“Well,” he slowly moved toward her. His muscles just rippled. It was driving her crazy. “At first, I stopped because I didn’t know why you were calling me a gang member. Then I was just watching your ass move in that skirt. That pretty much kept me rooted to the spot.”
Sara rubbed her nose to hide a smile. “Sorry I insulted you. Do you prefer Motorcycle Club?”
“You do know that we’re not some kind of biker gang, right?”
Of course they were. How could they not be? Groups of grown adults didn’t move around in packs, living together and throwing wild raves if they weren’t a gang.
“We just like to ride. We like the freedom.”
“Then you guys are…”
“Business partners. We own and operate a bunch of clubs.”
“Really?” Sara took a sip of her water as Zach dug into the back pocket of his jeans. She would love to dig into the back pocket of his jeans herself.
Jesus, girl! Get a grip.
“Here.” He handed her a business card. It was on high-quality card stock and the letters were embossed, but all it had was his name, Zach Sheridan, and a cell phone number.
Sara held the card up, “And?”
“Only reputable business people have business cards.”
Sara loved his sarcasm. It was so ridiculous. “And the Hells Angels have their own Web sites. They sell T-shirts.” Sara started walking again. Her leg was starting to tighten up. She was desperately hoping that she could walk the pain off. She didn’t want the night to end. She was, as much as she hated to admit it, having a great time with Zach. He was a fun idiot.
But she had yet to figure out why this guy was spending any time with her. There were women around this place who would drop to their knees at just a wink from him. She watched them watch him. And yet he seemed to be ignoring them completely. She wondered what he was up to. What was the man thinking?
I’d give my eye teeth just to have this woman sitting on my face right now.
“Pole.”
“What?”
“You’re about to walk into a…” Zach walked face first into a pole between two booths. “…pole.”
Zach took a step back and grabbed his forehead. “Motherfucker!”
“Don’t be a whiner.” Sara turned him so that he faced her, pulling his hands down from his face. “Here. Let me see.” She put her hands on his expansive shoulders and lowered him so that she could examine his head. “I don’t even think you’ll have a bruise.”
“Will you nurse me back to health if it’s a concussion?”
Sara smiled, “No. I’ll leave you alone. Naked. Food for the wolves.”
“Naked, huh?”
“Therapy.” She pushed him away or, at the very least, tried. “For many, like you, it’s a viable option.” She walked past him, hoping he didn’t hear her voice catch, or see that her nipples were burrowing a hole through her tank top.
Zach was doing his best to keep some semblance of self-control around Sara. But she wasn’t making it easy on him. Letting him walk into poles. Touching his shoulders. Using the word “naked.”
And the woman was completely oblivious to the hold she had over him. She was looking at everyone but him. Constantly scanning the crowd, looking for any sign of trouble. He realized that while her friends partied and danced she watched their backs and her own.
What an amazing female. The perfect wolf. The perfect mate.
Zach slapped the back of his neck to stop the treacherous errant thought. Sara looked up startled.
“Mosquito.”
“Bet he’s really dead now.”
“You know, we should go out some time.”
Sara stopped. “So, let me guess. Is this ‘get the townie in to bed’ or do you and your buddies have a bet about who can nail the cripple?”
Zach turned and looked at her. Simply stared. But when that big grin spread across his face, Sara didn’t know whether to run or just scream for help. “You are one mean bitch.”
He didn’t say it with any malice. In fact, he sounded kind of… turned on. Sara took a step back. He took a step toward her. “I do make you nervous.”
“Bullshit.” Well, at least she sounded like she meant that.
Zach’s hand reached for her shoulder. Sara stood her ground even though she felt like high-tailing it out of there and heading home to her nice boring house. His fingers went to the Celtic tattoo on her shoulder. He traced the design with his forefinger. She felt her throat get dry and her pussy get wet.
“You know,” His voice was low, like a caress across her skin, “You are an amazing piece of work.”
She raised an eyebrow, “I’m a bitch. I know it and I’ve learned to accept that flaw in my character.”
“Sounds like you embrace it.”
“And if I do, what do you care?” Zach’s fingers slid past her tattoo and up to her throat. She fought the urge to flinch, thinking that he was going to touch the scarred part of her face. She’d never let anyone that close to her. Not her friends. Not her ex-boyfriends. Nobody. And she wasn’t about to let Zach get that close either. Besides, she was feeling that desire again. That desire to lick his tattoo or punch him in the stomach.
“Nice hat, by the way.” He muttered softly. So, it was going to be the punch in the stomach. Good. That she could handle.
Then she was down on one knee, the pain in her leg nearly blinding her. She gasped for air, trying not to scream. Trying not to die merely from the pain alone.
But this was Texas. Someone must have a gun here. Surely they could shoot her in the head, put her out of her misery. She wanted to yell, “Somebody kill me!” But she was gritting her teeth against just screaming blindly.
Until she felt strong arms around her and a deep voice in her ear, “Hold on. I got ya.”
“Get. Off. Me.”
She heard him chuckle, “Get the fuck over it.”
One minute she looked like she was about to punch him in the face, he knew that hat comment would get her, looking more and more aroused the more he touched her. Then she just dropped, biting back a scream of pure pain. And before he knew it, he was lifting her off the ground and taking her away as quickly as possible. He saw the others watching her. Smelling her weakness. Hearing the cry of pain she was desperately, admirably, trying to stifle.
He took her away from the rave. Into the woods that he and Conall had just been hunting a few hours before. They had found a small shack that had been deserted for what looked to be decades and it would give her some time to get over the pain. Get her strength back. And he would be there in case she needed some medical attention or something. He was just going to be there as her babysitter. Just what Yates asked him to do. Nothing more.
Yeah, right.
Sara felt herself being lowered onto something hard and sturdy. She opened her eyes, easy enough now that the pain had begun to subside, and looked around what appeared to be a less-than-pleasing shack.
“Where the hell am I?”
Zach lit a lantern that one of the Pack had left behind. “Feeling better?”
Sara looked down at the dirty, dust-covered cabinet she was sitting on. “Nice digs.”
“Well, you know, we try.” Zach stood in front of her. “So, feel better or what?”
Wow, he just radiated warmth and charm. “Much better thank you. I’m ready to go back.”
“No,” he stated simply.
Yup, she still wanted to punch him in the face.
“Does the pain get like that a lot?”
Sara shrugged casually, “No. Not really.” He knew she was lying. She saw it on his handsome face. “It didn’t used to, but lately…” Sara had to stop because suddenly she was crying. She had been fighting the pain and terror for months. She hadn’t even told Miki and Angelina. She didn’t want them to worry. They’d insist she go into the hospital. But Lynette had always warned “Hospitals only kill ya.” And, except for the constant pain, she’d been remarkably healthy her entire life. Besides, what exactly where they going to do for her now? After all these years? So she’d decided to just live with the pain. And she had. Successfully, in fact. Until now.