Chapter 7

7

HALO

Present day

I've never felt exhilaration like this before.

It's not just the roaring of the motorcycle engine beneath me, the rumbling sending me into unadulterated oblivion. I'm so sensitive after what Riot just did to me. In fact, I don't even know who I am anymore. This man is so freaking hot.

I wasn't even flirting with Manny, it's not like that with him. He was also betting me it'd take Riot less than thirty seconds to come over and remove his hands from my body… guess I owe him twenty bucks.

I squeeze my arms tighter around Riot as the sensations sweep right through me. I press my head into his back as I come, squeezing my thighs with his and I feel his hand reach to my knee and squeeze it. He knows. He knows I'm still coming after what he did to me. I love my breasts being played with, and watching him pay them attention sent me over the edge. It was so raunchy. So dirty out in public.

It's like with him, I want to be the bad girl. The rebellious Halo that I've never been allowed to be. He lets me be myself, and I dig that.

I'm not drunk. I know what I'm doing. I had two glasses of bubbles and didn't even finish the second glass. When I saw Riot storming toward me, I felt a thrill I've never felt before. It's like he lit something up inside me and I want more of it.

The city passes us by as Riot weaves his motorcycle through the streets of New Orleans. It's then I realize we're in my neighborhood.

He knows where I live?

I never told him where I live.

Sure enough, we come to my apartment block and he pulls up on the curb.

"You know where I live." It's not a question.

"You got parkin'?"

I nod. I unzip my purse, strapped across my body, and find my fob. Riot takes it from me and pulls out again. Exclusive parking is rare in New Orleans, but it's the one perk that I couldn't pass up when looking for an apartment.

He taps the card at the side entrance for my apartment block. "What number?" he calls over my shoulder.

"One, twelve."

He rumbles forward as the gate opens, finding my empty space easily. My car is still parked back at the clubhouse.

When we come to a stop, Riot kills the engine and I dismount. I'm sure it's not elegant, but I no sooner step down and my helmet is being unclipped and Riot pulls it off. He does the same with his, then pulls me to him, still straddled on the motorcycle.

"Did you get off on my sled?"

I bite my lip. My cheeks suddenly feel a little hot; it's a trait I'm well aware of and I wish it wouldn't happen, but I can't exactly help it. "The rumbling…"

His smirk turns into a full-blown grin before his lips find mine. The small amount of scruff doesn't bother me, and it only makes me think about how it would feel between my legs. Holy crap. I wonder if he gives oral? Most men don't — well, the ones I've been with never did — yet they expected blowjobs at the drop of a hat. I've never understood how what's good for the gander apparently isn't good for the goose, go figure. I can't even imagine what the sensation would feel like… with Riot, I'll bet it's amazing. Everything with him feels amazing.

When he pulls back, his eyes are heated. "Let's get upstairs."

I stand my ground. "You know where I live."

He swings his leg off the motorcycle, running both hands through his dark hair. "Your point?"

I narrow my eyes. "How did you know where my apartment was?"

"You're associated with Star, who's with Nevada, and she's club?—"

"Property?" I finish.

He clears his throat. "Yes. Which means you're also, uh, with the club by association."

"You mean, I'm club property too?"

He reaches toward me, cupping my face. "It doesn't mean what you think it does. It just means you're protected, should anything go wrong."

"Uh huh."

He folds his arms over his chest. "It's important to me that you're safe."

My heart beats wildly in my chest. I wished it wouldn't, but it's like I have no control over my emotions when it comes to him. "Why, Riot?"

He takes a breath. "Because I don't trust many people. I would never want to see you get hurt."

I want to be mad at him for following me, for finding out where I live — which I'm sure wouldn't have been too hard, realistically. But I see a flash of… pain, or something, cross his eyes for a brief moment and it makes me halt whatever it was I was going to say.

"Okay."

Now it's his turn to frown. " Okay?"

"I know you're just being overly growly, or whatever it is you bikers do when you go into protection mode."

