Chapter Four
Take a Chance on Me
The bed shifted.
Or, more accurately, Hop shifted in the bed and I woke.
Keeping my eyes closed, I noted we were spooning. I could feel Hop’s chest against my back; his arm was heavy on my waist and he had one knee cocked into both my bent legs.
All of this felt nice but his knee felt the nicest. It was forced between my legs so his thigh was resting, warm and hard, against the heat of me.
My first thought was to rub myself against his thigh.
My second thought was, I’d forgotten how fabulous it was to wake up next to a warm body cuddling me.
My third, far saner thought was how the hell I was going to get out of there.
This thought flew from my head when he shifted again, and I felt his lips at my shoulder where he kissed me then I felt his body slide gently away.
Gently and carefully, going slow, his hand copped a feel of the skin on my hip, exposed by his tee, which had ridden up. Other than that, it was clear he thought I was asleep and he was doing everything he could not to wake me.
This was, unfortunately, what I was coming to realize was Hop. He tucked me in bed. He kissed my hair, forehead, temple, or shoulder soft and sweet whenever he left me. And he moved carefully in order not to wake me.
Making matters worse, he obviously thought I was asleep.
Still, before he left me, he kissed me.
The gesture didn’t even count for brownie points since he thought I was asleep and he still did it.
I didn’t want more confirmation of knowledge I was trying not to process and I wished I didn’t have it.
So I shoved it into the back of my head.
Then, as I lay there alone in his bed feigning sleep, the events of the evening before crashed over me. This forced me to exert not a small amount of sleepy effort in order not to process the fact that the evening before, I found out a badass biker cared about me and thus kept an eye on me, saved me from being raped, gave me honesty I refused to acknowledge, and then gave me four orgasms before he let me fall asleep in his tee.
This took a lot of effort, which was near on impossible without coffee. Therefore I heard the toilet flush before I realized that I should have taken the opportunity while Hop was in the bathroom to get dressed and get the heck out of there.
This was a moot point because I felt his presence in the room right before I heard a knock on the door.
I tensed.
I didn’t want anyone to know I was there.
I loved Ty-Ty. She’d been my family for a long time—true family, real family, the kind you choose, not the kind fate chooses for you. Tack and the boys had all welcomed me when they welcomed Tyra. They’d gone all out to protect Elliott and me, Tack especially. When I returned to Denver, they folded me in Chaos arms. Growing up close to a country club with a banker father and a wealthy, Southern farmer princess mother, I would not have expected I would feel comfortable in the bosom of that particular family. But if Chaos adopted you, the way they did it, it was impossible not to feel comfortable.
So I didn’t want whatever might come of someone finding out Hop and I hooked up. Even if it was over (something I would share with him again when we talked), it was not anyone’s business. I had an agency to run. I had employees and clients who depended on me. I had something happening to me that I didn’t quite get and didn’t have the energy to find a way to understand. I didn’t need to deal with whatever reaction anyone would have, most especially Tyra and Tack, if they found out about me and Hop.
No, I couldn’t deal.
So I didn’t want to be in the position of having to.
“Brother,” I heard Hop greet whoever it was quietly. “Not a good time. We’ll talk later.”
A knowing smile in his voice, I heard the reply, “Got gash in there?”
This voice I knew. High, one of the brothers. I liked High even if he was less approachable and good-humored than some of the other guys. He’d always been nice to me.
But at his words, my body tensed. “Gash” was one of the not-so-nice words the guys used to refer to women, not so nice in a way that I hated it, as any woman would.
“You like your nose like it is?” Hop growled and my eyes opened so they could blink.
He had been talking quietly, thinking I was sleeping.
Now he was unmistakably ticked in a way it was clear he didn’t care if he woke me.
“Come again?” High asked. His tone no longer smiling. He sounded surprised.
No, shocked.
“You like your nose like it is, brother, you shut your f*ckin’ mouth,” Hop warned.
This was met with silence.
Hop broke the silence. “You not leavin’ tells me you got somethin’ to say. Say it. Got shit to do.”
“Tug and Roscoe were on patrol last night,” High declared.
Patrol?
“And?” Hop prompted.
