Текст книги "Sinner's Steel"

Автор книги: Sarah Castille

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

SIX

Think before you act. If you do impulsive, stupid things, you will break parts.

—SINNER’S TRIBE MOTORCYCLE REPAIR MANUAL

Evie gently removed T-Rex’s hand from her leg and stood to greet her guests. But Zane clearly wasn’t interested in hellos. His gaze locked on T-Rex and his lips peeled back in a snarl.

“What the fuck are you doing touching her?”

Zane’s companion, a young, slightly crazed-looking biker with a thin, angular face and a dark, pointed goatee joined him on the porch, and pulled a gun from his cut.

“You want me to take someone out?” He waved the gun vaguely over their small group and Connie screamed.

“Dammit, Shooter. Put that away. We’re in a residential area and if someone calls the fucking cops, I’m not bailing you out.” Zane slapped Shooter’s wrist and the aptly-named Shooter tucked the gun away with a mumbled apology.

T-Rex and Tank scrambled to their feet. T-Rex hung his head like a kid who’d just been called to the principal’s office, and Tank followed suit.

“It was … uh … rainin’,” Tank said. “And the ladies offered us a snack and a chance to dry off.”

Zane’s lips pressed into a thin, tight line. Evie knew that look, just as she knew the throb of the pulse in his neck. She’d seen that look back in their school days when he found out someone had hurt her, or worse, asked her out. Alarmed by his anger, Evie took a step toward him.

“Don’t.” He raised his hand and she froze, stunned by his command and his authoritative tone. So unlike the Zane she remembered. Like Jagger¸ he radiated power, but without Jagger’s softer edge.

“How the fuck can you watch the street if you’re gabbing with a coupla chicks?” Zane’s hands curled into fists. “Shooter and I drove around the block, parked our bikes out front, walked right onto the porch, and you two idiots didn’t even bat an eye.”

“Sorry, man.” T-Rex held up his hands palm forward in a placating gesture. Evie gave him credit for remaining cool in a crisis. Zane had been frightening in his anger as a teenager, but now that he was a man, his intensity had ratcheted up to a whole new level.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it if someone gets killed.” Zane’s voice rose to a shout.

Worried that the confrontation would escalate out of control, Evie covered his hand with her own, startling when a zing of white lightning shot straight to her core.

“It’s okay,” she said softly. “We’re okay. No one came down the street except you.”

Zane jerked his hand away so fast, Evie lost her balance. Reacting quickly, T-Rex grabbed her arm to steady her. Zane lost control. He grabbed T-Rex by the collar and yanked him forward, dislodging his hand from Evie’s arm.

“Get your fucking hands off her.”

Evie opened her mouth to ask what the hell was going on, but closed it again after a warning cough from Tank. Following his lead, she thanked them for watching out for her and moved to the side to let them pass.

“Why aren’t you at the shop?” Zane turned his anger on her, and Connie discreetly ushered Shooter down the steps.

“It’s Sunday.” She struggled to keep her voice calm and even. “We usually have the day off and Bill runs the store alone, although he seems to have disappeared so it’s closed today.” She tilted her head to the side. “Why? Did you need something?”

“Yeah.” His voice softened, and their eyes met. Caught in the intensity of his gaze, Evie was drawn back to the first time she realized her feelings for him went beyond friendship. After school one warm spring afternoon they’d climbed their favorite tree to check out a robin’s nest. As always, Zane went down first. But that time, when he wrapped his hands around her waist to help her, something changed. Warmed by the press of his hands on her body, she stared into his dark eyes, and knew deep in her soul she was exactly where she was meant to be. In that moment, the world shifted irrevocably between them, and when he let her go, she felt instantly bereft.

After that afternoon, she’d made up excuses to touch him—brushing her thigh against his leg when they sat on Jagger’s couch, a hand on his arm when she lost her balance, a gentle stroke on his hair to remove an imaginary leaf—and every time she felt the rush, a curious sizzle that went straight to her core. But except for that brief moment when he’d held her, his eyes soft, his breath warm on her cheek, he never treated her as anything more than a friend.

Until the night he ran away.

“What are you looking for?” She looked down, letting her hair cover her face so he couldn’t see the flush in her cheeks. “I have a few hours free this afternoon, and since Bill isn’t there, I don’t mind going in to help you out. Ty … my son … is with a friend.”

“Paint.”

God, this was as bad as getting Ty to tell her about his day at school. “Do you need to buy paint or are you looking for artwork?”

