Ride of Her Life: A Biker Erotic Romance (2 page)

CHAPTER THREE

They didn't talk on the way to the office
—Ray knew of her infamous bad temper before noon. Honestly, it was a wonder she worked with people on a day-to-day basis. Companionable silence was nice, and Cecilia eventually conceded to hand-holding.

It had almost put her in a better mood when the screech of tires drew their attention. How the tires were their first clue was beyond Cecilia. The roar of an engine filled the quiet street and echoed around the sleepy houses, causing Cecilia to cringe. This was another reason she'd refused the bike--it was sexy late at night, the growl of a motorcycle. In the morning, it was an eardrum-shattering nuisance.

They both whipped their head toward the sound, a man not a hundred yards away pulling off to the curb and ripping another yowl from the sleek bike between his legs. He kicked out the stand and the monstrous growls went blissfully silent. Cecilia thought it odd to see another loud Harley in her little rural town but passed it off as coincidence.

She'd begun to keep walking when Ray's grip tightened on her fingers and dragged her to a stop. Ray hadn't done it on purpose; it was more the fact that he hadn't moved and Cecilia didn't have the strength to drag him behind.

The rider looked barely old enough to hold his bike up, in Cecilia's opinion. Couldn't be more than twenty. Maybe he was just trying to impress the girls.

“Come on, I already told you—” Cecilia tugged Ray’s hand again, but was silenced by a sharp squeeze of her fingers.

“No, something's not right,” Ray cautioned, pulling Cecilia closer. “He shouldn't be here.”

“It's just a kid.” She wrapped her free hand around Ray's arm. “Kids like bikes too. You did, remember?”

“Kids don't wear that insignia on their clothes.” Ray nodded toward the splash of color across the left-side chest of the kid's leather jacket. A skull and crossbones—seriously, were there any other designs rather than clichés—back lit by orange flames. There was a scrawl under the logo, but she couldn't read it from afar.

“Does it mean something?”

“Devil's Raiders.” Ray spat the words like acid. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“Wait, so that kid's in a gang or whatever?” Cecilia asked, lips pursed. He looked more like he was late to P.E., in all honesty. Give him a lunchbox and he was the prodigal 'bad seed'. Not that she could judge, she was banging a former bad boy. “Doesn't look like much. It's probably nothing.”

“They're based in Reno. They've been picking up the trades we've cut ourselves out of—would have been a bigger problem to break deals if they hadn't picked up the slack,” Ray explained quietly as the kid strode languidly forward, heading toward them.

“I don't understand; if they helped you what's the problem?”

“The problem is the Knights used to be the head club out there. When little clubs expand and take over old territory they rarely do it out of mutual agreement. They're dangerous. We only did runs once or twice a month. These lunatics pull off drug runs at least three times a week.” The expression on Ray's face was dark, frown creasing his features and brows furrowed. “What happens when little boys get big-boy guns? They get greedy. And reckless.”

When the kid nearly reached them, Ray tried to push Cecilia behind him. As if she were so easily brushed off.

“What do you want?” Ray demanded. No time wasted in greetings apparently. Ray stepped forward, arms tensed at his sides. Cecilia's tiny white hand was tucked between big fingers and she moved with him, not at all wary of the kid.

The kid in question looked even younger than he had from afar. Shaved head, big brown eyes, and a lanky figure with lots of angles and awkward, puberty-addled limbs. Like a big puppy, who hadn't yet grown into his paws yet.

But the cocky expression on his face was exactly that of a kid. Only teenage boys think they're the shit, though some adults never quite grow out of that 'invulnerable' stage.

“Just bringing a message.” The kid leaned onto his heels, hands hooked at his hips. How could he look so nonchalant with a behemoth of a man glaring him down? Brave boy. Or stupid.

Ray didn't react to the ambiguous announcement. He just glowered, eyebrows drawn tight and eyes hard enough to crack diamonds. A muscle flickered in his jaw, the one that always twitched when Ray was about to get really pissed off. He had a lot of tells.