“Three of them on the corner of Broadway and Mississippi.”
I stared at the pillow uneasily and with some confusion, since I didn’t know what these words meant, but I could feel a hostile wave rolling through the room.
“Benito put three bitches on a four-lane road that leads into the heart of the city?” Hop asked, his voice dripping with disbelief that was less incredulity and more hope that High would tell him he was joking.
“Dick has balls,” High answered, which I took as affirmative.
“Christ,” Hop muttered.
“Tug says they ousted them but those bitches know we got no beef with them so they got no danger from us. This means they ain’t scared of us. They’re scared of Benito. And you know that means, Benito sends them to a corner on Chaos, they’ll go back,” High stated. “Tack’s up the mountain, comin’ down. Roscoe reported in to him, Tack called me. You and me are up for patrol tonight. We find gash, he needs us to make a stronger statement than Tug and Roscoe can make.”
Oh dear.
What did that mean?
“Talk to Dog or Brick. Got somethin’ on tonight,” Hop told him and I closed my eyes.
“Tack wants you. You got a way with gash,” High replied, and I didn’t like the sound of that at all so I closed my eyes tighter.
“Talk to Dog or Brick, High. I got somethin’ on tonight,” Hop repeated, his voice low and impatient.
This was met with another long silence. Then, “I’ll talk with Dog or Brick.”
“Obliged,” Hop muttered and I heard the door click.
Moments later, the bed moved as Hop got back in it.
His body shifted right to mine, curving in, his hand finding the bunched up end of his tee and moving in, up my skin, toward my breast.
My body tensed.
His fingers curved around my breast, warm, claiming.
Sweet.
I pressed my lips together.
I felt him shift again before I felt his ’tache at my ear.
“Babe, know you’re not sleeping,”
I said nothing and continued to feign sleep.
Hop pressed closer. “Lady, you sleep loose and you’re wound up tight. I know you aren’t sleeping.”
I kept my eyes closed but asked, “Who’s Benito?”
His fingers around my breast curled tighter before they relaxed and his hand moved up to my chest. His body moved away from mine and I found myself on my back because his hand on my chest pressed me there.
Then his hand moved out of his tee as he rolled over me. I opened my eyes just as his fingers slid into the side of my hair and his thumb stroked light at my temple.
He looked good in the morning, his stubble around his mustache thick and dark, his eyes still holding a hint of sleep.
Not to mention, the thumb at my temple thing felt nice.
Gah!
“First,” he began softly, “good morning.”
“Good morning,” I replied, then asked again, “Who’s Benito?”
He grinned before his head dipped closer and his lips brushed mine.
That felt nice, too.
Then again, it always did.
He lifted his head and caught my eyes as he muttered, “She starts right up, not even waitin’ for coffee.”
“Who’s Benito?” I repeated.
He studied me.
Then he said, “You want it, baby, you got it.”
His hand moved to cup my jaw and I waited but not long.
“Depending on the brother, old ladies can be in the know or not. If they are, they don’t talk. Not to other brothers, not to each other. As for you, what you heard was unfortunate. I opened the door to get rid of who was behind it and I did it buck naked so I couldn’t move into the hall. That shit won’t happen again. Beyond what you heard, you aren’t gonna know.”
There were not many sentences there but, regardless, there was a good deal to go over.
“I’m not your old lady,” I declared.
He grinned and asked, “You aren’t?”
“No,” I stated firmly.
“In my tee, in my bed, after a night where my condom stash got lighter by three, lady. Beg to differ,” he replied.
“So that’s what it takes? A tee and sex?” I queried, my brows going up.
“No,” he answered, his voice going deeper, his thumb stroking sweet along my jaw. “Now, honey, since it’s time you got to know me, you’re gonna get to know me.”
Oh dear.
Before I could protest, he kept going.
“Got rules for the women I take to my bed. No sleep. Don’t ever wake up to a woman. It sends the wrong message. Really no f*ckin’ tee. Bitches claim tees. I don’t need to be clothing half of Denver.”
“Is that how many,” I hesitated before saying with emphasis, “bitches you’ve had? Half of Denver?”
“Do you care?” he fired back instantly.
“No,” I lied.
