CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Elaina—

When I wake up I check my phone, I see its almost noon. I get dressed and make my way out to the main room and find Darko at the bar and a prospect behind it.

"Would you like some coffee, ma'am?" the prospect asks.

I slip onto a barstool. "Thank you."

He pours me a mug and sets it on the bar top in front of me. "Would you like cream or sugar?"

"No thanks." I take a sip, inhaling the rich aroma. The clubhouse is quiet, and I look over at Darko.

He lifts his cup to me. "Morning. They brew it strong as rocket fuel around here. You may want to reconsider that answer."

I laugh. "I'm good. Do you know where Baja is?"

"Rock's office. Bring your coffee and follow me. I'll show you."

He leads me down the hall to the end, and he taps on a door.

"Come in," Rock's deep voice bellows.

Darko twists the knob and waves me in, then closes the door. There's a leather loveseat and chair to my left, and farther into the room, a big stone fireplace sits off to the right.

Rock is behind a big carved desk with a huge window alcove behind him and a stunning view of the mountains that momentarily distracts me.

"Good morning, Elaina," he says, his chair creaking as he shifts, and that's when Baja swivels around in one of two chairs facing the desk.

"There's my girl. You sleep okay, honey?" Baja's gaze sweeps over me, and his eyes crinkle with a smile.

"I must have. It's almost noon."

"That's early around here," Baja says, standing and taking the mug from my hand as I approach him.

When he does, I move into his arms for a hug, and he kisses my forehead.

"Have a seat," Rock offers. "You want me to have the kitchen make you something to eat?"

"I wouldn't want you to go to any trouble."

"No trouble." He starts to reach for his phone.

"Please, don't. I'm fine."

"You sure? Rita is a fantastic cook."

"I'm sure."

"We were just talking about what a pretty day it is." Rock turns and glances at the blue sky out his window. "Tomorrow is supposed to be just as beautiful. I was thinking we should go for a ride. Bring the ladies. Maybe ride out to the place that sells that great barbecue."

"I'm up for it," Baja says, then reaches for my hand and brings it to his mouth for a kiss. "You up for a ride tomorrow, Elaina?"

"I'd love to. It sounds like fun."

Baja chuckles. "She's hooked already."

"Good," Rock says. "We'll roll out at noon tomorrow. Spread the word, Baja."

"Yes, sir." Baja's phone goes off, and he digs it out and puts it on speaker, smiling at the caller ID. "Hey, shithead."

"Fuck you, asshole," comes the voice of the caller.

"Son, you're on speaker. Watch your mouth," Rock says, and I realize it's his son on the other end.

"What do you want, Trez?" Baja asks.

"Elaina with you?" Trez asks.

"Yeah. Sittin' right here, why?" Baja replies, glancing at me.

"Elaina," Trez says, cutting Baja completely out of the conversation. "Isabella is inviting the girls over this afternoon. She insists you join them. She's makin' tacos. You don't want to miss my ol' lady's tacos. So, get shithead to drive you over here."

I connect eyes with Baja and grin. "Sounds like fun. Thanks."

Baja brings the phone closer to his mouth. "Shithead's car service is closed for the day. Sorry."

"Fuck you, asshole. You want me to tell my ol' lady that?"

Baja rolls his eyes. "Tell her she'll be there."

"Hurry up. Lola and Kate are already on their way. Oh, and Dad?"

"Yeah?" Rock replies.

"Where's Evelyn? Isabella can't get ahold of her."

"She's still sleeping." Rock leans back in his chair and folds his arms.

"Well, pass the word. Will ya?"

"Nope."

"What do you mean, ‘nope?' Why not?"

"'Cause I'm about to go to our room and ravish her again. She'll be busy." Rock grins.

"Eww. I don't need to hear about your sex life, Dad."

Rock lifts a brow. "Baja, hang up on his ass."

Baja laughs and talks to his phone. "Sorry, bro. You heard Prez."

"Wait, don't—"

But Baja cuts him off and shoves his phone in his pocket. "You could always adopt me, Prez. I'd make you a fine son. And bonus, you could talk about bangin' your ol' lady all you want. It wouldn't bother me a bit."

"Get out of my office. Take this pretty lady to my daughter-in-law's house."

Baja grins. "Yes, Dad."

"I'm not your father," Rock says in a Darth Vader voice.

"But you wish you were. Don't lie." Baja ushers me to the door.

Once we're out in the hall, I tuck against Baja's side. "Where's Rosie?"

"Night Train took her and his dog, Hondo for a walk. The dogs are getting along like they're in puppy love. But don't worry, Hondo's an old pit bull, and he was fixed years ago. Night Train fed Rosie, too, so your dog is in good hands. Night Train loves dogs."

When we get to the main room, the two dogs are lying on the floor next to a bar stool with a man I haven't met before, both asleep.

Baja leads me over, and I squat and pet Rosie.

"Elaina, this is Night Train. I don't think you met the other night."

The man is older with a grizzled beard, and he's tall, but he has a sweet smile. He holds his hand out.

"Nice to meet you, Elaina."

"I hear our dogs are getting along well."

"They sure are. I'm glad Hondo has a friend for the day. He gets lonely. I've been thinking about getting another pup to keep him company."

Baja bends and scratches Rosie's ears. "Hey, Night Train. You mind keeping an eye on Rosie today? Isabella wants Elaina to come over for a few hours."

"Not at all. Be glad to."

