Meet Your Mate (A Good Riders Romance Book 1) (10 page)

“I mean, we keep stopping at all
these seedy places where members of your group come out with secret contents in
little white envelopes. Guys talk openly about drug deals. You sneak away to
make contact with some shady character.” She pushed back and looked him square
in the eye. “Do we run the risk of getting busted, should I call the police, or
what?”

Call the police?
Hell,
no!
Mercer would bolt like lightning if knew he’d been spotted with Max,
let alone aroused enough suspicion to warrant dragging in the police. Max would
have to tread carefully to determine what Annabel had seen.

 “Morgan, you wound me.” He
clutched his hands to his heart as if to staunch the flow of blood, then
flashed her his most-winning grin. “Does this mean you don’t trust me? Or that
you aren’t having a good time?”

“No, I mean, yes. I mean, we’re
still shaky in the trust department, but I am having a good time.” She opened
her eyes wide and smiled, as if the admission surprised her. It sure as hell
surprised him. “Despite my expectations, the bikers are really nice. Even
though I know I’ll be sore tomorrow, I love riding on the motorcycle. I’d
love—” She waved a hand in the air, erasing her show of enthusiasm. “Don’t try
to change the subject.”

“What was the subject?” He
scratched his chin. “You want to know about the white envelopes, huh? If you
promise not to tell anyone, I’ll show you mine.” He pulled one out of a back
pocket and handed it over. “This information is top secret. You ready?”

She took it from him, opened the
flap gingerly and peeked inside. She frowned and wrinkled her brow as she
pulled out three ordinary playing cards. “What are these?”

“It’s the nine-jack-queen of
diamonds.” He clasped her hand and steered her toward the Dockside. “And if we
don’t get back before Dick’s ready to pull out, I won’t get my card for this
stop.”

“But why are you getting cards?
What will you do with them?”

“It’s a poker run,
darlin
’. I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?”

“Poker runs are planned rides
motorcycle clubs make to support a local charity.” He took the cards from her
and shoved them back in his pocket. “Didn’t you see the sign at the first stop
that said ‘Ride a bike, feed a tyke?’”

“I guess so.”

“All our rides are for charity.
That’s why they named this group the Good Riders. Today’s ride benefits the
Feed a Child Foundation, but Dick gets a kick out of making the theme rhyme
whenever he can. When we register, we pony up a hundred bucks each, then we
ride a designated route that no one but Dick knows in advance. We stop at seven
predetermined spots to pick up a card. At the end of the day, the rider who can
put together the best poker hand splits the jackpot with the charity. And right
now, I’m holding the better part of a straight flush.”

Annabel mulled over that
information. “Is that good?”

“Yeah, it’s real good.”

“Oh.” She looked a little deflated by
the knowledge that some of their activities weren’t as wicked as she’d
imagined. “And you have a patch that says you’re Awesome Good because…”

“I’ve ridden over fifty thousand
miles for charity.”

“And raised a lot of money, I
guess. That
is
awesome.” She had to give him that, but she added a
little sniff. “Gambling. Is that legal?”

He laughed. “Is bingo legal? Or the
lottery? It’s the same kind of thing.”

He kept ahead of her on the
overgrown path, holding back branches and limbs. When they reached a clearing,
they walked openly through the field, instead of stealthily, as Max had
traveled earlier in the opposite direction. Her hand in his was small and
delicate, almost getting lost inside his much larger, rougher one.

“What about the drug dealers?” The
stubborn lift of her chin indicated she wasn’t about to be distracted from her
suspicions.

“I don’t know anything about any
drug dealers,” Max admitted honestly. “Sometimes new guys come and try some
shit, but Dick runs a pretty tight ship. He’d throw them out on their asses or
call the cops himself before he’d let something like that go. Do you know who
they were? What were they selling? And who were they trying to sell it to?”

“I’d recognize them if I saw them
again. One of them was trying to get someone called Bruno to score some drugs
for him.”

“Bruno, huh?” He exaggerated a huge
yawn to keep from laughing. Her eagerness to find intrigue where none existed
amused the hell out of him. “I guess I’m not surprised.”

“Shouldn’t we tell somebody? Like
Dick? Or the police?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, what are we going to do?”

