“Viper?”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “Viper.”
Holt felt a strange tightening in his gut. Viper had claimed her, not just for the club, but also as his own. No wonder he’d sent the Jacks to hunt her down. And yet he’d never met anyone so ill-suited to club life. Why did Viper want her so bad when he had a club full of women willing to satisfy his every whim? Maybe for the same reason Holt found her interesting. She was different, smart, ambitious, and beautiful. And yet, just like all bikers, she didn’t fit in.
A fierce wave of protectiveness crashed over him, the likes of which he hadn’t felt since Lucy was alive. He wanted to gather her into his arms, hold her close, and promise her no one would ever hurt her again. He wanted to grab his gun, drive until he got to the Black Jack clubhouse, and shoot until every Jack was dead and he’d blown so many holes in Viper’s body there would be nothing left to bury. And then he wanted to take her away. Keep her. Claim her as his own.
Just as Viper had done.
* * *
“Lie still.”
Naiya patted antiseptic over the wounds on Holt’s back. Getting him into the bedroom so she could check his dressings had been no easy task. After they finished eating and washed the dishes, he prowled around the cabin, checking out every window, door, nook and cranny. Then he’d walked the grounds, charting out the property in slow, halting steps before returning to the kitchen to polish off the rest of the food. Only the promise of chocolate-chip cookies—albeit made from a mix—had lured him to the bedroom. Even then, he had grumbled as he stripped off his T-shirt, telling her he didn’t need any more “fixing.”
“What the fuck is that stuff?” He tensed when she ran the cotton ball over the freshest of the stripes across his back, pushed himself up, twisting his head to look over his shoulder.
“Keeps the germs out.” She pushed on his shoulder, biting back a smile. “Lie down. You’re worse than a kid.”
“You don’t need to put it everywhere.” He twisted his head again and Naiya stroked a soothing hand through his thick, soft hair.
“He hurt you everywhere.”
He growled softly as she stroked, a deep rumble of pleasure, so she kept up the rhythm as she cleaned his wounds. His hair was long, just brushing his shoulders. Did he always wear it like that, or had it grown while he was in the dungeon? He had trimmed his beard after his shower, and although she’d never been a fan of facial hair, it suited him. Made his handsome face just a little more badass, hinted at the wildness in him, coiled tight and ready to spring. She would be a fool to forget it.
For now though, she had soothed the savage beast. She could feel the tension ease from his body, and when she ran her nails over his scalp, his growl of approval sounded almost like a purr.
“I like your tats.” She ran her hand gently along his right arm, and then down his left shoulder and along his ribs. “Did you get them all at once?”
He sighed, his body sinking into the bed. “Got the shoulder piece when I was in the street gang and the body piece when I was wanting to show the Sinners I was as badass as them. The sleeve I got with Tank when I got patched into the club. We got them together. Me on the right. Him on the left, so when we walked together we were like one person, not two. It was his idea. I couldn’t say no to him. If he’d wanted to get our faces tatted, I woulda done that, too.”
Laughing softly, she massaged his head again. She’d never had anyone to look after other than herself. Her mother was rarely alone and every time she overdosed, someone else called the ambulance. Naiya visited her in the hospital each time, wished she could feel something other than anger when the doctors said she was slowly killing herself, and one day her body wouldn’t be able to take it anymore. And when her mother was lucid enough to ask her to bring her drugs, she left desolate in the knowledge even the near-death experience hadn’t been enough to turn the tide. In the contest between Naiya and narcotics, the narcotics always won.
She felt safe now. Secure. Despite what she’d done to Holt, he hadn’t even raised his voice. And when he’d pulled out the chair and told her with only a grumble not to do it again, she carefully laid down the knife she had clenched in her hand, ready to defend herself if he flew into a rage. For the briefest of moments, she had allowed herself to wonder what would have happened if the kiss in the motel had been real.
Still lost in the daydream of that kiss, she leaned over and pressed her lips to the one section of untouched skin beneath his shoulder. “He missed this.”
Holt tensed beneath her, and she jerked away. “I’m sorry.”
He rolled to his back, seemingly unconcerned by the undressed wounds. “You kissed me.”