"Overly growly?"

I wave a hand. "Alpha. You're an alpha male."

"We pound our chests under a full moon, too." I see a small smile and I'm glad he's back from wherever he went just then. I'm sure if he wanted to tell me then he would. It's not like we really know each other, even though he just pulled my tits out of my top in public and treated my body like an amusement park.

"I think I'd like to see that."

His eyes soften. "Play your cards right and you just might." He presses a quick kiss to my lips, taking my hand as he pulls me behind him. I go willingly. I'm nervous, but also excited. Having a man like Riot in my bed gives me a little sense of unease because I know he's experienced. And I'm not. Well, I've had a few boyfriends, but I've never done the one-night stand thing. I've always been in some kind of relationship. Not that I expect this is a one-night stand; then again, what is it exactly? I'm not even sure.

We're not boyfriend and girlfriend. We're friends who… fuck?

I don't know if I like the sound of that, but before I get a chance to voice my questions, I hear a whimper. I come to a halt as Riot turns. "What?"

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

We both quieten and then I hear it again. A cry. It's close by.

"I heard it," he says. Still keeping hold of my hand, we look around. I spot a dumpster just outside to the left of the entryway. There's some minor remodeling at the apartment block across the road, and though they've been told to move the bins from public view, the company hasn't done that yet.

My heart races wildly. There's a side gate where you can exit the parking garage. When we step out onto the sidewalk, we both hurry to the dumpster.

When Riot pulls out the flashlight from his back pocket, I feel a little smug. I gasp as he shines the torch on something moving, and howling… under all the kerfuffle, a dog appears.

"Oh my God!"

"Fuck," Riot mutters.

The dog can't sit up, and it looks like it has a broken leg by the way the front left one is angled. Wait, somebody dumped a dog in a dumpster?

My hands rise to my throat and I try to control my breathing. I'm not cut out for these kinds of things. I can go into a showdown with the mafia and a motorcycle club, survive a shooting, help women escape from a trafficking ring, but seeing an animal in pain like this? I'm toast.

Riot climbs into the dumpster at the shorter end, and the dog whimpers when he pulls him into his arms. He's big. I don't know what kind of dog, but he's brown with half a white face and half sable. He looks scruffy, his ribs showing as I wonder how long this poor animal has been in here.

"Here, babe." Riot passes me the torch. "Shine this here so I can get him out."

"Okay." I try to hold onto my tears, but animals are a soft spot for me. I had a dog growing up; a little white fluffy Maltese called Pepper. I miss her every single day. She died a few years back but had a good life for fifteen years. I've never had the will to get another animal because the heartache of losing them is just too much.

She was my support and comfort for so many years, and when she was gone, a part of my heart went with her.

I want to tell him I'm scared. That I don't know what to do. That my heart is breaking and I might have an anxiety attack, but I try to pull myself together. This poor baby needs attention immediately. Me crying and making a fuss won't help him any.

Riot lifts him and for the life of me I'll never know how he hauls him over his shoulder. The dog whimpers again, but he lets Riot pull him out.

"Fuck," Riot keeps muttering. I try to help, but I know I can't take the weight of the dog. He's gotta be at least a hundred pounds. Somehow, Riot manages to slide over the side of the dumpster and not drop the poor thing. When he's safely on the sidewalk again, he lays the mutt down.

Taking the torch from me, he shines it over the dog's body. "Holy shit," I whisper. "Riot, he's really hurt."

"I know, babe."

"I'll call Luna."

He looks back up at me. "Luna?"

"She helps run Faux Paws. She'll know a vet."

"Good thinkin'. Can't fit him on the sled. I'll call a prospect to come get us."

Faux Paws is a shelter that the club helped set up and Luna is heavily involved, along with some of the other club members. They also have a veterinary service right next door so it seems like the obvious choice. Even though it's late, I'm sure they'd have an on-call number.

"An Uber or a cab would be faster."