The boy didn't look cowed, but a bit of his arrogance dribbled away under the intensity of Ray's glare. Eventually he cursed and shifted from one foot to the other.

“Don't you wanna know what I gotta tell you?” The kid prompted, his toothy smile out of place given the weight of the confrontation.

“Not really.” Ray tilted his head to the side, regarding the kid like an insect pinned under glass. Like the fascination wasn't in the bug itself, but what made it tick.

“Well,” the kid looked confused, mouth working but soundless. Speechless, for a split second. But he gathered himself up and tried again. “Too bad. You're gonna get it.” That grin was back on his face and he lunged suddenly.

Ray had been expecting the movement but not the direction. He'd reached out to snatch the kid out of the air, dropping Cecilia's hand in the process. But his hands grasped empty air. Rather than heading for the big target, the boy had sidestepped and gone straight for Cecilia.

“Cece!” Ray twisted, heel dug into the ground and shoving him forward from the momentum. The pint-sized Devil's Raider was already there, right hand above his head and the left clutching her shirt. He swung, and something glinted in the morning sun.

Ray nearly brought all three of them down as he tackled the kid, heaving them to the side instead of directly on top of Cecilia. He pinned the boy under an arm after a roll on the concrete and got a kick to the stomach for it.

The damn brat was fast; had to give him that.

Ray rose to his haunches and climbed to his feet, moving fast but still a few seconds behind. The boy was attacking Cecilia again but she'd smacked him right across the face, causing the kid to falter.

That moment's hesitation gave Ray a perfect opening. With a massive hand, he grabbed the kid by his throat and jerked him backward, causing a yelp to escape the kid's gaping mouth.

Ray physically shook him, and then lifted him right off the ground. He weighed barely more than a feather pillow, all bones and no muscle. Ray tightened his hold on the boy's throat until he choked, face going red. The knife in his fingers dropped, clattering to the ground.

“How did you find me?” Ray demanded, relenting on the kid's throat so he could speak. The scrawny boy struggling in his arms grinned despite the position he was in.

“Wasn't hard.” The boy coughed, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “Though, admittedly, we had a little help.” He was smug, the little bastard, even as his feet swung uselessly, dancing in the air.

“Oh yeah? From whom?” Ray asked calmly, though the ice in his tone belied the anger churning under the surface. Better to find out answers before pummeling the kid to pieces.

“Arrington, I'm sure you remember him.”

Ray didn't respond at the knowledge, but Cece gasped.

“Wait, didn't you say he was your president?” She grabbed Ray by the jacket and tugged. Gritting his teeth, he shook his head—and the kid in his grasp.

“No. I said he was the old president. I muscled him out,” he responded. “That doesn't explain how you knew where I was.”

“You're right. But see, the old man said you always talked about this one bitch. Some Boyd girl with an annoying name.” The kid laughed. Ray flat out punched him in the face until blood poured from his broken nose.

“Keep your mouth shut unless directly spoken to, got it? Or lose your life.” From the tone in his voice, the boy must have known Ray was serious. But Ray was already lost in thought. Shit, he'd led these monsters here right to her doorstep. How could he be so stupid?

“Put him down and let's go.” Cecilia gripped his arm again. Ray shot her a warning glance. “You heard me, rocks for brains.” Unwillingly, Ray's fingers released the boy's throat and dropped him to the ground. He crumpled to the dirt and held his nose, whimpering.

“Get out of here and never come back, or you'll be no more than a smear of blood on the side of the road, bones pecked clean by the vultures.” Were there any vultures left in Texas? He pushed the question from his mind. “Go.”

The boy took off stumbling, barely catching his footing before vanishing around the corner. He even ditched his bike in his haste to get away. The switchblade lay unwanted on the ground and Ray picked it up and tucked it away, leaving no evidence behind other than a few droplets of blood drying on the concrete.

“This is bad news. That kid was just the messenger—how dare they assume they could take me out with some punk, though.” He seethed. “I'll kill 'em.”

