“You’re coming?” I asked, fucking shocked.
Hush met my eyes, then flitted his gaze to Sia before rubbing a hand over his head and muttering, “Gonna check the perimeter. I’ll take first shift.” He searched around us. He let out a deep breath, then made himself address Sia, looking right into her eyes. “Ky said there were some bikes around here somewhere. Said we were to use them for now ’cause we came in the truck.”
“Poppa’s bikes?”
Hush shrugged. “Just said there’d be bikes.”
Sia’s shoulders stiffened. “My poppa had a couple of bikes. Ky stores them here.” She pointed to the garage at the side of the house. “Ky keeps them running. Comes up most weeks and keeps them up to scratch.” Sia brushed past us to head to the garage. She took a ring of keys from her belt and opened the door. Hush fell into step beside me, and we waited to see the famous Big Poppa Willis’s pride and joys. Sia flung the door open. She pulled dust sheets off two bikes that sat in the center. Two Harleys were revealed. One fairly new Fat Boy, and a—
“1960s Duo Glide.” Hush crouched down beside the vintage motorcycle in awe. Brother had always got a boner for the older models. I preferred a good ole Chopper. Never got the Harley obsession.
Hush ran his hand over the leather seat. “It’s beautiful.”
I didn’t realize how tense Sia was beside me until, radiating pure fucking hate, she hissed, “They should have been buried along with the man that rode them.” Hush slowly got to his feet and looked dead in Sia’s eyes.
“I’ll get the key for you,” Sia said and left to go into the house. I moved beside Hush.
“Daddy issues?” I asked. Hush shrugged.
Sia came back and threw the keys in Hush’s direction. “Gas canisters are along the back wall if you need them. There should be enough for about a week before we’ll have to go to the station down the road to get more.” Sia spared a glance at the bikes again. “My brother idolizes anything of my poppa. These bikes are no exception.” She looked to me, then Hush. “You all do though, huh? See anything to do with that club as sacred and untouchable?”
I’d just opened my mouth to agree when Hush said, “Club saved most of us. We owe it everything.”
Sia, all ballsy and shit, walked up to Hush. My brother stood his ground. His nostrils flared as the bitch I knew he had a huge fucking hard-on for stood toe to toe with him. Hush stood tall over Sia, but that didn’t stop the firecracker from saying, “Yeah, but more often than not it takes more than it gives.” She put her hands on her hips. “You meet my poppa, Hush?” Hush shook his head. “He was a total bastard.”
“Damn, cher.” I whistled low. “He died for the club.”
Her head whipped to me. “So did my momma. Only she didn’t ask for any part of it. The club was his life. Because of your precious club, I never got to know my mother. My aunt told me as much as she could. That Momma was always fucking torn up over the fact that my poppa stuck his cock in any slut pussy he could find, so much so that she left him when she was pregnant with me. She tried to take Ky too, but Big Poppa Willis would never let her have his son. His Hangmen heir. My father kept Momma caged by her love for him. Kept her pathetically hanging on to any scrap of love he threw her way, only for her to die because he couldn’t even open a fucking gate without making her beg for that too—” She stopped herself from continuing, her face bright red with rage.
Thrusting the bike’s key at Hush, she turned on her heel and headed out of the garage. She only stopped at the door to speak over her shoulder. “I ain’t got much love for the club, that’s obvious. But from the minute I met you two, you seemed different to most of the assholes at that place . . . I’m praying I was right. It’s why I asked for you two to come here, with me.”
I fucking stopped breathing until she walked into the bright daylight and away from us. I turned back to Hush, who was watching her go, his blue eyes fucking lit.
“We’re different, huh?”
“You know we are,” he said, and then got on the bike. The engine roared to life. He tore out of the garage, leaving me watching him go.
I ran my hand down my face and stared up at the garage’s dusty rafters. I breathed in deeply, and then took off after Sia. I saw her sexy ass walking across to the barn. I kicked into a jog and caught up with her just as she entered the barn doors. She went straight to her horses, stroking each one down the nose. I went along each stall, seeing them all for myself. A strange kind of tightness pulled in my stomach as I did. This was my fucking world once. Horses, rodeos, and no Hush.
A whole lot of ignorance about those around me too.
It felt like it was someone else who had lived that life. It was the life my parents had mapped out for me. One I never dreamed I would walk away from.
I patted the neck of the quarter horse I was looking at. She nuzzled her nose into my shoulder.
“You’re good with her.”
I smiled and turned, and immediately thought that I’d never seen blue plaid look so fucking good. “I’m good with all the females, cher.” I waggled my eyebrows at her and smiled wider; a huff left her mouth, followed by a light laugh.
“That line normally work for you?” she said playfully, cocking her head and placing her hands on her curvy hips.
