Page 147 of Dirty Salvation

She heard a warning in there somewhere. Take care of Rider ...or else. Rather than scare Zara, she smiled wide at him.

Rider was surrounded by such good people you wouldn’t expect to see within an MC, people who loved and cared for him would protect him at all costs.

Outlaws with hearts.Who would rip out a throat in a second if you crossed them.Somehow the thought endeared her to every one of those men.

Wasn't that what made a person rich these days. No true wealth could be kept in a bank; it was in who loved you. Reaching out, she patted his arm, giving him comfort for whatever put the sadness in Capone's eyes for a second. Had the man really lost all his family? how sad... but in the Renegade Souls, she hoped he'd regained some of it back. She thought of her own family, wondered if she would ever reach out to them again. Maybe one day when she was stronger. She'd need to be to deal with her mother's questioning, not to mention her father's disappointment when she told him she never wanted to be a lawyer at all. Maybe one day, she thought.

"I understand, Capone." She said finally.

He seemed satisfied with her reply. His mouth quirking in a devastating smile. God help the woman who roped him in, she mused, he would be hell on her heart and libido.

“Do you know why his nickname is Rider?” Zara tipped her head to the side, curious now for all information on Rider. She was always hungry for it and wouldn’t mind a bit drilling Capone for it on the drive home.

Mostly she got her information from Uncle Jed. He was a terrible gossip.

Capone’s chuckle was rough. “Because he will ride anyone’s fucking soul straight into Hell if you messed with him or his club.“ and while Zara smiled back slightly, her thought was it suited Rider.

An outlaw with a heart of. Well, not Gold, because her man was bad to his sexy bones, badness he’d used to help her and she didn’t mind him being just the way he was, sometimes paths were not paved in roses, but in the thorns and it was those that maketh the man.

In her humble opinion, Rider was pretty fucking perfect just as is.

She quietly quizzed Capone for more things about Rider on the drive back, and what do you know, the man talked and talked and talked, laughing some, as well. But he never said another word about his own background.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Goddamn it, there’s a candle burnin’ in the bathroom. If that doesn’t mean we live together I don’t know what does, Icy.” – Rider

The season was drawing ever closer to Thanksgiving, the days were relatively sedate, some bipolar crap was happening with the weather because of instead of the snow she wanted, Zara was wearing a pair of khaki shorts with a simple tank top, it was all she could stand to wear with the weather in the high eighties.

Pretty-Boy had dropped her off at the house after work that night while Rider was busy working on a customer’s bike, she was tired, hot and hungry and wanted the aircon on full blast. She’d been dreaming of that cold air all day stuck behind a desk sifting through unpaid bills and invoices. “Thanks, Mace.” she’d told him, waving him goodbye at the door, he waited until she was stepping through before he pulled off away from the curb. He’d going to look at cars with her tomorrow if Rider couldn’t, she really wanted her own vehicle again and since her renewed license had come through she was itching to get behind the wheel. She’d seen the one she wanted.Whocould resist a yellow car? Those bikers could shut up with their teasing, they obviously didn’t know style.

After a shower, tying her hair into a high ponytail up off her nape, and wearing another pair of shorts, pink this time, she went about fixing dinner.

Zara had never been much of a cook, it had always been her mom’s domain and then she had been on first-name terms with the cafeteria staff within the college campus so it was a surprise to discover she liked looking through recipes online. Rider had an old Samsung tablet she’d found in an office drawer, using it now, propped on the counter against a jar of jalapenos, she pulled the fixings for tagliatelle with bacon and chorizo from out of the fridge.

Not suitable for the hot as hell weather, but as any woman knew sometimes only pasta would do. She was a slave to the carb monster and didn’t mind a bit answering its craving call. And to pacify Rider’s meat fanatic-self she’d put together some beef patties, left them chilling in the fridge for him to grill later.

A while later she heard the familiar pipes of his bike roar up the street and pull into the small port out front. Her heart as always sped up like a hurricane. She was smiling in anticipation of that first fix of him, she only wished she looked better. It was still so hot and she was sweaty at her temple, nothing she could do now about that, or her makeup-free face.

Not as though she was trying to play his old lady.

Not like they lived together or anything.

Officially, anyway. Even if he spent every night with her.

Everything she’d said to him that night he’d offered her the house about wanting her own space and independence ... yep, seemed to have floated off in the wind.

Not that she didn’t love being with Rider and she found she could be independent as she liked with him right there naked in her bed.

Or naked on the couch.

Naked in the shower.

She smiled to herself. She liked him around.Period. And also naked.

When he stepped through the door, shoulders wide as the door frame, in his custom Renegade Souls leather jacket and his hair escaping from the bun, Sia was playing quietly on the radio perched on the top of the fridge, she cast a look over her shoulder, ready to smile at him. Only his tense face had her pausing.

“I didn’t expect you so soon, did you finish up on the bike? Jed said you were waiting on a part for it.”

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