“Art. Yours.”

Evie fought back a smile. Zane had always reverted to monosyllabic answers in emotionally stressful situations, and she had a feeling his stress wasn’t because of T-Rex and Tank shirking their duties. “You want to see my portfolio and some samples or do you have something in mind?” She sidestepped around him, heading for the door so she could grab her purse. Her body brushed against his and just that tiny touch—the feel of his hard chest against her breasts, the scent of his leather cut—sent her pulse skyrocketing, and she stumbled.

Zane put out a hand to steady her, then yanked her against him, holding her fast with an arm around her waist. “You were always touching me, Evie,” he murmured. “Drove me outta my fucking mind. You playing games with me now?”

Her chest expanded and she sucked in some badly needed air. This wasn’t Zane the teenager, who fumbled with her clothes beside the creek, his hands shaking as he touched her bare skin. This was Zane the man, confident, self-assured and strong, with a dominance that made her knees weak and a body that made her mouth water.

Dangerous. Maybe even a killer.

No. She pushed the thought away. Even after she gave up hope of seeing him again, she never believed he was responsible for her father’s death.

“We should go.” She pulled away, at least she thought she did, but his hand stayed firm on her lower back. “I’ll show you my portfolio.”

“Saw it when I stopped by the shop on my way here. You got real talent. Always did.”

“You broke into the shop?” The warmth of his hand seeped through her body making it difficult to keep her spine stiff and her indignation firm.

A half grin spread across his face, and his shoulders relaxed. “Thought maybe you were unconscious inside since the hours on the door said the shop was open on Sunday.”

“And you didn’t think to call Tank or T-Rex who were parked outside my house?”

“I’m a man of action, sweetheart.” He nuzzled the side of her face, the rasp of his breath in her ear so damn erotic she wanted nothing more than to drag him into her house and do something insanely stupid.

“I hope you didn’t rampage through the shop during your break-in. It’s partly my business, too.”

He jerked back and his smile faded. “You think I’m gonna steal from you?”

She cringed at his sharp tone, but better to have him annoyed than sexy and seductive. “You are an outlaw biker. Isn’t that what you do? Mayhem, theft, arson … the more illegal the better?”

“We do what we gotta do to live the way we want to live.”

Evie pulled away, putting some much-needed space between them. “The way I want to live includes having a way to pay the rent, and that’s not going down if anything happens to the shop. Plus, Axle won’t be back. I told Jagger, but he didn’t believe me. He was just delivering a message from someone.” She turned to the door, cringing at the reveal she hadn’t intended to make, but before she could step inside, Zane clamped a hand on her shoulder.

“Who?”

Her heart pounded a warning, but she couldn’t outright lie, and the question suggested he already knew the answer. “Viper.”

Zane hissed in a breath. “What was the message?”

She twisted a lock of hair around her finger, and looked back at him over her shoulder. “It’s … sort of … personal. We’re … um … friends.”

His gaze locked on her finger and his eyes narrowed. Damn. He knew her anxiety tell as well as she knew his. “Viper doesn’t have friends.”

“Maybe you don’t know him that well.”

He released her and took a step back. “Maybe I don’t know you.”

*   *   *

Zane flicked the throttle on his Harley and the bike surged forward, forcing Evie to tighten her grip around his waist.

He could do this.

The distance between Evie’s house and Bill’s shop couldn’t be more than twenty miles. And look. He’d already made it to the highway. If she would just stop wiggling on the seat behind him … and if she didn’t hold him quite so tight with her breasts pressed up against her back … and if her fingers weren’t dangling over the bulge in his jeans, which was getting more pronounced the closer she pressed her body against his … then he might actually make it to Big Bill’s shop without either crashing the bike or spilling in his pants like a teenage boy.

He couldn’t remember feeling lust like this since the night he’d left Stanton. Sure he’d had women. The sweet butts were always warm and willing, and if he wanted to keep things discreet, the Sinners owned several strip clubs in town. But he rarely felt the need to take advantage of the opportunities the cut provided. And when he did, every woman morphed into Evie. She had been burned onto his brain for eighteen years, ruining him for other women forever.

And now her soft, sexy body was pressed up against him, her thighs brushing his thighs, her hips firm against his ass, and her damn fingers resting on his fly.

His groin tightened and he swerved the bike.

Fuck. Concentrate. But it was so damn hard.

