Page 10 of Wild Return (Wild Heart Mountain: Wild Rider’s MC #15)

VIKING

A s the clock above the bar in the tasting room rolls over to nine o’clock, I watch the door with my arms folded across my chest. Footsteps sound outside, the handle turns, and the door pushes open as Rio and Marcus shuffle inside.

My gaze flicks to the clock. They’re right on time. A smile curls the corners of my mouth.

“Good morning, boys.”

They murmur their greetings. They’re in the same clothes they wore on Saturday night, but this time they’re dry.

“This is the front door of the brewery. From now on, this is how you come and go. Got it?”

They both nod.

“If you earn our trust and want to keep working here, someday you might get a staff pass that will let you in the staff entrance. But trust has to be earned.”

Rio scowls and shoves his hands into his pockets, and I wonder if I’ve made a mistake. Too late to change course now.

“Right. Follow me, boys. We’re going to see the boss.”

They exchange frightened glances as I lead them onto the brewery floor.

The floor is alive with activity while a new brew gets underway.

Workers have been here since five o’clock this morning, and the smell of fresh hops hangs heavy in the air.

Arlo and Hops are chatting by one of the tanks, and they give me a curious look.

Up on the mezzanine, Sydney watches with her hands on her hips.

We head up the metal stairs, and I march the boys into Barrels’s office. He sits behind a wooden desk, stony-faced, channeling his former army sergeant days. The boys shuffle in behind me, and I don’t offer them a seat.

Barrel’s leans forward. “What’s this?”

“I caught your thieves.”

His eyes narrow, and he reaches for his phone. “I’ll get Badge.”

The boys share a frightened look, and Marcus’s eyes dart toward the door.

I raise a hand. “Hear me out, Barrels. I’ve got a better idea.”

Barrels sits back in his chair with his arms crossed. “Start talking.”

With some encouragement, I get Rio talking. As he explains the keg scheme and their reasons for it, Barrels frown deepens. He didn’t grow up in foster care like I did.

When Rio gets to the part about prying open the window, Barrels slams a fist on the desk, but before he erupts, I cut in.

“They’re here to repay the brewery, starting today.”

“Those kegs are worth a lot of money,” Barrels counters. “How will they repay when they can’t even afford shoes?”

“They’ll work it off.”

Barrels eyes the kids. “Two kegs. A week of hard labor. Nine to five Monday through Saturday.”

Both boys nod.

“You give me a week of work, we forget about it,” Barrels says. “Disrespect us, and you don’t get a second chance.”

The boys nod again.

“There’s debris from the storm to clean up,” Barrels continues. “You’ll be sweeping and cleaning and scrubbing. Some barrels got knocked about. I want every dent buffed out. Understand?”

“Yes,” they both mutter.

I open the door for them, and they shuffle onto the mezzanine.

“Wait here,” I tell them and duck back into the office, closing the door behind me.

Barrels folds his arms, but there’s an amused look on his face. “It’s a good thing you’re doing, Viking. But they’re your responsibility. If another keg walks out, I’ll hold you accountable.”

“Understood, boss.”

I only hope I’ve made the right call. Everyone deserves a second chance.

A few hours later, I head to the loading dock. Water sloshes across the floor as Rio wrestles with the power washer. Every time he pulls the trigger, the pressure nearly knocks him over.

“Hold it like this.” I demonstrate. “Point it down so it gets the whole floor.”

“Yes, sir.” He adjusts his angle, surprising me with the crisp reply.

“It’s almost one. You guys eaten yet?”

They shake their heads.

“Not hungry,” Marcus mumbles, which I take to mean they don’t have any lunch.

“I’ll be back soon. Then I’ll show you where the staff room is.”

Twenty minutes later, I return with sandwiches Maggie rustled up and two chocolate-chip cookies. The boys’ eyes go wide. These are probably the first cookies they’ve had in a long time.

In the staff room their eyes shift less, and they seem more relaxed than I’ve seen them.

“You guys still in school?”

Rio shakes his head. “Nah, just finished.”

Marcus look sideways, and I wonder what the whole story is here.

“What’ll you do for work?”

They shrug. “Don’t know,” Rio says.