“No you won't, or your whole 'going straight' thing will be wasted.” Cecilia pointed out. He gnashed his teeth, but knew she was right.

“Whatever. We'll find a way out of this, just you wait and see.” He pulled her close and stalked off, mind whirring at a speed it never quite reached until now.

Those Devil's fucks were going to pay. And they were going to pay in blood if need be.

No one touches my Cece and gets away with it.

CHAPTER FOUR

They made it to the office in record time, probably from Cecilia's quick pace. Even if nonsensical children were running around trying to attack people, she was still going to get yelled at for being late.

“Let me see.” Ray was an annoying presence behind her, though he was comforting at the same time after protecting her.

“It's fine,” she waved him off, checking the empty street before jaywalking to the other side.

“You're bleeding,” he commented. His voice was low and rough, as though he was still trying to get a grip on how livid he was.

“Just a scrape. Nothing to worry about.” She kept in front of him but they both knew it was because he thought following her would be a better route than throwing her over his shoulder and running off to the nearest hospital.

“It's a knife wound, or are you forgetting that little bastard just a few minutes ago?” Ray demanded, reaching out to catch her wrist. She beat him to the punch, halting and turning on her heel to face him.

“Knife wound?” She laughed, a light sound that was not at all carefree. Her hands were shaking a bit from the adrenaline and the threat of being stabbed but nothing she couldn't handle. He was only a kid after all. “After all those scars I saw on you last night, this is practically a paper cut. Barely bigger than one, for that matter.” Cecilia lifted her left wrist, where a thin line of red drew from the slight bone protrusion and around her inner forearm to stop just before that thick tendon near her vital veins. It dripped weakly, a red smudge down her wrist. Not a big deal at all, in her opinion.

Ray took her hand in both of his and kissed the knuckles, smoothing his fingers over her palm.

“You were wounded by a knife, that makes it a knife wound.” He peered down at her, lips pressed to her fingers. “I'm sorry for getting you into all this.”

“It's nothing.” She regurgitated the words from before, but her lips curled into a smile. “You kept me safe, and that boy's not going to pull stupid shit like that again. At least he won't until his face swells back to a normal size.” Cecilia didn't care for violence, but in this case the kid deserved it.

“I put you in danger,” Ray repeated.

“You did nothing of the sort. I walked into it of my own free will; otherwise your ass would have been parked outside my door and frozen well before I'd have let you in.” She pointed out, quite reasonably. He didn't take the bait and smile, but at least he'd released her fingers. Her heart had been thrumming enough this morning, no need to add 'hero' complex arousal into the mix.

She turned back toward the street, heading for the office building just past the light. Almost there, and she still had five minutes before she was late. Perfect.

Ray trailed behind, clumping in his heavy boots. His solid presence comforted Cecilia very much. She secretly appreciated his over-protectiveness, even if she yelled at him on occasion. By the time she made it to work he was grumbling and glaring over his shoulder, arms across his chest. She pressed a kiss to his shoulder—about as high as she could reach—and stroked his forearm.

“I'll be off at five. See you later, okay?” She fumbled in her bag, swung over one shoulder. “Oh, and here. A key, so you don't have to loiter around the complex scaring old ladies and making yappy dogs wet their kennels.”

Ray pulled her into his arms, lifting her from the ground in his haste for a kiss right in front of the office's glass door. Cecilia smacked his arm until he put her down.

“Stop worrying, get out of here before you frighten away potential customers.” She slipped out of his reach and headed into work, hopefully without too much of a blush on her face. Her coworkers stared, mostly the women and mostly at Ray, who poked his head through the door to wave her off.

“I'll pick you up at five. Have a good day, Cece.” Ray winked, knowing how much that nickname annoyed her in public, and vanished in a hiss of leather on skin.

Damn him, such a cheeky bastard. But Cecilia was smiling as she took her seat, computer whirring to life like an old geezer on a respirator.

Hopefully the day would pass quickly.