Her Hot Ride: A gripping and sexy biker mc romantic suspense novel Page 3

  “What in the hell are you doing?” I cried out, standing.

  Archer stood just ten feet from my couch, smelling like an ashtray, a bottle of perfume, and some sort of liquor. Long pieces of his blond hair hung over his right eye, giving him a certain kind of sex appeal that I wished I hadn’t noticed.

  As much as I wanted to deny it, there really was nothing unattractive about Archer Benedict, physically. Full, pink lips that looked out of place on his pale skin, and a pointed nose that was model-worthy. He was a pretty boy who drank too much whiskey—liver failure would kill him before he even learned what the word “sober” meant.

  Ignoring me, he took the remaining few steps inside, letting the door click shut behind him. I watched him through narrowed eyes when he lifted up picture frames and looked behind them, only to set them back down and move along. By the time he stood in my living room completely, he’d scoped out, turned over, and examined each and every item present.

  “Are you looking for something?” I asked, pulling the blanket up higher on my chest then wrapping it around me like a towel.

  The leather of his vest—better known as his cut—rubbed together when he finally stopped in front of me. His sharp gaze held mine. He was beyond intense, his eyes burning and prickling with a curiosity I did not like.

  “Depends. You got something to hide?”

  “No.” I set a shaking hand on my hip and scowled, praying he didn’t notice.

  He studied me, those light brows of his furrowed slightly. Seconds later, he sat on my couch, uninvited, and patted the seat next to him. “Sit,” he ordered.

  My heart continued to race but, somehow, I managed to keep my breathing steady. “I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree if you came here to try and sleep with me.”

  “JP, JP, JP…” He sighed. Always with that stupid name. “If I wanted you in my bed, then there’d be no question: I’d get you there, very willingly, I’m sure.” He grabbed my hand and yanked me onto the couch.

  “Hey!” I pulled my arm back, just about the time his gaze locked onto my cleavage.

  He smirked. “Trust me though.” He winked. “I’m good with what I got at the moment.”

  Was my boob size being insulted again? “You mean your flavor of the month, right?”

  “You jealous?” He quirked a brow, leaning closer.

  I couldn’t help but shiver. Other than the time I’d kneed him in the nuts, we’d never been this close. I hated that it intrigued me: the smell of whiskey mixed with whatever cologne he wore.

  “Hardly,” I huffed. “Disgusting is not my type.”

  He chuckled.

  “What are you doing here?” I folded my arms.

  “You’re not at the club.” He lifted both brows. “Care to tell me why?”

  “Because…” I rolled my eyes. “I’m having an emotional self-care night watching movies and eating popcorn, that’s why.” That’s all I’d been doing since Friday night.

  He leaned back, kicking a foot onto his knee. “You’re needed there tonight, yet here you are.” He rubbed at his stubbled chin. “I don’t like it when people ignore my orders.”

  I grabbed a handful of popcorn and shoved it in my mouth. “Well, excuse me if I don’t listen to you. You’re not my parent.”

  “No shit,” he said with a laugh, pushing back to his feet before heading toward my room.

  “What in the hell are you doing?” Setting down my popcorn bowl, I took off after him, only to find him in front of my closet, pushing aside hangers.

  “This is like a grandma’s closet. Don’t you own anything that’s not a turtleneck or a cardigan? It’s summer, for fuck’s sake.”

  My mouth fell open, then shut, then open once more. “Get the hell out of there.” I grabbed his leather cut and yanked him back, but all that did was make him laugh more.

  Hangers were thrown aside until he finally stopped on something. “Now this is hot.” He tossed it at me with a wink.

  “This is the lingerie I was supposed to wear on my honeymoon.” It still had the tags on it in fact. The receipt was in my purse too, just like the receipts for all the other honeymoon clothes I’d bought. I hadn’t been able to stomach returning anything yet. They were the last pieces of my old life, all I had left, and I wanted to hold onto them as tightly as I could.

