She huffed and paused on her front steps to lock the door. “Bullshit.”
“You know we have rules. You didn’t think there was a reason we sent so many people to your house?” he asked.
“To find whatever it was you were looking for…” The wheels in her mind spun. For safety. Once again, the bottom fell out of her world. All this time she thought he didn’t care. Maybe she should be more worried about how much he did care.
“Just focus on your first ride, okay? You’ll be filled in on everything at the club.” He gently circled her wrist with his hand. “Evonne.” The soft touch was at odds with his masculinity.
She glanced up, caught in the snare of his eyes.
“When you’re with me, I don’t want you thinking about anything else. There’s no room for worry here.”
“Live free?”
His lips curved into a smile and he nodded. “That’s right, doll face, live free.”
“I can handle that.” She cleared her throat. “Now how about you take me on that ride.”
Rocky placed her purse in the saddlebag, buckled her into a black helmet and slid onto his bike. “Okay, foot on the peg there, grab onto my shoulders and pull yourself up.”
She followed his directions and clutched his broad shoulders. His thick muscles beneath her hand were impressive. Seated, she released him and placed her hand in her lap, unsure about how to grip him.
“You need to be a lot closer than that.” His large hands rubbed her thighs. Sparks sprung to life between them. “Press up against me and wrap your arms around my waist.”
The tone of his voice thickened and she knew he felt it too. Holding her breath, she gingerly put her arms around him.
Rocky laughed. “I’m not made of glass. Hold tight, the takeoff always jars newbies.” He turned on the bike.
Her body jerked. The rumble of the bike shook her clear to her core. It felt like one giant vibrator. The bike propelled forward and she clutched him for dear life with her heart in her throat.
* * * * *
Rocky couldn’t help but feel for the woman he helped off the back of his bike. She already had her world rocked once today, and she had no clue about the shit storm she was walking into. The knowledge in his head made his stomach ache. Levi. Or whatever he called himself these days is one twisted fuck, just like his dead pal Peter. It took a lot to creep Rocky out and the chilling pictures, featuring acts of
torture, scared them enough to place a non-club member on lockdown. He got a feeling Ms. Nice Ass walking in front of him wouldn’t take the news too well. He’d seen the spitfire in action. This would be one of the many times he felt glad he didn’t hold the title of President.
“Thanks,” Evonne said. Her voice sounded so gentle and her eyes no longer flamed with hellfire. Whatever had happened up in her room did her some good. Rocky had heard the commotion but chose to respect her privacy. People did lash out at betrayal like that and sometimes you had to get the shit out. Otherwise it’d fester. His mind wandered to his youth and his stomach clenched. The ever-present anger he once felt got him into a shit ton of trouble until he learned how to channel it into fighting. Well…legal fighting.
They walked to the clubhouse in silence. He could practically see the wheels spinning in her head.
The mood inside the club seemed subdued. Brothers sat in small clusters, talking among themselves as they waited for the meeting to occur.
Evonne turned to peer at him over her shoulder.
“They’re waiting in the office,” he explained.
“They?” Her voice wavered.
“Prez and the council.”
“Am I in trouble?” Her eyes went wide.
“No, nothing like that.” Against his better judgment, he moved up and placed a hand on the small of her back. “Here, I’ll walk you.”
The brothers’ gazes bored into him like lasers.
Rocky didn’t do nice with bitches. They were tools for pleasure. Still, he couldn’t kick a man—or woman—when she was down. Not one as good as Evonne. He played it fast and loose with biker bunnies because they knew what they were in for. They didn’t give a damn about commitment, rings or children. They wanted to be involved with a brother in any way they could swing it. It seemed distasteful, but what man turned down free trim after long periods on the road? The hook-ups didn’t mean shit. He’d be damned if any of the club mamas made him feel like being shackled with the ball and chain.
He knocked on the door, never one to overstep his boundaries.