CHAPTER NINE

Elaina—

The rumble of several motorcycles sounds in the distance, drawing my attention. Three bikes turn into the burger joint, and I stare intently, but I can't make out their cuts. I remember seeing an old pair of binoculars on a bookcase in the living room next to a photo of Dylan's mother standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon. I hurry in and grab them, then return to the deck and stand in the shadows under the covered portion.

Focusing in, I see the patches on their backs. It's those Royal Bastards again. The club whose flag Dylan has tacked up in his closet. They move to the side of the building where there's a covered awning, and they become dark shadows. They sit at a table where a lone man waits. I can't be sure, but everything in me says it's Dylan. Is he doing business with them? Are they dealing drugs?

I try to fight it, but I have to know, and I don't have much time. Hurrying inside, I return to his room and open his closet. I shove things around on the top shelf, but it's mostly folded shirts.

I search through the dresser drawers but find nothing. No stash of drugs, which is mainly what I expect.

Giving up, I close the drawers and closet doors and return outside.

Dylan is heading up the hill with a white bag of food.

I sit in my chair, and wait.

When he opens the top gate, Rosie meets him, tail wagging and nose sniffing the white bag.

He strokes her head. "Hey, girl."

I watch him closely. He doesn't look like a bad guy. His smile is open and seemingly honest when he meets my gaze. But I remind myself—I'm apparently lousy at judging men's character. Maybe, like Elliott, he hides it well.

He lifts his chin to the glass dining table under the covered portion of the deck. "Let's sit at the table."

I follow and take a seat.

He unpacks the bag, and my stomach growls when the aroma hits my nose. I am hungry, whether I want to admit it or not.

I'm battling the childish temptation inside me to be a bitch just to see what he does. But he's really done nothing to deserve it, except not tell me every detail of his life. He really owes me nothing, and I'm only here temporarily. In my head, I've already started making plans to pack up tomorrow and return to Denver, though I don't want to go back to Elliott, either.

He passes me a Styrofoam container.

I pop it open and see a huge burger and an equally large serving of onion rings. Those things are my downfall, and I pick one up and take a bite. Oh, my God. They're delicious.

Something inside me sees the irony of the situation. Given everything I've found out today, along with Desiree's visit, the fact that I can sit here and enjoy that these are hands down the best onion rings I've ever tasted, doesn't escape me.

I sort of feel like Alice gone down the rabbit hole. Nothing is what it seems.

Elliott was supposed to be the good guy. He works in an office, dresses in nice suits, drives a nice car. Dylan is mysterious as fuck, rides a motorcycle and has five guns under his bed.

Why, when I look in his eyes, do I feel at ease?

He's been nothing but kind to me. That's why.

"Can I ask you something?" I whisper.

His warm brown eyes meet mine. "What do you want to know?"

"Are you friends with those bikers?"

At my question, his glance flicks down the hill to where the burger place is plainly in view. I answer his question before he can ask it.

"I saw them pull in. It looked like they sat at your table."

He sucks in a deep breath and exhales slowly. "Okay, yeah. I know them. Look, I guess this is one of those lay-your-cards-on-the-table moments. If you want the truth, I more than know them." He watches for my reaction. "I'm one of them."

I don't know how to react. Part of me wants to run down the street in fear. Part of me wants to shake my head, rejecting his words. Part of me is frozen in place, hoping he's got more good in him than bad, because I don't want him to be bad.

"Elaina, I'm still the man you met outside that reception. I'm still the man who went with you to get your dog. I'm still the man you laughed with the other night. Please don't look at me like I just grew devil horns."

"I'm just realizing I don't know you, and given my track record, I'm doubting everything. I don't seem to be able to judge character very well."

"Bull shit."

"What?"

"Something inside you must have told you Elliott was an asshole. There had to be red flags. You ignored them because you wanted him to be Mr. Right."

"Maybe I'm doing the same thing with you."

"I am not like my brother. Not in any way."

"You just told me you're a biker in a motorcycle gang."

"Club. Motorcycle club."

"Oh, what? You're a bunch of boy scouts doing charity work?"

"Don't be a smartass."

"Tell me the truth."

"Okay, we're not boy scouts. Far from it. But I'd never— never— do anything to hurt you or put you in danger."

I frown and pull my chin to the side. "Put me in danger? Am I in danger if I'm around you?"

"No. Yes. You could be in certain situations, but the club's not at war with any MCs right now."

"At war? Oh, my God."

"Look. How about we take a ride on the bike? We can swing by the clubhouse. You can meet some of the guys and their ol' ladies. It's Lola's birthday, and everyone will be up there tonight."