  “What the fuck would you wear that for? Aren’t you supposed to be naked on one of those honeymoon things?” He folded his arms, and his eyes pinched at the corners.

  I groaned and moved around him to shove the nighty into the back of my closet where it belonged. Where it would stay.

  “Can you just leave, please? I’m not going anywhere but my bed tonight.”

  He looked around me toward my mattress. “That’s not a bed. That’s a SUV.”

  I rolled my eyes, tired of his insults. “It belonged to me and Sam. He liked his mattress super firm and I liked mine soft, so we bought an adjustable bed and—”

  “Good Christ, woman. You’re better off without him. Any asshole that can’t fuck you into a coma every night without worrying about how firm his mattress might be isn’t worth it.”

  “You have no filter, do you?” I sighed, taking a step back, hating the fact that his brash words could make my face heat so easily. Maybe I was a prude. Maybe he was right. Which was all the more reason why I wasn’t cut out for the RD lifestyle.

  “I do, when it’s necessary. But you’ve got a right stick up your ass that needs pulling out.” He reached into the closet, grabbing a pair of jeans this time, followed by a lace cami that I saved for when I wanted to dress up a little under my cardigans at work. I’d never worn it alone before, mostly because it showed my nipples.

  “I do not, thank you very much,” I huffed.

  “You do. And you can thank me later for the fact that I’m gonna be the one doing it for ya.” He winked, shoving the cami into my hands, his Irish accent growing thicker the bossier he got. “Now get dressed. Got a surprise for ya.”

  I flinched at the mention of a surprise. The last person who’d told me he had a surprise for me had done this thing to my neck with his teeth and his mouth. “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.” I put a hand on my hip.

  “Suit yourself.” He pulled out his phone, typing something.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Leaving you with no choice.”

  Nosy, I yanked the phone down, eyes widening at the text on the screen. It was for Hawk.

  Emily’s hiding something.

  “You wouldn’t dare.” I pulled the phone out of his hand before he could hit send.

  “Then get dressed.” He yanked it back, holding it over his head.

  “Fine.” I gritted my teeth together. “I’ll go to your stupid club party.”

  He lifted an eyebrow at me—which was seriously so much harder than he made it look. “Just like that, huh?”

  “What choice do I have?”

  Archer studied me a second longer, brows furrowed. It was obvious he didn’t trust me, which meant I needed to make him trust me. What if our discussion earlier today was all for show? What if he was keeping watch over me all of a sudden because he’d somehow figured it out that I was wanting to leave? This man could seriously ruin my plans, which meant it was best that I not only get under his skin as much as possible but try and convince him that we were on the same side. That he could trust me. He wasn’t the only one who had ulterior motives.

  “Go!” I shooed him toward the door, grinning, trying to relax. I didn’t want to go to the club. Especially since he would likely be there. But if I stuck close to Archer, then maybe I wouldn’t have to worry.

  “I’m good right here.” He folded his arms and leaned against my dresser.

  I growled. “I don’t give out free shows.”

  He rubbed his jaw, one half of his mouth sliding up. “If I was really interested in what you had under your clothes, JP, then I’d pay you for a look.”

  “I
f you’re not interested, then why are you still standing there?”

  He waved me on. “All part of the process. You know, getting that right stick out your cute little ass.”

  “I hate you so much.” I shoved him toward the door then locked it the second he stumbled over the threshold.

  From the other side I heard him laugh. But surprisingly, he kept any other comments he might’ve had locked up tight where they belonged.

  Despite the fact that I wasn’t a fan of Archer, I found myself leaning close to him as we walked into the club a half hour later.

  “Why is it so crowded in here?” I asked over the noise. It smelled like an ashtray—a typical bar, really. But the men here were bigger and angrier than the ones Summer and I used to meet in college. These biker guys were all dressed the same too: black jeans and leather cuts with patches, all wearing some sort of facial hair as well.

  There were also only three other women. I’d seen them all in passing before, but never up close. Two hovered over a couple of the older club members at the bar, while one of them chose to sit on a lap. The majority of the bikers sat at various tables throughout the room, but none of them looked familiar—not that I’d made much of an effort to get to know any of them.

