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Chapter Two
Cole took Angel by the arm and led her out of the clubhouse and down the porch steps. She must have noticed the way the other men all stepped out of his way, not wanting to mess with him in the mood he was in. She clung to his back as if he was her only protection against them all, and perhaps if he was being honest, that was true. He pretty much was all that stood between her and them. Fortunately for her, none of the Dead Souls MC would dare to go against a member of the Evil Dead MC, least of all their VP.
He led her over to a table with a canopy tent over it. There was an older man with long gray hair and a gray beard selling stuff. He was packing it up to leave when he turned and saw them.
“Cole! How ya been?”
“Fine. How ya doin’, Boze?” Cole nodded to him.
“Getting by. You need something? I got some real nice stuff,” the old man offered nodding toward the table.
Cole glanced down, his eyes running over the assortment, but apparently not finding what he was looking for. “Got any boots that’d fit the lady here?”
Boze eyed her up and down, noticing the cuffs. His eyes cut back to Cole, but he must have known better than to question him. “Yeah, yeah, sure. I think I do.” He turned and shuffled through some boxes, finally pulling one out and setting it on the table. “Try these.”
Cole pulled them out and bent to put them on her. He slid his hand up her calf, lifting her leg to slide one boot on. She touched his shoulder with her cuffed hands, trying to keep her balance.
He glanced up, hoping she couldn’t see the effect she was having on him. The touch of her bare leg had sent a ribbon of desire shooting through him. Here he was squatting down next to the long beautiful length of her bare legs, his eyes about level with her crotch—of course sex was running through his mind. But that didn’t mean he wanted her to see it. She was scared enough as it was. “Does it fit?”
Angel put her weight on it, testing. She nodded.
Cole bent and slid the other one on, then stood and turned to Bozeman. “How much?”
“Hundred.”
Cole pulled the money he’d gotten from Chuck out of his hip pocket and peeled off a hundred dollar bill, tossing it on the table. “Thanks, man.”
“Yeah, sure. Take care of yourself, Cole,” Bozeman replied.
***
Angel trailed behind as the man now led her across the grounds toward the long drive that stretched down to the road. They walked along the line of bikes parked there. Stopping in front of one of them, he turned and looked back at her, his eyes dropping down to her cuffed hands.
As she watched, his hand moved to his side and in the darkness she saw a flash of silver as he pulled a knife from the sheath at his hip. Angel took a step back. It had a large wicked looking blade. She thought it might be a Bowie knife, but she wasn’t sure. Her mouth went dry as she wondered what he was going to do with it.
She watched as he lifted his flannel shirt out of the way and sliced about a two inch wide piece all the way across the front of his white undershirt hem. Then he cut the piece of fabric in two sections and put the knife back in its sheath.
He looked up at her. “Come here.”
She hesitated a moment, and then took a timid step toward him.
He reached for her cuffed hands and slid a piece of the soft cotton tee shirt under the metal on each of her wrists.
She looked up as he worked at it, noticing the way the light from the bonfire highlighted the blond of his hair. She also noticed how gentle his hands were as he touched her.
He met her eyes. “That better?”
She was again struck by how blue his eyes were and how long his lashes were. He’d asked her a question, was waiting for her answer. She nodded.
He turned and reached for his helmet, taking it off the handlebar where it dangled by a strap from the handgrip. Stepping back over to her, he put it on her head, buckling the strap under her chin. Then he threw his leg over his bike and patted the seat behind him. “Come on, darlin’.”
She stepped over to the bike, slid her leg over the seat and sat.
He glanced back at her, his eyes dropping to the cuffs. “Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked naively, wondering if she’d done something wrong.
“I’ve got no back rest.”
She stared at him blankly, not understanding.
“You’re going to fall off if you can’t put your arms around me to hold on.”
“Oh.”
He thought a moment, then said, “Put your hands over my head.”
She lifted her arms as high as she could, and he ducked down a bit until she got them over his head. Then he pulled her arms forward and slipped one arm and shoulder through the circle of her arms, and then the other. He slid her arms down around his waist. “You okay?”
“Yes.”