“Liar.” He called me on it.
I shut my mouth.
He grinned but opened his. “You, babe, can have my tee.”
I rolled my eyes.
When I rolled them back he wasn’t grinning. He was smiling.
“You, it’s about bedroom eyes. F*ckin’ great hair. Long legs. A tight, sweet p-ssy that gets so f*ckin’ wet, swear to Christ, every time I have it, don’t know whether to bury my face or my dick in it. Your perfume on my sheets. The way you look at me when I tuck you in bed, like I gave you diamonds, something precious, something you wanna keep safe, something you want forever. Woman like you could get diamonds just crookin’ her finger, so a woman like you shouldn’t find a man tuckin’ you in bed precious. But you do. It’s also about you tellin’ me you won’t take it there with me but, I kiss you, you ignite. Some men like a game. Others like a challenge.” His smile got wider. “You found a man who likes a challenge.”
“Great,” I muttered and his grin didn’t waver.
He also wasn’t done.
“It’s also about you tellin’ me you miss me and, lady,” he said swiftly when I opened my mouth to speak, “don’t deny it. You said it. You meant it. You’ll learn you can’t bullshit me, but, I’ll just say in case it sinks in early, you can’t bullshit me. All that might not be enough for another brother, but babe,” he gave a light shrug, “it’s enough for me.”
“That’s insane,” I told him.
“Lanie, I’m a member of a motorcycle club. Used to people out there in the other world thinkin’ I got a screw loose. Also don’t give a shit they think that way.”
He gave it to me, my opening, so I jumped on it. “So you don’t give a shit I think that way?”
He grinned again. “Honestly? No. Not now. You aren’t thinkin’ straight so you think that way with your head as messed up as it is?” He shook his head. “I don’t give a shit you think that way.”
“My head isn’t messed up,” I announced and his grin got bigger and, that close, in the morning, sexier.
Gah!
“Babe.”
That was all he said.
Time to move on.
“It’s my understanding that old ladies hold a slightly elevated role in your world. Not that high, since your structure includes the brotherhood up top, bikes under that, living and riding free under that and, possibly, old ladies, if one was lucky, under that,” I stated. “Women in your world have to work to that position, something I haven’t done nor do I intend to do. You and I are f*ck buddies. Or we were.”
His brows went up. “Were?”
“This ends this morning,” I declared to which, immediately, he threw his handsome, stubble-jawed head back and burst out laughing so hard it shook me and the bed.
“Do you find something amusing?” I asked irately through his laughter.
Also through his laughter he focused on me and spoke. “Yeah, honey. The clue is me laughing.”
I glared and decided I was done with our talk. Therefore I lifted my hands to his shoulders and shoved.
This had no effect except that he dropped his head, buried his face in my neck and kept laughing there.
I glared at the ceiling, trying not to process how nice that felt.
His hilarity muted to chuckling so I decided it was time to speak again.
“Get off me, Hopper. I’m getting a taxi to my car and going home.”
He lifted his head, smiled down at me, then shook that head. “No you aren’t. We’re gonna talk, get things straight, then we’re gonna f*ck, then I’m taking you out for breakfast.”
“Those may be your plans for this morning but they aren’t mine.”
“They’re yours.”
I didn’t say anything mostly because the back and forth of me saying something and Hop disagreeing was both frustrating and irritating and I wasn’t doing it again.
The problem with that was, unable to contradict him, I couldn’t do what I wanted to do since I also couldn’t shift him off me.
“Hopper, get off,” I ordered.
“No.”
“Off.”
“Babe, no.”
There we were again, the back and forth.
Frustrating and annoying.
I shoved hard at his shoulders and grunted, “Off!”
He pressed into me, his face got close and I stilled because suddenly he looked serious.
“You’re Cherry’s so you’ve been let in, babe, but do not think for one f*ckin’ second observing the Club lets you in the know about what goes on in a brother’s head, his home or his bed. Any of us,” he started.
The way he said this made me hold my breath.
“That said,” he went on, “that shit you spouted about what you understand about a brother’s woman is more proof your head is totally f*cked up, because part of that is selective and the rest of it is twisted and you know it.”