  Well, except for my greatest mistake, who was, thankfully, nowhere in sight.

  Archer lowered his mouth to my ear, probably so I could hear him over the loud music. “Since Flick’s coming back tonight, everyone’s gonna be here.”

  I nodded then bowed my head, careful not to make eye contact with anyone. Already my nerves were shot. To think what these men might say or do to me if they ever found out I’d been receiving letters from my mom…

  Archer guided me further into the club, stopping every so often to talk to people. He was so social, and it grated on my nerves a bit because I didn’t have a clue as to why he wanted me here when there were three other women he could torment.

  It was obvious I wasn’t a welcome guest, and I was pretty sure it was because of my mom. In a way, I’d become a pariah to this club. Yes, it was my doing as much as everyone else’s as I always hid away in my house. Other than coming here last summer, and then again last Friday with him, I tended to keep my distance from the main club. Unlike Summer, or Slade’s girlfriend, Maya, I didn’t belong here.

  Regardless, the entire time Archer kept his hand on my back, which earned me a whole lot of looks, and not just from the men either. Weird looks. Angry looks. Looks of disgust in general from one woman across the room who was sitting on someone’s lap. A beautiful blonde who looked just a few years younger than me. Long legs, lots of curls, and piercing blue eyes that said, You’re dead to me.

  I shuddered, breaking the eye contact. The last thing I wanted was to make a new enemy, even if I’d be leaving this place sooner rather than later.

  More and more bikers came into the room, but there were no other women. Hands trembling, I pulled at the front of my red cardigan, immediately regretting my outfit choice. Not only did I look more out of place than usual, it was also hot in here. I’d worn the cami Archer had picked out, along with a pair of my nicest jeans, and kept my long hair down, so that it covered the marks on my neck. If I took off my cardigan, it would leave me too exposed. And though I wasn’t really a prude by any means, I wasn’t exactly comfortable showing the goods here either.

  “Drink?” Archer asked, his mouth to my ear again as he urged me toward the bar.

  “No, thank you, I don’t drink anymore.”

  “Pity.”

  I frowned, ready to bite back, only for a tall figure to appear from the hallway by the dorms to my right.

  Crap. He was here.

  My body grew rigid, and I immediately bowed my head once more, using my hair to hide my face. Please don’t let him come over here, please don’t let him come over here.

  Archer tugged me by my sweater sleeve onto a bar stool. “Sit. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  My eyes widened. “What? No. You can’t leave me here alone.”

  He patted the bar, whistling at someone behind me. “I gotta piss. Nobody will bug you.”

  “Please.” I tugged on his arm this time and stood, pleading softly.

  What if he comes over? What if he—

  “Hey, Arch. What can I get you?” I looked to my left, spying a woman with gorgeous red hair and a friendly, if not weary, smile. A smile that fell a little when she looked at me. “Hey, I know you.” She pointed a finger at me, waving it. “You came here with Chop Friday, didn’t ya?”

  I held my breath, chewed on my bottom lip. Next to me I could feel Archer’s quizzical gaze. I gave the woman a stiff smile, nodding just once, praying she’d let it go.

  “Yeah, he was pretty fucked up, wasn’t he? I saw you running out, crying. Did he hurt you, honey?”

  My face grew hot. I opened my mouth, unsure of what to say, only for Archer to grab my elbow and pull me away from the bar.

  “Raincheck on the drinks, Tam,” he told the bartender, then he started dragging me toward the hall, his fingers wrapped around my wrist, not hard, but enough that I could feel the pressure.

  Just when I thought he was going to yank me right out of my flats by how quickly he was walking, we stopped in front of a room. He pushed the door open, and I stepped in behind him, thankful for the reprieve, the space away from Chop, until Archer shut the door, leaving us in the nearly pitch-black room together, alone.

  “Stay,” he ordered, already walking toward the window.

  Despite the sudden flux of nerves in my stomach, I called to his back, “I’m not a dog. You can at least say please.”