Silence hangs between us while I try to decide if I want to do any of that.

"Please, babe. I promise you'll like everyone. And I think you're gonna love riding." He shrugs. "If you don't, I'll turn around and come home."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart." He smiles and makes the motion with his hand. "Eat your burger first, though. It's too good to waste."

"No more secrets, okay?"

"Babe, there are things about the MC I can't talk about."

"I'm talking about you, not the MC."

"Okay. Deal."

Before we can finish our food, his phone rings. It's laying on the table, faceup, and I see the screen light up with the word, Dad .

Dylan looks at me and hits speaker. "Yeah?"

"What the hell did you say to Elaina? She's disappeared, and Elliott is a wreck. She's blown that cake stunt way out of proportion."

"I don't think she has. That ‘cake stunt,' as you put it, really pissed her off, and I don't blame her one bit. Elliott is an asshole, and she deserves better."

"What would you know about it? You fly in late, barely make the wedding, and then mess everything up with your interference."

"My interference? I just told her the truth of what kind of man she was marrying."

"Who are you to talk about the worth of a man? You've never been worth a damn you're entire life. Always causing trouble. How many times did you steal money from my wallet or damage my car? I should have stopped at one kid. I had the son I wanted."

Dylan's jaw tightens, and I see the pain in his eyes, even though he's trying to be stoic and pretend the words don't cut him. It's not fair, and I can't stand the injustice of it. I know that minutes ago, it was me who was judging him, but hearing his own father degrade him this way, is just too much.

I grab the phone. "Dylan is a kind man and worth ten of your other son. You have no reason to talk to him this way. He isn't the reason I ran from the reception in tears. He isn't the reason I didn't return and pretend everything was fine. And he sure as hell isn't the reason Elliott spent our wedding night in bed with one of my bridesmaids."

" Elaina? What the hell are you doing with Dylan?"

Dylan takes the phone from my hand and disconnects the call, then puts it on silent mode. "That wasn't necessary, Elaina. I don't need you to fight my battles for me. My father and I have been at odds my entire life."

"That's no excuse for a father talking to his own son like that. I can't even imagine how horrible your childhood was having that man for a father."

"It wasn't a bed of roses, that's for sure."

"I've really had my eyes opened. I always thought he was a nice man. He was always pleasant at the office."

"He's like Elliott. They hide it well." Dylan stands. "Let's take that ride. I need to feel the wind in my face, especially after that call."

I can't deny him, and all my reservations fall away.

He holds his hand out to me, and I slip mine in his, letting him pull me to my feet.

"It'll probably get chilly tonight. Let me see if I can dig you up a jacket." He goes inside and returns with a worn leather biker jacket. "This used to fit when I was in my twenties. Not sure why I've kept it all these years. Guess because it was the one I had when I first prospected with the club."

He holds it open for me, and I turn and slip my arms inside. It smells like leather and Dylan. It's big, and he turns the cuff up one time. "Should keep you warm. You want to put Rosie inside?"

I take her down to the tree first then let her inside. "We can't be gone too long. She'll need to go out."

"All right. How about we take a quick ride, then take the truck to the clubhouse? That way she can join us."

"Will she be allowed in?"

"Sure. The guys all love dogs."

"You don't have one."

"I'm gone a lot. Wouldn't be fair."

"All right.

He leads me to the garage and grabs a spare helmet off a nail.

I stare in his eyes as he puts it on my head and fastens the strap under my chin. Then slips a pair of shades over my eyes. He winks, and my heart melts a little.

He squats next to his saddlebag and pulls out something.

My mouth parts when I realize it's his MC cut. He shrugs it on, and suddenly he's transformed into a badass biker right before my eyes. He's always been attractive, but there's something about a bad boy that makes me—and probably most women—swoon. Especially, when a ruggedly handsome one gives you a wicked smile, like the one Dylan is giving me right now.

"Nice to meet you, Baja." I hold out my hand with a grin. "I'm Elaina."

He ignores my hand, takes my chin, and pulls me forward to brush my lips with his. "The pleasure's all mine, darlin'."

And there goes my heart in a big puddle of mush.

He swings his leg over the seat and fires the bike up. "Climb on, angel."

I do as he says and find the foot pegs, then place my hands on my thighs. He reaches back and wraps them around his waist.

"Hold on tight. Okay?"

"Okay."

We roar out of the garage and down the street. The vibration of the bike under me and the wind in my face is exhilarating. The power of the motorcycle as it surges forward has me tightening my grip and peering over his shoulder.

He turns his head, and I catch the smile on his face. "You like it?"

"I love it," I yell against the wind, and he laughs.