Page 30 of Ridin' Free
I knew, after that first night, when I starteddreamingabout the bastard, I’d crossed a line—broken a boundary I knew betterthan to break. I thought I could control it. Controlhim.Contain the mess—but, instead, it seemed to have grabbed hold of me, exposing a weakness I needed to overcome. And fast.
It wasmid-afternoonwhen he logged out of the computer in the office and headed back out onto the sales floor. Slick, who had been his assistant manager since Bull gave him the authority to choose a right-hand man, was behind the front counter, ringing up a customer. Buck was at the register beside him, doing the same.
Surveying the rest of the shop, Twister spotted Lewis helping a woman select windshield wipers. There weren’t many on the payroll who weren’t Stallions, but Lewis was one of them. While he didn’t have a passion for motorcycles, he knew more than athing or two about motors. He was also reliable and friendly, which was good for business.
The steady flow of customers they had most of the day was beginning to slow down as the afternoon wore on. It would only be a couple hours before the shop closed for the remainder of the weekend. Satisfied with what he saw, Twister decided it was about time to go grab a beer. He glanced back behind the front counter and caught Slick’s attention. A simple jerk of the chin was all Slick needed to understand his VP was looking to dip out—unless he was otherwise needed. Slick nodded toward the door, signaling they were all good, and Twister waved a couple fingers before he was gone.
The afternoon was a warm one, and the sun beat down on the back of his black kutte as he journeyed across the lot on foot. The heat warranted a cold brew, but that wasn’t why he was going to Steel Mustang.
He needed to see about a redhead.
The kiss they shared the night before played on repeat in his mind for half of his day, but it was the single tear she shed he couldn’t seem to forget. He suspected she’d been holding back when they fucked. After she freaked on him the previous weekend, he thought he had a good idea why—but the look in her eyes after he broke their kiss was enough for him to be sure she wasn’t simply holding back.
She was hiding something.
She wasrunningfrom something.
And he wanted to know what.
More than that—he wanted to hunt down that something and kill it.
Twister would have been the first to admit, he knew what it felt like to use a woman just as much as he knew what it was like to be used. As far as he was concerned, so long as it was consensual and they both got off, what did it matter?
But he had never—wouldnever—put a woman in danger for kicks.
Having grown up with two sisters, he knew how precious a woman could be. That wasn’t to say they were all created equal. He doled out respect where it was due. Some warranted more than others. Still, him againstanywoman wouldn’t have been a fair fight.
The men who thought otherwise deserved to be hung from a tree by their ball-sacks and beaten within an inch of their lives.
He stepped foot into Steel Mustang and halted, allowing his eyes to adjust to the windowless interior. When his vision cleared, he spotted his target behind the bar, and he headed straight for her.
She was in a pair of holey, black shorts and a Rolling Stones cropped tee-shirt. Her hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail, and she had on a bandana tied as a headband. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was about her that made him so insatiable—but lately, he craved no one else. Strange as it was, he wasn’t going to run from it.
And whatevershewas running from, he was going to chase it.
Phoenix didn’t notice him until he sat down, and he could tell she was none-too-pleased to see him. Rather than ask what he’d like to drink, she grabbed a pint glass, filled it with Corona, dropped a lime into it, and all but slammed the beverage in front of him. A little beer sloshed over the side upon her delivery, wetting her fingers, but she wasn’t fazed. She wiped her hand against the back of her cutoff shorts and then stomped her cute little ass to the opposite side of the bar.
Twister barely contained his chuckle as he lifted the beer to his lips, hiding his smile in the glass. She obviously decided the best way to handle their situation was to give him the cold shoulder, but he wasn’t deterred. The fire she ignited inside ofhim wasn’t so easily put out—and her attitude was only further proof he was right.
What existed between them wasn’t one-sided.
He was halfway through his first glass when he got company. He looked beside him as Shepherd pulled out a stool and maneuvered himself on top of it. He wasn’t ancient, but he was the oldest in their chapter and far from the most agile.
Then again, that was likely more on account of his healthy beer belly than his aging bones.
“‘Sup, Shep.”
“Same shit, different day,” he muttered good-naturedly. “Slow over at the shop?”
Twister shrugged. “Nah. Business is good, just had enough of it for the day.”
“Hey, Shep,” greeted Phoenix, setting a coaster down in front of him. “What can I get ya?”
Both men looked her way, but she only had eyes for the old man.
“Hey, there, pretty lady. I’ll have me one of them fancy beers the kids are drinkin’ these days.”
A small smile curled one side of her mouth as she quirked an eyebrow and asked, “An IPA?”
