Rough Ride Page 8

“I know more than you think.” I took a deep breath to calm myself down, then unloaded something that’d been bottled up for a long time. “Life wasn’t exactly easy for me growing up. But it got a hell of a lot better once I moved in with my grandma. She was the only person in my life since my dad died who gave a fuck about me. She cared. But then last year, while I was a prospect, she got sick. I was taking her to appointments while working a full-time job and prospecting for the club, and things fell through the cracks. If I could go back, I’d do so much shit differently. I’d spread myself so thin that I wasn’t there for her, and I wasn’t there for my Brothers. I came really close to fucking it all up.”

  Jack inclined his head as he rocked back on his heels, but he still wouldn’t look at me. Or say anything.

  “You’re skirting the edge, too. I know what it’s like to lose the center of your family. But you’re fortunate in that you have a sister and a mom who care about you. I’d kill to have that. But you know, apparently violence doesn’t solve everything.” I paused. “Hey, that was a joke, Jackson.” He laughed weakly at my piss-poor attempt at humor. “This isn’t coming from just me. Everyone is concerned about what’s going on with your family. We don’t want to see you fuck it all up because you’re spread too thin. Take some time and take care of your family. We’ll still be here.”

  Jackson shoved his hands into his front pockets, but still didn’t say anything.

  “Think about it, okay? If you need anything, give me call.”

  Jackson nodded tightly. I sighed and gave him a soft punch on the shoulder, then left. I’d done what I could. Hopefully he wasn’t a stubborn shit and could see the truth in what I’d said.

  Amber didn’t need all the weight of the world on her slender shoulders.

  Chapter 7

  Amber

  “So, how are things with your mom? She still going to meetings or whatever?” Bam asked as we walked down the hall, away from the locker room.

  It was Saturday night. I’d just spent the last six hours at work with Bam’s eyes burning a hole in my back. And my front. With every shift I was becoming more and more aware of him. I’d thought this guard duty thing wouldn’t be so intrusive—that the guys would just be background noise—and that was true for everyone but Bam. When Bam was on watch duty, I knew where he was all the time. I could feel his eyes on me. With Hatchet or Sig, I had no clue.

  I really didn’t want to think about what that meant.

  “I don’t know. We don’t talk about it.” I shrugged.

  “Really? I thought your family was close.” Bam held his hand out for my employee pass so he could open the impossible outer door that I always struggled with.

  I handed it over and tried not to be pissed when the door immediately clicked open for him. “That’s just the way my family is. We didn’t talk about things when she was drinking. We’re not talking about things now that she’s not drinking. And it was like that when my dad was with us, too. He’d disappear for days sometimes, and my mom would just say he was taking care of business. Then he’d come back, and it’d be like he never left. I guess you could say we’re pros at avoidance.”

  Bam handed my pass back to me as he held the door open. “Huh.”

  “I always thought she’d give me a big speech about quitting drinking and how she was sorry for what she put me through. But she didn’t. She hasn’t.” I gave him a weak smile. “Whatever. It’s okay. I see a difference, though. She’s not in a puddle of puke when I get home, the house is clean, and she’s not hungover in the mornings. So that’s good. I’m glad she’s getting help. She disappears every night at a certain time, so I assume she’s going to meetings and getting help. I hope she is.”

  Bam nodded as we started up the four flights of stairs in the parking garage. It’d only taken him a week to give up on pressuring me to use the elevators. Now he just headed for the stairs like it was a given. “Maybe she doesn’t want the pressure. It’s hard to do when it’s just you and your demons. It’s probably a hell of a lot tougher when you don’t want to let your family down.”

  “I guess. That makes sense. I just wish I knew what snapped her out of it. What was the thing that pushed her over the edge and made her realize that she didn’t want to do this anymore? I kinda feel like I should’ve seen it. Maybe it was something I could’ve said or did or…I don’t know. Something.”

  “You can’t do that to yourself, kitten.” Bam grabbed my arm and stopped me somewhere between the second and third floor. His eyes were serious as he stared down at me. “Your mom’s drinking is not on you. You took care of her and the bills and probably more shit than I know about. You stepped up. Be good with that.”

