Chapter 4 Gingersnap

“ Y our mom is amazing,” I gushed as I sipped on hot cocoa, drank from a thermos, and stuffed a bite of peanut blossom into my mouth. Crumbs landed on my shirt, and I reached for a napkin, noting the honey-baked ham slices, cheddar cheese, and warm bread she also included. “She thinks of everything, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, she really does,” Brick answered with a smile.

“It’s almost like we’re having our own Christmas dinner during the drive. Makes me less sad,” I admitted.

Brick frowned. “I forgot to ask. Did you get ahold of your family?”

“Yeah. It’s a good thing I called when I did. My mom was so worried she almost called the police to track me down,” I laughed.

“Ah. Overprotective and fierce mom. Got it. I have one of those too.”

We both laughed.

“So, what do you do for a living? For a job? Besides belong to a motorcycle club and live in Las Vegas?”

He shrugged. “Lots of things. My main role is the club’s Sergeant at Arms. I maintain order among the club members, especially at meetings and any functions where club members are present. I ensure the rules are followed whether that’s by members or outsiders.”

Outsiders. That sounded intense. “Do you run into trouble often?”

“Depends. Members know how shit works. That’s not usually a problem, but it becomes unpredictable when the club is attending an event or hosting one. Add in hangers-on or outsiders, and it can get wild fast.”

Wild. What did he mean? “What’s a hanger-on?”

“Just like it sounds. A guy or girl who wants to party with the club who comes around often. The chicks like to fuck bikers. Sorry, I know that’s crude, but they do. The guys all want to be one of us, but it takes a certain type of man to adapt to our lifestyle. Trust is earned. You have to prove your loyalty before it’s returned.”

I could understand that concept even if I never participated in it. My father had been a biker. “I see. It sounds a little rough.”

His gaze cut to mine for a few seconds before returning to the road. “Yeah, at times. We make our own rules. Sometimes, that means we live outside the lines the law draws for us. No man should live under the thumb of another. Or woman, for that matter.”

“Do you break the law often?” Yeah, it was a bold question.

“Sweetheart, not all laws are meant to keep us safe. Some are put in place to keep us in a box. Those are rules I don’t hesitate to break. But, if you’re asking if I’m an honorable man, I’d say yes in a heartbeat. Perfect? Hell no. But I protect what’s mine and my club, and I won’t hesitate to use force. Feel me?”

“So, you’re a fighter, not a lover?” I joked.

“Baby, I’d say I’m just as much a lover as a rebel.”

Oh, wow. The way his voice lowered, digging low and full of grit, husky, and carrying a hint of promise, made me clench my thighs together. I couldn’t help feeling that he would satisfy me in multiple ways in bed. A man like him had to fuck with the same intensity as he gave off.

God, he was sexy. It wasn’t just the way he looked. Brick was intelligent, charming, and just happened to be Santa’s helper this Christmas. His offer to set aside his holiday to help me get home meant the world to me. I didn’t know how I would ever repay him.

I snuck a glance in his direction, taking in his muscled forearms as he drove. He’d shoved the sleeves of his thermal shirt up to his elbows, and I noted the veins and sculpted contours, the roadmap of dark ink, and the large, calloused hands that held the steering wheel. He was ripped and pure sin. I could see he worked and played hard.

Brick wasn’t wrong when he said he was a rebel. I got that vibe from him the second we met, but the hunger in his gaze and the open flirtation surprised me. I didn’t expect him to be as attracted to me as I was to him.

Why? Because I wasn’t anything like the girls who showed up to his biker club parties. I was certain of that. I had thick thighs and an ass, curves, and my tummy wasn’t flat. I didn’t walk around in high heels or miniskirts. I’d never gotten a tattoo. I never even more much makeup. I had to be plain compared to the women he saw around his clubhouse.

Was I making judgments? Maybe. But I still felt like I wasn’t wrong.

“Hey, you got quiet on me. Did I scare you?”

“Oh, no. I was just wondering about your tattoos.” Okay, that wasn’t all, but close enough.

“Ink is personal for almost everyone. Same with me.”

I believed him.

“I’ve always had a fascination with gettin’ as many as I could. Most of my upper body is filled, and I’m already working on my legs.”

“Which ones are your favorite?”

“There’s one on my chest that holds special meaning. A friend that’s no longer with us.”

“I’m sorry.” How sad.

“I appreciate that, Sweetheart. He was my best friend. Some bastard with a vendetta against the club gunned him down.”

“Oh my God! That’s horrible.”

“I’ve never forgotten him. In fact, the anniversary of his death is coming up.”

“I’m sure it makes the holidays a little harder.”

“It does.”

“I lost my father around this time, too,” I admitted, swallowing as I hoped I wouldn’t cry. “Every year after Christmas, when I celebrate my birthday, it’s always bittersweet.”

