Striker: No Prisoners MC Book 1 (10 page)

Striker grunted. “No, I’m not, babe. That’s one thing you’ll damn sure find out soon enough.”

He released the helmet to her, and she climbed on behind him, after securing the clasp with a snap. In the course of a few hours her life had spun out of control and she wasn’t sure she could set it on a straight path again.

~ ~ ~ ~

Lila thought he was a good man. Hell, if she knew even a quarter of the shit he’d done in his lifetime she wouldn’t want to be in the same town, maybe not the same state as him. There was no way a woman like her, who saved lives for a living could reconcile the type of life he lived. He was an outlaw who frequently danced over the line of the law. He was a fighter who could kill a man with his bare hands—could and had. True, he knew the meaning of loyalty and brotherhood, and he’d do anything for his club family, but she was mistaking that for goodness. He’d never deserve someone like her. Unfortunately that didn’t stop him from wanting her like a drug.

They stopped at her house, and she grabbed enough clothes to last a few days. One of the prospects could take her back during the week to get more if necessary. For now, Striker just wanted to get her under his roof and away from whoever was targeting her, especially if it was the Grimm Brothers.

They stood in her driveway and he strapped her overnight bag to his bike. He felt the tension coming off her in waves as she frequently scanned their surroundings. “It’s okay, Lila, we weren’t followed and no one is on the street. You can relax.”

She gave him a smile and stopped watching the street, but replaced the action with the tapping of her foot against the driveway. “Where do you live?”

“I have a room at the club that I stay at sometimes, but my house is about a half hour out of town, on the lake. You’ll be much more comfortable there than at the clubhouse.” He stepped close to her as he spoke.

“Sounds great. I promise I’ll stay out of your way when you’re home. I’m working the day shift for a while, the hospital hired a physician who wanted to work nights, which is great for me. By the way, how will I get to work? I’m not going to stay home. And now I’ll have committee meetings for the concussion program too.”

“I’m not asking you to barricade yourself in the house. But you will have someone following you and staying with you wherever you go. That’s not negotiable. And I’m not worried about you being in my space, Lila.”

“You may change your mind when I take over your bathroom,” she teased.
 

He could tell it was important for her to maintain some control over her life by keeping a normal work schedule. “I think I’m man enough to handle it, darlin’.” He stroked a finger down her smooth cheek.

Their eyes locked, and Striker ached for another taste of her. He wasn’t used to denying himself when it came to sex, but he respected her in a way that was unfamiliar to him. She was going to be living with him. It was pretty much inevitable that this attraction between them would ignite, but for the first time, he cared beyond getting her into bed.

Striker cupped the back of her neck and drew her toward him. When she was just a breath away, he paused. “Just a quick taste,” he whispered.

He watched her eyes flare with desire, and before she had a chance to respond, he slid his hand from her neck, up to fist in her hair. In one swift move, he tilted her head back, and crashed his lips down on hers.

She opened her mouth, and melted against him, which only served to amp up his need. He knew if he fell in too deep, he wouldn’t be able to make himself stop for hours, but he slipped his tongue in her mouth and swirled it around hers anyway. She let out a low moan, and clung to the leather of his cut, pulling him closer. He hardened instantly, and pressed against the softness of her belly.

“Shit.” He gasped. Before he got completely lost in her intoxicating flavor, he wrenched away. One of his hands held her hips anchored to him while the other was still tangled in her hair, keeping her head tipped back. “You better get on the bike, babe, before I give your neighbors the show of their lives.”

He released her and mounted the bike after he slid on his shades. From the shelter of the darkened sunglasses, he was able to watch her reaction to his kiss. Swollen lips and mussed hair gave her a sexy rumpled look. Lila hadn’t spoken yet, but as he watched, her tongue came out to trace along her bottom lip as though trying to recapture his taste. He gave a low groan. “Bike, babe, now.”

“Oh, yeah, right, get on the bike,” she muttered. Lila hustled the few steps to the motorcycle, and scrambled on behind him. She wobbled a bit, and he smirked at the knowledge that he was the reason for her unsteady movements. This time when her arms snaked around him she didn’t hang onto his waist but placed a palm on each of his thighs in an intimate hold. His dick twitched and he rolled his eyes heavenward to say a quick prayer that he’d make it home without crashing or getting a ticket for driving while lusting.

