and Reilly forgot to mention that part. So, you do get a kickback?”
He shook his head. “No kickback. Just a small business tryin’ to make do like any other small business. We believe helpin’ the local economy’s better than handin’ scratch over to the big corporations who take it and spend it elsewhere. We prefer to keep things local around here.”
“The gentleman inside the office—I’m assuming he was Ozzy—was wearing a leather vest. The patches on the back said Blood Fury MC. That’s the club you all belong to, right? Or is there more than one MC in this town?”
“Nope. Just the one. No other MCs would dare try to establish their home base in our territory.”
“Why not?”
“‘Cause it’s ours.”
“Yes, you said that. But your club doesn’t own the whole town, right?”
“No, we don’t own the town, but we own a few businesses in this town, and this is our territory.”
She tilted her head as she studied him. “That doesn’t explain how that makes it your territory.”
The only explanation needed was… “We claimed it.”
She sighed at his answer.
He didn’t have a better one for her because he just went with the fucking flow. Trip was a good leader, Whip trusted the man, trusted the process, and he’d do whatever Trip needed him to do. That included protecting their territory from other MCs disrespecting the Fury by trying to move in. Or protecting it from the inbred fucknuts living on that damn mountain.
The Fury protected what was theirs. Plain and simple.
But Fallon was an outsider and he shouldn’t go into great detail about the club. She could accept what he said or not. Didn’t matter either way. She’d be gone in a few days. As soon as her oil pan arrived.
Until then, he’d like to take advantage of her time in Manning Grove. Maybe tomorrow after the customer returned the loaner cage, he should be the one to come get her. While doing that, he could suggest them heading over to Pete’s to watch whatever band was playing instead of her sitting alone in her motel room.
