Page 53 of Dirty Salvation

"Trouble in paradise, Ri? You had a lover’s tiff already?"

Rider rounded on Hawk, saw his nasty smile underneath his thick bushy beard. He'd never wanted to knock his friend out.

Now was a great fucking time to start.

He pointed a finger, snarled showing all his clenched teeth. "Don't you have shit to do, little girls, to terrorize? bad moods to perfect? fuck off, Hawk."

And just like he'd seen his girl do, Rider prowled off in the other direction leaving his VP none the wiser to his piss-poor mood only that he'd guessed correctly, his first lovers tiff.

Later that night bored of his own company, the hog he'd been working on was complete as much as it could be without the part he needed, and Ken over at the J&D supply store Rider used regularly for bike parts couldn't FEDEX it over until tomorrow at the earliest. Fuck it, Rider decided he was done for the night, shoving his overalls down his legs, he tossed them onto one of the work benches. Next, he scrubbed his hands with the dish soap that was good for cutting through the grease and oil.

Significant conversation fails aside; it hadn't been a complete waste of a day. Grinder had checked in a couple of times, his sources had had little to say on who was being looked at for the Rebel's murders, but the crime was getting a lot of heat from the DA to finger someone.

Just as long as it wasn't him or his club he was fine with whoever went down for it.

As for Hades, that fucking Houdini had gone to the wind, he could be anywhere, but if he was to be located then Rider's expert tracker would do it. Grinder had grown up with a father and uncle bounty hunters, he had the gift, he'd once chased a man clean across the country for a simple seventy-five-dollar debt, just because Grinder could.

Rider had told his brother to stay in close contact, if there was talk anywhere of anyone harboring Hades then he wanted to know about it. It wasn't just club business anymore, it got personal the second Zara was involved.

It was way too soon, she'd said. What was too soon, his desire, his want to bury his cock deep into her? He could trace that back three years, wanted her from the moment he saw her. Why the fuck had he been so dense turning her away. Would she be his old lady now if he hadn't punked out if he'd followed through and seen where their heat could take them?

As much as he wanted to think yes, that she'd be in his bed all this time later, realistically Rider had known he had no room back then for a woman in his life, he’d been in the middle of a hard battle from within his own club, stragglers from the last regime had still been making waves for Rider.

No,fucking no.I would have kept her regardless of all that.

It was a feeling, a sense of rightness. He would have kept her. Motherfucker.

Dumb as piss move.

He'd contributed to what happened. Knew it.Feltit.

Someone had taken her. All that time she hadn't been studying law, making the world a better place, spreading her sunshine to the masses. Goddamn, he could take someone apart with his bare hands if he let himself dwell on that massive fucking fact that she was just a few towns over this whole motherfucking time having god knows what done to her.

He fired the towel onto the workbench after drying his hands vigorously. Venom boiling his gut. He needed a lot of things, but he was gonna settle for a drink and a steak.

Definitely going to leave Zara alone.

That's what she wants.

So why then was he stalking down that hallway once he'd made his way across into the club? Why had he ignored the wave over from several brothers, jutting his chin letting them know he had other shit to do? why was he outside his fucking room?

Goddamn, his Icy girl had a hold on him.

A strong unrelenting vise.

He could hear the shower going when he let himself inside. So much for confronting her again. Rider shrugged out of his cut, taking the time to slide it on a hanger and put it inside the closet. He might be a dirty outlaw with next to no morals but he took care of his president’s cut like it was his fucking baby.

Five minutes. Ten minutes. His gaze pinned the bathroom door, eyes narrowed. What was taking so long?

He prowled back and forth in his room like a tiger, bypassing all manners he didn't possess, he pushed his way in, prepared to just kick his head around the doorframe and yell that he wanted a damn shower this century, too.

The reminder to himself to give her space came way too late.

Just as well he was natural-born impatient bastard, because he didn’t wait even a minute more for Zara to emerge from the bathroom, he muttered “fuck this” to himself, intending to have it out with her without her running off this time, nowhere for beautiful little Icy to run to, so he paced to the door, pushing it open to be greeted by a plume of steam full in the face hot enough it could set off every fire alarm, looked through the glass door as Zara tore into her own body scrubbing so furiously his brows folded down, the stink of her sadness hitting him full in the face.

How fucking stupid of him to believe she was doing okay. Of course, she wasn't.

He'd believed she was just pissed with him.