Page 8

Rachel

We rode for about twenty minutes, but nothing I saw enlightened me to where we were.

When I lived in England, I was too young to take proper note of my surroundings.

As I got older, my teenage self always had an escort, and we stuck to the same club scene.

We were never near the motorways or the back roads.

We stuck to the places they knew, where they were confident they could get away with whatever they wanted.

Dante, of course, knew these back roads like the back of his hand. They were his stomping grounds.

Unless I wanted to memorise different blades of grass, or leave breadcrumbs like Hansel and Gretel, my surroundings were absolutely useless.

Especially because it was hard to concentrate when Dante had all but forced me to wrap my arms around his waist, so my chest was currently pressed against his back, and every vibration from the bike rattled through me in the most delicious, unexpected way.

I was positive he knew it, too, because there was no need for a bike to rev this much, yet it did.

At one point, I swear I heard him chuckle when I tensed behind him, thanks to a particularly strong wave of vibration.

I ignored it, just as I had ignored everything else from him since the minute I got on this bike.

It wasn’t fucking easy though when my hands were clinging to him, and his smell invaded my senses, surrounding me.

Intoxicating me. I was at war with myself.

One half of me was pleading to bury my nose in his leather jacket and take the deepest breath of my life.

The other half was threatening to throw us off the bike and slam my head into the road over and over if I even dared lower myself in such a way.

It was fucking tempting, though.

I vaguely recognised the diner at one point, but we weren’t at the front like I had been with the Gellers. So that alone told me that Dante had deliberately taken a different route to his home, as the bikers had arrived from the front of the diner in order to follow us down the motorway.

Dante took a particularly sharp turn, and I followed my instincts, holding on that little bit tighter as I followed his lead, leaning with him, keeping my legs as close to the bike as possible.

The heat radiated off him, and, not for the first time, it registered just how huge he was.

My hands were clutching at his jacket, because he was too big for my arms to meet in the middle.

The more time passed, the more I was able to reassure myself that this man didn’t know a fucking thing about me.

If he did, he wouldn’t have been encouraging me to lean into him.

He wouldn’t have been looking at me with undisguised desire in his eyes, and he wouldn’t have been laughing at the stupid vibrations hitting the right spot.

No, he wasn’t involved, or knew anyone from those days.

He was just another psychopath that had taken me from my life and tried to implant me in another.

I had dealt with those before, and I could deal with him.

If he knew me, I’d know about it. Everyone was still angry about what I did. And whilst Dante was angry, he was angry at the entire world.

So since my surroundings were useless, and I had to do something to distract myself from the man I clung to like he was precious gold, I was left with nothing else but to think of what it was he wanted for me. And that did nothing but cause a slow burn of anxiety to tingle through my body.

We quite clearly had nothing in common, and he was hardly going to be asking me for advice on fashion. The man would keep me in no clothes at all if he had his way. I knew that as surely as I knew the sky was blue.

So what could he want? Sex? More than likely.

But looking like he did, I highly doubted he had trouble getting women, and he would hardly need to go to such lengths to get one either.

I’d imagine women were throwing themselves at his feet.

Some of them would probably envy me for being in this position.

Good-looking men were dangerous because they removed the ability for women to possess a moral compass.

All the red flags looked green when you were colour blind with desire.

In fact, that many red flags became a red blanket, and what wasn’t comforting about a nice, warm blanket?

I tensed as we slowed down, and Dante pulled into what looked like a pub.

There were bikes everywhere I looked, covering the muddy grass in front of the building.

There was some sort of animal skull above the door – I assume a stag – with a cowboy hat perched on its antlers, which made me give a small chuckle.

A small chuckle I quickly turned into a cough lest Dante thought I approved.

Dante pulled to a stop in one of the spaces closest to the door and jumped off the bike. I noticed he didn’t pull into the first spot and having seen the Vice President patch on his leather jacket, I figured they lined up in order of rank.

“I’m not carrying you in,” Dante called over his shoulder, interrupting my thoughts. “I suggest you follow me. Don’t make me come back out for you.” I rolled my eyes beneath my helmet and made a very immature face that I’m not proud of, but I did all the same.

He closed the door behind him, and I climbed off the bike, leaning against it as I pulled the helmet off and rested it over the handles. I looked around me and breathed a deep puff of air.

I could see plenty of houses, but no people. No cars, but plenty of bikes. This was definitely a biker community, and if Dante was the vice president, I had no chance of making any “friends” that wouldn’t betray me at a moment’s notice in favour of him.

