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She snorted a laugh completely devoid of humor. “Good luck with that.” Then, she looked at me, eyeing my cut. “Psycho? Really?”
Wow. She wasn’t what I was expecting. I swallowed back a rare smile and said, “You can call me Shep if it makes you feel better. What’s your name?”
She ignored the question. “Nothing would make me feel better except to go home.”
Okay then.
I threw the Reapers a questioning look and they just shrugged. Guessed she hadn’t told them her name either.
“You good?” Hawk asked me, and I noticed he was now by a window, flicking open the blinds to look out at the street.
Whatever he was involved with, I wanted no part of.
“Yeah, I’m good. Let’s go.” I grabbed the girl by the upper arm and she tried to twist out of my grip, but of course that was futile. She was tiny and I could wrap my entire fist around her bicep. I gave her a discreet whiff. She smelled like soap and pizza.
We were escorted back outside, and as I always rode alone, I only had one brain bucket, which I hardly wore. I eventually let go of her arm and gestured to my bike. “Put the fuckin’ helmet on and get on.” I tossed it to her. It was, of course, too big.
She snorted again. “I don’t need one.”
I shook my head and shrugged. “It’s your funeral if we crash.”
“And not yours?” she sassed.
My lips twitched. “No.”
“Okay then. Just don’t drive like a maniac.”
I ignored that and slid on in front of her. After flicking up the kickstand, she still wasn’t touching me.
“You’ll want to hold on, larkspur, since you didn’t want to wear the brain bucket.”
Some squeals of protest spilled from her pretty mouth but I ignored them. Only once I felt her arms wrap around my waist did I take off down the road, my guys following me. I ignored the obvious white van and kept my gaze straight, my sunglasses firmly in place.
It was now afternoon, and as we entered the clubhouse, prospects and other club members gaped at us as we hauled in the female. She juddered to a halt as soon as we entered the massive front room. A few guys sat around watching the televisions and drinking, and all eyes on her had to feel intimidating.
“Come with me,” I said. But she just didn’t move. I looked at Cutter. “Make her something to eat, will ya?”
“You got it, boss,” he replied, his near-bald head shining under the lights as he headed for the communal kitchen where he did most of the cooking for everyone. Dude was Gordon Ramsay on steroids.
“I’m not hungry,” she muttered under her breath.
“It’s cool. I’ll eat with you,” I said, realizing it was past lunchtime and I hadn’t eaten today.
Menace told her, “Cutter makes the best grilled cheese sandwiches, you’ll see.”
She narrowed her eyes at my fellow wolf, trying not to have the same reaction everyone did when they saw his scarred face and dual-colored eyes. I could commend her for not staring at him in horror. “Okay…”
He smiled, which made him look more frightening, and asked, “What’s your name, honey?”
She ignored him and looked at me. “Seriously, if you could just get me a ticket to Tampa, I’ll be out of your hair. I promise.”
I jutted my thumb over my shoulder at the prospects sitting in the plush loungers and they got up to make room for us. “Sit, please,” I told her. “Do you want a drink? To take the edge off?” I pointed at the bar. Maybe some liquor would get her to talk.
She shook her head and looked around, her purple-blue eyes darting around before she sat and smoothed some short hair behind her ear. I stared at her for a minute, taking in her elfish features: smooth skin, thin upturned nose, full lips, and a sharp jawline. She was very pretty, not too delicate but a little rough around the edges at the same time.
“Is that where you’re from? Tampa?” I asked, sitting in a chair next to her.
Trigger, Menace, and Strife stood next to us. She stared up at them, then me. I looked at them. “Why don’t you guys get back to work. And someone go get Wizard,” I added.
