Rough Ride Read online

  And there they were. Two fabulously handsome brothers of Chaos—Tack Allen and Hop Kincaid. They were older, sure, but they were still crazy-hot.

  They were also, right then, the instant their eyes touched on me, crazy-freaky-scary.

  It was not unknown in the Denver biker world that Chaos took the mistreatment of women seriously, as in, they seriously one hundred percent did not like it (one of the reasons why I used to hang at their Compound a lot, where I’d met Shy).

  Now I was getting a dose of that in my mom’s living room.

  As the keeper of a vagina, I had to admit, it was cool.

  That didn’t make it less crazy-freaky-scary.

  To avoid the crazy-freaky-scary, I looked to the women with them.

  Tack had had Tyra when I was with Shy. She was gorgeous, curvy, and had deep-red, beautiful hair.

  The tall, slim, beautiful brunette with Hop was familiar, but for Hop, as far as I knew, she was new.

  “Hey,” I greeted.

  “How you doin’, darlin’?” Tack asked.

  “Healing. Good. Thanks for checking but it wasn’t necessary. Every day it gets better and soon I’ll be back to new,” I answered.

  Or new with scars, so a new kind of new.

  “That’s good,” he muttered, staring intently at me.

  “So, well…” I hesitated because I didn’t want to say what I said next but I’d grown up around clubs, I knew the drill, and respect needed to be shown. “Do you all want something to drink or something?”

  “We’re here to share that we’ve got your place sorted out,” Tyra spoke up.

  “I…” That threw me. “Sorry?”

  “Throttle’s still in the hospital,” Hop’s deep voice sounded and I looked to him. “He’s being released today into police custody.”

  I’d heard about my ex-man, this coming from the police who were keeping me informed about my situation. Thus I knew, before the cops got to him, someone had carved into his face with a blade.

  My guess, Hound. I’d heard rumors when he went to work he didn’t mess around.

  I had mixed feelings about this.

  As a human being, I did not condone slicing someone’s face with a knife.

  As the woman who’d been strangled and beaten by her boyfriend only to be turned over to all his friends to have a go, it didn’t bother me all that much.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Hop went on. “We figure you wouldn’t want to go back there so the boys went and got your shit, moved it into a new pad. It’s Chaos. We’ve had it secured. The women have sorted your things. So you’re good to move in whenever you’re healed up.”

  As he finished, Tack walked to me, lifting his hand.

  Dumbly, I lifted mine too and he dropped a key ring in it with a number of keys on it.

  I stared at the keys in my palm as my mom asked, “How is it secured?”

  “Security system,” Tack answered. “Doors, windows, garage. Direct dispatch callout if breached. When you go in, the garage door openers are on the kitchen counter.”

  I looked to him then I turned to my mother.

  The relief was practically glowing a golden aura around her body.

  Damn.

  “The system is top of the line and those Bounty boys broke their bond agreements so they won’t be let out prior to their hearing, and now most of them will be standing trial for more than just the runs they were making,” Tack continued. I looked back to him to see his attention directed at Mom. “Still, we’re not takin’ any chances,” his eyes came to me, “so we’ll continue to have a brother on you.”

  Okay.

  That wasn’t happening.

  “That isn’t necessary,” I murmured.

  “We’ll agree to disagree on that,” he returned firmly.

  That meant: You’re moving into the space we’re offering you and accepting our protection and there will be no discussion on either.

  I, however, was feeling a discussion was necessary.

  “Mr. Allen—” I started.

  “I’m Tack to you, darlin’,” he cut me off, now speaking gently. “Always have been, nothin’s changed that.”

  I stared him right in the eye.

  “Mr. Allen,” I repeated resolutely, watched his jewel-blue eyes flash and his mouth set tight but I didn’t care, and this time he didn’t interrupt me. “I’m sure you can imagine that I’m keen to move on from all that’s happened and I appreciate your concern. But if you’ll tell me where you took my stuff, Mom and I’ll go get it. I’m not Chaos’s problem anymore.”

