CHAPTER EIGHT

Elaina—

The sound of the garage door wakes me. Tossing the covers, I move to the slider and watch Dylan backing his truck out and driving down the street. I can't help wondering where he's going.

After a quick shower, I dress in a pair of faded jeans and an off the shoulder soft sweater of silver gray. I put my hair up in a messy bun and add a pair of dangling silver earrings that almost brush the tops of my bare shoulders.

By this time, Rosie is whining to go outside, so I click her leash on and walk her down the block and back. When we return, I feed her, then try the door to Dylan's house. It's unlocked, so I let us both in and make a cup of coffee.

There's a note under a magnet on the fridge.

Elaina—

I had to take care of some business.

I should be back this afternoon.

By dinnertime at the latest.

Make yourself at home.

—Dylan.

I stare down at Rosie. "Guess it's just you and me, girl."

Wrapping my hands around my mug of coffee, I take it and my phone out onto the balcony and sit. It's a little chilly, but the sun is out, and it warms me.

Before I'm to the bottom of my cup, my phone rings. Glancing at the screen, I groan and put it to my ear. "Hello, Mother."

"Where are you?"

"I told you. I need some time to think."

"Think about what? Honey, you're already married."

"Mother, stop."

"If you'd just come home, everything will work out. Elliott is really sorry. He told your father so. Don't you think you're overreacting?"

"No, I don't. I'll let you know when I'm ready to come home."

"But Elaina, you can't expect a man like Elliott to wait around. Besides, you've got a job. What about that?"

"I'm supposed to be on my honeymoon this week, so I doubt they'll miss me."

"That beautiful honeymoon you're missing. It breaks my heart. Maybe you can still catch a flight. You've wanted to see Hawaii for so long."

"Hawaii isn't going anywhere. I have a big decision to make, Mom. I don't take marriage lightly."

"Elliott doesn't, either. He's heartbroken."

I roll my eyes, thinking of him in bed with my cousin. "I doubt that, Mom."

"Elaina, this is ridiculous. Just come home."

"I can't do this. I'll talk to you later." I disconnect and mute my phone. She calls back, but I ignore it.

My quiet morning is now effectively ruined, so I wander inside and dump my coffee in the sink. I stare out the window, wondering what I'm going to do all day. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I wander around the house, passing Dylan's bedroom, and swearing to myself I won't intrude. But after another lap around the house, I'm drawn straight to his door. I can't help myself from turning the knob and opening it a foot, promising I'll just take a peek inside.

The bed is unmade, and somehow the sight of those tussled sheets fills my head with thoughts of what he might look like naked. My imagination does a good job of dreaming up a Greek God with ripped abs and that sexy V some men have.

Get a grip, Elaina.

I lick my lips and drag my gaze from his bed, peering around the edge of the door. His clothes from last night are tossed on a chair in the corner, and a pair of black biker boots with squared off toes sit on the floor. They have a band across the heel with a silver chain. They look cool as hell. I wish I'd noticed them last night, but I was too busy being embarrassed at getting caught in his house in my pajamas.

My gaze drifts to the closet. One sliding door is open, and the row of shirts and jackets on hangers is in plain view. He's got a lot of black t-shirts, some denim long sleeve shirts, some flannel, and a couple of leather jackets, all well-worn.

Something above the shelf above catches my eye. It looks like a flag tacked up to the wall.

I hesitate, but in the end, I can't stop myself from pushing into the room and stepping to the closet. The flag is black with a silver design and wording. The design is of a skull wearing a crown. Across the top is reads Royal Bastards MC . I frown. Why does he have a flag like this? Is he friends with them? Last night he warned me off them, saying it was best to stay clear.

I scan the room and something shiny on the nightstand catches my eye. Stepping closer, I see several silver rings. Big ones. One is a skull wearing a crown, just like on the flag. Another is the number one and the percent sign. What is that supposed to mean?

I pick them up and study them.

A pounding on the door scares the crap out of me, and I drop them. One rolls under the bed. Rosie starts barking, and I hit my knees, feeling around for it. I find it but also see a large case and wonder what's in it.

The banging starts again, and I scramble to my feet and run to answer it. Rosie barks again.

"Hush, Rosie." Moving to the front door, I peer out the diamond shaped window. It's a woman. She's young. Not much more than twenty. She's a stunning blonde in a tight leather jacket and skimpy top underneath. The only thing that ruins her look is the fact she's chewing gum with her mouth open.

She pops a bubble. "I see you. Are you going to open the door or what?"

Well now I have to, dammit. I throw the lock and swing the door open. "Um. Hi. Can I help you?"

She pushes past me but stops short by Rosie's protective growl.

"Rosie. Relax," I say, and she instantly backs off.

The woman's eyes return to me. "When the hell did Baja get a dog?"

"Who?"

"Baja. Is he here?"

"Baja?" I repeat, confused.

"Yeah. I saw his bike through the garage window."

"You mean Dylan?"

"No, I mean Baja."

"Um, the guy who owns the motorcycle?"

"Isn't that what I just said?"

"He left this morning. Took his truck."

"Oh." She gives me the once over. "Who are you?"

"I'm… a friend of his."

"I've never seen you around. What kind of friend?" Her hands hit her hips. "Is he doing you?"

Doing me ? "God, no. I'm… I know his brother, Elliott."

