Page 30 of Wild Ride

Very achy.

Opening my eyes, I roll over to face his side of the bed and expect him to be there. I expect this man who made me as sore as I am to be still lying beside me, just as worn out and sated as I am.

But he’s not there.

Frowning, I push up to sit and look around the hotel room. He’s nowhere to be seen, and you can see every nook and cranny of this room from anywhere. I throw my legs over the side of the bed, grab my pajama shorts from where Bullet tossed them last night, and shimmy them up my legs as I walk toward the bathroom.

I’m not sure what I expect to find when I look at my reflection in the mirror, but it’s not the same almost broken woman fromthe last time I was with him. I don’t know if I just needed another time with him in order to get it out of my system or maybe something else…

Maybe I want all those things he said to me.

It’s not like I really believed them when they came out of his mouth…

But maybe I do want to be his.

Shaking my head, I pinch my eyes closed. That can’t be it. That whole thing is so ridiculous. There is no way he meant what he said.

It was a heat-of-the-moment thing.

Clearing my throat, I shake my head, trying to shake the stupidity from my brain. He didn’t mean anything. He wanted to have sex again, and I fell for it all, hook, line, and sinker. I start the shower and step inside once the water has heated up enough.

Although the water here doesn’t get the right level of hot I prefer, like at Briana’s place, it will have to be good enough while I’m here.

Once I’m washed and dried off, I go in search of an outfit. I need something that is going to be worthy of a cookout situation with a bunch of men who loved my father and likely think that I’m the scum of the earth. My father, whom I had never met and who was without a doubt their role model.

Should be easy enough…

As I riffle through my bags, I let out a heavy sigh. I don’t do fashion, and the only time I looked somewhat fashionable in my whole life was when I was working in an office, and that was only officewear, and all said officewear was borrowed or handed down from Briana.

Now that I work from home and nobody sees me, I wear jeans, sweats, leggings, and shorts with T-shirts, Henleys, and hoodies. Thankfully, it’s not freezing cold outside, so I reach for a pair of cutoff jean shorts and tug them on, then grab one of myoversized V-neck T-shirts and pull that on, tucking the front into the waist.

Walking over to the full-length mirror, I take in my reflection. I’m not sure if this look sayssexyor not, but I don’t really know what would say that anyway in terms of clothes. So, it doesn’t really matter what I wear, but I don’t want to look out of place by any means.

Frowning, I bite my bottom lip, chewing on the corner for a moment before I run my fingers through my hair. This is as good as it gets for me. Slipping my feet into a pair of low-top sneakers, I let out a heavy sigh and reach for my purse, then take my phone off the nightstand.

I don’t know what I’m walking into with this place. I’m not even sure that I should go. Pinching my eyes closed, I hitch my purse over my shoulder, then let out a heavy sigh and grab the keys before I walk out of the room.

I climb into the car, start the engine, and type the address into my GPS. My mind is still reeling from what I discovered last night, what Bullet said about Willamette Haven and the leader, about the girls. I just can’t think about it. I don’t know what to do about that knowledge.

Starting the engine, I head toward the cookout. I’m not sure what I’m going to be driving into, but I’m doing this. I want to know more about my father, Nathan Vaughn, and these are the only people who can tell me anything at all.

It doesn’t take me long to drive to the building that Justin told me to go to. It’s in the middle of nowhere. I think that maybe I’m lost until I see a sign with the name Vicious Reapers painted in black and an arrow.

I drive down a dirt road and am stopped by a gate and a gatehouse. A man walks over to me. Rolling down the window, I turn my head and look up at him. He’s dressed much like Bullet,a pair of jeans made for his muscular thighs, a T-shirt, and a black leather vest adorned with patches.

I tell him my name. “I’m here for the cookout. My name is Dakota Vaughn.”

I can’t see his eyes behind his mirrored aviator glasses, but his lips curve up into a smirk. “Know who you are, babe. Go ahead and drive through the gates. Follow the road all the way back until you reach the brick building. There should be bikes and cars parked in front of it.”

“Thanks,” I exhale.

He smirks again and takes a step backward, and then I watch as he walks over to the little guard shack, and then the gate opens. I think about backing up and driving away, but I don’t. Sucking in a deep breath, I make my way through the gate and down the dirt road until I reach the brick building.

BULLET

Sitting at my desk, I suck in a breath and hold it for a moment as I watch her car move down the long driveway from the entrance gate to the clubhouse. Leaving her this morning wasn’t something I was prepared to hate.

In fact, sleeping with her in the same bed last night didn’t suck at all. It was the exact opposite, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. Maybe she was meant to be mine, and Shade sent her to me from beyond the grave.

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