  His pride in me had me ducking my head. To be honest, I wasn’t used to direct praise. Or at least I’d lost that in the year since my dad had been gone and my mom had fallen apart. I didn’t know what to say, where to look, so instead I just bobbed my head and bit my lip, avoiding his eyes the whole time.

  Bam huffed an irritated breath. “Kitten, look at me.”

  I tipped my head back and took in his long blond hair, his scruffy beard, and the serious expression in his gray eyes. God, why did he have to be so gorgeous? He looked so much like that actor in the Thor movies. The one I’d spent so much time fantasizing about when I was a teenager. Now his carbon copy stood in front of me, taking in all of me, and all I could do was gawk back at him like a ninny.

  “You stepped up and took care of your family. That’s pretty awesome. Trust me when I say not everyone would’ve done the same. I know more than most about that shit.”

  I wanted to ask him about it, find out more about this intense—and gorgeous—man, but I didn’t want his walls to come slamming back down. So instead I bobbed my head like a chicken and whispered, “Thanks.”

  Bam’s eyes sparkled and the side of his mouth hitched with a slight smile. “When’s the last time you went out and just had a good time? Had a few drinks and a few laughs?”

  I ducked my head again as I thought about my answer. “Does coffee with my best friend last week count?”

  “Did you guys go out or stay in?”

  “In.”

  “Then no.” Bam chuckled softly. “That doesn’t count.”

  I didn’t want him to think I was a total friendless fool which is when the babbling started. “We were supposed to go out tonight. Sydney wanted to hit up a couple of bars, maybe sing some karaoke, but she texted me and canceled before my shift started. I guess she’s got a summer cold or something. Caught it from one of her clients. She does hair at Plumb Beauty Salon. And I’m going to stop talking now.”

  My face hot, I pivoted away from Bam and resumed climbing the stairs. Sometimes my mouth just ran away from me. Case in point. And I swear I didn’t make any of that up—Sydney and I had plans that she’d canceled—but why did I have to spew it all out like that at Bam? If anything, it sounded made-up, given the way he’d asked me about my downtime, like I never let go and had fun. I had fun. It’d just been a while.

  “I take it that means you’re free tonight?” Bam’s laughing voice echoed in the concrete stairwell.

  The combination of my suddenly free Saturday night, not to mention the fact that I was never scheduled to work Saturday night—a sure sign I was horrible at my job since weekend nights had the best tips, or so I’d been told—and the laughter in Bam’s voice made me burn with embarrassment. Suddenly it felt like I was failing at everything. I worked the day shift as a cocktail waitress. My mom got sober without me. My brother, Jackson, was taking my mom out to dinner tonight—just the two of them. Aside from Sydney, my friends had all but disappeared since they were busy with college crap. And now Bam was laughing at me. Literally.

  I whirled around on the step above him and glared straight into his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll give Ruslan a call and see if he’s interested in going out.”
>
  It was impulsive and petty and totally not true. I’d never willingly call Ruslan. Despite his model good looks, the man was completely unhinged and more than a little scary—petrifying, really. But I wanted to score a point with Bam, and judging by his scowl I definitely did.

  “You think that shit’s funny?” He bit out.

  I scowled back at him. “I wasn’t trying to be funny. I just wanted to point out that I’m not some pathetic loser. Ruslan at least seems to think I’m worthy of spending time with him.”

  “I wasn’t making fun of you, Amber. I was gonna ask you if you want to go get a drink and hang out, but now I’m thinking not. You obviously have some growing up to do.” He gave me a look of absolute disgust, then shouldered past me and continued to climb the stairs.

  I felt about two inches tall. His disgust was obvious, and the fact that he’d used my name instead of that silly nickname he’d given me filled me with regret. I’d struck a low blow, and for what? It didn’t make me look good or feel good. And I’d hurt Bam. He’d been on the cusp of reaching out to me, and I’d slapped him down.