  “’Fraid at this point that’s not something that’s ever gonna change,” he replied. “Not that you’re a problem, sweetheart. Just that you’re ours and we take care of our own.”

  That felt good but I couldn’t let it feel good.

  So I didn’t.

  “I appreciate your loyalty but what I’m trying to communicate is that I’m out.”

  “Rosalie,” Hop said in a quiet tone, “you know, honey, once you’re in there’s never an out.”

  I’d hoped for that…once.

  I’d hoped to be a part of their family and never let go.

  But I didn’t get it.

  And now I didn’t want it.

  (Okay, so I was just telling myself that but I hoped to get in that mindset in, say, five days to fifteen years.)

  “I’ve never been in,” I returned.

  “Sweetheart.” It was now Tack who was giving me the quiet. “You’re Chaos and you know it. You know how you are. But I’m guessin’ you know how deep that goes now, am I right?”

  “Because I put my neck out for you and nearly got it wrung?” I asked, watching some of the crazy-freaky-scary come back at a reminder of what happened to me.

  “There’s that and there’s more, and I ’spect if you don’t know what that more is now, it won’t be long before you find out,” he answered.

  That was definitely not going to happen.

  I opened my mouth to share that when Tyra stepped forward.

  “Kane, why don’t you and Hop step outside?” she suggested.

  He turned his head toward his woman. “We’re not steppin’ outside.”

  “Okay then.” She gave in immediately, but didn’t give up. “How about you back off?”

  “Red—” he began.

  “Tack, let me,” she whispered.

  He studied her.

  Then he backed off.

  She came closer to me and the brunette approached with her.

  Mom got closer to my side.

  When she did, that was when I wanted to cry.

  We’d lost Dad three years ago and I, honest to God, to that day, did not know how either of us had survived it.

  But I knew there’d come a time, and I prayed it would be far in the future, when I’d face a world without my mother in it and I didn’t know how I’d manage it.

  “Hey, Rosalie,” Tyra greeted like she’d just walked in.

  “Tyra,” I replied.

  She tipped her head toward the brunette. “You remember Lanie?”

  Right, yes, I remembered then. Her name was Lanie and she was Tyra’s best friend, now Hop’s old lady.

  I checked out the other woman and noted again she was incredibly beautiful and had my body structure, with more length and less breast tissue.

  “Yeah, I saw you around the Compound,” I said, then gave her a “Hey.”

  “Hi, Rosalie,” she responded on a small smile. “Nice to officially meet you.”

  I nodded and gestured to my side. “Did you guys meet my mom?”

  “Yes,” Tyra answered. “We introduced ourselves when we came in.”

  “Great,” I said, not meaning it, and that sounded in the word.

  “I think I need to explain something to you,” she declared.

  “I’m not sure you do,” I retorted.

  Mom got closer and linked her pinkie with mine.

  I held on tight.

  Tyra kept talking like I
hadn’t.

  “They’re feeling this.”

  Damn it.

  Now I was getting mad.

  “They are?” I asked sarcastically.

  “They made you a promise and they didn’t keep it,” she pointed out.

  “I made my own decisions and I knew the consequences,” I returned.

  She kept on her bent.

  “They are not men who don’t keep promises.”

  I shut up in order to let her finish so this could be done.

  “They need to keep that promise now, Rosalie. They need to look out for you,” she shared.

  “And what if I don’t want them to look out for me?” I asked.

  She gave me an amused smile, a short shake of her head, and replied, “That doesn’t factor.”

  I stared at her. “That’s crazy.”

  She then gave a slight shrug. “That’s Chaos.”

  Okay, I was fed up with this.

  “Listen, the police are involved,” I informed her, though I knew she knew. “I’m done with Throttle. Throttle is way done with me. They meted out their brand of justice. I contacted the authorities to mete out mine. I don’t know if there’s anything more to play out but that doesn’t matter for you guys. Chaos has no part in this anymore. When Throttle took me to his brothers, it became about him and them and me.”