He wondered what Mark would think about his wife riding on the back of Zane’s bike, holding on to him, legs parted, cheeks flushed from the wind. If she’d been his, there would be no way he would allow her on the back of any man’s bike. Hell, he wouldn’t let her near another man. Look how he reacted to her, despite the stain of her betrayal still tainting his heart.

By the time they reached the shop, his cock was rock hard and his body thrummed with need. Shooter pulled up beside them and Zane prayed for Evie to dismount quickly so he would have time to get himself together and calm the fuck down so she wouldn’t see the evidence of his desire.

He wanted her. She’d hurt him and he wanted her. She was with another man and he wanted her. She’d slapped him and damned if seeing Evie come into her own hadn’t made him want her more. And back there on the porch, when she’d brushed her breasts against his chest, the way she’d touched him when they were young, telling him with her body what she couldn’t say out loud, he’d almost taken her.

“Gotta talk to Shooter,” he said after she slid neatly off his bike. “I’ll meet you inside.”

“I’ll go check out the damage.” She gave him a wink and then walked to the door, making his groin tighten all over again at the sight of her beautiful ass perfectly outlined in dark denim.

After the door closed behind her, he briefed Shooter on surveillance techniques, which basically meant finding somewhere to stand where you aren’t visible and don’t fall asleep. He sent Shooter to the picnic table across the street, and then walked around his bike and tried to get his fucking lust in check. He considered the various bike parts, how they fit together and how easily they came apart, and how hard it had been to replace his stock exhaust with a longer, harder, thicker pipe, and how he had to fight with Sparky to get an upswept ball-end megaphone muffler.

When he realized the direction his thoughts were leading, he gave up the fight, made a careful self-adjustment, and headed into the store.

Rows of motorcycles gleamed under the overhead lights. Bill had a lot of stock for a small shop, mostly new models, but a few bobsters, and some custom pieces. The walls held parts and supplies, racks of leathers, helmets, and boots. Although half the stock was used, the scent of new leather and fresh paint permeated the air.

He found Evie in the garage spraying primer on a gas tank perched on an A-frame stand. She had stripped down to a skintight tank top and tied her hair back in a messy ponytail. Loose strands framed her beautiful face. Damn she was hot, standing in that gritty shop, surrounded in motorcycle parts, and with a spray gun in her hand …

Christ. Was everything going to make him think about sex?

“Thought I’d get a head start on my work for tomorrow while I was waiting. My portfolio is over there if you need to look at it under more legitimate circumstances, or if you’ve brought a design, just leave it on the bench and I’ll take a look.”

Zane walked along the wall beside the benches filled with paint supplies and airbrush guns. He had already checked the place out, trying to find clues about her life from the personal items in her workspace: a handbook from Conundrum College; a parenting magazine; a coffee cup from a restaurant in Stanton; a motorcycle magazine; and the charcoal drawing of him, Jagger, and Evie on the wall—a rendition of the picture he had given her. Even now, seeing it again, a lump welled up in his throat—not just because of the memory, but because she’d kept it, and made it larger than life.

“Find anything in the portfolio?” She came up beside him, and he couldn’t stop from brushing one of the loose strands of hair back from her face. The sharp scent of primer took the edge off his desire, and he was finally able to untangle his tongue.

“No. But your work is exceptional.” She’d always been artistic, which was why he had been so unsure of the gift he’d made for her graduation. Although he knew her as well as one person could know another, he’d worried it wasn’t good enough … that he wasn’t worthy. Just like her father had said as he beat Zane by Stanton Creek after finding him with Evie.

“You’re nothing and you come from nothing. You’ve got nothing to offer my daughter. No future. No skills. Hell, you couldn’t even finish school. All you got is a trailer full of drugs, an addict for a father, and shit for brains.”

Perversely, he’d been happy for Evie, thinking at least her father cared, despite the fact that he spent very little time with her. But then Zane said the words that started the whole devastating chain of events. Angry words. Four words he wished he could take back the moment they dropped from his lips.

I know about you.

Zane had known that Evie’s father was on the take for years. Once a month, Sheriff Monroe showed up at his dad’s trailer to pick up a few kilos of coke and then transport them across state lines in his cruiser. And it wasn’t just drugs. He had his hands in the underground arms trade, too, not to mention all the nights he spent in the massage parlors in Stanton’s red light district.