"Doubt they'd let us in with a dog."

"It's an emergency, just explain the situation, they might take pity on us." My voice breaks on the last word.

He looks up at me. "You okay?"

I nod. "Animals, dogs especially, are my weak spot."

He cups one side of my face. "I'll fix this. We'll get him to a vet."

"Okay."

We both glance down at the poor baby, completely helpless. So broken he doesn't even try to run away.

Why are people so cruel? Who could do such a terrible thing?

Half an hour later, I'm in the back of a truck as we head toward Faux Paws Dog Rescue. Their resident vet is going to meet us there for emergency treatment. I wince when I think about the pain this poor baby was going through all that time. How long, we don't know, but judging by the state of him, it must've been a while.

A few tears slide down my face, but I try not to make a noise. I don't want to scare the frightened pooch any more than he already is. Riot sits next to me in the back, the dog laying across the both of us, his head in my lap as I stroke his face. Complete and utter trust. I don't even believe that some humans deserve a second chance.

I feel Riot's hand close over mine as I turn to meet his gaze. "Breathe, Kitten."

I nod, no words coming out. I'm afraid if I speak, I'll lose it, and that won't be good for anybody.

"We should name him."

"Careful tiger, we don't really?—"

"He should have a name," I insist. "If anything happens…"

His eyes are soft when he says, "He's got a broken leg and he's malnourished, from what I can see."

"All surgery involves risk, and we don't know if he has internal injuries."

He takes a beat. "What would you like to name him?"

I look down at his cute face. He's adorable. I don't know what would possess someone… Take a breath.

"Cookie?"

His lips roll. "Cookie?"

"Do you have a better name?"

"Well, he looks pretty strong and kinda mean lookin'…"

"He doesn't look mean!"

He gruffs a laugh. "There's lots of tough dog names; Thor, Sinbad, Duke…"

"Sinbad?"

"Pirate. Thorn. Fury. Piro…"

I shove him on the arm. "Stop it."

He smiles. "Just tryin' to make you laugh. If you wanna call him Cookie, then Cookie it is."

"Cookies are cute, that's all."

"He is kinda cute."

A few moments of silence fill the air between us. "How could anyone do this?"

"You'd be surprised at the depths of some people's depravity."

I look out the window. "I guess sometimes I forget the world we live in isn't always a pretty place."

He squeezes my hand. "He's gonna be okay."

I hope that's true. Poor Cookie lies across me, total trust on his face when really I wouldn't blame him for snapping at us or shaking in fear. "We were meant to find him."

"We were, and I'll get Rock and Jett to bring up the camera footage from outside your buildin', see if we can find out who dumped him."

I turn to him. "You'd do that?"

"Of course. Piece of shit asshole who did this need to learn a lesson. Could've dropped him at the animal shelter, or at the vet's, but to dump him in the trash?" He shakes his head, anger crossing his face.

"He's got us now." I swallow hard. "We won't let anything else bad happen."

He brings my hand up to his mouth, kissing my knuckles. "No, Kitten, we won't. You're his angel in disguise."

I snuggle into his chest. "I'm so glad you were here. I wouldn't have been able to lift him."

Riot gently strokes his fur. "Talk about cock blockin'."

I laugh out loud. "Right?"

He pecks me on the forehead. "I guess the universe has other plans for us right now."

I close my eyes, willing everything to go well for Cookie when we get to Faux Paws.

I know we're going to have to pay for his treatment, and that isn't an issue. I just want him to be okay. "I guess it does."

Two hours later, Nina tells us that Cookie is going to be okay. His leg is broken in two places and he's going to need to keep a cast on it for a minimum of four weeks, maybe longer. Nina isn't a hundred percent sure, but she thinks Cookie is around two to three years old. Still a baby. He also has bruising on his underside, probably from being thrown into the dumpster. I shudder at the thought of someone doing that and poor Cookie being stuck in there for God knows how long while people continue to put rubbish on top of him. He's lucky he didn't suffocate.