He hooked his arm around her neck
and pulled her close enough to whisper into her ear, “I’m an investigative
reporter,
darlin
’. We’ll do a little
investigatin
’.”

“We will? Me, too?” Her eyes got
huge at the prospect. “How?”

“Keep your eyes open, and we’ll
nose around and see what we can find out.”

“Is that what you were doing just
now?”

“When?”

“When you were talking to that guy
in the Cadillac.”

He didn’t mind pulling her leg a
little about Bruno. Anything that happened in that direction would be harmless,
but he didn’t want her to have any hint of his deal with Mercer. That
arrangement encompassed real danger, and Max would use any distraction
available to steer her away from his source. “I’m not allowed to say.”

“Why not? Are you working on a
story? Was he an informant?” She put a finger to his lips. “And don’t try to
mislead me again.”

“All right, I’ll kiss you instead.”

“Why would you do that?” She pulled
her finger away from the gentle nip of his teeth. “You don’t even like me very
much.”

“I like kissing you.” Max couldn’t
think of a better way to distract her. Besides, having her so near reminded him
of the end of their date the night before. He wanted to wipe all memory of that
last sissy little peck she’d given him right out of her head.

“That’s not enough.” She
sidestepped the arm he tried to place around her and glanced toward the tavern.

“Not enough for what?”

“Enough to base a relationship on.”

“I don’t want a
relationship
,
darlin
’.” He took an involuntary step away from her,
as if just the mention of the word carried airborne germs.

“Oh, well, good. Just so we’re both
on the same page.”

As if kissing might lead to a
relationship. Nobody knew better than he did that the physical stuff was just
for fun. Kissing with your clothes on was the prelude to nude foreplay. He left
all that emotional hogwash to people with dependency issues. He knew who he
was, and what he liked, and right now, he’d like to kiss this woman and strip
her naked. He curled his fingers around her upper arms and pulled her close.

Her eyes danced with amusement, and
he realized she’d been teasing
him
for a change. He caught just a
glimpse of her smile before his mouth covered hers. She tasted like peppermint,
of all things, and he discovered he loved peppermint.

He licked her bottom lip, and she
nibbled his. Running her fingers through his hair, she massaged his scalp. His
hands traveled her spine and tingled their way to the small of her back. The
heat that had been building as he sat between her thighs on the bike fed his
desire and encouraged him to touch all the soft and curving places that had
taunted him throughout the day.

He inched up her T-shirt until he
stroked the warm skin of her back. One hand moved its way up her side, stopping
at the silky barrier of her bra. The damn things should be against the law.

His mouth trailed across the
softness of her cheek to her delicately shaped, delicious ear, and then down
her long, apparently, extremely sensitive neck. She moaned, she groaned, and
she pressed against him. Oh, baby.

As he nudged her shirt away from
her collarbone with his chin, he caught a glimpse of a lemon-yellow bra strap.
Wondering if it had a front or back clasp, he made up his mind to find out.

“Oh, ooh,” she sighed.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Oh, God... Roger!”

“What?” Max continued nibbling.
“The name’s Max,
darlin
’.”

“No, it
is
Roger.” She
straightened and pulled away as she pointed over his shoulder. “What’s your
shooter doing here?”

Max scowled and turned to see the
cameraman strolling toward them, camera-aimed. “You mean, besides
interrupting?”

“Hey, guys, don’t stop on my
account,” Roger said. “This is a lot better than anything I got last night.
Want to use it for Tess’s show?”

“Don’t you dare.” Annabel scrambled
to tug her clothes back into place.

“Sure,” Max said at the same time,
then amended, “If it’s not going to air, I’ll take a copy for my own private
collection.” He waggled his eyebrows and leered like a dirty old man, which
earned him a punch on the arm from Annabel.

“I thought you’d be here sooner,”
she said to Roger.

“Who me?” The cameraman pointed a
meaty finger toward his chest. “I’ve been around. Sometimes it’s good to go
unnoticed. Mostly I’ve been getting some long shots, candid shots. Ate at The
Blue Moon. Got some good footage of the thing at the swing.” He gave Max an
admiring look. “Nice going.”

Annabel gasped. “You shot that? Why
didn’t you let us know you were there?”

“Max knew.”

