Arya was right, but it didn’t stop me from cursing at the situation. I’d been looking forward to the ride, the only positive part about the next day or so of my life.
“Also, um...her stepdad has one…”
Inside, I groaned. This assignment was just getting more and more fucking complicated. “He MC?” I asked.
“No. But he rides, and...it’s a long story. I don’t think Rylee has anything against them, but she might need a little coaxing from someone she trusts to get on the back of one.”
For some inexplicable reason, the thought of this girl sitting on another man’s bike, even Dax’s, unfurled something hot and angry inside me. It felt a lot like jealousy, but that was completely insane.
“Fine,” I agreed with resignation. “I’ll take the Mustang.” I didn’t know what was worse—six hours with her wrapped around me on the back of my bike or six hours alone with her in a car.
Arya grinned, and I raised a brow at her reaction. “She used to love old cars. Went to the shows with her dad. I bet she’ll love riding in it.”
Taking her for a different kind of ride in my car jolted through my brain, and I decided I’d lost my damn mind.
I gave Arya a short wave and returned to my bike, focusing on anything but the way my angel’s sexy legs would look wrapped around my waist. I parked it in the garage where we all kept our motorcycles, grabbed the bag, and jogged out to another garage where some of us parked cars or trucks.
After tossing the bag in the back seat, I climbed into the driver’s seat and sighed happily at the sweet purr of the engine when I turned the key. I’d restored this baby piece by piece, and she was hot as fuck.
Not as hot as Rylee, my cock whispered.
I banged my head on the steering wheel a couple of times because something was clearly wrong with my brain if it thought my cock was talking…
Shaking my head to clear it, I tried to focus on the task ahead as I drove off the compound and onto the open road.
I had six hours to screw my head on straight.
Probably should have known when I saw her picture that I was permanently screwed.
3
Nova
I waited down the street from Rylee’s house. I would have been worried about a random car on the street making people suspicious, but this part of town had seriously deteriorated in the last couple of years. If I had to guess, I’d have put money on the fact that the mob had overrun things around here. Especially considering the drive-bys I kept seeing. Someone else was keeping an eye on this house, too.
I’d been sitting in the same spot for over eight hours, and she’d never appeared. I’d only popped over to a gas station for a minute here and there to take a leak, so I was confident I hadn’t missed her. I had seen her asshole stepfather come home with a trunk full of beer and pound half a case while watching sports in the living room. The window there gave me a nice clear view, and I kept having daydreams about what the back of his head would look like through a scope.
Finally, at around ten at night, another car pulled into the driveway and parked. A woman who looked remarkably like my—like Rylee—stepped out and hurried inside. She marched into the living room, and they started talking. It quickly escalated into an argument and ended when he roared something and stomped out of the room.
Grade fucking A douche. However, I’d been relieved that he hadn’t struck her. I wasn’t sure I would have been able to keep my gun holstered. The woman, most likely Rylee’s mother, put her head in her hands, and her shoulders shook as she cried.
My whole world paused the next second when Rylee came rushing into the room and threw her arms around her mother. They hugged for a moment, but then her mom pulled away and said something before leaving like her ass was on fire.
Rylee stared out the window, her shoulders drooped and her expression longing and desolate. I had a nearly overwhelming urge to burst inside and scoop her into my arms. To comfort her and assure her everything would turn out okay.
After a few minutes, she turned and left the room, leaving me feeling as if she’d taken away the sun.
I spotted movement in an upstairs window, but it was too big and bulky to be my wo—Rylee. My gut was telling me that her room was on the backside of the house.
A police cruiser drew my attention when it slowly crept by me, and I fought the urge to slump down in my seat because that would only make me look more suspicious.