Page 46 of Ridin' Free
He took a bite, so I did, too.
I finished first and asked, “And second in command? Did you chase that, too?”
His eyes on me, he shook his head, swallowed, and said, “Won’t lie and say it held no appeal, but that was all luck.”
I furrowed my brow skeptically. “Bull doesn’t strike me as the gambling type.”
“You got that right. But I wasn’t his first choice. If not for Mary-Kate, patch on my chest would have been on Mustang’s kutte.”
“Oh,” I murmured.
I didn’t know the details of Mustang’s story any better than he knew mine—but even from behind the bar, I could tell he and Bull were close. Mustang regarded him with dignifiedrespect. Everyone did, really. Bull had a way about him that demanded it. But with Mustang, there was a level of admiration easily detected. From what I could tell, it was different than the relationship between Twister and Bull. Except, I wouldn’t have guessed Twister was his second choice.
Twister speared his next bite with his fork, then paused as he looked at me and said, “Might have been his backup plan, but it was still a hell of honor to get that tap on the shoulder. I ride with brothers who’ve been with the club longer—Mustang included. When Bull became top dog, the club was in a bad way. Would have been just before you got here. Fact that he trusted me to be his right hand as we cleaned up our act, it meant the world. Still does.”
I thought back to Saturday night. I pictured Bull and Twister walking into the bar. I didn’t know then what I knew now—the way they chased Georgia and Tommy out of town. That night, Twister took it upon himself to rid me of a problem. He called upon his president to help, and he’d done it. No questions asked. They were brothers. They were partners. They were loyal.
It wasn’t the first time a Stallion had done me a not so little favor; but it was the first time it came with no expectations. I harbored not a shred of anticipation that Bull would speak of the favor.
Even now, as I sat across from Twister, it wasn’t out of obligation. He hadn’t demanded anything from me other than my admission that I wanted him, too.
“How’s your filet?” he asked me, jerking his chin toward my plate.
I sucked in a breath as I sat up straighter in my chair. Shaking my head clear, I glanced down at my dinner and shrugged. If I was honest, I’d barely tasted it, too wrapped up in our exchange.
“Good, I guess.” I nodded toward his plate. “How’s your ribeye?”
He flashed a crooked smile as he held up his next bite. “That good organic shit.”
I laughed, and the moment felt light again.
“Soon as we’re done, we’ll go for a ride. This night’s too perfect to be anywhere other than on the back of a hog.”
Excited for the chance to feel the wind in my hair, I went after my next bite.
Twister steered our conversation through shallower waters as we finished eating. I marveled at his instinct, and the intuitive way he handled me. Somehow, he could get me to talk about things I so rarely spoke aloud. And when he broached a topic I wouldn’t discuss, he didn’t get angry or insistent. Other than the fact that he had two sisters, I couldn’t make sense of it. He wasn’t exactly gentle—but he was cautious and patient.
Why me? Why now?
I didn’t ask.
Why him?
I heard the question like a whisper spoken from the shadows in my mind. Just as much as I didn’t want to askhim, I didn’t want to answer myself. I didn’t want to think about it too hard. I knew if I did, I’d find a million reasons to get up from the table and walk away.
But I didn’t want to walk away.
I wanted toride.
It wasn’t long until I got my wish.
Our bellies full and our bill paid, Twister led me back to his Harley. He mounted it without preamble. This time, before I could move to climb on behind him, he offered me his hand in assistance. I accepted, settled myself at his back, and held on as he powered on the beast beneath us.
I didn’t ask him where we were going.
I didn’t care.
He drove us through town. When we hit the state highway, headed northwest, he picked up speed and it felt like I’d suddenly grown wings.