“Now!” Dante barked as he pulled the door back open. I was half tempted to see how far I could push him, but that was only going to draw more attention to me.

Romance is alive and well! I thought to myself, taking another deep breath, and closing my eyes for a moment before I followed Dante’s footprints inside, smoothing my dress over my hips and thighs as I did so.

I could hear the noise of the bar before I even had the door open.

But the minute I stepped inside, you could have heard a pin drop.

Everyone froze at the same time. Some still had their drinks halfway to their mouths.

The bartender stopped pulling pints; the girls stopped their ridiculous dancing and giggling.

Every pair of eyes turned their hungry gaze to me.

It was obvious I was wildly out of place here in my modest grey dress and neat blonde hair. All I could see was leather, skin, and tattoos.

“Rachel,” Dante called from behind the bar, nodding his head towards the door that led to the back.

If I wanted to make my way to him, I had to pass through the entire club, giving them all a good look at me.

He was leading me through the lion’s den, and I had a feeling this was my first test. There was obviously a back entrance he could have taken us through, but he made a deliberate decision to come in this way, letting everyone know I was with him.

Something told me that he was half expecting me to fail this test. That he believed he was going to have to come and drag me through this bar, that I’d be too nervous to do it myself.

I’d be right behind him if he didn’t have such gigantic fucking legs!

But that wasn’t true.

Even if I had jumped off the bike at exactly the same time as him and followed him the minute he started walking, he still would have left me in the dust. I was tiny compared to him, and I was always going to have to walk this alone.

And well he knew it, the smug bastard.

I noticed some of the girls sneering at me, and some of the men looking at me with a hunger that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

I grew angry at being stared at like a zoo animal, and a sudden burst of pride had me straightening my spine, throwing my head back, and glaring at them all as they were glaring at me.

I flicked my hair over my shoulders with a small shake of my head, and crossed the floor, my heals making the only noise as they click-clacked across the wood.

These people would not intimidate me. I met the gazes of those closest to me, but not once did I smile, nor did I murmur any sort of greeting.

I kept a deliberate blank expression, refusing to give them the satisfaction of even a flicker of fear.

“Sometime today would be nice,” Dante called out, and I flicked my eyes over to him. He looked mildly surprised that I had got this far on my own, as though I was a baby in need of guidance.

Say nothing, Rachel. Say nothing. Don’t rise to it. Don’t play the game.

I didn’t pick up the pace. In fact, if anything, I slowed down to a sultry strut.

I shifted my bag higher up on my shoulder and walked with more determination, letting my hips swing as I did so, knowing the men I passed were watching me greedily.

May as well toy with the devil if he was going to up heave my entire life.

I said don’t play the fucking game!

But when have I ever listened to myself?

I stifled a grin as Dante’s jaw tightened as he came around the bar to grab hold of me and pulled me to his side.

I won though. I didn’t need rescuing, and he couldn’t stand it.

“Everyone,” he called out. “This is Rachel. And before any of you even have the fucking stupidity to ask, yes, she’s off limits to every single one of you.”

“How long is she staying?” One of the girls called out, with a look of hatred aimed straight at me.

“None of your fucking business. Any other questions?”

“A week?” She persisted. “A month? Longer? I don’t want to have to look at her any longer than necessary. What is she wearing? She looks like a fucking lawyer. You fucking the law, Dante?”

Dante dropped my arm as he strode towards her and grabbed her by the face. “How about you fuck off and look at your own bloke instead of eyeing up my woman? How’s that for a compromise,” he hissed, pushing her away from him with such force she had to grab the bar to steady herself.

At the same time, we both jolted at the words of “my woman”. I recovered quicker than she did and watched in amusement as her mouth fell open and closed again.

“Your woman, huh? So you’re not just fucking the law, you’re really fucking the law. When did you decide this? And more importantly, does Beth know?” She said eventually.

“Put a fucking sock in it, Spunky. You love your sister, we get it. But Beth is a big girl. She can defend herself. She knew what she was getting into with Dante,” the guy I recognised as Macbeth called out as he came through the door, slapping the girl on her ass as he came up to her.

“As for you, you’ll end up getting yourself shot before I’ve had my chance.

” He squeezed her ass tight and pulled her body close to his.

“In your dreams, Macbeth,” she giggled.

“Make it a beautiful nightmare, and you got yourself a deal,” he kissed her lips before he grabbed her drink off the bar and raised it in the air. “Glasses up everyone. Dante’s brought back his old lady.”