Chapter 5

Icruise through town, noting the boarded-up storefronts and deserted streets. The houses are at least fifty years old with peeling paint and rusted carports and the streets are littered with potholes.

Rizona is definitely a dying town. No one has shown this place love in a long time.

I ride past a diner that appears closed versus abandoned, its windows washed and unbroken. Across the street is an empty dirt lot with three semi-trucks parked like a rest stop, engines idling, but no visible movement in or out of them.

I guess the whole town has a pit stop vibe, but nothing out of the ordinary. No black SUVs or shifty guys dealing drugs on the corners. I don’t know what I expected to find, but there’s nothing obvious about the state of unrest in Rizona. Certainly nothing like Karden alluded to last night.

I ride two more blocks down a peaceful residential street and stop in front of a well-kept rancher. Well-kept, in that it’s one of a few on the block that has mowed down the weeds in the last few months and has running vehicles parked in the driveway and along the street.

Missy opens the front screen door at the same time I drop my kickstand and rest the soles of my boots on the ground. Fuck me, she’s even hotter today than she was last night. Another pair of painted-on jeans, these a touch faded with ripped holes in the knees and boot cut legs. She’s wearing a black Jack Daniel’s T-shirt stretched tight across her chest, her fiery red hair pulled back in a long braid with a black bandana wrapped firmly around her hairline.

She looks like a biker’s woman.

She looks like my woman.

All she needs is a pair of leather chaps framing her heart-shaped ass and a leather vest pushing her breasts to the sky like a corset, both of which I’ll happily buy if she likes riding bitch on my bike.

Missy waves, the smile on her face timid.

I swing my leg over and walk toward her, meeting her halfway up the driveway. “Hey, babydoll.”

“Hi.”

“Are you ready to go?” I arch my brow at the way she worries her lip between her teeth.

“Yeah, but I have a favor to ask.”

Grinning, I slide my hand onto the back of her neck and flex my fingers. “Let me guess. Grandma wants to meet me?”

“Yeah, she does. But call her Ma.” The sign in front of the closed diner flashes in my mind and I’m guessing the two are related. And if Ma owns the diner, I’m betting Missy works there too.

“Lead the way, Red.”

Missy holds the door open and invites me in. On the couch is a plump woman, mid-sixties, with shrewd eyes and a gentle smile. She pushes up off the couch at the same time I step forward and offer my hand. “Ma’am.”

“You must be Holden.”

“I am, but everyone calls me Drak.”

“Everyone calls me Ma.”

“Nice to meet you, Ma.”

“Sit.” She motions to the chair set up like an interrogation scene and retakes her seat in the middle of the couch. “Tell us about yourself. Would you like something to drink?”

“Ma.” Missy groans. “We have to go.”

“I can take five minutes to set Ma’s mind at ease.” I walk over to the wall and lean against it. “If you don’t mind, I’ll stand. My ass is numb from the hour-and-a-half long ride.”

“Of course. Missy, grab him some iced tea.”

Missy looks at me, raises her hands in defeat, and turns to the kitchen.

“What would you like to know, Ma?” I shove my hands in my jeans and lower my eyes to her.

“Missy says you’re ex-military?”

I nod. “Navy. I did ten years of active duty.”

“What brought you to Texas?”

“I have a half-brother who offered me twenty-five acres west of Maplewood. Our father died and left him a large plot of land, and once Mack learned he had a half-brother, he offered me a place to make my own. Since I was raised in the system in South Philly, I never knew my father… and I suppose now I never will.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ma says with genuine remorse. “That must have been awful.”

I shrug and turn my gaze to Missy, who stares back at me in utter fascination. There’s something about seeing her in the daylight—in this house amongst the well-worn furniture and cabinets full of treasured knick-knacks—and away from dozens of dudes drooling over her sinful curves and teasing smile that hits a little differently. I see the shyness she had with me on the phone earlier. She’s stripped of the confidence she wore like a cloak of armor last night when faced with fifty pairs of leering eyes. Even though she didn’t say as much, I know she didn’t think I’d show up for her today. The idea other men have let her down fills me with warring emotions. Rage that anyone ever mistreated my special girl, but also relief that I’ll finally be able to show her how it should have always been. Any man lucky enough to nab her attention should have felt damn blessed and treated her like the princess she is.

Something tells me they didn’t.

Now it’s my turn.

I turn my gaze back to Ma. “It made me the man I am today, so I have no complaints.”

“Here.” Missy offers me a glass of iced tea, the perspiration from the ice cubes causing the glass to be cool with slick sweat.

“Thanks, ba—” I quickly adjust “—Red.”

“What about your mother?” Ma continues to press and I’m betting hardened criminals crack under her sweet interrogation tactics.

“No idea. I haven’t heard from her since I was fifteen.”

Ma glances at Missy and casts her a sad smile. “That’s too bad. I’m sure she missed out.”

“That’s what I figure.” I gulp down half the unsweetened iced tea and set the glass down on a coaster on the chipped wood veneer of the old coffee table. “What else can I tell you about me?”

“What do you do when you’re not riding a motorcycle?” She eyes my cut and the SGT at ARMS patch over my left pec.

“I own a tactical shooting range and teach gun safety courses.”

“A businessman.” Ma nods approvingly and smiles at Missy who blushes and looks away.

Well, hell. I think I’ve won over Ma, despite the big scary biker veneer. Of course, if she knew the things I wanted to do to her granddaughter, she might not think so highly of me.

“I try.” I push off the wall, signifying my desire to leave.

“Where are the two of you off to?” Ma says as Missy grabs her purse and slings it across her body to rest at her right hip.

“I figured we’d ride east to Junction Point. Grab some dinner, watch the sunset, and maybe catch a movie if they have anything we want to see.”

