Page 30 of Dirty Salvation

"What happens now? I mean. Should I leave? I won't go to the police if you don't want me to. I can go to..."Nowhere. She had nowhere. The thought of facing her parents curdled the beef sandwich, turning it greasy, heavy...threatening to make a reappearance. No, she couldn't face her family yet, not looking as she did.

"You'll stay here, Zara. The club can provide protection until theRebelsshit is dealt with. No fucker is getting in, Hawk, my VP has this place rigged like we're the Pentagon on steroids."

He approached her slowly, with the room's size not being much bigger than a shoebox his long stride brought him to her in two easy steps. She visibly blanched with his nearness, she smelled fresh soap and instantly was ashamed of how she looked.Who would ever look twice at you, sweet love?He crouched, looked her straight in the eye.

It was strange she wanted badly to trust someone, anyone...him. Salvation came in many forms. Sometimes... maybe... in the shape of a six foot five badass biker?

"Can I … I need to shower; can I take a shower?"

His brows pinched in the middle she noticed, otherwise he didn't respond, instead.

“Babe. How long were you there for?” The deepness of his voice brought some semblance of calm to her as though he was preparing to horse whisper to a frightened bronco.

She smoothed the condensation from the can, looked down to break eye contact. His gaze was too piercing; she couldn't take the close proximity scrutiny.

His presence overwhelming.

She paused, her skin prickling, nerves rattling, she rubbed her arm, self-soothing until she felt ready to answer him.

“Three years, give or take a few months. I don’t really know, I lost track of the calendar after a while.”

His cold curse blistered the air.

CHAPTER SIX

“Fuck me. The want never went away.” - Rider Marinos

He was such a dirty bastard.

Who fantasized about doing dirty shit to a woman when she was all beaten and broken inside like a china doll?

Such a dirty bastard. And he owned his shit.

Rider needed to get a hold of himself.

Where had his thoughts led him to? He was meant to be thinking of ways to secure Zara some help back to normality, to get her from his club in a little while. None of his boys were happy when he’d told them she’d be staying. Instead, he was knee deep in old fantasies mixed with the new of fucking her.

Fucking her again.

Fucking her some more.

He felt punch drunk, despite he hadn’t touched a drop of booze all night until a few moments ago. Dragging the bottle of whiskey closer, he unscrewed the cap and thought about taking it right from the bottle.

Strung outwanting a woman. What were the chances of that she would crash-land back in his territory and he’d still want to fuck the fuck out of her?

She made himhard.

She’d shocked the fuck out of him.

And then filled him with rage hearing what had been done to her. An extraordinary sense of possessive ownership had threatened to grind Rider’s teeth to fucking dust in his mouth, so much so he’d called on patience no outlaw was known for.

Part of him wanted her gone from his club before she became too important, before she could slide underneath his skin, easily hand over the problem to someone else. He knew people, if he truly wanted her out of his hair he could easily reach out to one of the other chapters and have her go there for her own safety. The fact that Rider didn’t do that, spoke volumes.

Fuck.

Maybe she should go home. She hadn’t mentioned any family yet, but surely, she had people, people who would have missed her, wanted her back?

Long goddamn night. It felt never ending. Most of his brothers had crashed out or were still propping up the bar celebrating the night. Far as he could see there were zero fucking things to celebrate here, he felt visibly sick to his belly.