I excuse myself to the bathroom to have my own private cry because I can't deal with any more of this trauma. I don't have to know this poor baby to feel something for him. Just seeing his cute, trusting face looking up at Nina when she had to inject him with pain relief, never once trying to bite her or even move. He's so beautiful.

She also said it's likely that it's been a few weeks since he's eaten anything. I cry into my hands, sitting on the toilet seat of the farthest stall. I know crying won't help Cookie right now, but sometimes a good old cry tends to sort things out.

I unroll some toilet paper and dab my eyes, blowing my nose as I try to calm myself.

I can't deal with this. I wasn't cut out for dealing with animal trauma.

I hear the bathroom door squeak and try to stop my heaving sobs.

"Halo?" Shit. It's Riot.

"Just one second!" My voice sounds shaky even to me, but I hear the door close.

I stand, wiping my under eyes once more with my hands as I straighten myself out. I unlatch the door and then jump about five feet in the air when I see Riot leaning against the closed door.

"Jesus, Riot! You scared the shit out of me!"

"Sorry." He doesn't look very sorry. "I was worried about you."

I walk to the sink and take a look at myself in the mirror. It's then that I groan.

My mascara has run and I seriously need to sort out my racoon eyes. I rummage around in my purse for the wet wipes. Pulling one free from the packet, I start wiping the black smudges.

"Please don't be sad. He's going to be okay."

"But what about his trauma?" I counter. "He'll always have that memory of someone dumping him like trash!"

His hand plants on my back softly, rubbing my lower back in small, soothing circles. "Dogs are much stronger than we give them credit for. He's already waking up, wagging his tail and drinking water."

"He is?"

"We can see him when you're ready."

I shake my head. "It's stupid."

"What's stupid?"

"Getting so emotional over a dog I don't even know."

He comes behind me, looking at me in the mirror as I stare back at his reflection. "Don't ever say that, Kitten. Caring about something, especially when they've been hurt, isn't ever stupid. It actually shows what kind of person you are; kind, caring, considerate. You have a big heart. I knew that from the moment I met you."

I look down at my shaking hands. "How could you know that?"

"You're forgetting that I was with you in Mississippi. I saw what you did for Star in helpin' her get her sister back. We went to Hell and back, and you never once complained or ran away. It was one of the toughest things the club has ever done, and you were right there, standing by your best friend, never letting her fall."

I swallow, trying to not let more tears slide. "I just feel things… for animals especially, so deeply. I had a dog once… she was my life…"

"What was her name?" he asks softly.

"Pepper." I sniff. "You know when people say ‘it's just a dog?' Well, she was never just a dog. She was more like my therapy dog. She knew things about me, my deepest, darkest secrets that nobody else did. She helped me through some traumatic years as a teenager. Pepper never once told me I wasn't good enough. I wasn't slim enough. I was never ugly to her. I was her best friend."

I feel him kiss the back of my head and I glance up. His eyes are not just closed, they're squeezed shut. Like he's warding off some horrible memory of his own.

"Sometimes…" I whisper. "Sometimes I still feel her around. When I'm sitting by myself, I'll feel her presence, you know? She gives me little signs. Some people may think that's nuts, but it's helped me heal, thinking that she's still around me."

His voice is soft and sends a tingle down my spine. "Of course she is. Who wouldn't want to be around you?"

Our eyes meet. "Thank you for being here. I don't know what I would've done…"

"You'd call me." He holds my chin in place as he leans down to my ear. "You can always call me at any time of the day or night if you need anythin' or you get scared. Got me, Kitten? There is nothing that I won't do for you."

"Why?" I whisper. "Why are you saying those things?"

"Because it's true. I'm gonna be that guy; the one you can rely on. No matter what happens between us. I can be your person."

I stare back at him, confusion crossing my brow. "My person?" My mouth opens, unable to release any more words as my heart gallops away in my chest.

Did he just offer to be my second?

Who is this freaking man?