But Zane had never told Evie about her dad’s extracurricular activities. Not because he felt any loyalty to his old man, and not because he was scared of Sheriff Monroe. But because Evie adored her father. She thought he was a hero. An honorable man. She forgave him all the nights he left her alone with her alcoholic mother because she thought he was out protecting Stanton’s citizens and saving the day. Zane couldn’t take that away from her, couldn’t bear to hurt her by shattering the illusion.

It was only the night Sheriff Monroe showed up at his trailer with a gun, that Zane realized his mistake. A man without honor or compassion wouldn’t understand that Zane would keep the secret from his daughter. Desperation drove a man who was afraid.

“Thanks.” She put down the spray gun. “I never made it to college, and I sort of fell into custom painting when one of my friends asked if I could paint something on her husband’s motorcycle as a surprise for his birthday. He recommended me to his friends and it sort of spiraled from there. I never thought about it as a career until I went to a motorcycle show in Helena with a couple of my pieces and met Bill. He offered me a job in Conundrum, and…” She bit her lip, hesitating. “It was the right time for me to leave Stanton.”

“Ever think about setting up on your own?” Zane leaned against the table, all thoughts of a paint job disappearing when she pulled out her elastic and rubbed a hand through her hair.

So beautiful. He wanted to run his fingers through those red-gold strands, feel that silky softness in his palm. And then he wanted to twist her hair in his fist and hold her head still so he could ravish her mouth, or better yet, her body. She had curves that could bring a man to his knees.

Her cheeks flushed and she looked down as if she knew what he was thinking. “Um … no. I’m comfortable where I am. This setup gives me a good source of customers. Plus, now that I’m a part owner, it’s my shop, too.” Pride shone in her eyes and Zane smiled. She had never been one to hide her emotions.

“So what do you think happened to Bill?” He gripped the tabletop behind him to keep from walking toward her and enacting his fantasy right here, right now. What the hell could he talk about that would keep his desire at bay?

Her smile faded. “I’m not sure. Connie and I thought maybe the Jacks scared him away. He was—” She cut herself off with a grimace. “Never mind.”

Zane filed that one away for later. Only way the Jacks would scare a man away from his business was if he’d done something to piss them off. Was he paying them protection money or had he got something going on the side? Damn stupid if he did, and even more stupid if he had put Evie in danger. The minute Bill showed up again, Zane would be taking him out for a little talk about keeping Evie safe.

“You got a bike?” He was scrambling now, trying to avoid the real reason he’d brought her here, and it wasn’t for paint.

“No. Can’t afford it. One day though. Maybe when I make it big I’ll buy myself a present. Mark has a Harley Fat Boy, which is a pretty sweet ride.”

Ah. Mark. Now that effectively killed his desire. Zane released the table and folded his arms. “What does he do?” Middle manager? Sportscaster? Or was he still a coach after all these years?

A pained expression crossed her face. “I wouldn’t know.”

“You don’t know what your husband does?”

“Ex-husband. I left him a few years ago to move out here.”

“You’re not married?” His voice cracked and he drew in a ragged breath. She wasn’t married. His Evie was … free. “What about his boy? Doesn’t he come to see him?”

Her voice tightened. “No.”

Their eyes met and the air crackled between them, as if her last word fanned the flames that had been smoldering since that moment on the porch when all he wanted was to drown in her arms.

“What kind of father doesn’t want to see his son?” For all that Zane hated his father, and for all the abuse he had taken, when Zane needed him most—the one and only time in his life—his father had been there for him.

Evie tilted her head to the side and stared at him, considering. Then she twisted her hair around her finger. Around and around and around. Zane remembered that little quirk—something she always did when she was anxious.

“A stepfather,” she said, finally.

“He’s not Mark’s boy?”

A gunshot cracked the silence, and then another. Zane’s heart pounded and he slid his hand into his cut, closing his fingers around his gun. “Stay here until I come back for you. Hide.” He ran back into the store and spotted Shooter just outside the front door, firing his gun into the trees.

“Who is it?” He shouted from the cover of the doorway. “You see Axle? One of the Jacks?”

“Squirrel.” Shooter yelled. “Red tail. Tricky little bugger but I got him trapped in that bush.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Zane ran over to Shooter and grabbed his wrist. “Put the weapon down.” He unleashed all his tension in a volley of curses directed at Shooter, his mental state, his mother, and his dubious parentage. “This is a surveillance mission. That means you don’t draw attention to yourself. You don’t shoot things. Gunfire has a nasty tendency to rile up civilians and then they call the cops. And right now the ATF are camped out in the sheriff’s office. You want to explain to the fucking ATF why you’re shooting squirrels on private property?”

