Page 68 of Dirty Salvation

Yes, he should get a belly on him, one that hung over his jeans... maybe then she wouldn't want to stroke his hair and rub her cheek on his beard.

Everything she'd endured, the most deplorable sex acts imaginable, she shouldn't be craving intimacy with Rider.Sex with him would be different.

Sex with him had been... glorious. Life changing.

The craving was growing.

There was only one thing for it. She'd have to leave very soon.

"Let me go." she implored in a quiet voice breaking eye contact. If she carried on looking up at him she'd crumble and she wanted to keep on being annoyed at him. Anger worked so much better than feeling vulnerable and weak and incompetent.

The swift intensity in him was startling, Zara's head reared up. Rider hadn't spoken a word, so why did she feel the air change around them? His eyes tracked from her face, and down, she followed the motion to see why he hadn't stepped back. She was gripping the front of his black wife beater. He’d made contact, and he didn’t want to break it. And now it seemed as if she had, too.

Oh. She’d been unaware she'd taken a grip of him. Her fingers unclenched releasing him, his warmth, even with inches between them, made her dizzy. Gaze fixed on his chest, she stepped back breaking all contact finally, only then did air return to her lungs.

In out. In out. And breathe.

"I'm thinkin' of you, Zara. You don't need to see those fuckers, don't need to be in the same air ever again. Let me do this for you."

"If you call wanting to take care of myself being a brat, then so be it, but don’t decide what’s best for me, only I know that. I won't change my mind, Rider. I want to do it for myself, for the fear and loneliness and self-hatred I have trapped inside of my head served at the hands of pigs, but this is your club, nothing to do with me as you said, so you do you, I won't say another word about it." The clank of the air conditioning was a good excuse to put even more space between them, walking to the window to switch it off, instantly regretting it when the room fell completely silent, only the sound of his hard inhale.

"For fuck's sake, do you even know what you're askin’, Zara, really? Why would you take yourself to that place again after what they did, seein’ them, rememberin’? when you know I got this for you. Those bastards will suffer for you until they beg to die."

With every word, she watched Rider grow tense, veins stood out on his forearms when his fists clenched on his hips. Those ocean eyes she avoided pinned her and she knew then just how dangerous this man was, why men feared him, his reputation not only preceded him, it clanged truth for miles.

He was dangerous.

Justnotto her.

How could she explain the turmoil she felt inside so he’d understand how helpless she was because of it, the ugliness she carried or why looking at the Rebel's men would for once give her the power back to move forward with her life.

It wouldn't be a big accomplishment but it would be something.

They’d reached a stalemate.

“I gotta go, Icy. Stay inside, okay? I'll come back to you.” Zara looked at him without emotion and nodded. Rider sighed and set off for the door, only turning back when he reached it. “You were sweet for me earlier, don’t take it back, Icy. It’s mine. I’ll be back soon.” He was towered over her a second later, cupping her cheeks he kissed her mouth, a fast press of closed lips and then he was gone, leaving Zara touching those same lips feeling him there.

A kiss before he went to murder.

Poetic. Or plain terrifying. A chill moved through her.

Zara couldn’t decide.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“So, we’re all agreed, no fucker ever pisses off the girl. Ever. I swear it on my balls. – Lawless

This was Hawk's wheelhouse, the place he could unleash his maniac side and relish in the kill. For what he'd contributed to the club these past four years alone he'd racked up a score of hundreds of bastards he'd put to ground, damaged them in a way that until their last breath they'd know just who had fucked them up. He was particularly skilled with a pipe wrench, cracking it against bones in just a way it shattered them into thousands of tiny little pieces. The work would take a team of doctors to even repair such a break would be monstrously difficult. Hawk always smiled when he broke bones, he said he liked the sound they made, but who could hear a bone cracking when the recipient was too busyscreaminghis fucking head off.

Rider was always impressed with his friend's work.

If Hawk wasn't Rider's VP, he would have been the club's enforcer. The go-to ghost man who would extract the jobs no one else wanted to or could do.

Lucky for Rider, he had two maniacs under his roof.

Spoiled for fucking choice on who to WWE tag in.

He cast his gaze to the second maniac, Lawless stood off to the side, one black boot resting to the wall, the same shade of long coat hanging down by his ankles, his shaved head and ink along his neck giving the only impression needed, he was a mean bastard when he had to be.

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