I hated to admit it but he had a point.
He went on to force his point home.
“You cannot lie under me after watching Tack with Cherry for eight goddamned years and tell me his brothers, his bike, and livin’ free means more to him than his wife and, I’ll add, his f*ckin’ kids. That, you know completely, you witness it, you feel it. That’s your girl. You know what she’s got. Seen you cacklin’ with Sheila, who’s sweet as sugar, but that don’t mean she’d take shit from any man. She gets it good from Dog, you know it, so you know that bullshit that came outta your mouth doesn’t hold true with Dog, either. Seen you also sit close with Brick, seein’ to him when one of his bitches cuts him, so you know he’s got shit taste, but when he lets them in, he opens up so they can dig deep.”
All of this was true too.
Very true.
Hop continued, “Other Clubs might be about the brothers, the bikes, the carousing. You look at our leader, you know exactly what this Club is about. So do not lie there and tell me you know differently.”
Obviously, I’d struck a nerve and, unfortunately, he was right, I was wrong, very wrong, and worse, I felt terrible about it.
So terrible, I couldn’t let it stand. It was only fair that I admit I was wrong.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” he replied.
“Well, I’m sorry I said that since you’re right. I know it’s not true,” I told him. “Not with Chaos.”
“Was gonna let it lie, seein’ as your head’s f*cked up, but you keep fightin’ me, had to point it out,” Hop returned.
Okay, I was beginning to feel less terrible and more annoyed.
“I’d like to request that you stop telling me my head’s f*cked up.”
“Let me help you get it straight, I’ll quit tellin’ you that shit,” he retorted.
I clenched my teeth.
Then I unclenched them to say, “Hop, I keep telling you that isn’t going to happen.”
“And Lanie, clue in, I’m not not gonna let it happen.”
My heart started beating hard and I brought us full circle.
“Who’s Benito?” I asked.
“Told you, you know as much as you’re gonna know about Benito.”
“Who’s Benito?” I repeated.
“Babe—”
“Who’s Benito?”
“Lanie—”
“Who’s Benito?”
His brows drew together. “Goddamn it, lady—”
All of a sudden loud and shrill, I shrieked in his face, “Who’s Benito?”
Hop went perfectly still on top of me but his eyes grew intent, watchful, concerned as his fingers flexed into my jaw.
“Who’s Benito, Hop?” I asked.
“Baby, please, breathe deep, calm down and let’s be quiet a few seconds. You calm down, I’ll get us some coffee and we’ll talk.”
“Answer my question,” I demanded.
“Lanie—”
“God!” I shouted. Unable to roll him off, I scooched up, shoved out and, miracle of miracles, found myself free so I scrambled across the bed.
Hop reached for me but stopped when I did, on my knees in his bed a few feet away from him. Without hesitation, my hands went to his tee and yanked up. I tossed it aside so in his bed he saw nothing but me in a pair of teeny-weeny, black lace panties.
I didn’t hesitate to reach out and grab his wrist, pulling it to me and flattening his hand to the scar under my breast.
I leaned in and reminded him, “I had a man, Hop, who did dangerous stuff and didn’t tell me.”
Realization dawned clear in his features. He adjusted, coming to his knees, his eyes glued to me. They were pained, troubled, disturbed, and I noted this as he whispered, “Lady.”
I jerked his hand down to the mutilated skin on my belly.
“Wanna guess how big I am on letting any man in my life and then wanna guess again how big I am on letting in a man who lives dangerously?” I shook my head and didn’t give him a chance to speak. “Don’t bother. I’ll tell you.” I pressed his hand into my flesh. “It is not gonna happen.”
He shifted closer, his free hand moving to my hip and around. I felt his body heat as he gently pulled my chest toward his and his chin dipped down to keep hold of my eyes.
“I don’t live dangerously, Lanie,” he said softly.
“Who’s Benito?” I repeated yet again.
His mouth shut and his jaw clenched.
I closed my eyes and turned my head away.
He forced his hand out of my hold and brought it up to wrap around my jaw, forcing me to face him so he could again capture my eyes.
When he accomplished this task, he said quietly, “I would never let anything hurt you.”