“Wow! Striker, this place is fantastic. I have to admit it’s not at all what I was expecting.” Lila said as she stepped across the threshold into Striker’s single story Spanish style house. If she wasn’t mistaken, the house sat directly on the lakefront. The view from the back must be breathtaking. She was pleasantly surprised. Add another layer to the many that seemed to make up the man.

After he followed her through the door, Striker shot her an amused look. “And what were you expecting?’

“Oh I don’t know, a biker bachelor den of sin perhaps.”

Striker cracked up at that. “Well, babe, you are officially the first female not related to me, or married to a friend, to step foot into this house.”

“Seriously?”

“Death and taxes.”

“So you’ve never taken a girl here for…whatever?” Lila wasn’t sure if she believed him.

Rumors ran rampant around town about him and his women. It was no secret that he flew through them. Most of the MC members were known for bed hopping. Ha! Bed hopping may be too tame a term;
fuck and forget
was probably more appropriate. She would never admit this out loud, but instead of being disgusted by the knowledge that Striker had been with many, many women, she was curious to know what it was like to be on the receiving end of all that experience.

“No, Lila, I’ve never brought a woman here for a meal, for a chat, or for a fuck.” He sounded agitated. Had she offended him?

“I’m sorry, Striker. It’s just…well, it’s no secret around town that you attract a lot of female interest, so I guess I just assumed…” She wasn’t entirely sure how to avoid digging the hole deeper.

Luckily, he snorted out a rough laugh. “I’m certainly not a monk, Lila, I just don’t bring them here. This is my home, my sanctuary.”

“So why are you letting me stay here?” Her voice had dropped, and she whispered the question she was both dying and dreading to hear him answer.

“Because from the moment the club decided it wouldn’t be safe for you to stay at your own house, I couldn’t picture you anywhere but here with me.” The heat in his eyes backed up his words.

“Oh.” That shut her up.

“Come on, babe.”

As she followed him through the foyer, Lila absorbed her surroundings. The entryway was sparsely decorated, but very comfortable, and masculine in a way that didn’t scream swinging bachelor. A cozy-looking leather couch took up the majority of the living room. Motorcycle magazines were scattered on a coffee table in front of the sofa, and a large flat screen TV dominated the wall. Shades of beige and peach paint covered the walls, fitting well with the Spanish style of the home.

The living room flowed into the kitchen, giving the place an open and inviting feel. While the kitchen was small, it was equipped with state of the art appliances and had a modern look.

“Do you cook?’ she asked.

“Some. I won’t win any awards, but I won’t kill anyone either. You?”

“Love to. I find it a great way to de-stress, although I haven’t done too much since I’ve lived here. Not so much fun cooking for one. That and the fact that I’m at work all the time.”

“Well, feel free to go to town in the kitchen. In fact, I insist.”

Lila chuckled at that.

“The house has two bedrooms, one bath, so, sorry, but we have to share. I know it’s small, but the lot is big, and I bought it thinking it would be perfect to expand on one day.”

“It’s fantastic.” She meant it.

“You haven’t seen the best part. Follow me.” He opened the fridge, reached in and snagged a couple bottles of beer. After he bumped the fridge closed with his hip, he turned toward the sliding glass doors and exited the kitchen onto the deck. Lila followed him out to the backyard. Her mouth dropped in surprised delight when she took in the view.

The backyard was enormous, and all sand, opening right up to the lake, which was about eighty feet back. A huge wooden deck with a fancy, stone encased stainless steel grill ran along the entire length of the back of the house, and extended well into the yard. Near the grill, a picnic style table with bench seats sat waiting for a barbecue. On the opposite side of the deck, two chaise loungers called to her, perfect for watching the sun set over the water.

Striker held a beer out to her. “Pick a chair. We can sit for a while then grill up some dinner. Sunset is killer back here.”

Lila took the offered beer, and plopped down in a lounge chair. The view was spectacular, the beer was cold, and the company, like the air, was hot. She smiled to herself as she leaned back, and relaxed for the first time that day.