"Thanks, brother."

We leave the clubhouse in Baja's pickup and drive about ten miles out of town, when Baja gets a call.

"Yeah, brother. We're almost there, what do you need? No, I haven't passed it yet." Baja squints into the sun. "Sure. I can do that. See you in a few."

He hangs up and flips his blinker on, slowing the truck as I spot a gas station and diner off to the left.

"Trez wants us to get some margarita mix. Guess you girls are having margaritas with your tacos."

We turn in by the gas station, and I see there's a small liquor store to the right. Baja parks at the pump, fills up with a few gallons, then leans in the door. "You need anything?"

"No thanks."

"Okay. Be back in a minute." He heads inside, and I scroll through social media. A few minutes later, I hear a couple of ninja bikes fire up at the café on the opposite side of the gas station. They pull in at the pumps behind Baja's truck. I watch in the side mirror as one of them swipes his card and pumps gas for about thirty seconds, then hangs the nozzle and puts the cap back on his gas tank. He's the only one who takes his helmet off.

One of the other men gestures to the truck, and I straighten, a tingle going up my spine. I hit the button to lock the doors. The next thing I know, they've surrounded the pickup, and I can hear them taunting me.

"You a Bastard's ol' lady, pretty girl?"

One taps on my glass. "Roll your window down, honey."

The one who pumped gas appears on the driver's side and tries the door handle, then slams his hand on the window. "Open the door."

He's the only one I can see clearly. He's young, with a thin face and dark hair.

I lay on the horn until I see Baja running from the store. He reaches inside his black sweat jacket and pulls out a handgun. He darts behind a box truck parked on the other side of the pump. I don't think the bikers have spotted him.

I stop pressing the horn, and a second later, Baja pops around the pump and puts his gun to the head of the one at the driver's door.

"Tell your buddies to back the fuck away from my truck, or I'll blow your head off."

The other two pull their weapons. There's not a doubt in my mind they're completely capable and willing to pull the triggers.

I begin to shake, convinced it's going to be a bloodbath. They've got Baja outnumbered, and I don't know what to do.

"Now what are you gonna do, you fucking Royal Bastard piece of shit?" the man with Baha's gun to his head taunts.

"I may be outnumbered, but your body's my shield, and before they take me out, I'm putting a bullet in your brain, you fucking punk. You ready to go to your grave right now?"

The man licks his lips and swallows. "You won't do it. We're in broad daylight."

"I'm a fucking Royal Bastard, remember? You think I give a fuck? We own this goddamn town. Now tell your buddies to put away their pistols, get on your fucking bikes, and ride away. I'll even give you a head start to get the fuck out of this county before my crew hunts you down."

The man motions for the other two to comply. "Do what he says, man."

Time stands still as they consider it, then finally lower their weapons and head to their bikes. I lift my phone and take a video as they ride past the pickup and roar down the road.

Baja keeps his gun on them. I notice the patches on the back of their jackets. Rat Boys, but there are no territory rockers like the Royal Bastards' cuts.

Baja jogs to the truck, climbs in, and cups my face. "You okay?"

I nod. "Who were they?"

"Punk club out of Utah. Nothing for you to worry about. They're gone."

"I took a video of them. Maybe I got their plates."

"Fantastic, honey. Send it to me." He calls Trez as he barrels out of the lot, heading the same direction.

"Are we following them?" I shriek, terrified of another confrontation.

Baja shakes his head, then turns at a road half a mile down. He talks into the phone. "Just had a run in with the Rat Boys. Yeah, right at the gas station. No, we're headed your way. I'm dropping off Elaina. Call Rock."

Then he hangs up and drives like a bat out of hell until he fishtails into the gravel driveway of a pretty log home. A cloud of dust surrounds the vehicle, and Baja vaults out the truck door as Trez emerges from the house onto the big porch and dashes down the steps.

I push my own door open as they talk, and Isabella runs over to me.

She clasps my hands. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

She wraps an arm around my shoulders. "You don't look fine. Let's get inside."

The place is open concept with high ceilings and exposed rafters. A big granite island and kitchen are in front of us, with dining and living area to the left and sliders out to a big deck. Everything is in a pretty light gray, and even the stone fireplace is light stone. It's bright and airy. Any other time, I'd be complimenting Isabella on their pretty home, but right now I'm too preoccupied from the encounter.

Within ten minutes, the club roars up the drive.

We watch out the window as the men talk, then Trez and Baja bolt up the steps and enter the house.

Baja heads straight to me.

"I've got to go with the club. I'll be back to get you. Rock's leaving one of the prospects here to make you feel better.

"A prospect?" I ask.

"He's armed, and he'll lay his life down to protect you. I promise you that. Besides, these assholes have no clue where Trez and Isabella live."

"Why did they do that?"

"I'm thinking they saw the sticker on the back of my truck with our emblem."

"The skull with the crown," I whisper.

Trez kisses Isabella goodbye then emits a sharp whistle. "Let's go, brother."

Baja nods, then turns to me. "Yeah. Same as the patch on my cut."

"Maybe you should remove it from your truck," I suggest.

"Maybe I should find these motherfuckers," he counters, then searches my eyes, and I know what he's trying to tell me. He is who he is, and that's not going to change. Even for me. I once told him I didn't want him to change, and he questioned whether I was sure about that.

Now I don't know anymore.

"Baja—"

"I've got to go." He presses a kiss to my forehead, and then he's gone.