She wheeled around to glare at Max.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Before she could really dig in her
heels and refuse to move, he gathered her to his side and started forward. “I
told you he’d show up sometime. I knew he was at The Blue Moon somewhere. I
didn’t know the pervert was watching us during the swing thing.”

“It was spontaneous, not staged?”
She nibbled on the bottom lip he’d been sucking just a minute before.

“If you think I’ve planned any of
the stuff that’s happened between us, then you give me credit for a greater
command of the universe than I actually have. I’m totally winging it here.”

A light bulb practically went off
beside her head. “Roger’s not here because of us! He’s here to get video on the
drug bust.”

“Annabel,” Max said firmly. “He’s
here because of
Let’s Talk
. There is no other story. There is no drug
bust. I’ll prove it to you when we rejoin the group.”

“Right.” She didn’t look or sound
convinced. “He’s not here
just
because of us. Look at that long lens
he’s got on his camera. It’s capable of shooting a lot better image from a
greater distance than the smaller one he used last night.”

“Maybe it’s a slow news day and he
came out to tape a human interest piece on the bikers for the news at six. Is
that it,
Rog
?”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Good old Roger
never let Max down. “Are you and these other born-to-be-wild maniacs ready to
head out on the highway?

After another two-hour
race into the future, Annabel left Max waiting in line for his next card while
she hobbled to the restroom. Her legs still wiggled like cooked noodles
occasionally, but she didn’t mind so much anymore.

Much to her surprise, she loved the
exhilarating freedom of riding on the motorcycle. She loved the wind rushing
past her. She loved watching the scenery fly by in a swirl of color. And to be
honest, she loved clinging to Max and hugging his rock-hard thighs between
hers.

She regretted not shedding her
all-too-sensible tendencies long before this. The ideas and visual images for
the biker documentary kicking around inside her head could wait another day.
Tomorrow, her humdrum, responsibility-laden life returned. But today, she’d
live it up.

She’d go to the ball like
Cinderella. She’d rub elbows with a motorcycle gang, drug dealers, and—best of
all—with mad, bad, and dangerous-to-know Max Williams.

She’d be fun, funny, and
flirtatious.

Maybe.

She’d try her darnedest to be wild,
free, and daring.

But only a little, she amended, as
she washed squished bugs off her visor.

She might dabble with playing with
fire, but she didn’t want to get burned, and Max was a raging inferno. Just the
memory of his kiss packed enough heat to set her hair aflame. Another kiss like
the last one and she’d spontaneously combust.

She resolved not to miss a thing
when the drug bust went down. An undercover story could vanish with the first
hint of suspicion. Of course, Max had to act like there wasn’t anything going
on. Keeping a close eye on him for the rest of the afternoon wouldn’t be a
hardship.

Maybe she’d reveal a hidden flair
for covering real news stories. Out of instinct, she’d copied down the license
plate number of the Cadillac Max had snuck off to meet.

Yep, this could send her career in
a whole new direction.

Leaving the restroom, she looked
around for Bruno or Ponytail Guy. Bruno, in his blue bandana, lurked at the edge
of the parking lot talking to Dick and another suspicious-looking dude with a
buzz cut and steely eyes. His cold, scary eyes gave her the shivers even from
five feet away. When he flipped open his leather jacket to reach for a pack of
cigarettes, Annabel glimpsed a gun tucked into a shoulder holster. She stifled
a gasp.

With an anxious glance, she located
Max not too far away, checking over his bike and chatting with Roger.

Max smiled when he spotted her
looking his way. Putting her finger to her lips, she motioned him over.

“What?” he whispered.

“Look.” She jerked her chin toward
Dick and the pair of suspects. “It’s one of the drug dealers talking to Dick.
The other one is carrying a concealed weapon. Let’s get closer so we can hear
what’s going on.”

 Max crossed his arms and
studied her, scowling instead of heaping praise or approval on her for her keen
detecting skills. “I could let you go on like this indefinitely, you know, but
I guess I won’t. Come on.”

“Where?”

“I’m going to introduce you to your
drug ring.”

