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Chapter Three
Reaper
WE’VE BEEN WAITING on the side of the road for Trax and Jameson to get here to tow this woman’s car for what feels like forever. Time seems to be standing still as I let my gaze take my fill of this woman who refuses to get out of her car even though sweat coats her skin and dampens her hair. With her windows barely down, not much of the breeze gets inside her car. She’s a stubborn woman who is terrified of something. I’m sure I’ve been added to this list of what she’s afraid of because she has no clue who I am or what I’m about.
From what I’ve seen, this woman is not the usual type to garner a second look from me. I might be jaded with being in the club so long and having women flock to me or having the Fallen girls at my disposal. From just a look, I want to know everything about this woman; what she loves, her goals, fears, and what makes her tick—hear her scream and moan out my name as I slide my cock in and out of her pussy. This is more than I ever want from a woman. Usually, I want them enough to fuck if it’s a piece of strange or have a Fallen girl suck me off, and then I’m done. The only difference between a piece of strange for me and a girl at the clubhouse is I always make sure the woman I’m with who’s not in the club gets off and finds as much pleasure as I do. I have a feeling one touch or taste will never be enough of this woman. She’ll sink her claws in more than she already has, and I’ll never be free of her.
“Darlin’, why don’t you get out of the car? I promise I’m not gonna kidnap you or harm you in any way. You can stay as far away from me as you’re comfortable with,” I tell her, starting to worry about her getting sick in the heat of her car.
“Okay,” comes her melodic voice with a hint of an accent to it.
Stepping out of her car slowly, I finally get a clear glimpse of her. She’s absolutely stunning. Her long, dark red hair is piled on top of her head, and a few stray tendrils have fallen loose to rest against the side of her face. She’s got hazel eyes that seem to change colors when her mood shifts. Right now, they’re almost brown with flecks of gold in her attempts to lie to me and keep her personal information secret. Wariness covers her face as she carefully closes her door and remains opposite it. This woman is shorter than I usually like women I’m with. She’s over a foot shorter than me, and I’m sure I outweigh her by a hundred pounds or more.
Her body is amazing, though. She’s got curves filling her out even as I take in her toned stomach and legs, which appear longer than they actually are. Looking at her stomach, there’s just a hint of skin and an almost silent confidence about her that’s been beaten back by someone based on the mistrust in her eyes as she sneaks a glance at me through her eyelashes. Her tank top is sticking to her tits, showcasing them, and I want to pull it out of the way to see what they look like. I know they’re more than a handful, but I want to know what color her nipples are and if they’re sensitive as hell. My eyes drift down her body as she rubs her legs together.
Interesting. She’s not as unaffected by me as I believed she would be. The jeans mold to her legs to show how small they are. I’m sure if she were wearing shorts, I’d find her legs as toned as her stomach. My mouth waters in anticipation of seeing her skin naked before my eyes. I’ve got a damn good imagination, and I have a feeling it won’t do her justice.
“Look, we both know you’re lyin’ here. I want to know what you’re bringin’ to my town,” I say, leaning closer to her as her breath hitches and her body begins to tremble.
“What makes you think I’m hiding anything?” she questions me, scanning the area again.
Her head has been a swivel since I pulled up. It’s as if she’s expecting someone to step out of the woods and grab her up without a word.
“First of all, Harley isn’t your name. I know that for a fact. How about we start with that shit?” I tell her, letting her know I know her game right now, and I’m not gonna tolerate it.
“Fine,” she says, huffing out in exasperation. “My name is Alex Torres. It was Garcia before I got married.”
“As in the Garcia’s from the cartel world?” I question her, knowing we’ve had more than one run-in with them in the past, and none of them turned out good.
“That’s the one. Now you know a little bit about why I’m on the run. My family is only one small piece of a very fucked up puzzle,” she tells me, her voice wavering as she wipes under her eye.
“There’s more to it than that. I’m not sure exactly what you’re runnin’ from. What else is goin’ on, Alex?” I ask, wanting to know her story in full detail.
“What’s this? Twenty questions?” she asks me, putting all sorts of sass into her words.
“Nope. Just tryin’ to figure out what the hell you’re bringin’ to my town. I think I can help you, but I can’t do that if I don’t know what I’m protectin’ you from. Your dad and his guys are bad enough. So, what is it?” I say, knowing my patience is running thin even if I want to fuck the shit out of her.
“I’m married to an asshole, and I’m trying to get away from him. Is that what you want to fucking hear?” she asks, tears filling her eyes. “Are you happy to know I’m so scared of my husband I’d rather be on the run until the day I die than live in the same house as him for even one more second?”
“No, that doesn’t make me happy at all,” I respond to her, wanting to pull her into my arms and take her obvious pain away from her.
“Listen, I appreciate you getting me a tow and sitting with me. I can’t take any help from anyone. I’ll be gone by tomorrow if my car is fixed. You won’t ever have to worry about seeing me again,” she says as I hear the familiar rumble of the tow truck coming toward us from the opposite direction.
“You got a phone?” I ask her, holding out my hand for it.
She hands me a burner phone – much like we use at the clubhouse. I put my number into it and hand it back to her. Just before she takes it, I press the call button, my phone vibrating in my pocket. There’s really no point in calling myself when she could switch out the phone at any given time. Honestly, I have no clue how many more she’s got stashed around in her car. If she switches them out, having the number for this one won’t make a difference if I want to call her.
“You call me if you need help. I don’t give a shit where you go. I’ll find some way to get to you and give you the help you need. Even if I have to send a friend until I can get to you,” I tell her, walking over to talk to Trax and Jameson, who have just gotten there to hook her car up.
I explain that I believe her thermostat is shot and they should check there first. Trax’s eyes are fixated over my shoulder as I talk to them, and I know he’s staring at Alex. Some part of me wants to smash his head in for looking at her. As she told me her story, even leaving out a majority of it, her life hasn’t been all sunshine and roses. A protective feeling took over I’ve never felt in my life. Yeah, I’d give my life for any member of the club. There wouldn’t be any hesitation or doubt in my mind about helping my family when they’re in need. Alex is essentially a stranger with men chasing her, and I want to shield her from everything bad in this world. Especially the fuckers trying to drag her back somewhere she doesn’t want to be.
Stepping up close to her, there are only two options for her to get off the side of the road. She can ride in the tow truck with two men she has no clue who they are. Or, she can ride on the back of my bike. I’ll take her into town, just past the clubhouse to the nearest motel I trust she’ll be okay to stay in without douchebags bothering her. Alex doesn’t hesitate to tell me she’ll ride with me on my bike. Apprehension fills her face at her choice of rides. I understand it if I’m being honest. Even though we’ve had a conversation, she still knows nothing about me because we talked about her and nothing more. Alex knows shit about me and what I’ll do to her given a chance.
Trax and Jameson get her car hooked up on the tow truck while the two of us stand closer to my bike, and she looks at her car. Just before I help her put my helmet on, she jerks as if just realizing something.
“I need my bag,” she tells me, panic lacing her voice. “My clothes, money, and other things are in there. Is there a way we can take it with us?”
“Of course, darlin’. Anythin’ else you need from the car?”