“That sounds really nice. You two have a good time.”

“We will.” I offer Missy my hand. “Nice to meet you, Ma. Let’s go, Red.”

“See you later,” Missy calls over her shoulder and intertwines her fingers with mine. We walk to my motorcycle and I pull a helmet off the back seat rest.

“Thanks for doing that,” she whispers.

“It was no problem, babydoll.”

She bites her lip and smiles. “This is a nice bike.”

I slip the helmet onto her head, lifting the visor before fastening the chin strap. “I have a couple, but I figured the semi-custom Electroglide would be the most comfortable for the two of us. Have you been on many motorcycle rides?”

She shakes her head. “No. Only once before and it was a dirt bike.”

“It’s easy. You wrap your arms around my waist and mold your body to mine. When I lean left, you lean left, perfectly aligned with me. Otherwise, sit back and relax. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl. Let’s go.”

We ride for the next forty-five minutes in silence. No choice with the wind whipping past us—her head firmly encased in a helmet while I wear earplugs and eye protection. I will say, I like the feel of her pressed against my back, her thighs wrapped around my hips, her hands firmly clenched around my six-pack. Eventually, she relaxes and rests her hands on my sides and occasionally rubs circles across my back, tracing the patch lines on my cut.

She’s not supposed to do that, but I’m not going to stop her. Having her body molded to mine feels better than good. It feels right. Like this is what I’ve been missing my whole life.

I pull off the highway and skirt through the town to stop in front of a restaurant with some of the best Italian food west of the Mississippi. Obviously, nothing compares to the real thing—I’ve docked in Sigonella a few times during my Navy career—or close to the east coast cuisine I grew up on when I could get a hot meal, but it’s pretty damn good. With the bike shut down, I offer Missy my hand and wordlessly instruct her to climb off first. She does and stands perfectly still as I unfasten the strap and pull the helmet off of her head.

She smoothes down her hair and adjusts the bandana around her forehead. “I’m a mess.”

“You’re beautiful—the perfect biker woman.”

“Yeah?”

The smile on her face does something to my insides. Last night I told her I don’t do chaste kisses, but right now I want nothing more than to pull her into my arms and pepper her sweet face with dozens of them. “How do you like riding bitch?”

“Bitch?” She quirks her brow and takes a step back as I dismount.

I strap the helmet on the backrest and turn to face her, my boots touching the tips of hers. “It’s a term for the back seat, which on some bikes isn’t very comfortable. There’s no disrespect intended in my world.”

“So it doesn’t mean I’m your bitch?” She tilts her face up to look at me, a teasing grin playing upon her lips.

“Maybe my woman, but I would never call you my bitch. And neither would anyone else, if they want to keep their teeth.” I grab her hand and step up on the sidewalk, casually throwing out the threat to the ether and thinking nothing of it. “Do you like Italian?”

Missy giggles. “I love it.”

Once we’re seated and the waitress has taken our order, I slide my hand on the top of hers. “Have you lived with Ma your whole life?”

Her eyes are on our joined hands. “You are really affectionate for a big badass biker.”

“Not normally. This is the effect you have on me. Does it bother you?” I curl my fingers and tighten my grip.

“No. It’s nice. It’s just…” she trails off when the waitress returns with our drinks.

I wait until she leaves and then drop Missy’s hand so that I can pull her chair closer to mine. Damn, I wish we were seated in a booth so I could have her pressed knee to hip against me, my hand resting between her thighs. “It’s just what, babydoll?”

“I’m not used to guys touching me publicly.”

“You mean, you’re not used to guys claiming you publicly.”

Fucking morons.

They missed out.

I will not.

“I guess.” She shrugs.

“Does it bother you?” I ask again while placing my hand on the table in silent offering.

She grabs it with both hands while shaking her head. “No. I think it’s sweet.”

Sweet? Shit. Best to not fill her full of false promises about the kind of man I am before we get started. I take a deep breath and slowly shake my head, lowering my voice to a level that only she can hear. “Don’t get it twisted, babydoll. I’m not sweet, so don’t confuse tender moments with a gentle man. That’s not me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We’ll talk about it after dinner. Meanwhile, tell me about you.”

She frowns, drops my hands and grabs a breadstick, breaking it in half. “What do you want to know?”

“What keeps a vibrant woman like you in a dying town like Rizona?”

Missy sighs and pops a nugget of the toasted breadstick in her mouth. “Ma.”

I figured that’s what it was. I’m also smart enough to pick up on the fact that Ma was excited to meet me, as if she hadn’t met many of Missy’s boyfriends over the years. Considering I’m eleven years older than her, boyfriend feels weird on my tongue, but it’s too soon to declare me her man, or better yet her Daddy, the latter of which would make me a very happy man. “Did she raise you?”

“Pretty much. My mom is in San Antonio most days living and working with her boyfriend.”

“What about your father?”

She shrugs again. “No idea. He took a sales job when I was seven and traveled the state. Over the years, he came home less and less until one day he stopped coming home all together. Apparently, he liked the family he started in Wichita Falls better than ours. I haven’t seen or heard from him since my tenth birthday.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry to hear that, babydoll.” Another deadbeat man in her life. I wonder if that’s all she’s ever known?

“I like it when you call me babydoll.” She smiles at the same time the waitress comes back with our entrees.

We accept our food, digging in and allowing a comfortable silence to settle between us. I’ve cleared half my plate when Missy moans softly and sets down her fork. “This is fantastic. I can’t believe I’ve never heard of this place before.”

“We need to get you out more.”

“I haven’t been on many dates.” She blushes, as if that is something to be embarrassed about, but the Dom in me roars, prepared to give her everything she’s been missing in her life.

I take her hand and tilt my head at the waitress, signaling for the check. “Let’s count this as one of many.”