  He was right. Maybe I did have some growing up to do because that was immature as hell.

  I followed silently behind him as we climbed the stairs. We reached the fourth floor without speaking a word to each other, so when Bam finally spoke, his voice sounded louder than before.

  “I’ll follow you. Are you going straight to your house, or do you need to stop somewhere on the way?”

  I heard his question. I was sure the two floors beneath us could hear his booming voice, but I couldn’t answer. I was too busy staring at my car.

  “Amber?” Bam turned with a huff when I didn’t answer.

  My body started to shake, and Bam’s annoyance morphed to confusion, then quickly became that chilling angry-biker expression I’d seen at Howl. His hand went to the back of his waistband, and he turned to block me from the rest of the parking garage level. I caught a flash of metal beneath Bam’s leather vest, and my blood chilled. He had a gun.

  “Stay here,” Bam murmured before he slowly walked toward my car.

  I wanted to be snarky about his lack of watchdog skills, but I couldn’t form any words. Next to my car was a vase with a dozen or so bloodred roses. I didn’t have to look at the card to know who they were from. Ruslan. Again.

  Bam surveyed the parking level, making sure we were alone, then stomped to my car. He grabbed the paper pinned under the windshield wiper, and his lips moved as he read the message. A beat later he balled up the paper then threw it with an angry roar.

  “Son of a bitch!”

  I wrapped my arms around my waist and tried to calm the shudders shaking my body. This was my fault. I shouldn’t have poked my big nose where it didn’t belong. I shouldn’t have flirted with Ruslan under the guise of getting answers about my father’s killer.

  And I really shouldn’t be keeping secrets from Bam.

  For the past week, Ruslan had been leaving pictures of my father’s tortured and disfigured killer on my back step. Every morning I woke up to a new gruesome photo of how they’d maimed the asshole. I knew I should’ve told Bam when the first one appeared, but I liked finally having some answers. And the dark side of me really liked seeing the bastard suffer.

  But I should’ve told Bam. If I had, he would’ve been able to end this weird courting-stalking thing Ruslan was doing. I hadn’t, and now apparently Ruslan thought he had a chance with me. God, what do I do?

  “Reb,” Bam barked into his cell. “Yeah. He left a fucking dozen red roses at her car and a note about how he handpicked every fucking one to match her lips or some fucking thing…No. No! He needs to get a fucking clue. This is bullshit. You need to send a message now.”

  Bam looked up and locked eyes with me. I could see all the anger and frustration in his eyes. If he reacted this way about a few flowers, I was afraid to see how he’d take my collection of photos of my dad’s tortured killer. So, like a coward I said nothing.

  “I want to be there, but someone should stay with Amber. No, I’ll do it…Shut up. Later.”

  With my arms still wrapped around my waist, I took a few steps toward Bam. “You know, I don’t think you’re supposed to tell your president to shut up. It’s part of the bylaws or something.”

  Bam didn’t even acknowledge my weak attempt at humor. “It’s gonna be okay, kitten. Reb and a few guys are going to pay a visit to Ruslan and his daddy and make sure they all understand that you are club property and are off limits. You got nothing to worry about.”

  I nodded slowly then cleared my throat. “What, uh, what did the note say?”

  I was paranoid that it mentioned something about his other gifts, and I really didn’t want to explain it all to Bam, given his current mood.

  “It doesn’t matter, kitten. After tonight, you won’t have to deal with Ruslan or his bullshit again. Reb will make sure of it.” Bam shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and tilted his head. “How about we go get that drink after all? Maybe play a few rounds of pool and get your mind off all this bullshit. How does that sound?”

  “I, uh, sure. I guess. I could use a drink.”

  Bam’s lips lifted in his trademark half grin. “All right. Let’s go.”

  I tossed a look at the vase of roses next to my car. I didn’t really want to pick them up. Somehow it seemed like a betrayal of Bam to touch them in front of him, but I’d need to move them to get into my car.