  “There is no you,” Tyra told me.

  That ticked me off.

  “Of course there’s a me,” I snapped.

  “Not when you belong to Chaos,” she volleyed.

  I heard Mom take in a breath.

  “I don’t belong to Chaos,” I returned.

  “Honey,” she said softly, “even if the brothers, each and every one of them, didn’t claim you because of what you did for the Club and what you endured because they fell down in protecting you, which they do, you’re Snap’s.”

  Oh no.

  Not on your life.

  I started to say something but she lifted her hand and kept going.

  “I’m so sorry. This is a lot. So much is happening to you, Rosalie, and I hate that for you. But you can lie to me. You can lie all you want. Just never lie to yourself. You know where that stands better than I do. A brother claims a woman, she’s owned by the Club, and when it’s Chaos, that’s a good thing. Trust me.”

  “I am currently, and for the foreseeable future, not property of any member of the male species,” I declared, then, for good measure, decided to add, “Especially not a biker.”

  “I’ll leave that part up to Snap,” she muttered.

  “Okay, Tyra, listen—” I started angrily.

  “Rosalie,” she whispered. “Please, I’m begging you, let us take care of you. We need to take care of you.”

  At the sincerity in her tone and the look in her eyes that shared she knew my pain in a lot of ways right then, I went still.

  And when I went still, my mom’s pinkie released mine so she could curl all her fingers around all of mine.

  “I can understand that right now, you don’t want us, but for us, you’re our family and you’re feeling pain and in a serious situation that was caused by our issues,” Tyra explained. “Think about that. Think about how you’d feel if the role was reversed, if you were me standing in front of a woman who had what happened to you happen to her. How would you feel? What would you need to do?”

  “And how, precisely,” I began acidly, “did what happened to me become about you?”

  “Because we need to atone and you’re you and you’re the kind of person with the kind of heart who’ll need to allow us to do it.”

  Damn it!

  I was.

  I was that person.

  That person Dad taught me to be.

  That person Mom taught me to be.

  Not to mention I hated it they were feeling this so deeply. They didn’t beat the crap out of me and they couldn’t provide 24/7 protection, I knew that from the beginning. I mean, I was living with Beck, for goodness sakes.

  I also hated being snarky.

  So I clamped my mouth shut.

  Mom giggled just a little.

  I turned a glare toward her and saw instantly she wanted Chaos to take care of me really, really badly.

  Damn it!

  Lanie took a step forward, digging in the slick clutch she’d had tucked under her arm, a slick clutch that went with her slick outfit of tailored trousers, fabulous feminine blouse, and magnificent heels that did not say “Biker Old Lady” but instead said, “Givenchy Thinks This Chick Is The Shit.”

  She pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to me.

  It was thick, almost like cardstock, and had a cool logo of an advertising agency on the top with the name Elaine Kincaid, CEO under it with something written below.

  I’d missed that news.

  She wasn’t just Hop’s old lady, they’d gotten hitched.

  “That’s the address for your new place. It’s close to Colombo’s and close to your mom. Actually, a lot closer than your old place,” she said.

  I stared down at the address and saw she told no lies. It was probably a ten-minute ride from Mom’s place and the same from Colombo’s.

  Last, it was the same from Ride, the auto supply store and custom car and bike garage that Chaos owned where their Compound was also located.

  In other words, it was smack in what certain citizens of Denver knew with zero doubts was Chaos territory, owned, controlled, and patrolled by the brothers.

  I’d lived in Aurora, a suburb southeast of Denver, with Beck.

  In terms of club turf, that address was like I was moving to a different country.

  Well, at least I could shave off forty minutes from my work commute.

