Page 63 of Dirty Salvation

She buried her face in the glass, drinking slowly. "And after that's done. You'll be Rider's girl." Again, it wasn't a question. The old man polished the length of the bar, rearranged bottles of booze behind him. What was she meant to say when he seemed so adamant what her role was? She was glad it seemed obvious to someone. Could she be Rider's woman?Impossible. She shut down the thought before it sprouted wings and flew into territories Zara refused to venture into it. A long time ago she’d wanted that. But now. No. Besides, friends, she thought. She could be a good friend.

She wouldn't think of anything else.

Nope. Not at all.

Hope was right below wishful thinking and above a rain fucking dance. Call her cynical but Zara had lost hope a long time ago. Sure, she was 'free' she'd exchanged one biker home for another, Oh Jesus, one so much better than the last but still, that was the truth of it. She had no hope for her and not for stupid unreachable fairy tales of happy ever after, she'd had that bubble burst in the worse possible way. She couldn't let hope in, the moment she'd allow it a slither of daylight she'd sign herself up for disappointment to come-a-calling and if that cruel jerk knocked on her door once more she would scream so hard so loud she'd shatter crystal glasses.Not today, Satan.

Sometimes you couldn’t have what you wanted just because.

Too many obstacles, for one.

Once upon a nasty time ago she'd had hope for weeks, months. It was around the first-year mark of her being an unpaid captive dogsbody when it just slipped away, washed out by the rain and utter despair, she'd known then you played the cards you were dealt if all she did was hope every day she would have died long ago.

Her deck had been stacked and she'd fought against the house ever since, one beating at a time.

Jed wasn't to know she was hardened against any real connection now.

It was safer that way.

Hard lessons came with harder lessons. Call her pessimistic. Hope being the hardest of all. She sighed into her soda, aware the old man was watching her. She saw pity from his eyes. In another life, she would have peed with excitement to be Rider's girl.

She cut just once, that emotional slash to her heart, and let herself think about it for a second, placing herself right there. Rider's girl.

"I got eyes in my old head, girlie.” Jed’s voice pierced her thoughts. “My nephew isn't going to just let you waltz your pretty self out of the door... now, don't look like that, he ain't some kidnapper, you want to be here as much as he wants you here, whether you admit it to a wizened aged man with 20/20 vision or not." A blush began to creep up onto Zara's face.

She was thatobvious, was she? Damn.

Mercy was a drug, she gravitated towards Rider's protection because it was safe, even as she fought against it, and knew it couldn't go anywhere.

Giving herself time to put the pieces back together and then ... then ... her brows dropped down in concentration, aware Jed was right there with a smile around his stubbled mouth. She assumed she would leave soon enough; what else could she do?

"Rider has been very nice to me, but really, Jed. That's all it is, all it can be. Rider knows it as well."

"Helen, my old lady, the sweetest grouch you ever wished to meet, she's twenty years younger than me, she fancied herself a sugar-daddy, and I wasn't so dumb to let that pass me by, with a mean right hook if you take her pecan pies before they cooled, she'd say, girlie, the heart makes up its mind long before the head does and at the end of the day the heart knows. Wise is my Helen. You'll meet her when the weather turns nice again and we have the annual cookouts, she makes her famous popovers, that is if you're still aroundnotbeing Rider's girl," Smiling, Jed winked at her and refilled her now empty glass.

His affable tone made her want to laugh.

Yes, she did gravitate towards kindness a moth to the flame that would eventually burn her. But boy, Rider's warmth was appealing. Addicting.

Could she use him?

Rider's girl ... she might not have hope left in her, but she could still feel want. It pounded in her chest. Stroked between her legs

Could she?

For the first time in weeks, Zara felt the knot in her belly loosen a fraction, enough so she could smile back at the old man. “I like the sound of your Helen.” She told him and meant it. Plus, she liked popovers with maple syrup.

She settled by passing more than an hours’ worth of time chatting to Uncle Jed. Mostly listening to him and interjecting 'mmhmm's' now and then. She liked him by the finish of the conversation. It was only when she next saw Rider that the knot tightened again. TheSoulsPresident had a visible effect on her.

Hope might be gone. But she was slowly ensnared in his bad boy thrall.

Zara knew she was in trouble all over again.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“We’re not in a fuckin’ episode of Friends, Icy…” Rider

Was Rider in one of those bad B movies with the shit plot? He was beingpunked. Maybe he'd lost his hearing in the last minute 'cause he was sure as shit he did not just hear Zara use theF-wordto him.