  Bam noticed my indecision. He tossed an arm around my shoulders and gently led me toward his motorcycle. “Let’s take my bike. I’ll get one of the prospects to clean this up and take your car back to your house. Tonight we drink.”

  And that was how for the third time since we met, I found myself clinging to Bam’s back as he sped through the Reno streets.

  But unlike the two earlier times, I wasn’t angry or scared. This time I just held on and enjoyed the feel of Bam’s large body between my thighs. This time I wrapped my arms around his waist and rested my cheek against his back. It felt…right. All my anger about bikers and their business and their part in my father’s death fell away. It was just me and Bam and his bike.

  When we pulled into the parking lot for the Mineshaft Bar, I swung off his bike and tried not to stare at the obvious bulge behind Bam’s fly. I fiddled with his helmet he’d lent me and spent way too much time taking it off, as he shook out his pant leg, then fiddled with the leather bags on the side of his bike. I passed his helmet to him with a slight smile, but he avoided my eyes as he hung the helmet off the handlebars.

  My body burned when he grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the front door. His hand felt rough and calloused in mine. I was dying to know if the hand-holding meant something or if he was just impatient and didn’t want to wait for me, but I didn’t know how to ask without sounding like a needy girl.

  Judging by the way the bouncer looked from Bam to our joined hands, then avoided looking at me altogether, I had a feeling it wasn’t just a casual gesture. Bam had claimed me.

  I didn’t get a chance to think about it, though, because after exchanging chin lifts with the bouncer, Bam pushed open the door and tugged me inside the bar. It felt like that moment in the movies when the record scratch sound rang through the bar and everyone turned to look at the door. There was no record scratch, but everyone was looking at us. Across the room I could see Tank and Hatchet and a few of the other guys from the club leaning against the bar with beer mugs in their hands and their wide eyes pointed our way.

  Needless to say, I felt a little conspicuous. Like that dream where you show up to class and everyone’s staring at you and then you realize you’re naked. Like that. I even took a quick peek down to make sure I was wearing clothes.

  Bam apparently didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. He tugged my hand as he took off for the bar, practically pull
ing me the entire way. I gave a few weak smiles here and there as I recognized a few faces from my dad’s club.

  I’d never been to the Mineshaft. I’d heard enough stories about it when I was a kid, and knew better than to try to hang out here when I was a teenager. It was a club hangout and a smart kid didn’t try to score booze at her dad’s bar. They’d have taken away my fake ID in a heartbeat. Overprotective alphaholes. But it was your typical dive bar with neon beer signs, scuffed wooden floors, and exposed brick walls. Where Ruslan’s nightclub, Howl, had been slick and classy with its brick walls and chandeliers, the Mineshaft was not. This bar was rough, worn, and not the kinda place me and my friends ever would’ve hung out in. And yet somehow it still felt comfortable.

  I smiled at Tank and Hatchet and Zag when we reached the bar. The guys nodded at us, then eyed Bam’s iron grip on my right hand. I looked up at Bam and caught the glare he sent the guys’ way before he casually dropped my hand to wipe a hand down his beard. I rolled my eyes and leaned against the bar. Before the guys could really jab Bam, an ancient bartender popped up out of nowhere with his cliché rag and wiped down the bar.

  “Hey guys. What’ll it be?”

  “I’ll have a shot of Patrón,” I answered. “And a glass of water, please.”

  Bam quirked an eyebrow. “A Sierra Nevada Pale Ale for me.”

  I shook my head. “Really, Bam? You’re going to make me do a shot of tequila all by myself?”

  “I’m not doing a body shot, if that’s what you’re getting at.” Bam narrowed his eyes at me, then tossed a glare over my shoulder at the guys.

  “Wow. Okay. Never mind.” I pulled out a bar stool and avoided everyone’s eyes as I sat down and waited for my shot.

  “Make that five shots of Patrón,” Hatchet called over my head to the ancient bartender before giving me a smile. “We’ll have a little toast to your dad. Although Patrón is more your mom’s kinda booze than his. Er, I mean not anymore, clearly. But before. You know, when she would party with the club back in the day.”