He reached over and squeezed my hand. “That’s gotta be hard. When is your birthday, Beautiful?”

“December twenty-eighth.”

Brick repeated the date and pulled his palm away. His hand rose and gripped the steering wheel tight. “Ginger, what’s your last name?”

What an odd question. “Why do you need to know?”

“Humor me. I’m trying to work something out.”

Fine. “Bedford. Ginger Bedford.”

Brick clenched his jaw and shook his head. “I didn’t see it.”

“See what?”

“I should have. You still have that beautiful shade of red in your hair. It’s just my memory didn’t allow for a woman’s figure.”

Huh? “What are you talking about, Brick?”

“I’ve been so blind. My ma said you looked familiar.”

“Brick?”

He pulled over on the side of the road and parked. His chest heaved as he sucked in a breath. He seemed to be struggling, and it didn’t make sense.

“It’s been fifteen years. Forgive me, Ginny. I didn’t realize it was you.” He turned, facing me after landing that bombshell. “I’m Brick. Hesh’s club brother. Brick Mayfield.”

Brick. Mayfield. Oh my God!

My eyes widened as I gasped. My Brick. The young, handsome biker I had a crush on at twelve. He was one of my father’s closest friends, and they were inseparable. Brick spent more time at our house than his own.

In my girly fantasies, he was my knight in shining armor. My savior when the boy down the street teased me and threw dirt in my eyes. He bullied me for weeks before I finally said something. My father was so pissed he almost throttled the kid. But Brick? He took the boy aside, spoke low into his ear, and grinned when he backed away, nearly falling on his ass in a scramble to get away.

To this day, I still don’t know what Brick said to him, but he never bothered me again. In fact, no one did. A part of me always wondered if Brick had something to do with that after my father’s passing. Had he been a dark angel watching over me?

I blinked, staring, I mean really looking at him for the first time, beyond his sexy smile and short beard peppered with gray, and into his familiar blue eyes. Eyes I should have recognized because they’d hardly changed in fifteen years.

How could I be so blind? I should have noticed who he was. Lowering my head, I dropped my face into my hands. I’m an idiot.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I feel stupid.”

“For?”

“For not seeing that it was you,” I confessed.

“Ginny, baby, we haven’t seen one another in fifteen years. Neither of us looks the same. You were thirteen. I was twenty-five. We’ve both changed since then.”

Me? A lot. Brick? Not much other than the beard and lines around his eyes. He seemed hardened a bit since my father’s death. Some of the light in those blue eyes had dimmed. I just never expected to see him again. It never occurred to me that the Brick I just met would be the same one I knew as a girl.

I pulled my hands away, staring at his leather vest. I never looked at the back—or Dagger’s. I was constantly distracted by the storm or the guys were facing me. They never walked ahead of me, only behind me for protection. Something I knew club members took seriously. Women had value in their world. At least to my father’s club, the Saint’s Outlaws MC.

How the hell did it never occur to me to look when we visited Nan? Why did it only seem to matter now?

“Turn around. Please,” I added as his brow arched.

Brick unbuckled his seatbelt and twisted his body, revealing the logo I knew well. The skeletal face stared back, proving the truth. When I last saw him, Brick had been a new member, patched into the club after prospecting under my father as the sponsor. The details were vague, but I remembered it. As Brick turned, I saw the Sergeant at Arms patch on the front and his road name—details I had overlooked until now.

“You’ve done well. He would have been proud of you.”

Brick placed a hand over mine. “I know. I really wish he was still here, Ginny. I’d give anything to have him with us and not missin’ out on the beautiful, amazing daughter he has.”

“You don’t know enough about me to call me amazing,” I pointed out with a smirk. “Just flirting like you have since we met at the airport.”

“Can’t fault a man for appreciating a gorgeous redhead.”

“One he used to know as a skinny girl,” I reminded him.

Wasn’t the age difference inappropriate? Or was that nothing now that we were both consenting adults?

And what about the fact that Brick and my dead father were once best friends?

“That was a long time ago, Ginny.” He leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair back behind my ear. “And I made a promise to your dad.”

“What promise?”

“To keep you safe even if I couldn’t be everywhere you went.”

Like high school. Or even college. “But how is that possible when you haven’t seen me?”

“The club has ways.” His knuckles brushed my jawline, followed by his thumb. “So do I.”

I guess it didn’t matter now, besides the knowledge that he’d kept that promise to my father. “You’re still keeping that promise.”

“I am.” He shrugged. “I didn’t know that until today, but it’s true.”

Out of all the people I could have bumped into at the airport, it didn’t seem like a coincidence that it ended up being Brick.

“I’m glad.”

“That makes two of us.”