My reply was not quiet. “I don’t believe you.”
“Give me the chance to prove it to you,” he requested.
“No,” I answered. His hand slid from my jaw, up and back so his fingers sifted in my hair even as his face dipped super close, his eyes scanning my features before locking to mine.
“Lanie, baby, I can see what you can’t. This shit is eating you alive.”
“Good. At least that shit is company,” I snapped and watched him wince.
He recovered and stated, “You gotta get rid of it. Let me in. Let me help you get rid of it.”
“Not a chance.”
His hand slid back into my hair, fisting gently, and I knew what that meant.
He was not going to let me move. He was not going to release my eyes.
I would understand why when he admitted, “Last night, you didn’t hear me.”
This came out of the blue, surprising me, so I asked, “What?”
“I know the story. F*ck, babe, everyone does.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You put yourself in front of him. Boy that drilled holes in you, that the cops found, thought he could lessen his sentence by sayin’ you weren’t the target. He didn’t go there to hurt you. Wasn’t gonna touch you. Certainly not pump rounds into you. Says, first, you threw yourself in front of Belova and then, second, Belova used you as a shield.”
At his words, I jerked violently in his arms.
This got me on my back with him on me, his hand still in my hair, his eyes still imprisoning mine.
“Not that that shit is ever f*ckin’ gonna go down again, but luck turns sour. If it does, no way, babe. No way would you be my shield.”
“Get off me,” I hissed.
“No way would I let you put yourself in the path of a bullet for me.”
“Get off me!” I snapped.
“No way I’d let you put yourself in the path of anything for me.”
“Get… off!”
He didn’t get off.
He kept right on talking.
“That’s the point I’m tryin’ to make. If you don’t know shit, you don’t feel shit. You breathe easy if you take a chance on me. What I do, I do. What the Club does, it does. You’ll learn to trust me, the brothers, Tack. I don’t use you as a shield. I am the goddamn shield, and I’m not talkin’ about bullets because shit like that does not touch old ladies. Ever. I’m talkin’ about a*sholes with monster trucks. I’m talkin’ about Club business, life, every second you live, every breath you take. You take a chance on me, your biggest worry is your 7Up fizzing over.”
“You can’t promise that,” I told him.
“Yes, I can,” he told me.
“You think Tack promised that to Tyra before they took her and stuck her until she almost bled to death?”
His face got soft and his voice was cautious but tender when he returned, “I think you don’t wanna go there since it wasn’t Tack who got Tyra stuck.”
It was my turn to clench my jaw and, unable to turn my head away, I closed my eyes tight.
He was right, it was Elliott who did that and, through Elliott, me.
“Lady, look at me,” Hop ordered gently.
I opened my eyes.
“Take a chance on me,” he whispered.
“No,” I whispered back.
“Take a chance on me,” he repeated.
“No,” I repeated too.
“Baby,” his lips dropped to mine but his eyes didn’t let mine go, “Christ, I’m beggin’ you, let me in. Let me help. Let me in so I can untie that shit you got wound up inside you.”
I held his eyes.
Then I pushed my head in the pillows. He got my message, lifted his lips from mine and I announced, “I stepped in front of those bullets.”
I felt his body jerk then still.
I wasn’t done.
“He let me,” I shared.
He closed his eyes and murmured, “F*ck me, Lanie.”
“Look at me, Hopper.”
He opened his eyes and God, God, they were so intense it was a wonder they didn’t burn two holes straight through me.
“I’m not taking a chance on you,” I declared. “I am not taking a chance on anybody.”
His eyes started burning a different way.
“He was alive, I’d f*ckin’ kill him,” he clipped.
“Well then, it’s good he’s dead. Now get off me,” I returned.
“Seven years, Lanie, you’ve held that monster inside and, I’ll repeat, it’s eatin’ you alive.”
“I know that monster, Hop, I understand it,” I sort of lied. I knew it before. Since I propositioned Hop at a hog roast, it was acting unpredictably. “It’s the world outside I don’t understand,” I finished and that was the honest to goodness truth.
“Then come full into Chaos, Lanie. Our world is simple. You got nothin’ to understand but family.”
God! He had an answer for everything.