“I wasn’t thinking.”
“This morning, before you jabbed that needle into my arm, you kissed me.” He traced his thumb over the bow of her lips.
Naiya’s face heated and she crumpled the soft cotton bedspread in her hand. “I … needed to distract you.”
“Soft lips,” he whispered, his gaze searching her face.
She looked down, trembled, wanting more, afraid to ask. For years after that brutal night with Viper, she’d stayed away from men, and then she met Ally who had gently encouraged her to start dating again. Naiya had gone from one extreme to another, trying to reclaim herself by sleeping with as many men as she could to erase Viper’s mark on her soul. After that soul-destroying experience, she’d dated casually, men who were quiet and unthreatening. Men unlike Viper. Even then, intimacy had eluded her, as had the ability to enjoy sex. And when feelings began to emerge that she couldn’t understand, she ended it.
Holt pushed himself up and cupped her jaw with his hand, tilting her head back until she was lost in the depths of his piercing eyes, a blue so clear she thought she could see into his soul.
“Soft,” he murmured. “Sweet.”
Her heart pounded, blood thundering through her veins. She’d never felt desire like this, never let a man touch her in a way she hadn’t directed, never been held so firmly she could do nothing but stare. He’d already pushed her boundaries in the motel, and yet she sensed that was nothing compared to what would happen if she let him in. Despite her fear, she wanted to touch him, taste him, and make her fantasy real. Drawing in a shuddering breath, she leaned closer.
Holt’s fingers tightened on her jaw and his gaze dropped to her lips. Then he gently pushed her away and fell back on the bed with a groan. “Get out, darlin’. Go.”
Shock swept through her, followed by a sickening wave of humiliation. The one and only time she’d put herself out there, she got the door slammed in her face.
Well, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her pain. She’d been stupid to even think he’d be interested in someone like her. Bikers went for the girly girls, with big boobs and bigger hair, tight clothes, high heels, and snappy comebacks. She’d never seen a sweet butt at the clubhouse dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, her hair in a pony tail, face clean of makeup, nails bitten to the quick, and her feet bare.
Know thyself
. Her grandmother had cross-stitched a tea towel with that saying, and Naiya had taken it to heart. She wasn’t girly or particularly pretty. She would never achieve glamour or excitement, or play the games she’d watched her friends play, but she could make a difference in her own way. Once she got a job, she could make the world a better place, help catch the criminals who sold drugs, ran guns, and committed murder. Criminals like the bikers. Like Holt.
“Let me know if you need anything else.” She kept her voice calm and even as she pushed herself off the bed, remembering the first aid kit only when it hit the floor with a soft thunk. Unable to face Holt again, she kept walking. She’d pretty much dressed all his wounds. If he wanted more treatment, he could damn well do it himself.
“Naiya. Wait.”
But she didn’t wait. Couldn’t wait. A black hole had opened in her chest and was sucking her in. She needed to keep moving, make a plan. No more of this impulsive bullshit. It wasn’t her, and it definitely wasn’t how she wanted to live her life.
“Night, Holt.” She closed the door behind her and made her way down the hall. Maybe a few hours on the Internet to check bus routes out of the state and places she could go while she job-searched online would calm her down. She’d never left Montana before, but California appealed. Warm. Sunny. She could sit by the ocean and listen to the surf. Ally had given her some money to tide her over until she could arrange things with her bank—without her ID and bank cards, she would have to jump through several hoops to access her accounts and that would take time.
She looked back at the closed door and sighed. For a moment she’d been lured into thinking she could lean on someone else, that she wasn’t alone. But that wasn’t the lesson she’d learned at the Black Jack clubhouse.
And she would be a fool to forget it.
Holt woke up in a bad mood.
No, scratch that. Worse than bad. And it wasn’t helped by the fact he had woken up alone after spending the night with a hard on that just wouldn’t quit. He’d beat that puppy into submission enough times that his dick was chafed and sore, but damned if he hadn’t woken up in the morning in the middle of a hot dream about Naiya, and he had to deal with the situation all over again.
