Page 4 of Wanted By a King

“You’re taking me home?”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Hell no. I’m taking you somewhere else. But if you don’t get your ass on my bike, right fucking now, I’ll give Rocco a call and let him know where we are so he can deal with you.”

That gets her moving, her steps hurried as she dashes for the door. I follow her, knowing all too well that I’m deceiving my club right now by not ending her existence, or bringing her in. A dead Zoe means no trust fund. I’m sure I can remind Rocco of that which would likely stay his hand at ending her. Even as I try to tell myself the trust fund is the reason I’m going to cover for her, I fucking know that’s not the real reason.

I couldn’t care fucking less about that damn trust fund. Yeah, the club is fucking broke now after what Brian did, but we can make more money. But Zoe? She can’t be replaced. I don’t fucking know when that became a thing for me, but the bratty princess is under my skin, and I’m sure I want her around.

Leaving the seedy motel is a relief. I hate the thought of Zoe hiding out there. She’s too good for a place like that. And yeah, I know she’s too fucking good for me as well, but I’m a selfish bastard. I want something, I fucking take it. And apparently, that’s my princess.

Zoe’s arms squeeze tightly around my middle as we ride. She stays quiet, smart enough to know that asking questions right now will piss me off.

The ride takes about an hour, leaving behind the bustle of summer tourists and surfers as we travel up the coast before heading inland from San Gregorio into the Santa Cruz Mountains.

The ride feels like it takes a lifetime, my arm getting weaker by the minute as the pain radiates through me, slowly draining me of energy. The vibrations of the road pulsing through the handlebars doesn’t fucking help, and I start to get hot sweats as I fight the urge to pass the fuck out.

I don’t know what I would have done if my princess had shot me in my right shoulder. There’s no fucking way I could have managed the throttle and brake if she had done that.

The closer we get to my little hideaway, the better I feel about this decision. I’ve never brought anyone here before. Hell, no one even knows it exists, so I could be the dumbest fucker alive to be showing my hand to someone that just shot me, but there’s nowhere else I can take Zoe and hide what she did to me.

“Where are we?” Zoe’s voice sounds in my ear for the first time since leaving the motel, and fuck if I don’t like having her so close like this. Which is a weird thought. I don’t typically like people in my space unless I’m fucking.

As my bike bumps up the narrow gravel road, I look past the jungle of trees to the small cabin beyond. “Nirvana.”

“What?” Zoe asks, “Like the band?”

I chuckle, not answering her as we round the bend in the track, and a rustic old sign comes into view.

Nirvana.

“Oh.” Zoe breathes as we pass it. “So not like the band, then?”

I chuckle again. “Nope.”

“So Nirvana as in what? Peaceful?”

I shrug, fucking regretting that action, my arm already throbbing from the long ride with a bullet lodged in my fucking shoulder. “Something like that.” I grunt, finally pulling my bike to a stop in front of the cabin.

“Oh shit. You’re in pain.” Zoe hurries, climbing off the bike to come to my side, her blue eyes scanning over me in concern.

Why the fuck do I like that so much?

“It’s nothing I can’t handle, Princess.” I avoid her eyes as I slowly unravel myself off my bike.

I look up in time to see her roll her eyes before turning her sights to our surroundings.

“It’s really beautiful here.”

I nod, even though she’s not looking at me, and glance around at the place I haven’t been to in a long while. It is beautiful, the cabin surrounded by redwoods that stretch so high it looks like they are touching the sky from down here. The trickle of water floats up from the creek that runs through the back of the property. You can’t see it from the front where we are, but you can hear it, and it brings instant calm.

Sure, the beaches of California are great, but give me the mountains any day. I’d happily get lost for an eternity here.

An eternity of freedom and peace.

“So whose cabin is this?” Zoe asks, her sights now on the simple old timber clad cabin painted a shade of olive to help it blend into the landscape.

“It doesn’t matter whose cabin it is. I need to get inside.” I grumble, stepping up to Zoe and placing my hand on the small of her back, ushering her up the steps and onto the porch. I notice that it needs re-oiling, something that will have to wait until my next visit when I don’t have a fucking bullet in my flesh.

Zoe watches on with curiosity as I press the buttons on a small lockbox before it clicks open, and I retrieve the key. I feel fucking nervous with her eyes on me as I use the key to unlock the door, before pushing it open and turning back to see Zoe studying me much too close.

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