“He was on your bike, gnawing on your seat.”

“Gimme that gun.” Zane grabbed the weapon and fired three shots into the bush. “Take that, you goddamn fucking bastard,” he hollered. “You wanna eat my leather? Now you’re gonna be eatin’ crow.”

“You missed.”

Zane handed him the gun. “You got a new job now, prospect. Clean my seat, fix the leather, then bring me that fucking squirrel’s hide.”

“Yes, sir.”

Adrenaline pounded through his veins as he returned to the store, whether from the shoot-out or finding out Evie had split with Mark he didn’t know, but damned if he could get himself under control. He took a few deep breaths as he crossed through into the shop, clenching and unclenching his fist by his side.

“Evie?”

“Here.” Her voice was faint. “Can I come out now?”

He followed her voice to a storage closet at the far end of the shop and found her reaching for something on the top shelf.

“I figured I’d tidy up while I was in here and I saw a box of paint I’d forgotten about. Could you get it down for me?” Half in the shadows of the small, musty room, she looked back over her shoulder. “I’m not quite tall enough.”

Zane walked up behind her and grabbed the box. His body brushed up against her, his hips against her ass, his chest to her back, his chin brushing over her floral-scented hair.

Walk away. Walk away. Walk the hell away.

He slid his free hand around her waist and pulled her against his body. So perfect. So right.

“Zane.” Her voice came out in a choked whisper.

“You’re not with Mark?” He leaned down and pressed his lips to her ear, inhaling her scent of jasmine as the adrenaline streamed through his veins, straight down to his groin.

“No.”

His hand splayed over her stomach, pulling her close, and he nuzzled the hair away from her neck. “You got a man, Evie?”

“No.” Her voice wavered. “But … I kinda…”

He shoved the box onto a lower shelf and reached around to catch her jaw in his hand, pulling her head back against his shoulder, exposing her neck to the heated slide of his lips. Somewhere, in the foggy recesses of his mind, he knew he was being too rough, but he was barely in control and rough was as gentle as he could be. “So no one’s gonna shoot me between the eyes if I do this?” With his thumb he gently stroked the underside of her breast.

Evie sucked in a sharp breath, trembled. “No.”

His hand slid higher, tracing over her ribs until he held the full weight of her breast in his palm. “You gonna stop me from touching you, sweetheart?” He feathered kisses along the column of her neck, praying she didn’t deny him because he was already so far gone he didn’t know if he would be able to stop.

“Zane.” She shuddered, her nipples peaking beneath her thin cotton tank top. He circled one taut nipple with his thumb and she groaned and wiggled her ass against his erection, nestled tight in the crack of her cheeks.

“Stop me, Evie,” he whispered. “Because I can’t stop myself.”

She melted against him with a sigh, her body softening. For the briefest of moments he soared, higher and higher, soaking in her light, her warmth, her essence …

He should have known what would happen if he flew too close to the sun.

*   *   *

“I can’t do this.” Evie pulled away, her cheeks burning with a flush of heat. She knew Zane, the dark, passionate, slightly awkward high-school senior who made her stomach flutter when he smiled; the boy with a good heart who’d been dealt a bad hand in life; her protector and one-time friend. But this man … this biker—broad and heavily muscled, tatted and pierced, ruthless and dominant, who walked and talked with confidence and swagger, and so easily manipulated her body, awakening long dormant passion and desire—was a stranger to her.

A stranger who made her body respond with a single touch. A stranger who ignited a blazing hot chemistry that made her feel alive. A stranger who had disappeared when her father’s body was still warm on the ground.

Zane released a tortured breath and turned her to face him. “Things didn’t go right between us when we met the other day. We had things we needed to say, and we didn’t get to say them.” His corded throat tightened when he swallowed. “Ask me, Evie.”

Emotion welled up in her chest, pushing the words to the tip of her tongue. Although she knew the question was a betrayal in itself, she needed to hear the truth. For Ty. And for her own peace of mind. “Did you kill my dad?”

“No, sweetheart. It wasn’t me.”

Her breath left her in a rush, her knees giving way. If not for his arms around her, she would have fallen to the ground.

“In my heart I knew, but I needed to hear it,” she whispered.

