Page 12 of Rocky Top

“Come on,” Eliza said, pulling me down the hall toward the bathroom. “Let’s clean you up.”

To my surprise, the bathroom smelled faintly of citrus disinfectant. Not to mention it was cleaner than the bar which was arelief. Eliza grabbed a first aid kit from under the sink and motioned for me to sit on the counter.

“You’re lucky,” she said, dabbing at the dirty scrape covering my knee. “That whatever-it-was didn’t finish the job.”

I winced. “Thanks for the bedside manner.”

She gave me a look. “I’m serious. These woods aren’t safe.”

“No kidding,” I muttered. “Look, Eliza… What’s going on? This place, these people, even you. Like y’all are keeping some big secret I’m not allowed in on.”

Eliza hesitated, her hand stuck on my leg. “Bird…”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” I whispered. “I’m your best friend. I saw something tonight I can’t explain.”

Her eyes met mine, full of conflict. “I don’t know what to tell you,” she said. “These bikers keep things close to their chests. Trust me when I say you’re safer the less you know right now. I mean, the way Knox was accused of killing Mark.”

I pulled back, frustration flaring. “That’s not good enough anymore,” I began hesitantly. “There's something... different about this place. About this club.”

She paused, meeting my gaze. “What do you mean?”

I struggled to find the words. “It's just... ever since you got involved with Knox, things have felt off. Secrets. The vibe here is way off. And now, this wolf...”

Eliza sighed, setting the first-aid supplies aside. “Birdie, we’re talking about a biker club. There's a lot of club business you don't know. And neither do I. I don’t want to know.”

Frustration bubbled up. “Why not? You deserve to know what's going on.”

She looked torn, biting her lip. “I know Knox has secrets. But it’s not like Mark’s secrets. It's not my place. Trust me, we're safer not knowing. And about secrets… What about Brent? Maybe he was trying to give you a scare.”

“Brent is long gone. Left Knoxville when Mark got caught,” I said, bristling at her mentioning him as a secret. Eliza hadn’t liked that I’d been seeing Mark’s best friend after her and Mark divorced, so I’d kept it to myself. That was all. When she found out, I knew more about Mark’s shady dealings, because I’d been seeing Brent, she said I’d betrayed her. It had almost broke our friendship.

“I still think Brent was in on it,” Eliza stated the obvious.

The bathroom door creaked open.

Rocky.

He filled the doorway, shoulders wide, his presence like a thundercloud. His blue eyes locked onto mine, and something twisted in my stomach. Heat. Awareness. Danger.

I wasn’t the type to swoon over every tall drink of trouble that strutted into a room wearing leather and danger like cologne. But Rocky? Lord help me, that man had “bad idea” written all over him in swoopy cursive, and I was just dumb enough to want toread every line twice.

He was tall. Change a light bulb without a stepladder tall. Built like a man who knew his way around a fightanda wrench and muscled in all the right places, down to his drawers. My eyes still wandered down him as he stood there, low-slung jeans hanging on sinful hips. The kind of man you knew could pick you up without breaking a sweat or maybe break your heart just as easy. His arms looked like they could bench press a Harley and then carry you to the altar without spilling his beer.

That sandy blond hair of his was always a mess, tousled like he’d just pulled off his helmet or rolled out of a woman’s bed, and I couldn’t rightly say which image was worse for my blood pressure. His eyes were the color of a summer storm, that sharp blue that made you feel like you were about to be kissed, or even cussed at, and I hadn’t yet decided which one I’d prefer.

He used to play ball for Tennessee back in the day. Quarterback, I’d heard until some injury cut his future short and he decided to chase trouble and women instead. Then he became a pilot. Yep, that’s right. Rocky flew tourists over the Smokies in one of those little helicopters that looked like a mosquito with a motor. And somehow, that just made himmoredangerous. There was something about a man who could ride a Harleyandfly a damn chopper that screamed emotional whiplash, and yet my hormones refused to listen.

On top of all that, he was Vice President of the Royal Bastards MC’s Knoxville chapter. Which meant he wasn’t just flirting with trouble. Hewastrouble, dressed in a leather cut and backed by a brotherhood that could burn a town down if you crossed ’em.

As if he wasn’t already walking trouble with a side of “yes, ma’am.”

Rocky? He didn’t do soft. He didn’t do sweet. Hell, I’ve barely seen himtalkto the same woman twice, unless it’s to toss her a wink or a growl. And far as I could tell, he liked his lovers like his whiskey, strong, smokey, and gone by morning. Every time I caught him smirking at some whore in a crop top, I reminded myselfhe wasn’t for me. I was a pedicure and bubble bath kinda girl, not a knives and motor oil kind of woman.

But damn if he didn’t make me forget that sometimes.

Even when I knew better. Those tattoos peeking out from sleeves that hugged his biceps too well for public safety. And when he looked at me, really looked, and spoke with that gravel-slick voice, I felt every warning my mama ever gave me about boys who made your stomach flip and your brain shut off.

Rocky wasn’t just dangerous.

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