Page 61 of Dirty Salvation

Ten minutes later, carrying a tray with five plain white mugs, she stopped first, to hand Jim a cup, he grinned to show three teeth missing, soft bristles on his chin and gray hair blowing around his face. She returned his smile shyly. Man, he was cute like Santa Claus. She was going to develop a little fatherly crush on Jim. She slipped him two extra packages of pumpkin spice cookies.

With the tray held to her hip, she took the short walk over to the shop, Jay-Z pumped out of the wall speakers, sounds of drilling andyou, cocksucker I was using that wrench!greeted Zara.

She stole a glance across to Rider who was stooped over a desk, pen in one hand, concentrating on whatever he was attending to, a red and black bandana holding his hair back, his coveralls, once a slate gray, were filthy, worked and well-worn at the knees and butt, the shirt he wore didn't fare any better, sleeves were cut off in jagged angles showcasing the best-fucking-guns she'd ever seen before. The man could stop her heart then send it long jumping into a fast gallop.

Just look at him.

Far too handsome. And that was just the sight of him from the back. The front could devastate.

"Finally! A man could die of thirst." Broadcasted Capone in a booming voice.

Okay, enough ogling. She warned and dragged her gaze away from the president. Her heart started up again with a sputter once she was free of the tall sight of Rider.

Greedy hands all descended on the tray grabbing a mug each and a handful of the cookies.

"Thanks..." Offered a rough voice so quiet she barely heard it over the thump of Jay-Z. Zara's head lifted and was slammed with pale blue eyes. Hawk stepped out of her way in the next blink before she could find her tongue to reply him.

He was anoddman, she decided. He was never without a scowl etched onto his face. A face she couldn't decide if it was handsome it was hidden with all the hair hanging around his ears, and an ungroomed beard.

But then he extended a well-mannered thank you in stiff opposition to the reputation even the devil would cower from.

Rider's VP scared her, and rightly so. Darkness lurked within him, that much she recognized and if she knew anything it was those kinds of men that caused the most damage. And besides that, Zara had a feeling Hawk didn’t approve of her at all, didn’t want her here at the MC.

"Thank you,niña. Ahhhhh..now that's what I needed. It’s cold enough to freeze my balls." Of all the bikers, Capone perhaps was the friendliest. He always smiled, joked and generally seemed happy in his environment and he'd had several nice words for her, so she held him in high favor.

“You mean you call those shriveled prunes hanging between your legs balls?” cackled Preacher. It was met with “Fuck you, Preach.” Who only laughed more.

She hadn't realized she'd been rating the biker outlaws; those bad wicked men she was closely watching from all the corners she hid in. Now she smiled inwardly, she absolutely was rating them. She supposed for reputation and scowl meter alone Hawk would be at the bottom, Capone being near the top and Rider.

She sighed.

Of course, the president would reign above all. There was no other place for the man who had brought her out of the dark and spoke dirtily to her without shame, and a wicked grin on his face.Hot.

She'd become an expert at watching these men silently observing their behavior, looking for signs that they were no different than the Raging Rebels.

So far so good. It looked as though Rider's friends were nice people (she didn't include Hawk in this. The man didn't like her. It was just a feeling she had)

As if betraying her will, her eyes slipped across the shop, ignoring the men working diligently on three motorcycles and strayed towards Rider, his hip propped to a chrome counter covered in tools, he was watching her right back.

Smiling with his wicked mouth to the lip of the mug. As if just waiting for her to glance his way. Fire instantly rushed to her cheeks. How beautiful he was. Handsome and perfect as a European model. As much as she got the tummy flips for how Rider treated her, she wanted to know why.

She was damaged goods. Spoiled meat.

Why would he want her? He could have his pick of many.

Untouchable. Unreachable. If she was a household appliance she’d ask for the warranty.

Her walls had been erected in forged iron. Unless he had good climbing boots there was no getting over it. It confused her, even more, when he persisted.

She wasn't sexy, or gorgeous, quite plain when you put her up against some of the women she'd seen coming and going this week, and she hadn't had a decent haircut in far too long, she was pale with freckles, and her boobs were disappearing, what on earth could he possibly see in her?

Shit, it was possible Rider had a freaky poor girl lost fetish?

He had the choice of women, and he wanted the one broken beyond repair.

Maybe Zara wasn’t the only unstable one. She smiled to herself.

There had to be a reason. She was just too afraid to ask him. Fear of the unknown was a terrible thing. And just one more that weighed her down.