  “My number is also on that, as is Tyra’s,” Lanie shared. “If you like, we’d love to show you and Renae,” she gestured with a hand to Mom, “your new space.” She gave me a grin. “It’s really cute.”

  “And who do I pay rent to?” I asked pointedly.

  Tack rejoined the conversation by growling, “That’s covered.”

  “Kane,” Tyra said under her breath.

  Okay, this I couldn’t give in on. I paid my own way.

  “Absolutely unacceptable,” I said on top of mine.

  “For a few months,” Lanie cut in. “Just a few months. After you settle in, get healed up, we’ll talk about rent.”

  “How do I know it’ll be something I can afford?” I asked.

  “It’ll be something you can afford,” Hop answered.

  “Hop,” Lanie said sharply.

  “We’ll hammer all that out when the time comes,” Tyra put in.

  “This is wonderful, thank you,” Mom said.

  And that, as was Mom’s way, was that.

  My voice was a lot like hers (in times not like this one, but Mom’s never wavered), delicate and melodious. Soothing. Peaceful. I could probably count on one hand how often she’d raised her voice that I remembered. Even in heavy situations, when folks were upset or angry, if Mom waded in, her calm, the tranquility of her voice, assured and settled pretty much any situation.

  And right then it said she appreciated what they were doing for her daughter, but she and I were both done with this conversation.

  I’d had years of Mom being able to pull that kind of thing off.

  I was still surprised to see it work on Tack Allen and Hopper Kincaid.

  “Appreciate you ladies givin’ us time,” Tack murmured. “And good to see you’re healin’, sweetheart,” he said to me.

  “We’ll just head out,” Hop added, making a move with Tack.

  “Call us when you go to your new place,” Lanie urged. “Or…you have the keys, if you go, give us a bell and tell us what you think.”

  “Right, thanks,” I replied.

  “And if you need anything…” Tyra let that trail.

  I just nodded to her and gave her a tight smile.

  “Thank you for coming,” Mom said, making her own move to the door.

&nb
sp; I stayed where I stood.

  “See you later,” Lanie said to me.

  “Mm-hmm,” I hummed noncommittally.

  “’Bye, Rosalie,” Tyra said.

  I nodded to her again.

  Tack and Hop gave me looks and jerked up their chins.

  A week ago I would have found that hot.

  Now I thought…

  Men.

  Mom murmured good-byes and thank yous and see you laters and I stood watching her as she ushered them out and closed the door on them.

  Only when the door was closed did I walk through the room to the front window.

  I looked out, intent to watch them drive away.

  But what I saw made me suck in breath.

  Snap was out there.

  Now talking in a close-huddle, heads-bent way with Tack and Hop while Lanie and Tyra drifted toward the truck and SUV in our driveway, Snap’s bike at the curb.

  He was out there.

  Shy was tall, dark and lanky.

  Beck was tall, dark and stocky.

  Snap was blond, shorter than both Shy and Beck, (taller than me), with an athletic build that was both powerful and lean. He had thick eyebrows darker than his hair and a blond beard that was dark under his jaws, light everywhere else, clipped short and groomed, mostly, but long at the chin.

  His hair came down to his shoulders and he almost always wore it in a messy bun at the back, but if he kept it down, he slicked it back with something so it stayed out of his face.

  He had amazing cheekbones, a beautiful lower lip, and gorgeous, strong white teeth that shone bright against skin that was always tan due to his ride being a bike.

  All that was fantastic.

  But for me with Snap it was the eyes.

  His eyes reminded me of a husky dog’s eyes. If you looked closely enough (and until recently I hadn’t allowed myself to pay attention to the fact that I did…a lot), they weren’t the light blue that they seemed to be at a glance.

  Most of the iris was almost like snow and the blue cast they had came from a rim of sky at the edge of the iris and the edge of the pupil, both that bled into the white.

  I’d never seen eyes like Snapper’s.

  You would think that snow would put you in a deep freeze but he’d never, not once, not even for an instant, given me anything cold.