22. Cam

twenty-two

Cam

We'd been on the road for fifteen minutes when I saw the rusted out, jacked up truck the first time. I couldn't get away from the prickling sensation on the back of my neck when I'd seen Santos had known Riley. That distraction meant I picked up the tail later than I should have.

Paranoia had me making several bullshit turns. I was thankful Riley wasn't familiar with the area. She already asked too many questions—I didn't want to scare her more.

Fuck me .

"What's wrong?" I could barely hear her shout over the roar of my bike.

We were being followed. The money in my vest throbbed hotly. I'd face ten different truckloads of rednecks trying to steal this shit before I'd show up empty-handed at The Black Cat.

And the cartel was worse. I should have never brought her, even if she had been a smoke screen. Nobody would notice a couple on a bike, eating pie in a diner. Hell, I hadn't expected Santos himself. That on its own was fucking bizarre.

My life wasn't made for someone like Riley. She could get hurt, or worse.

Guilt left me shaky, so I flexed the fingers of one hand and looked for a place to exit. Get her off the bike, back home safe, while I handled this.

The roar quieted to a throb as I let off the throttle and nodded toward a roadside bar with cars in the lot. I needed a public place to ditch Riley. "You hungry?"

Annoyance furrowed her brow as I deflected. It was better if she got a little pissed at me. I needed to get her out of here before she got attached—before I did. I was stupid to put a label on us. Santos had been a grim wake up to that fact.

But I wanted that one piece of peace, something untainted—and Riley was it.

Fucking stupid .

There were too many dangerous people sizing her up. Archer had been a fool bringing her here when he wasn't around to protect her. And me, an even bigger one. Sex had never done that to me before.

Two banged up pickups, with straight piped exhaust, sputtered past as I parked. The rednecks inside looking anywhere but at me. Yeah, right. I climbed from the bike and texted Merc while Riley took off her helmet and used the mirror to tame the auburn fly-aways.

"Let me guess, more pie ?" The sarcasm that dripped from that last word made me want to simultaneously throttle her and kiss her.

"Nah, darlin, not here."

I held the door open for her and let it close behind us in the air-conditioned dark bar. As the heavy metal door closed, the junky truck pulled in, its exhaust coughing. She stole my focus, muddled shit up, and it had almost cost me.

The bartender was too preoccupied with his phone to notice us, so I chose a corner booth and sat facing the door.

I was on edge, thinking too much. I did that right before things went to shit, and I had a feeling they were about to.

I leaned back and threw an arm over the booth, made an executive decision. "I'm going to text and have somebody ride out and pick you up."

There was a subtle change in her expression. Her lips went tight for a breath. She straightened and then blinked. "Why? Because that guy gave me his number?"

With a nonchalant shrug, playing off my unease, I rubbed a hand over my mouth. "I've got some club shit to do."

"I can ride with you," she suggested, thumbing through the menu. "I thought that's what Ole Ladies did?"

"That's not the way it works, darlin. The MC takes precedence. Shit like this happens."

"I'll rip up the number, you don't have to be all jealous." She stiffened, crinkling the edge of the menu between her fingers.

Santos Garza and Riley made me a feel a lot of things, but jealousy wasn't one of them. But right then I didn't have time for the petty girl drama.

I fired off a text to Merc.

Nonchalant again, keeping my voice from coming off too rigid, still trying not to spook her. "Darlin, I don't get jealous. Not when I could have my pick of any woman in the county. And some of them together, remember?"

The flash of outrage in her eyes told me to gear up for one hell of an argument. She'd never met Archer, but holy shit, the way her eyes widened was just like his. It reminded me of what we had to lose.

Riley was cut off by the waitress, whose ill-timed smile was as big as her fake tits. "What can I get y'all?"

My phone buzzed…Merc heading back to the clubhouse. Riley wasn't the only one gearing up for a fight. It'd be a while before Dylan or one of the other ladies made it out here.