"Huh. I didn't know he had a brother."

"Well, he does. And you are?"

"Desiree." She gives me a cheeky grin. "A really good friend, if you know what I mean."

"Like he's doing you ?" I give her words back.

Her brow cocks. "As a matter of fact, yeah. We usually hook up on Monday mornings when my shift ends."

"Your shift?"

"At the strip club. I dance every Sunday night." She shrugs. "It's kind of a regular thing for us."

"Well, I guess he forgot." There's a bite to my words, and she doesn't miss it.

She pops her gum again. "You stayin' here or something?"

"Look, Desiree. It's really none of your business."

"Oh, wait a minute." She shakes a finger at me. "You're that runaway bride chick, aren't you? I heard about you."

"What do you mean, you heard about me?

She smirks. "Word gets around."

"I think you need to leave. I'll be sure to tell Baja you stopped by."

"Don't bother, bitch. I know where to find him." She slams out the door in her to-die-for high-heeled black boots and skinny-ass jeans.

" Don't bother, bitch ." I mimic her with a wobble of my head, but her last sentence piques my curiosity. How does she know where to find him?

Leaning to the window, I watch her sashay down the street, climb into a white Mustang, and peel away. Pulling out my phone, I press the button. "Show me strip clubs near me."

Only one pops up.

The Cherry Bomb on the edge of town.

Just exactly what kind of man am I staying with? My thoughts return to that case under his bed, and I can't resist returning to his room.

Dropping to my knees, I lean down and slide it out. It's incredibly heavy, which takes me by surprise. It's black, heavy-duty plastic, almost like a tackle box, but it's larger, about fourteen inches by seventeen inches and eight inches high.

I stare at it a moment, before I flip the wide latches and lift the lid. I don't know what I expected to find, but not this. It's lined in black foam with spots for five pistols. They look like 9mm automatic weapons. They are side by side with the grips facing me for easy access. The case holds about a dozen clips.

I drop back on my heels.

Holy crap.

I could see Dylan having perhaps one gun in his nightstand for protection, but five ? Who needs five?

What have I gotten myself into? Or rather who have I gotten myself involved with?

Rosie barks once, and the sound of the deck door carries to me. Moving quickly, I shut the case, click the latches, and slide it under the bed, then dash to the bedroom door and hide behind it.

I can see Dylan through the crack near the hinges. He walks past and heads toward the kitchen.

"Hey, Rosie." He squats and scratches her ears, cupping her head. "How're you doin', girl?" He looks up. "You're momma around someplace?" He stands and calls out. "Elaina?"

Shit. I'm stuck.

He moves into the living room.

This is my chance. I slip from the room and move to the deck door, opening it and closing it like I just walked in.

Dylan comes around the corner. "Hey."

"Hi. I just went back to the apartment for a second. I left Rosie here. I hope you don't mind."

"No problem at all." He moves to the fridge and stares into it. "You want a beer?"

"Sure."

He pulls out two bottles.

"Want to sit out on the deck?" I ask.

"Sounds good."

I move through the door, Rosie at my heels, and Dylan follows. We sit, and he passes me a beer.

"Here you go."

"Thanks." I twist off the top and take a sip. "How was your morning? Did you get everything taken care of?"

"Yeah. Most of it."

"You had a visitor while you were out."

His eyes widen slightly. "I did? Who?"

"Desiree. Apparently, you missed your usual Monday morning hookup."

His eyes slide closed. "Shit."

I take a sip of beer and wonder if he's upset he missed his hookup or because I found out.

"Look, Elaina. It's not what you think. She and I… It's not a big deal."

"Sure."

"She's just someone who…"

I put a hand up. "It's none of my business."

"It is your business. I mean, I want you to understand. It's been a long time for me. I haven't had a real relationship with a woman in years. Desiree—she's someone I suppose I've used to fight the loneliness. That doesn't make it right. I suppose it sounds pretty bad from a woman's perspective."

"Kind of. Yeah."

"I'm sorry you had to find out by her coming here. I should have told you."

"She called you Baja."

"That's kind of a nickname I've got."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugs.

"Did she find you? She said she knew where you'd be?"

"No."

"Where did she think you'd be?"

Before he can answer, his phone goes off, and I'm left hanging, wondering if he was even going to tell me where he was. I want to ask him about the guns, but there's no way I can do that without revealing I'd snooped through his bedroom, and I have a feeling that would be unforgivable.

He steps away moving to the railing on the other side of the deck, and speaks in a low voice. I can't make out his words.

When he's through, he slips his phone in his pocket and returns, but doesn't sit.

"How about I go pick us up some burgers?" He jerks his head toward the place down the hill.

"I'm not really hungry."

"Come on, it's after one. Have you eaten?"

"No."

He stares at me, but I refuse to meet his eyes. "Okay, look. I'm gonna grab us a couple cheeseburgers and some onion rings. Eat it or don't." With that, he descends the steps and heads down the hill.

I watch him, then Rosie rests her head on my thigh. I scratch her ears. "Hey, girl."

Melancholy washes over me. After everything with Elliott, I think I've been putting Dylan up on a pedestal like he's some perfect guy, but I don't know him at all.

"Maybe I should give up on men, Rosie. Maybe I could adopt a baby. I don't need a man for that."