“But—But—”

“Just follow my lead.” He circled
her wrist with his fingers and pulled her along with him to the trio of men.
“How’s it going, Bruno?  Kirby.” He nodded to both men. “I don’t think
either one of you have met Annabel Morgan. Annabel, this is Dan Kirby. He’s a
detective with the Cincinnati Police Department.” Max’s eyes twinkled as he
headed off her next question. “Vice, not Narcotics.”

“Detective Kirby.” Beginning to
comprehend the extent of her mistake, she considered hiding behind a tree
before the conversation went any further.

“Ma’am.” The detective took her
measure with a flick of his eyes.

“One of my neighbors is on the Vice
Squad,” she said. “Jim Dennison? You know him?”

“Maybe,” Kirby grudgingly allowed.
Just like Jim, Kirby had mastered holding his cards close to his chest.

Max shot her another quick grin.
“And this other ne’er-do-well is Dr. Bruce Townsend, He’s an immunologist doing
AIDS research at the University.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,
Doctor.” She swallowed back a big dose of embarrassment. “That’s a fascinating
field.”

Bruno reached out to shake her
hand. “Plenty of challenges.”

“He’s close to getting FDA approval
on a faster-acting experimental drug that inhibits the condition with fewer
side-effects.”

“Wonderful,” she managed to choke
out as she looked around. There were trees aplenty, but now she wanted
something bigger to hide behind—like a mountain. She two-stepped to the side,
but Max clamped his hand onto her shoulder. He wasn’t going to let her off that
easy.

“No, it’s
my
pleasure, but
call me Bruno.”

“Bruno, then.”

“And did I mention that Dick is a
judge?” Max asked so smugly she wanted to kick him in the shins. Or higher.

“No, I don’t think you did.” Her
annoyance with him for misleading her made it difficult to squeeze out the
words.

“Then, officially, I’d like you to
meet Appellate Judge Richard T.
Ubecki
.”

“Judge
Ubecki
,
of course. I’ve seen your picture in the paper many times, but I didn’t
recognize you without your robes.”

“You just keep right on calling me
Dick. As you might guess, we don’t stand on ceremony here. To keep everyone on
the same footing, we leave our titles at home.”

“You look a little shell-shocked
there, Annabel.” Max rubbed a hand up and down her spine, and she jerked away.
“Something wrong?”

“N-no.” She felt winded but
determined to stand her ground and own up to her mistake—somewhat. “I guess I
had the wrong impression of what kind of people ride Harleys and belong to
motorcycle clubs.”

“Common mistake,” Bruno said.

“You should see the way people race
to lock up their valuables when we pull into a small town,” Detective Kirby
said. “And we bring more law enforcement with us than they could muster on
their best day.”

“Contrary to the media stereotype,”
Dick added, “most of us aren’t rebels or outlaws. We ride to get away from the
stress of our jobs and raise money for local charities—not to loot or terrorize
the locals.”

“After the risks some of us take at
work,” Bruno put in, “this seems tame in comparison.”

“Spending the day with you has sure
opened my eyes.” Annabel prayed they’d never know how blind she’d been.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed yourself,”
Bruno said. “A lot of outsiders—females, especially—don’t like to come to these
all-day events.”

“Usually a two-hour ride is as long
as my wife can last, bless her heart,” Dick said.

“You’ve sure been a good sport,
Annabel,” the detective praised. “Come ride with us again anytime.”

“First, we have to finish this
one.” Max glanced at his watch.

“Spread the word to mount up.”
Dick’s voice rang with authority she now recognized sprang from the courtroom
and not from the life of a drug lord or biker chieftain.

As she climbed up behind Max,
Annabel left the visor of her helmet up. She needed to let the wind blow the
rest of her misconceptions out her head.

“It’s not a big deal,” Max told her
at the end of the day. The whole group had circled back to The
Hoghouse
for a post-ride bonfire and pig roast. “None of
them knew what you were thinking.”

Standing with Max in line for the
delicious-smelling food being cooked in the open air, the flames from the
roaring fire threw additional heat onto her cheeks. She pressed her palms over
them again, knowing she deserved the laughter he tried to suppress.

“Come with me.” He cupped her
elbow. Guiding her away from the food, the fire, and the ready-to-party riders,
he led her through the cool air and down a path to a lookout over the river.

