Page 31 of Amy's Santa

The two men shake hands once again before he leaves, holding on a second or two longer than would be polite. I’m wondering whether it’s a test of some sort. Xander’s a Dom by nature, and Drew didn’t make prez without being a strong and confident man.

The door closes behind him. Xander walks over to me, and I immediately lower my eyes.

“Look at me, Amy.” His finger rests gently on my chin as he encourages my face to rise. “Are you comfortable going off with this man?”

“I’ve known Drew,Wizard, since I was five. I grew up with him. He was good to me then, watching out for me. He’d never hurt me now.” That’s the honest truth. Out of all the men here, possibly with the exception of Xander, Drummer and my dad, he’s the one I feel most comfortable with. He’d protected me as a child, saw I needed some me time without the babies around, and gave it to me. He might be the prez now, but in our conversation there were flickers of the connection we once had before he went and destroyed it. One thing I won’t admit to Xander or anyone, is that Drew’s the reason I left the compound.

Xander stares at me for a moment. “Okay,” he breathes at last. “I don’t like the thought of you being on the back of a motorcycle. You know only too well what medical staff think of them.”

I do. When I worked in ER, I saw a fewmotorcycle organ donorscome in from a bad crash, end up with life changing injuries, or even die. I also have to live with the fact my mother was killed and my father almost joined her after their bike was run off the road. It hadn’t put Dad off riding, nor prevented him taking me as a passenger as a little girl. His love of bikes greater than his fear of the danger they represented. Some risks you don’t take, but it’s a thrill, like riding a roller coaster, a bug which gets its hold on you and won’t let go. While I know all the sensible reasons for not getting on a two-wheeler, I also know there’s nothing better than the freedom and excitement of riding on the back of a bike, being one with the elements, and seeing the scenery up close. It was so much more personal than driving in a car.

“It’s Christmas day, Xander. There won’t be much traffic around, and Drew is a safe rider, he’s ridden for years.” Coming up on twenty if my memory’s right. I nibble at my lip then tell him, “But if you really don’t want me to go...”

“I’d be selfish denying you a pleasure that I can’t give you myself. You go, Amy.” He pulls my head back by taking a firm grasp of my hair. “Later tonight we’ll continue the conversation we started earlier.”

I shiver, by which he means he wants an answer to his question. Wants me to agree to becoming this dominant man’s submissive.

That’s what I want too. Isn’t it?

I grab a jacket and walk out of the suite, at first head down, then I feel a bubble of excitement growing inside of me. I’ll be riding with Drew, a first. Suddenly I itch to experience my arms around him, a dream I’d had before everything came crashing down. Of course, all that’s behind me now, but for just one moment maybe I can allow myself to pretend it all turned out as I originally desired.

Chapter Nine

Amy

As promised, Drew is waiting for me by his motorcycle. He’s polishing his bike, or at least, as I can see from the distance, wiping off a speck of dust that had dared land on it. As if he can sense me coming, he turns and stands, leaning back against his bike, his arms folded across his chest, and a smirk on his face.

God but he’s handsome.If anything, he’s grown into his skin over the years. At thirty-seven he now looks like he’s entering his prime.

It seems he’s not going to waste time. He walks his bike out of the parking space, then, holding it upright, jerks his head toward me.

When he passes me a helmet, I place it on my head and buckle the strap, knowing there’s no point in admonishing him for not wearing one himself. Then, with one hand on his shoulder, I sling my leg over the pillion seat, muscle memory taking over, even though it’s been years since I’ve been for a ride. Suddenly nervous, I place my hands on the sissy bars, getting ready to hold on tight.

He tsks, then reaches back, his hands closing around each of mine, and then my arms are pulled tightly around his waist. Confident in his knowledge I’m an experienced passenger, he says nothing as he starts the engine and heads down the track. The gates open automatically, I presume there’s some sort of remote control on his bike, and then we’re out. I breathe deeply as we turn onto the I-10.

Coming home had been hard carrying so much baggage with me. Knowing at least some of the men here now knew more about me than I ever wanted them to know, and that Xander had shared the details of the worst night of my life, had opened the wounds once again. It had been as difficult as I’d expected it to be, so to have a reprieve if only for a short while is welcome.

As I expected, traffic is light, and there are no holdups as we make our way along familiar roads. I notice new estates, which have sprung up since I was a child, and a large store which I thought would be there forever, closed down. The changes strike me as sad, and a sign the years are passing. A world I’d willingly left behind was moving on without me.

After half an hour, Drew turns down a familiar track, and I realise he’s taking me to the stables that Mouse has owned for twenty years now. He’d taken it over when the old man who used to run it retired. Mariana, Mouse and their children live here now. I remember it had been Drew’s home too, from the time his sister and the computer guru married until he’d become a prospect and moved to the compound.

It’s quiet and peaceful. Drew pulls up in the now paved parking lot and taps on my leg.

Mouse, his wife and their children will all be at the compound. The horses aren’t left unsupervised though, there’s a couple of hired hands I can see mucking out. I remember Mouse taking on people to help as he couldn’t dedicate his time to the place full-time, he was too useful on the compound. But he and Mariana had built a new house, replacing the ramshackle building that the previous owner had lived in.

“Come.” Drew holds out his hand. With his other he gives a wave to the hands who give us just a cursory look and a nod. First, he leads me into a barn and leans over a food bin, coming out with some carrots in his hands.

I grin widely. As a young girl I’d loved feeding the horses and doing so now takes me back in time. In my head, Drew’s not an MC prez, he’s just the friend that I’d grown up with. He was the one who’d taught me to ride.

“It’s years since I’ve been on a horse, Drew,” I observe, breathing in that smell that’s unique to a stable yard.

“When are you going to start using my road name?” he asks with a boyish grin.

“You’ll always be Drew to me,” I remark, challenging him with my eyes. “Is it really that important to you?”

He’s quiet for a moment, thinking, before he seriously replies, “If it was anyone else, I’d give them a beatdown. Disrespect shown, punishment dealt. But you? Nah. As long as you’re not calling me an asshole, you can call me what you like.”

“And if I call you an asshole?” I can’t resist finding out.

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