  He ignored me and pulled the curtains back just enough to look left and right outside before shutting them and facing me again. “Sit on the bed.”

  My eyes widened. “W-what?”

  “Sit. On. The bed. You look like you’re seconds from passing out.”

  I shook my head. “I’m fine standing.”

  “Your face is ghost-white, and your hands are shaking. Now, sit on the bed and tell me what the hell’s going on.”

  I flinched, not immediately saying no this time. I knew what he meant right then, but explaining things could get tricky. There was only one real explanation here though, and it couldn’t be avoided. Chop had become pushy, stupid-angry-drunk, clamped his teeth down on my neck, and broken my skin as he bit me like a drunken vampire, all before I’d managed to get him off. Then when I’d got up to leave, crying, telling him to never talk to me again, he’d told me that he knew my secrets. That he would tell my brother if I told anyone about what had just happened.

  I didn’t ask how he knew. Didn’t ask what exactly he knew either. I just ran, fear encompassing me like a storm in the night. Ran out of the dorm, out the club doors, and stood next to my car, struggling to breathe while I soaked up the blood on my neck with an old T-shirt I’d had in my trunk.

  Archer walked to the bed and clicked on a bedside lamp. Seconds later, he sat in a chair in the corner of the room and pointed again to the bed. “Open that mouth, Emily. Use it. Tell me what the hell’s going on with Chop.”

  My stomach tightened, but I lifted my chin and played dumb. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I saw the fucking mark, JP. This morning on your porch. And again, just now, when I was talking to Tammy. Doesn’t take a genius to figure shit out, and I’m responsible for watching over you now.” He spat the words out like an angry viper, a vein bulging in his temple that made my stomach tighten even more.

  “I’m fine. Chop and I are friends. We hung out together and watched movies a lot.” Until Friday night. Until he’d tried crossing a line I’d never wanted to cross in the first place.

  Archer got up from the chair, moved around the foot of his small bed, and stood beside me. He leaned a shoulder against the wall, his legs crossed at the ankles. Even after I’d kicked him in the balls last year, he’d never made a move to get back at me. Yes, he taunted me. Yes, he teased me.
And, like now, he got all angry-bear on me too. But he was at least speaking to me, unlike most people at the club.

  “So, he didn’t hurt you,” Archer deadpanned.

  Panic rushed through me so quickly that the words came out before I thought them through. “No.” With Archer, though, it was hard to lie.

  “And those aren’t teeth marks on your neck?”

  I flinched, breathing deep. “They are, yes.”

  “From Chop,” he clarified.

  I nodded once, needing to be careful with how I worded this. “But I told him it was okay.”

  “How the fuck’s that okay?” He snarled and pointed at my neck.

  “Because I-I… I like it rough, alright?” It was a struggle to keep a straight face. But it was necessary as well. Nobody could know what had happened. Not when there was a small chance that Chop might actually know what my plans were. My secrets.

  I looked at my feet, frowning. Tears stung my eyes but I refused to let them fall. Crying was exhausting, and I’d done so much of it lately that I was surprised the old ducts weren’t dried out. When Chop would follow me and Summer into work, we’d share a few jokes, but that had quickly turned into him coming to my place every night after dark to hang out.

  Last Friday afternoon, he’d asked me to come to the dorm. Said he wanted to see me, but he’d been drinking all afternoon and couldn’t drive or walk. Because I was lonely and in desperate need of a friend, I’d driven to the club, no hesitation—despite the fact that the main house made me uncomfortable. Chop had been nothing but kind to me before that. Always checking up on me, always sweet, never pushing me around, never ordering me to obey his every rule. I enjoyed being around him. His companionship, in a way, reminded me of how it had been with Sam once—minus the attraction on my end.

  I’d ordered pizza for us and forced him to drink a bunch of water, too. I thought he’d sobered up because at the end of the movie, he was still awake and alert. But it was only a matter of time before I realized I’d been very wrong about Chop… and his intentions toward me.