Striker was right to call this place his sanctuary. The peaceful quiet of the open lake soothed her nerves and eased some of her fears. She felt safe here, away from the bustle of town. Lila let herself breathe and allowed some of the worry over the morning’s events to dissolve away. Whether it was strictly the location that relaxed her, or the man who owned it, she couldn’t say.

Neither spoke for several minutes, lost in thought. The quiet was welcome after the stress of the morning. Lila closed her eyes and had almost drifted off when Striker’s voice startled her back. “What was it that brought you all the way out to this bum fuck town from DC?”

“I just needed a change.” It was her standard answer whenever someone asked her about the topic that invoked so many negative emotions.

“That’s a very simple answer. I’m gonna have to call bullshit on that one.”

“Excuse me?’ Lila narrowed her eyes at him as her hackles rose. It was easier to get cranky then think about the things that haunted her. “Fine then, I’ll change my answer to none of your damn business.”

“I like it when you’re snarky, babe, but don’t get pissed. Sounds like I may have stomped on a nerve. It wasn’t my intention. I’m just trying to get to know you better.” He shrugged, and finished his beer.

“And is turnabout fair?”

“You bet.”

Lila took a long pull of her frosty beer, and stared out at the lake considering whether she wanted to open up to him. She must have paused for too long because he changed tactics. “Come here,” he said. He encased her hand in his larger one, and pulled her up from her chaise, over to his.

Lila sat down between his spread legs, and he arranged her so her back was pressed up against his chest with his arms resting around her midsection, just below her breasts. He plucked the beer out of her hands and brought it to his lips before returning it to her.

“What are you doing?” She sat tense against him, not exactly sure how to react.

“I’m enjoying the feel of you. You’ve been wrapped all around me on my bike a couple of times now, and I thought I’d reverse the position. Turnabout being fair and all that.”

As the warmth and strength of his body seeped into her, Lila closed her eyes and let the tension ooze out. Each of the many sides to this man fascinated her. He was a criminal, a badass biker that intimidated people pretty much for a living, yet he was also a protector, a serious flirt, and now apparently he was angling to be her confidant. Not ready to open her eyes despite the picturesque scene before her, Lila kept them closed and enjoyed the wonderful sensation of being held by this fascinating man.

When she was relaxed once again, with her head pooled against his shoulder, she decided to jump in with both feet. In the six months since leaving DC, there wasn’t anyone she’d shared her story with, not a single person who knew the real her, and the loneliness was becoming stifling. It would be nice to have someone know her beyond the surface, and know what drove her. “My father is Howard Dewitt.”

“Hmm, sounds familiar. Should I know the name?”

“He’s been in the news a bit lately,” she replied, unable to keep the disdain out of her voice. “He owns Eagle Bank.”

Striker stayed silent for a few seconds. “The one that’s about to be taken over by that other major bank?”

“Bank of the States, yes. Got it in one.”

“Holy fucking shit, babe.”

Lila laughed at his reaction, and absently stroked her fingers over his forearm where it crossed under her breasts. “I started using my mother’s maiden name when I came out here in hope of maintaining some anonymity, and so far I’ve been successful.”

“Jesus, Lila, your father is a billionaire, and wields a ton of power politically. Do your parents know where you are?”

She waived away the beer when Striker offered it. “You can finish it. And, yes they know where I am. There was no point in trying to hide it from them. With their connections they would have known where I was going before I did. Anyway, as you figured out, I grew up with money. Lots of old money. An obscene amount of money, really. And if I’m being honest, I have to say I had a wonderful childhood. I never wanted for anything material, and while my parents weren’t overly warm or involved in my day to day upbringing, I had amazing experiences that most would envy.”

Striker snorted at that, and polished off Lila’s beer. The bottle clanked as he set it down on the deck.

“I know what you’re probably thinking. This is going to turn into a ‘poor little rich girl’ story, and I suppose in a way it is, but money is just one part of what makes up someone’s life. It can certainly open doors, but it does not mean a flawless, problem free life. People always expect those with money to feel like they are so lucky and their lives are just wonderful.” She paused to gather herself before she got too worked up. “Sorry, I’m rambling. Talking about this always has the power to get under my skin, and I don’t want you to view me as a stuck up rich bitch.”