“Ever considered the military?”

They shake their heads, but interest flickers in Rio’s eyes.

“This brewery is run by veterans. The military gives you discipline, purpose, and a steady paycheck. It saved me when I came out of foster care.”

“Don’t you have to go to war?” Marcus asks, wiping mayonnaise from his mouth.

I chuckle at his concern. “Sure, if there’s a war on. You sign up to protect your country. It’s a noble cause.”

“I’ve heard training’s really hard,” Rio says, leaning in.

“It’s tough, probably the toughest thing you’ll ever do, but it’s worth it. You learn what you can endure and take pride in yourself. The military saved my life; it could save yours.”

I glance up and find Sydney leaning against the doorframe watching us. The smile on her lips makes me forget what I was saying.

I push back my chair and stand.

“Think you can find your own way back to the loading dock?”

They nod. I clap Rio’s shoulder, then Marcus’s.

“Show up every day, earn trust.”

I stride over to Sydney and step right up close so I can smell her perfume. Memories of two nights ago against the barrel flash through my mind. My eyes drop to her lips, and I twirl a strand of her hair in my fingers.

“You must be due for a few hours off. Come for a ride with me.”

Ten minutes later, I am on my bike with Sydney on the back heading up the mountain. A stillness settles over the peaks. You’d never know a storm ripped through only a few days ago.

With Sydney’s hands clasped around my waist, I can’t help the grin on my face: fresh mountain air, my bike between my thighs, and my woman at my back. I have a second chance at life—at this life—and I won’t let it go.

We ride for twenty minutes up the mountain, enjoying the wind on my face, with no destination in mind.

A fire road leads off the main road and I take it, searching for a secluded spot.

The path narrows, but the bike handles it.

We weave through the trees and stop in a hidden glade.

Leaves carpet the ground, and sun glints through the canopy.

I keep the engine running, enjoying the soft hum of the bike. Sliding off, I unhook our helmets and dangle them over the handlebars. My hands stay on Sydney’s hips, unable to let her go now that I have her in my grasp again. My hand slides down her back, over her perfect ass.

“I can’t stop thinking about the other night,” I murmur. “About you.”

“Neither can I.”

My mouth captures hers as I press her against the warm seat. Insects hum in the trees as I unzip her skirt, peeling it down thick thighs, and kneel in the dirt before her.

“You’re so beautiful, Sydney.”

I nudge her legs apart and kiss her stomach. She gasps when the engine’s vibration reaches her.

“Viking, the bike’s still on.”

I give her a wicked grin. “I know.”

My lips caress her thighs, and I gently pull her panties aside. Her scent floods me, and I breathe deeply. The deep purr of the engine makes her vibrate under my tongue. Hands tangle in my hair as she throws her legs over my shoulders, the leather of her boots sliding against my neck.

She giggles until my mouth covers her sweet pussy, and laughter turns to a gasp.

Her leg goes wide, and the heel of her boot presses into my clavicle.

Pain shoots through me, heating my blood.

My tongue laps faster as her heel digs deeper, and I bury my face in her until she cries my name, her moans echoing through the forest.

I don’t wait for her tremors to fade. I unzip and free my cock. Her wild eyes meet mine before our lips crash together.

She guides me inside and wraps her legs tight around me. One hand grips the handlebar, the other the back of the bike, while I thrust. Heat envelops me, but it is not enough, will never be enough with Sydney.

I clasp her thighs and pull her legs over my shoulders so the leather of her boots skims my neck, and I drive in deeper.

“Sydney.” Her name is a prayer on my lips.

Four years of hurt and regret pour out with every thrust. Her head falls back as I rub her clit hard and fast until she shatters and I let go, exploding with her.

“Viking!” she screams.

Our cries send a flock of birds into the sky.

Breathless, I finally kill the engine, and she plants her boots on the forest floor.

“I’m going to smell like gas,” she mutters.

“I’m going to smell like you,” I tell her. “Totally worth it.”

I slide my arms around her waist, resting my forehead against hers.

“This is me staying, Syd.”

She gives a non-committal harrumph, and a smile teases her lips. She’s finally starting to believe me.