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I shook my head. “I told you, beautiful. I’m taking you home.” Then I took off.
5
BRYNN
As we roared down the street, my head was whirling as I tried to keep up with everything that had happened in such a short time. I felt as though I’d been on an emotional roller coaster. From the high of getting my first real job to the low of the guy they called Bear finding me and wondering if I was going to die. But none of that compared to the feel of riding on a motorcycle with my body wrapped around Dash.
My reaction to his raspy voice paled in comparison to the surge of desire that coursed through my veins when he’d stalked into the office and took his friend to task for pointing a gun at me. Dash was hot as heck—tall with muscles to spare. My fingers itched to run through his dirty blond hair, and I could easily stare into his hazel eyes for hours on end. Which was ridiculous of me to think, considering my introduction to him.
This wasn’t a guy I’d met somewhere innocent like the grocery store or the library. He was cleaning up a crime scene, for goodness’ sake. And beyond that, he was my boss. The last thing I should be doing was fantasizing about him. If I had any sense, I would’ve made a mad dash for safety after he’d walked me outside and had been focused on getting his leather jacket out of his saddlebag. But nope, I did the opposite instead. Like the silly girl in a scary movie who everyone knew was going to end up dead the first time she came on screen, I’d meekly stood by and let him bundle me up and take me for a ride.
Beyond pointing in the direction of my sister’s apartment, I hadn’t even said anything else when he’d headed toward the opposite side of town. For all I knew, I was cooperating with my own kidnapping just because I thought Dash was hot. Like a super, fast-acting case of Stockholm Syndrome or something. Except you couldn’t kidnap the willing, and I’d been more than happy to hop on the back of his bike.
It wasn’t until we pulled through a gate—a manned one at that—and the guy who’d let us in pressed a button so the doors swung shut behind us that I started to rethink my decision. Judging by the row of motorcycles in front of the big building we parked near, a lot of guys were inside. And not just any guys. With the leather vests they were wearing and Dash’s mention of their prez, it was probably safe to assume they were all members of the Silver Saints MC. I’d never met anyone in a motorcycle club before, but if the television shows I’d seen were right, I could be in a whole lot of trouble.
After killing the engine on his bike, Dash slid off and turned to me, holding out his hand. When I hesitated to take it, he stepped closer and tugged the helmet off my head. “You don’t have anything to fear here.”
“Are you sure about that?” I asked, my gaze darting toward the guy who’d just walked out the front door of the building. He had dark hair that was a little longer on the top with a mustache and kind of an extended goatee. He was tall and muscular too—which made me wonder if they put something in the water here—but without any of the softness on his face that Dash had when he looked at me.
Glancing over his shoulder, Dash shook his head and waited for the guy to head inside before he turned back to me again. His eyes darkened, looking more brown than green, as he promised, “Not gonna let anything happen to you, beautiful.”
“I don’t understand what we’re doing here,” I muttered before letting him help me hop off the motorcycle. “You said you were taking me home, and this isn’t where I live. Heck, I don’t even know where we’re at, really.”
He gripped the front of the leather jacket he’d put on me before our ride and tugged me closer. “This is the Silver Saints compound.”
I pressed my lips together, a wrinkle popping up in the middle of my forehead as I stared at him. His reply didn’t help me at all, only confusing me more. “That doesn’t even come close to answering my question.”
He jerked his chin toward the building. “Never saw the need to get a place of my own, so I live in the clubhouse.”
Understanding finally dawned, and my eyes widened. “I get it now. When you said you were taking me home, I thought you meant mine. But you were talking about where you lived instead.”
He threaded his fingers through mine. “For now.”
“Oh, you’re planning to move?” I asked as he led me toward the clubhouse.
There was an odd twinkle in his gorgeous eyes as he nodded. “I haven’t started looking for a place yet, but it’s been bumped up to the top of my to-do list.”
The guy who’d been outside for a moment hadn’t gone far. He was only about a foot away from the door when Dash opened it and nudged me inside. And he must’ve been able to hear what we’d been talking about because he asked, “You gonna punch me in the face if I take a guess at what’s at the top of your list?”
“Finding a house,” Dash grunted, tucking me into his side with a glare.
“Wouldn’t have been one of my guesses, but I can’t say I’m surprised.” The guy’s gaze slid to me, and he flashed me a grin. Dash tugged me even closer, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and making his friend laugh.
He was about to say something else when Dash growled, “Don’t go there, Patch.”
Patch’s smile widened as he held his hands up in a gesture of defeat. “I hear you loud and clear, man.”
It was good that someone understood what he meant because I still felt as though I was entirely in the dark about what was going on. I’d somehow found myself in the middle of an MC clubhouse—which looked nothing like I would have expected since it was clean and no half-naked women were hanging around—while my boss of less than one day was almost acting like we were a couple or something. After I’d accidentally witnessed him cleaning up a murder scene, a fact I kept forgetting somehow.
My only excuse was that my attraction to Dash was more potent than alcohol…and must have killed off a bunch of brain cells like drinking could do. Not that I had firsthand experience since I was only nineteen. But I’d seen it plenty of times with Thad and his friends. I’d clearly lost enough that I willingly let him lead me farther into the clubhouse and over to a long bar. I didn’t even think to argue until he started taking his leather jacket off me. I didn’t want to lose it, not when it smelled amazing and made me feel as though I had Dash wrapped around me. But I couldn’t come up with a good excuse to keep the jacket on, so I let him pull it off my body without complaining.
After setting it on the bar top, he asked, “You want something to drink, beautiful?”
My gaze darted toward the liquor bottles, nerves swirling in my belly when I realized he probably didn’t know that I wasn’t old enough to drink. He hadn’t even known my name, so Mrs. Acker couldn’t have given him a lot of details about his newest employee. I was worried that knowing how young I was might change how he looked at me, but I still admitted, “I’m only nineteen.”
His lips curved into a sexy grin that turned those nerves into butterflies of awareness. “Nobody’s gonna card you here, but we’ve got plenty of non-alcoholic choices if you want. There should even be some fancy root beer since Rider keeps a stash behind the bar.”
I was just going to take him up on the offer when the door flung open and two adorable little girls—identical twins with the same dirty blond hair and hazel eyes as Dash—came running across the large room toward us, screaming, “Uncle Dash!”
