Page 63 of Wild Ride

I can’t imagine that this club has no goddamn clue that enemies are in their territory. I cannot fathom running a club this fucking clueless. I can’t help but wonder what the hell is actually going on here. Because no way in hell is our bar ever this empty, ever, there are always men and whores milling around.

This is the most bizarre club I’ve ever encountered. And it makes me think that there is something a hell of a lot biggerhappening behind the scenes. But if I wanted to ask Grudge, it’s too goddamn late because that motherfucker is no longer breathing.

And I’m still not sorry about that part.

Not that he would explain shit to me anyway. Because I wouldn’t say a fucking thing to someone who came in with the intent to kill me, either. Plus, I’m glad he’s dead. I’ll comb through this entire club and find out the fucking truth of it all

And so that’s what I plan to do.

My men gather the Bloodhounds and their whores, bringing them into the bar. I ask Razor to keep an eye on Ralph while I go in search of anything and everything that I can find to enlighten me on why these fucks thought they could do what they did. All the while, I can’t help but wonder just how deep Ralph is into this shit. I don’t trust a fucking thing he’s said to me. And now I’m questioning Shade. Which I fucking hate.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

DAKOTA

I’mglad that Viking doesn’t make me leave. Staying where I am in the back seat of the pickup truck, I stare straight ahead at the building, waiting for whatever is about to happento happen. It’s like I’m waiting for the train on the tracks to derail and crash. I don’t know when it’s going to happen, but I know it’s bound to at some point.

Viking clears his throat, interrupting my staring contest with the building. It takes everything inside of me to tear my gaze away and turn to look at him. His lips twitch into a smirk, and he jerks his chin.

“Nothing is going to happen if you keep staring.”

I open my mouth, then snap it closed because he’s probably right. I just don’t know what to say or how to say it, so I stay quiet. He doesn’t keep his mouth shut, though. Instead, he speaks, and when he does, he asks the hard questions.

“Are you going to stay here or go back to Oregon?”

Blinking, I look down at my lap, my eyes unable to connect to his as I think about that question. He sees too deep inside of me.This man is a huge, wide teddy bear, and for whatever reason, I feel as if I’m being scrutinized, like if I don’t answer the right way, I’m going to disappoint him, which is wild because I’ve only known him for less than an hour.

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

He doesn’t respond immediately to my words, but the longer he stays silent, the heavier the air in the cab of the pickup becomes. I press my lips together as I try to think of what to say. But the truth is that I don’t know what I’m going to do.

I’m falling for Bishop—hard. But at the same time, I’m not sure I want this life with him. He is wild. His world is reckless and scary. After growing up in the chaos of sex and booze, I’m not sure I want to continue in that life, even if it’s called something different.

I’m just not sure it’s for me.

Not that I think there is someone else out in the world who will make me feel the way he does because I’m pretty sure there isn’t. But at the same time, I’m not sure I can handle what this world entails. I’m not that strong. And I’m not sure I want to be, either.

“I’m not sure you’re going to have much of a choice after all is said and done,” he murmurs.

“Why?” I ask as my eyes flick up to meet his.

Viking’s lips curve into a smirk, his gaze searching mine for a moment. Then he shifts in his seat and leans forward slightly as if he’s going to say something that’s a secret, only for my ears to hear. I hold my breath as he speaks, then let it out in a whoosh when he’s finished.

“Because I don’t think Bullet is going to just let you walk away.”

That thought.

It makes my heart jump, but not out of fear. It’s out of excitement. I want him to chase me, to want me, to want to keepme. I want him to love me. To desire me—to crave me. I’ve never had anything like that before, and I can’t deny it feels exciting.

Even if it’s terrifying.

But I think that every person on this earth wishes not only to be loved but to be desired as well. Nobody has ever made me feel the way Bishop does, but I also know that what he offers me may not be healthy.

I just have to decide how much dysfunction I am willing to live with, exactly. And if this feeling he gives me is worth it all. Is it worth having a target on my back from unknown sources? Is it worth constantly looking over my shoulder and wondering who is going to kidnap me next?

“He might not have a choice,” I exhale as I shift my gaze to the building again.

This time, when my eyes land on the brick building, there is movement. I see him in the distance. I know it’s him. The determination of his steps, the way he charges forward, straight toward me, I know it is Bishop Drake, and he is coming for his prize.

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