Page 6 of Savage Lust

At least my father had given me that.

The sound of Cam’s motorcycle, leaving before the funeral, woke me.

There was a text on my phone, sent before he left. A weird bubble of excitement caught in my throat, then quickly deflated when I read it.

Desert Kings are sending a car to pick you up. Be ready by 10:30.

What had I expected? I’d not even known the guy twenty-four hours. I stood and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. He probablyleft every woman he met excited and chasing after him. He had the fuck boy swagger down, better than any I’d ever seen.

Not that I’d met many.

I turned my focus to the things that mattered, not the sexy biker next door. What was I supposed to wear to the funeral of a man I’d never met?

My father’s funeral.

I settled on a modest black dress that swayed around my knees. Nothing remarkable, something that should blend. Though, the only shoes I had to match were knee high black leather boots. My club shoes. I snorted at my reflection. Wearing these, I’d fit in even better.

The car that arrived was a black stretch limousine. The sort of thing celebrities were carted off to award shows in. I looked up one side of the street and down the other before a driver in a crisp white shirt climbed from the front seat.

“Riley Bowman?” He made his way to the back door.

I blinked at the pomp and circumstance. “Yeah.” This was definitely over the top.

He swung an arm toward the door. “I’m Tommy. Sorry to hear about your dad.”

What was I supposed to say to that? I knew Tommy as well as I had my father. Archer Bowman was a stranger. The more reminders of that I was hit with, the more I second guessed coming here at all. “Thank you.”

I tucked myself into the limo and tried my best to settle in. Tommy had closed the partition between us. I was grateful, because small talk wasn’t something I was good at. Alone, hidden from the outside world, it was easier to gather myself and prepare for what was coming.

They were all strangers. People he’d chosen over me. And here I was, fulfilling his warped last wishes for what—money?

That you desperately need.

I could hear Mom’s voice now, warning me how dangerous he was—they were. To get out while I still had the chance. I trembled. Not because I was afraid, but because I should be and wasn’t. Her illness had changed me, broken a part of me.

To keep from thinking about all the things I was missing, all the things I could have had—I stared out the dark tinted window at the Nevada desert. It had been full dark when I arrived in Dry Valley, so the brilliance of the sun shining off the hard packed earth and the red hills in the distance was unexpected. I could see why Archer chose to make his life here.

I fought back the tears that threatened. I hadn’t lost just my future, but the only parent I’d ever known. She’d been as steady for me as any rock, and I missed her so much I ached. Since it was just the two of us, there’d been no funeral for her, just a pretty wooden box filled with her ashes.

A spitting, rumbling reverberation jerked me from my thoughts. Two rows of bikes passed us on each side. Each rider giving the limo—giving me—a two-finger salute as they passed.

An odd, warming emotion started in my chest and worked its way up the back of my throat. I wouldn’t say I was soothed, but the show of respect hit me in a way I hadn’t expected. I liked that it made me feel important.

I needed to meet with the lawyer and get the hell out of here. Cam was dangerous. Hadn’t he proved it in the way he’d grabbed me, attacked me? It was practically assault and yet I spent all night remembering the brief contact of his hands on my body. Gooseflesh covered my skin and pleasure tingled between my thighs each time I brought up the memory, making it dirtier than it was.

I liked it.

Daughter of the outlaw biker shouldn’t be such a shock. I wasn’t a total prude.

The bikers flanked the limo all the way to the funeral chapel. What was it about Rick Bowman that made him so important? Why the big fanfare? All I’d known was that he’d been part of a biker gang—Motorcycle Club. But this amount of reverence was a lot. Especially for a notoriously violent drug dealer that Mom had been terrified of.

The knot in my stomach twisted around an anchor and held me molded to the seat. The limo pulled in behind the hearse under an awning. I didn’t get out. My heart throbbed in my ears, and that weight in my stomach bobbed up and down in the acid that churned. It was too late now, I couldn’t turn and run.

My door opened and a tall masculine form blocked out the bright desert sun. It wasn’t until he bent into the car and extended his hand that I realized it was Cam.

“Come on, Riley.” His grip was warm on mine as he helped out. Metal winked from his leather vest as he did.

All around me, Harleys were shutting off as those that rode with the limo pulled in behind us. Those already there, leather vests covered in patches, milled about and all stared openly at me. Cam caught my elbow and held me steady when I stumbled as trepidation seeped in.

---