“Please listen to me. That’s not going to happen,” I stressed.
He went quiet.
So did I.
He ended the silence.
“I’ll wear you down,” he proclaimed.
“No, you won’t,” I denied.
“You won’t let me in, I’ll break in, sneak in, blast in,” he promised.
“You won’t get in,” I contradicted.
He shut up again and stared at me.
After long moments, I watched as suddenly, weirdly and, most of all, scarily, he saw something in me that made his face clear.
I didn’t think that was good.
I would find out I was right.
“Let you in on a secret, babe, and you think on this,” he told me.
I was not going to think on anything.
“Hop… get… off… me,” I snapped.
His body pressed into mine so he could lift his hands up and frame my face.
“I’m already in. Just gotta wait for you to realize it.”
This, unfortunately, was a scary statement because, more unfortunately, I suspected he was not wrong. Furthering my misfortune, he’d read that in my face, which meant he knew or was learning how to read me.
This was not good.
At all.
Hiding my discomfiture, I advised, “Don’t hold your breath.”
He dropped his head, touched his lips to mine then lifted, shifting to plant his forearms in the bed at my sides. “You want me to take you back to your car?”
“Not on your life,” I answered.
His mouth twitched.
Then he asked, “Want me to ask one of the boys to do it?”
“Absolutely not,” I answered.
His mouth curved.
“Wanna f*ck real quick before you go?”
I didn’t “wanna f*ck real quick”. I actually wanted to f*ck real slow.
I didn’t tell him that.
I demanded, “Get off me.”
He rolled off me.
I tried not to feel disappointment and rolled the other way.
As I hastily dressed, I informed him, “I’m stealing your tee since you messed up my blouse.”
“I’ll buy you a new one,” he said from the bed.
“Don’t bother,” I muttered, then felt it important to note, “And I’m not stealing your tee because it’s yours.”
It was his turn to mutter and when he did, he muttered, “Right.”
“I’m not,” I declared, zipping up my skirt.
“I believe you, lady,” he stated like he absolutely did not.
I decided to let that go and get out of there.
Sandals in hand, I moved to his jeans on the floor and yanked out my phone before I moved to my purse in his easy chair. I grabbed it and walked to the door barefoot.
I did this intent on leaving, intent on not looking at him. Just as, when he left me, he didn’t look at me.
So intent, I didn’t think when he called my name when I was at the door, and I looked at him.
He was lying naked across the bed, up on an elbow, head in his hand, eyes on me, looking so amazing I had absolutely no idea how I didn’t throw my stuff aside, rush across the room, take a flying leap and join him.
“See you tonight,” he stated. My head jerked because I was focused on my thoughts, so his words came as a surprise.
“What?” I asked.
“See you tonight,” he repeated.
I finally got it together and therefore was able to lie. “I’m busy tonight.”
He didn’t say anything.
“So I won’t see you,” I went on.
“You’ll see me,” he declared and my eyes narrowed on him.
“Hop—”
“Tack’s comin’ down the mountain, lady. You wanna be gone before he gets here or any boys around get up, you better haul ass,” he advised.
Damn!
“Careful of High,” Hop went on. “He’s curious so he’s gonna be lurking.”
Double damn!
“You sure you don’t want me to take you to your car?” he asked.
“I don’t want anything from you,” I answered.
He grinned.
I glared.
This went on for some time before he prompted, “Babe, you don’t want anything from me, why are you standing in my room staring at me?”
Gah!
“I’m not staring, I’m glaring,” I countered.
“What you’re doin’ is hangin’ on to an argument that’s long since over ’cause you don’t wanna leave me,” he shot back.
God.
I gave him one last glare, opened the door and shot through it.
I didn’t slam it.
I walked as quietly as I could through the Compound, calling a taxi service while I made my way to the door. I then walked as quickly as I could through the forecourt of Ride while I ordered my taxi. Last, I sat on the bench of a bus stop a block away to wait for my taxi and, while I waited, I put my sandals on my now filthy feet.
And I did all this not thinking that I was looking forward to seeing Hop that night.
No, I wasn’t thinking that.
Definitely not thinking that.
Absolutely not.
Even though I was.
Damn.