The softness and romance of
twilight crept around them, but she barreled right through it, focused on her
inner turmoil. “You told me to keep an open mind, but did I? No-
oo
.” She cringed again. “I wanted to behave less
sensibly—not senselessly.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. Some of
them dress and act the stereotype to promote the image on purpose. It gives
them a chance to break loose and forget they spend their weekdays as one of the
suits, kissing corporate asses and playing by the rules.”

“You don’t.”

He studied the river undulating
around the bend, then turned to lean against the rail. “Everybody does in some
way or another.”

“Maybe so, but I wanted to fit in
with the club. I thought I was on the adventure of my life, and I wanted them
to like me.” She wanted
him
to like her. “But I had to start judging
them, looking for a way to keep them at arm’s length. What an idiot I am.”
Pacing back and forth, she pounded one hand with the other.

“Are you done yet?” Max hid a yawn
behind his hand.

She’d expected him to react with
jokes or sympathy or even logic, not boredom or impatience. Embarrassed by her
outburst, she stopped pacing and studied her toes. “I guess.”

He pulled her around to face him
and lifted her chin on his finger. “Annabel, most people accept you at face
value. If you’re aloof and snooty, that’s how you’ll be treated. Today, you
looked and acted like a normal person, not like someone above having a good
time. You made mistakes, but you didn’t poker up or demand to be taken home or
call the police, any of the things the regular Annabel would have done.”

She closed her eyes, embarrassed to
admit, “I thought about doing all those things.”

“But you didn’t, and the people
here liked your attitude. You heard them ask you to come again.”

“I thought they were just being
nice.”

“Don’t count on it. There’ve been
lots of guests who started a ride and called for someone to come get them at
the first stop. You gutted it out, and everyone respects that.”

“Do they?”
Do you
?

“Sure, even me.”

“Thank you.” His comment raised her
spirits, as if she’d earned a gold medal. Thinking back over the day, she let
herself feel a little bit proud of how far she’d stepped out of her usual
parameters. There was one thing she still wondered about though. “I still
haven’t figured out how the silver Cadillac fits into the day’s events.”

“Not in any way you need to know
about.” Max’s voice hardened and cut through the space between them. “Forget
you ever saw that, okay?”

Not likely
. The license
number burned a hole in her pocket. Watching him closely, she detected no humor
in the grim set of his mouth. Well, okay, then. She could take a hint. Best to
change the subject. “At least, I didn’t suspect
everybody
I met of
dealing drugs.”

His eyes crinkled up at the corners
again. “Who did you exclude?”

“A couple of people I talked to
while you skulked off to your secret meeting. I met a nice trauma nurse named
Janice Winston. And Larry Munson. His daughter goes to school with Carly.”

“Like I said, Good Riders are just
regular people with a hobby.”

“That gorgeous fireman seemed above
reproach.”

Max’s eyes narrowed. “Because he
was gorgeous?”

“No, because he was nice. Is he
single?”

“He’s new to the club. I don’t know
much about him, but I’ll find out for you, if you’re interested.” He spit the
words out.

“No, just curious.” She smiled a
little, tickled by his annoyance. “I liked Dick, Tim, and Gabe, too.”

Max snorted. “Just how
over-protected were you growing up?”

“I didn’t get out much, but they’re
your friends, and I thought they seemed nice.”

“Dick’s great. A handy guy to know,
and he’s been married to the same woman forever. Gabe’s a champ. He works in
marketing at P&G and he’s a computer genius. Everybody likes him, and he
just got engaged to a real looker. But watch out for Tim. He’s a shark.
Financial and otherwise.”

With the sun dipping below the
horizon, the temperature cooled noticeably. Annabel wished for the jacket she’d
left on the bike. She crossed her arms and hugged them against herself to ward
off the chill. “I thought he was your friend.”

“He is. Pretty good one, too.” He
draped an arm around her and pulled her close, enveloping her in his warmth.
“But that doesn’t mean I’d want one of my sisters to go out with him.”

Craning her neck a couple of inches
back, she peered all the way up at him. “How many sisters do you have?”

“Two.”

Why did that surprise her? It
wasn’t like she knew everything there was to know about him. Actually, she
didn’t know much, but he seemed so independent. She couldn’t quite picture him
with a regular group of relatives—parents, siblings, cousins. “Where do they
live?”

“Nashville.”