Page 126 of Dirty Salvation

“Say what?” his voice unnaturally quiet. Eyes probed Zara until she scowled.

What? From the scowl etched on his handsome face she’d warrant she’d told him she wanted to do the cha-cha with one of his brothers. “Run that by me again, Icy,” he demanded in a low voice.

“I think it’s time I moved out of here and found my own place. In fact, I’ve been doing some research on the computer, and there are a couple of apartments above a convenience store in town I may be able to afford now. I thought maybe----”

“You wanna leave?”

“Well. Yeah.” she blinked confused at his reaction. She'd expected enthusiasm, encouragement, not a fierce glare. “Staying at your club was never a permanent fixture, Rider. Just until I got on my feet again.”

“Why, what’s wrong with the club? I thought you were happy here.”

Ut oh.Somewhere from the door to her mouth opening Zara had stepped on a Rider minefield. She didn’t know how or why, but there it was staining his rigid face. Reaching out briefly, she touched the sleeve of his white Henley shirt.

“Rider. I’ve taken too much from the club already and----”

“Hold up, babe. Did I say you’d taken too much?”

“No, you haven’t, but----”

“No, I haven’t. So, I ask again, you wanna leave?”

Zara blinked, and left wondering where this combatant tone was coming from. Did he really think she wanted to live in a motorcycle club forever? It wasn't a practical solution long term. It didn’t even have real rooms, their bedroom was tiny with barely any furniture, and if she had to sleep on the twin bed for much longer her back was going to require a brace, most mornings Rider was sprawled on top of her crushing her into the mattress.

“It’s not like that. I love my job, Rider, it’s fun helping you guys, really. And I want to keep it. Nothing will change, only I won’t be sleeping here every single night. I thought you’d be happy.” her voice trailed off because his look could strip paint. Frowning, she inhaled slowly. “Look I…we could see those apartments together sometime today before they go…I’d like your input, Rider.”

“Fine.” his voice final. His jaw tight, a tic working the muscle.

Maybe she should have rented an apartment first before telling him.Too late now.“You wanna leave the clubhouse? Fine. Not a shitty one room place, Icy. I know somewhere, and it’s cheap. Come on.”

“Wait! Just like that? Right now? Where is it? Hold up, Rider!” he’d already strode out of the office, she jogged to keep up.

What was his problem? He had more face than a clock.Jeez.

A long bike ride later he pulled his motorcycle into a driveway, parking in front of a red bricked house with a quaint white painted porch that had five steps leading up to the front door.

She stepped down from his bike, looked around at the new surroundings. The street was quiet, with houses dotted here and there, not so close that you'd be able to peep on the neighbors. It looked like one of those gated communities in the suburbs. And excuse her butwaaaaayout of her price range. She couldn't afford a damn house let alone one in a nice area. She’d budgeted for a one bedroom apartment.

“Where are we?” she asked.

Rider caught her hand, lacing her fingers through his and led her up the steps, using a key he let them in, flipping on a light as if he knew exactly where the switch was in the hallway.

“Welcome home, Icy. You want your own place. Well, here it is.” And with that he dropped the key in her palm.

CHAPTER THIRTY

“The devil is in the details and the pantry Rider was going to stock...” - Zara

“Are---are you certifiable right now? I know the checklist of symptoms, Rider.” Zara’s eyes had gone wide as saucers, first looking down the long entry hallway, to the left, into the first room, a living room, and then she flipped her disbelieving gaze to the presuming biker president stood with arms folded against his wide chest, legs in a relaxed stance but it was all business on his face. Sharp angles to his jaw masked by facial hair, and holy god, the look in his eyes. Zara swallowed. She contemplated asking him to dial back on the handsome, since it was an impossibility she let it go.

“Not since I last checked, no. It’s somewhere to live, Zara. Don’t make a big-fuckin’-deal outta it. Problem solved.”

Problem solved. How Rider. A man of few words.

She rolled her eyes. The air was stale like it hadn’t been lived in for a while but other than that it looked fine, more than fine. It was quaint and any other circumstance she would have been eager to look around, to imagine hanging cute flower curtains and buying matching knives for the kitchen. But she was confused. He could magic a house out of thin air with no notice at all.

Rider, on the other hand, looked perturbed holding onto his self-restraint as though she’d offended him by pissing in his cereal that morning.

If Zara wasn’t churning with her own irritation over him taking her one decision out of her hands she would have taken more notice of Rider for the last minute, only as he sucked around his teeth in a show of grabbing onto patience did he draw her focus, hands moved down to his lean hips, every movement clanking his wallet chain. Those vigilant eyes trained on her.

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