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“Yeah, well, I kept my promise, stayed in school, graduated. But by then, I’d found an easier way to earn money to get that bike.”
“Selling drugs?”
Her chest rose and fell faster as the weight of her question hit her. Questions like that got people killed. She sat back on the recliner, retreating. He took a breath. “There are a lot of ways to pay for your chopper. Drugs are just one.”
“I see.”She didn’t.
“Anyway, I had a bike. But nowhere to go. My uncles wouldn’t let me join their crew. They wanted better for me, and by then, I had my own crew I was rolling with. I wasn’t about to walk away from my club to start again as a prospect.”
“What’s a prospect?”
“A newbie. You start as a recruit, basically toadying around, working your way in with sweat, and then with blood and crime until you earn your patch. Earn your respect.”
“So you found a way around the prospect system?”
He nodded. “Yep, it was just five of us in the Ricochets, and we still had to earn the other club’s respect. It took a lot of blood and sweat.”
“And crime?”
He waited for the nervous twist of her fingers to return. Instead, she just met his stare—and held. He sighed. “Okay, so let’s go over some rules.”
She arched her brown. “I wouldn’t think you were big on rules.”
“I’m not, but I have a few. First, never ask a biker about how he makes his money. Leave that job to the police and the prosecutors. Possessing that info is why a lot of bikers’ old ladies are doing time for crimes they never committed. It’s a bullshit law, and I don’t understand breaking up families, but it happens.”
“But I’m not your girlfriend.”
It was his turn to arch his brow. “Not yet.”
She hitched in a breath. “I don’t get you. What do you want? Why did you come here?”
“You know the answer to your question. I’m here because I want you. Want your body in my arms, your taste on my tongue, your head on my shoulder. I want to be the one to make you forget every other man you’ve ever known.”
“But,” she bit her lip. “You don’t even know me.”
“Angel, I don’t share that story about my parents with everyone—not even club members. When the Arrows told it, it seemed like a biker’s dream. Something to wish for on the long, lonely road. When my aunts told it, it was a warning. A moment of insanity that cost my mom her life—a fairy tale caution sign. Either way, it was never real until I heard your voice.”
“Youheardme?”
“Yep, I almost jumped out of Rebel’s chair when your magic voice called to me. Speaking to something inside, answering a question I hadn’t asked in years. When I saw you, I thought, damn, this happened to my father. I never really knew him, but here I am, riding down the road he traveled. About to claim a woman I don’t know a damn thing about, but thanking every lucky star that you don’t have a fucking man.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I know.”
“You came here for a massage.”
“I did, and for you.” Angel leaned back, pressing her spine into the back of the chair when I leaned forward. “I heard your story, and how you needed help. Like I said, something called me. I knew I wanted to help you. Provide for you. Protect you. Hell, I just wanted you. That has never happened to me before. Not like this. Not this fast. I’m riding my bike, and you’re pulling the pavement out like it’s a damn rug. When I was eighteen, I was racing home, trying to beat a storm. I took the corner around my house too fast and flew off the bike. I skidded down three houses on my ass. Tore up the side of my leg, broke my arm, and barely missed splitting my head open. Even that spill didn’t make me fall like this.”
“I have no words. I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need words, you just need heart. Look inside yourself, andyoutellme.”
“Why am I here?”
Chapter 4
Heat rose under Angel’s face, matching the scorching summer sun blazing through her window. How could she answer his question when… “I don’t know.”