Maybe it was the three months of forced abstinence. Or maybe it was the relief of knowing that vital appendage was in full working order. Or maybe it was the woman who embodied all his fantasies, and called to his deepest protective instincts. He still couldn’t believe he’d told her to leave. When had he ever asked a woman to leave before he’d fucked her silly? But he wanted her so bad, he needed to be firm to keep her safe. Thank fuck she’d got the message because the things he wanted to do to her …
He found Naiya in the living room, stuffing clothes into her backpack beside a neatly folded pile of blankets and a pillow.
“Why the fuck did you sleep on the couch?”
“I didn’t want to disturb you.” She didn’t look up, but he could see her tension in the rigid line of her neck, the set of her jaw, the waver of her voice. He’d been too harsh, ruined what little trust had grown between them. The irony wasn’t lost on him. He’d pushed her away to save her from the side of him that could hurt her far more than she was hurting now.
“What are you doing?” He gestured to the bag as understanding dawned.
“I’m going to catch a bus in town and head out of state. Maybe take a vacation until the whole Viper thing is sorted out, and apply for jobs from a beach somewhere. I’ve never had a vacation before. Ever since I left home, it’s been work, work, work.” She shoved her Beaver Country shirt into the bag. “You look like you’ll make a full recovery. And you’ve got a mission to fulfill. Since you aren’t going to take me to the Sinners, I need to look out for myself and priority number one is getting out of town.”
“Is this because of what happened last night?” Holt wasn’t usually so direct. He had never been a confrontational kind of guy. Usually, he would go with the flow, but right now he was seized by an urgent sense of desperation. He couldn’t let her go, and it wasn’t just because he needed her to lure Viper.
“No, of course not.” She turned away, tightening her grip on the bag, her hair swinging over her cheek, hiding her face.
Yes.
“It was good you … stopped.” She stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows over the valley spread out below them. “I mean, you have things you have to do, and I have things I have to do, and they aren’t things we need to do … together.”
Together.
Fuck. She’d thought about them together. Although he was pretty damn sure she hadn’t thought of them together the way he had all fucking night long.
“Naiya.”
“I made breakfast. It’s on the stove.” She slung the bag over her shoulder. “Happy revenge.”
No fucking way.
“It’s not safe out there.”
“It’s not safe in here.”
“I couldn’t be gentle with you,” he said. “I’m a hard man, Naiya, and the shit I just went through just made me harder. I don’t have sex. I don’t make love. I fuck. And when I do, it’s hard and it’s rough, and that’s not what you need.”
“You don’t know me.” Her face tightened. “You don’t know what I need.”
The hell he didn’t. He could read the longing on her face; he could hear it in her voice. It was the same longing that had gripped him since he met her. The old Holt would have let her walk out the door because it’s what she wanted to do, and who was he to rock the boat? He didn’t know where that Holt had gone, but the man he was now was not letting her get away.
Without taking his gaze off her, he ripped the bag from her fingers and tossed it on the couch. Then he cupped her face between his hands and covered her mouth with his.
Ah God. Her lips were as soft as he imagined, her mouth as lush. Her lips parted on a sigh, and he touched her with his tongue. She tasted of honey and coffee, warm and sweet. He wanted her, wanted this woman with the broken soul, wanted to fix her, show her the beauty of trust and surrender, open her up and fill her with joy. Yeah, he wanted to fuck her bad.
“Holt.” She pulled back, her chest heaving. “I don’t want this. I just broke up with Maurice. We were together two years. It just feels … wrong.”
Didn’t feel wrong to him. In fact, nothing had ever felt so right. He slid an arm around her waist and crushed her against him, the way he’d seen Jagger and Cade do with their women, the way he’d seen Tank with Connie. Dominant. Controlling. And damn it felt good. Taking what he wanted. Being in charge.
And yet at the back of his mind, he was assessing her responses, the way she leaned into him, her soft sigh, the flutter of her lashes, and the little hints that told him she was on board and that he wasn’t stepping over the line. He had a strong feeling Viper had crossed that line, and if he caught her, he would cross it again.
Naiya leaned in, melted against him. Pleasure rippled through his body, and his cock hardened in an instant. He dipped his head, drank her down, delighting when she moaned and tangled her tongue with his.