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She looked away, walls slamming up, her stance shifting to one of defiance. “I’ve got my own back, Riptide. I’m not some damsel in distress.”
The night had thrown us more than just Cowgirl’s whereabouts. It cracked open a bit more of the mystery that Star carried with her. Her bravery and the measures she’d take for her crew hit me hard. Yet, I sensed her struggling with the idea of letting me step up for her.
Chapter 13
Brat
Sitting up in Riptide’s bed after the amazing night we had to hear the shrill voice of a woman was a slap in the damn face. To beat all as I listened, I heard her clearly say she was in this very bed just last week. Of course she was. And although it’s been a while since I was in a relationship, I could’ve been with a dozen guys last week myself. If I had wanted to. I’d had the opportunity, but I hadn’t been in any entanglements, romantic or physical for a while.
It wasn’t as much that he had an ex, or that he was with some woman before we even met again. The feeling that rolled through me was all too familiar. It was the same heartache I would feel every time in high school, when Hudson would show me such passion, such care and then act like he didn’t know me the very next day. I felt that same devastation. I’d made the same mistake, letting my heart get attached during a purely physical act.
It was a mistake I hadn’t made in a long time, all because Hudson taught me that sex, even if it felt like passionate love, meant nothing in the end. So, I left. And when Rage sent me after Cowgirl, I didn’t want to take anyone with me. I needed to be alone with my sorrow.
My contacts led me to a man that Cowgirl and I had in common. We both dated Justin at some point in the last couple of years. He’d been a hangaround at the Roost, a shoulder to cry on for many a girl there. Man had a few crap businesses around the county. Getting to know him better, I found out he had a fetish that included serious abuse, but the man was too much of a pussy to pull it off while a woman’s awake. Rousing with a black eye wasn’t something I was keen on. I was so over his brand of crazy, but I knew that Cowgirl continued to see him in a casual way. In other words, they were still having sex.
The moment Riptide walked into the Jolly Roger, the atmosphere shifted, like an electric current had zapped through the dingy space. He was every bit the embodiment of a biker prez. The leather vest mixed with the defined muscles beneath, and those ripped jeans that did nothing to hide his powerful legs. Biker was a force of nature, a Riptide personified, with an aura of danger and allure that was pulling me under no matter how much I fought.
Seeing him there, I felt a rush of conflicting emotions. Relief, because his presence meant backup in a situation that could quickly turn ugly. Then there was my frustration, because I’d been handling it on my own just fine. And under everything, an undeniable spark of desire zipped through me because, despite it all, Riptide was undeniably sexy in a way that hit me deep in my gut.
As the confrontation with my ex, Justin, escalated into a fight, I found myself torn between wanting to jump in and knowing that Riptide had it under control. Watching him move, the fluidity and precision of his strikes, was both awe-inspiring and a bit terrifying. I was tough as nails, but for once, it was nice to not have to break mine. He fought with a ferocity that spoke of his commitment to his club, to our cause, and possibly, just maybe, to me.
I really hated that. The last fact caused a pounding in my chest.
When Justin finally spat out the information we needed, slumped against the wall, beaten but alive, pride overtook me, mixed with a pinch of annoyance. Riptide had swooped in and taken over, and while part of me was grateful, another part bristled at the implication that I couldn’t handle things myself.
The truth of our situation became apparent as we walked away from the bar.
“What were you thinking, chasing down Cowgirl solo?” Riptide about growled.
“You were onto something about not trusting all the sisters,” I tried to explain myself. But I felt weak. I gave into him, started to tell him about the war raging inside me. “Needed some air, to think straight.” I’d been crying my eyes out all day, but didn’t want to admit that I’d fallen for his crap again.
It was like he could see through my tough charade. His face held so much tenderness as he caressed my cheek. “Forget my ex. She’s history. But you, Star, don’t bail on me again.”
My heart thumped and knew the harder I fell for him, the more it would eventually break. Coming to my senses, I stepped away from him. “I’ve got my own back, Riptide. I’m not some damsel in distress.”
He didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he slipped on his own mask of neutrality. The badass biker prez focused solely on the mission. “This isn’t about handling it, Star. It’s about getting to the bottom of who killed Viper and why. That’s all.”
The simplicity of his statement, the clear delineation of our goal, grounded me. Despite the tumult of our personal entanglements, our shared objective remained unchanged. “Alright, we keep looking for the killer,” I agreed, the urgency of our quest momentarily overshadowing the complex dance of our relationship.
Tugging my leather jacket over my dress, I climbed onto the borrowed Harley.
Riptide gawked at me. “You’re riding in those heels?”
Laughing, I shot him an amazed look. “Where the hell have you been? That’s literally how we got our name.”
We were off and during the ride, there was no stopping me from stealing glances at him, taking in the rugged lines of his bearded jaw, the determined set of his shoulders. Riptide was a paradox, a man who could ignite a fierce desire within me one moment and stand as my staunchest ally the next.
We had become allies in a dangerous game, drawn together by a shared mission and a mutual attraction that was as inconvenient as it was undeniable. I couldn’t dispel the sense of irritation gnawing at me. Shamrocks turned out to be a dead end. Despite our efforts, we were no closer to finding Cowgirl. The hours of searching had only deepened the ache in my bones and the shadows of exhaustion beneath Riptide’s eyes.
The lights of the town flickered in the distance, casting eerie shapes on the deserted streets as we scoured every alley and backstreet for any sign of our elusive target. Riptide’s grip on his handlebars tightened, his knuckles white against the leather of his fingerless gloves, as he navigated through the labyrinth of narrow streets.
“We’re running in circles,” he growled over the engine. “This is getting us nowhere.”
Feeling defeated, I nodded in silent agreement. Despite our best efforts, it seemed as though Cowgirl had vanished into thin air, leaving us with nothing but dead ends and false leads.
Riptide’s suggestion of a motel room caught me off guard, my heart quickening at the thought of spending the night alone with him again. The adrenaline of the chase still coursed through my veins, the rush of excitement mingling with the sexual tension that crackled between us.
But I couldn’t allow myself to give in, not now. I couldn’t get distracted again. Not when there were still so many unanswered questions, not when our clubs hung in the balance.