I slammed my hand to my chest, spooking the mare. “Sia, baby, I’m hurt,” I pronounced dramatically. I walked slowly toward her. She straightened slightly, but kept my stare until our chests almost touched. I smoothed back a curly piece of hair that had fallen over her shoulder. Her breath hitched as I did so. “I got no smooth talk for the ladies.”
“Sure you don’t.” Sia tilted her chin up at me. “You’re a Hangman. I know what club life is like, remember? Ky is my brother. Hell, but for blood, so is Styx. I know what goes down with you guys. Slut pussy and sucking your dicks. Y’all got no fucking talk for the ladies.”
I rolled my lips together, knowing my dimples had come out in full force when I saw her baby blues flare. “Oof, cher, that mouth.” Sia struggled to fight back her smile. I leaned down and whispered in her ear, “I like it. Never fucking lose that sass, darlin’.” I could sense, rather than see, Sia roll her eyes. She slapped my chest and tutted. Before she could remove her hand, I took hold of it. She watched as I lifted it to my mouth. I locked my eyes on hers and kissed the soft skin on the back.
Sia pulled her hand away and thrust a shovel into my hand. “You may be a smooth talker, but all I wanna know is how good you are at shoveling horseshit.”
“The best,” I said and started cleaning out the stalls as she put the horses out into the fields to graze.
When they were all done, Sia asked, “You wanna go for a ride?” She pointed her thumb at two horses: one mare, one stallion. “They need exercising. Clara, the girl who helps me out here, didn’t get much chance with them while I’ve been gone.” She pointed to the stallion. “And she daren’t ride him.”
“Recently broken in?”
Sia nodded. “Still goes bucking-bronc at times.”
A familiar sense of excitement zipped through me. “Don’t you know you’re looking at the New Orleans and Louisiana State youth saddle bronc champion? Three years in a row.”
“You’re a bronc rider?”
I tapped my Stetson, lowering my head. “Aubin Breaux at your service, ma’am.”
Her eyes widened. Her mouth fell open. “Oh my God! I’ve seen you!” Her head shook in disbelief. “I used to watch you on Rodeo TV when I was younger.” She stilled. “Wait, I’m only twenty-four. You can’t have been much older than me at the time.”
“I’m twenty-six.”
“And Hush?”
“Same.”
She nodded, seemingly to herself, and then came toward me. “Aubin Breaux.” She sounded stunned. “Your name is Aubin Breaux.” She smiled. “I get the road name though: Cowboy. But . . .” Her head cocked to the side like she was trying to figure me out.
“Ask me, cher.”
?
??You were set to go places in rodeo. Professionally. Why did you stop?” Her eyes fell to my cut. “And how the hell did you get in with the Hangmen?”
My fucking stomach twisted again; that weren’t my story to tell. I turned back to the stallion. “I’m more interested in this guy than talking about my rodeo past.” I ran my hand down his neck. Sia was still watching me curiously. “You breed them?”
She sighed, seeing I wasn’t gonna give her more information. “Yeah, I breed them.” Sia moved beside me and ran her hand over the stallion’s nose. “But I train them more. Barrel racing mostly.” She nudged my shoulder. “Broncos too. Basically, everything a horse can do in a rodeo.” She shrugged. “I’m pretty damn good at it.” She dropped her hand. “I’d have a bigger business if I wasn’t . . .” Her eyes dropped. “If I didn’t live in hiding. Can’t risk the exposure.”
I tipped my head to the side. “You barrel race yourself?”
“Local champion,” she said, grinning. “Still the title holder ’round these parts.”
“Then why the hell didn’t I see you on the circuit?” I pursed my lips and ran my eyes down her body. “I would have remembered you, cher.”
Her face frosted over. “Because, like now, I was hidden. Big Poppa Willis’s daughter is good leverage for enemies. So we were tucked away and I had to curb my dreams. Had to compete amateur instead of competitive. Still do.” She raised her hands. “But that’s okay, because it’s for the sake of the club, and everything is always for the club.” She put her hand on her forehead and looked up at me. “Sorry. I just get pissed a lot.”
I decided to leave that shit right the fuck there. “Where’re the saddles?”
Sia exhaled, clearly relieved that I’d turned the conversation around. She brought the bridles and saddles from a back room and got the horses ready. She jumped on the mare and smiled down at me. “You still remember how? Or can you only ride something with an engine these days?” she teased.
I jumped on Triumph, the stallion, and quickly found my seat. Triumph danced on the spot, nose flaring. “Let’s see, shall we?” I said and kicked him into a gallop out of the barn and across the open field. I heard Sia’s peal of laughter behind me. I turned with the edge of the field and saw Sia coming after me. After a sprint around the field, I drew Triumph to a walk. Sia pulled up beside me, eyes bright. “Well?” I asked.
“You’re all right,” she reluctantly admitted, then laughed. “No . . . you’re pretty fucking good, and you”—she pointed at me—“you smug bastard, know you are.”
I sat back in my saddle and sighed. “Yeah, but it feels so fucking good to be constantly told so.”