To buy some time, I'd piss Riley off so she'd go no matter who showed up. I turned on every bit of my charm.

Women liked me, it was a fact I'd learned early on. If I gave them a half smile, leaned in like I did now, they'd all but hop in my lap. Desperate women, those who needed to feel like they still had it, made seduction even easier.

The over eager, forty-plus waitress was so close I nearly choked on her department store perfume.

"I can make some suggestions." They'd have nothing to do with the menu. She was the sort that thought she could show me a thing or two I'd never seen. She'd be wrong.

There'd been women just like her for more than a decade. I'd seen it all already.

I hazarded a sidelong glance at the ample cleavage she was trying to lure me with. Bitch had nothing on Riley, all the tits in the world didn't. I was more a quality rather than quantity man.

But Riley didn't know that. Her eyes had narrowed, her lips pursed. She may not admit it, but jealousy radiated off her in time with the music from the jukebox.

The waitress' caked-on makeup showed their twenty-year age gap. She bent further over the table, her tits almost falling all the way out. "I know what a man like you likes."

Not even close.

Riley glowered at her. We were in the middle of something bigger than greasy bar food and promiscuous waitresses, but she didn't seem to notice. For once her innocence frustrated me more than aroused me.

I shook a toothpick from the little container on the table and flicked it into my mouth. "What are you drinking?" she practically crooned as she hitched a hip on the table and kept her back completely toward Riley.

I spun the toothpick between my teeth, drawing her attention to my tongue as it darted in and back out. An experienced woman; the waitress's lips parted, and her pupils dilated. I had her.

"A beer." I rattled off a local brewery I'd seen they had on tap.

She was a full step away before Riley cleared her throat. "A soda, thanks."

I continued with the toothpick, leaning forward on my elbows on the table. I watched her track the slow push and pull of my tongue, keeping the toothpick in constant motion.

There were things I hadn't shown Riley, sexual experiences she'd yet to discover. But instinctively, her body knew. Her nostrils flared and color spread from her cheeks to her throat, and down to the dip of her cleavage. It was sexy, but whether she was mad or turned on, I couldn't tell. Hell, it might have been both.

Not that it mattered to me. I'd take her both ways.

She snapped her gaze away as the same blush darkened her cheeks. I couldn't help but chuckle and relax in the broken vinyl booth.

The eager waitress was back before Riley could fully compose herself. She placed Riley's drink before mine, and I made sure to brush my knuckles across her fingers as she handed me the beer glass.

After that she was purring baby this and sugar that, her panties probably already wet. As she took my order, she even rubbed the leather on my shoulder, dragging her fingers down and across my vice president patch.

Riley's seething glare could have peeled the fake lashes right off her eyes. With another flick of the toothpick, I nodded toward the angry, sexy as fuck woman across from me. In truth, the waitress didn't have a shot in hell.

Never would, because I'd had Riley.

"And for you?"

"A burger with cheese." Riley ground each syllable out with such hateful deliberation, I laughed.

When the waitress disappeared, I raised an eyebrow, still grinning. "Jealousy suits you."

"You're an asshole for leading her on like that." She huffed. Maybe not as jealous as I thought.

"Flirting doesn't make me a jerk unless the other person isn't feeling it. She is one hundred percent reciprocating."

"But you have no intention of sleeping with her, of seeing it through. You're just proving a point to me and your ego. So, who is the jealous one?" The angry mask faltered, just enough I could see the pain hiding there. "This is degrading."

I'd hurt her, not my intention. I'd only wanted to piss her off. "I'm not trying to fuck her, darlin."

"Then "—She made a small circle with her straw before dropping it in the soda. —"Why are you acting like this?"

"You ask too many damn questions." The rumble of straight piped exhaust and the bang of old, metal truck doors seeped through the walls as the jukebox switched songs.

We had a good twenty or more minutes before someone arrived to pick up Riley. Staying in a public place and flirting with the waitress kept us visible and Riley, for the most part, safe. Or so I hoped.