“And I needed to say it.” He brushed a rough finger over her cheek. “After I saw you again, and we had words, I thought we were done. I thought I wouldn’t be able to get over the fact you didn’t wait for me. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. When I was at your place, and T-Rex had his hands on you…” He drew in a ragged breath. “We’re not done, Evie. I don’t expect you to forgive me for leaving the way I did, and maybe one day I will understand why you didn’t wait and forgive you, too, but I will never be done with you.” He cupped her face between his hands and kissed her.

At first, his lips were soft, hesitant, as if he thought she might slap him again, but when a low moan escaped her lips, he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer as he ravaged her mouth. Evie wrapped her arms around him and molded her body against his as she met every desperate stroke of his tongue with one of her own. His grip tightened and when she tried to pull away, gasping for breath, he nipped her bottom lip, demanding more.

Shocked by the intensity of her reaction, she wrenched herself away, the rapid rise and fall of her chest matching his, but when she took a step back, he followed, one hand curled behind her neck, the other gentle on her hip as he pressed his lips to her temple. “I got shit to do tonight, but I need to see you again. I’ll swing by your place tomorrow night.”

Her blood chilled, and not just because she wasn’t ready for him to meet Ty. “You can’t. I … I have plans.”

“Cancel them.”

God, those two words, demanding and confident, laced with expectation and desire, did strange things to her stomach. If it had been anyone else she had agreed to meet for dinner, she would have done as he asked. But she had no way of contacting Viper other than making a trip to his clubhouse, which she wasn’t prepared to do, and as Connie said, he wasn’t the kind of man to blow off in such a casual manner. Plus, she needed some distance. Kissing Zane had never been in the program.

“I can’t.”

“Then I’ll find you.” He didn’t wait for a response. Instead he reached over her for the paint box, then took her hand and led her out of the closet, as if he could keep her from running with only his touch.

It would be so easy to give in, pick up where they left off, introduce him to Ty and play happy families, if outlaw bikers had happy families. He seemed so sure of himself and what he wanted, but he had broken her heart, and it had taken her far too long to get over him. Giving him a second chance wasn’t just stupid, it was dangerous, especially since he hadn’t changed. Deep, dark, and emotionally intense, he still took what he wanted with a total disregard for rules and authority. As a boy, he did what he had to do to survive, but as a man, he had made lawlessness a way of life.

Not the kind of life she wanted … for her or for Ty.

“I don’t want to rush into anything. We’re not the same people anymore.” She gestured to the door, although the last thing she wanted was another ride on his motorcycle, with the motor vibrating between her legs and his hard body tucked up against her breasts. “I don’t know Zane the biker, just like you don’t know Evie the mom and painter. It’s like meeting someone new, but with all our past baggage tacked on. I’ve moved on and I’m just not looking for anything or anyone. I have a nice, normal, quiet life now. I’m happy as I am.”

He studied her, as if he could see into her soul and pluck out the lies. “Don’t tell me you didn’t feel something, because I know you did. After all the time we spent together, I know what it means when you bite your lip, and when your cheeks flush pink. I could feel your heart pounding in your chest, same as mine. And yeah, I don’t want to remember the past either, and especially not the day I saw you with Mark and your son. But that doesn’t mean there’s nothing between us, Evie.”

“Evangeline.”

“You’ll always be Evie to me.” He shoved the door aside and let her pass before yanking it closed. “Doesn’t matter how many times you tell me, I can’t call you something else, especially after I had to listen to nine years of you moanin’ about how much you hated that name.”

Zane checked out the parking lot while she locked up, and then they joined Shooter at the bikes. But before she could climb on the seat, Zane put out a warning hand.

“Prospect. What instructions did I just give you?”

“Um … you wanted your seat cleaned and repaired and the offending rodent…” He glanced quickly at Evie and then back to Zane. “Managed.”

“So why are there teeth marks on my seat?” Zane gestured to the leather saddle and Evie squinted. Although the light was low, the seat looked perfect to her.

“Um … well … his teeth were pretty sharp and I didn’t know how to repair the leather. I cleaned and polished it, though.”

Zane folded his arms. “My girl’s not ridin’ on rodent marks. How’s she gonna get home?”

His girl? Hadn’t he been paying attention when she told him she wasn’t looking for anyone? And what about Viper? Although the more time she spent with Zane, the less interest she had in pursuing that relationship.

Shooter shifted his weight and grimaced. “Taxi?”

Poor Shooter received a cuff to the head. Evie cringed on his behalf. She knew from biker books and television shows that prospects were given the worst jobs and the least respect during the time they were pledging to the club, but she hadn’t expected Zane to be quite so harsh.