Taking a Dare - A Hellion MC Novel (36 page)

"I ain't scared," she snapped back, her face lifted
to his as she yanked her arm away. "Stop with the grabby hands, all
right? My legs just have those pins and needle thingies."

Brand couldn't help his grin as she flashed a bit of
temper, but he didn't speak or move until she was securely behind
the closed door of the facilities. Quickly making his way to the
Men's room, he took care of business as well before he washed his
face and combed his hair, catching it in a ponytail at the nape of
his neck. All this was done as his mind wandered over the puzzle of
her.

He had pieces of information, glimpses of what was
true and what wasn't, much like having only certain parts of a
complex puzzle. He'd gained more knowledge when they'd stopped to
allow her to relieve her bladder in a cornfield at sunset.

When she'd left her backpack behind, propped against
the back tire of his bike.

He hadn't been shocked by either the handgun or the
stacks of cash as he had rifled through it. They merely added to
his curiosity. He'd already tried putting the bits together, but he
was still missing too much information for the dissimilar pieces to
make cohesive sense.

He'd considered and discarded several different
theories of who she was and why she was running.

Drug user had been his first thought until he'd seen
the luggage and her mouthiness at his carrying the water, but
instructing her to bring only enough clothes for four days. Fashion
was not a priority when you had a chemical habit that heavy.

Drug smuggler had been his next choice, especially
after the discovery of her firearm and the money, but she would've
had a backer. A backer who would've ensured she had a nice run of
the mill, working car to do their work. Plus, she would've been
traveling the interstate, hurrying to get the money back to
whomever.

Someone running from the police?

No, she was dressed too brightly in a way that could
be remembered. Most people running from Johnny Law preferred to
blend into their environments, even if they were out in the
boonies.

So. She was running from someone but didn't really
know how to do it. The tired, worn-out car with the Missouri plates
spoke volumes about her ignorance and lack of connections in
obtaining an untraceable mode of transportation for her
journey.

He hadn't meant to get caught up in her business, but
as they hit one small town after another, they'd found, on a Sunday
afternoon, most places were closed. And, for whatever reason, he
felt he had no choice but to get her to safety. As the miles began
to pile up behind them, he recognized his interest and curiosity
had been engaged.

His mother had called him Bay-co, which was the
braying bark of the dogs in their village who could sniff out even
the deepest secrets. All his life he'd been the kind of person that
once his awareness, his inquisitiveness had been engaged, he
couldn't let go of the riddle until he solved it.

As a small boy, the satisfaction in the understanding
had been enough.

As a man, he was driven to fix, resolve or correct
those curious situations. Especially if they involved women or
children.

Why he'd felt the need to give his passenger that old
nickname, the name his mother had lovingly used for him, was still
a mystery.

Tucking a bag of sandwiches, chips and sodas into the
front of his leather jacket and zipping it to his neck, his
knuckles hit the metal door adorned with the silhouette of a
skirted female, giving the prearranged knocks.

It was time to get more information.

*.*.*.*.*

I hadn't been to a park at night since I was
fourteen, but that's where he took me to eat our food. It was the
typical kind you find in small towns with its kids play area tucked
in one corner and the prerequisite baseball field in the other. The
expanse of grass, not specified for any certain purpose, was dotted
with the aging picnic tables and waste receptacles.

"Looks like we're chasing the storm," I announced
just for something to say. Our damp, weathered bench and table just
caught the edge of the lights beaming from the area where two teams
were battling it out on the scoreboard in the twilight of late
evening.

"Yes," he said simply, his limpid eyes meeting mine
as he shifted the pile of our jackets further down the table. He'd
already polished off two sandwiches and two bags of chips. I was
still working on just my one. "We need to discuss your
situation."

When it came to plain speaking, I was thinking that
my new friend Bayco was the world-champion. "I don't have a
situation. Just drop me off at the nearest motel and I can take it
from there."

His eyes narrowed as I spoke.

"Shall I tell you what I know?" he asked, low and
slow. For whatever reason, I braced myself even though I nodded as
I took another bite of my sandwich. I had a definite suspicion I
wasn't going to like what I was going to hear.

"You are running from someone. More than likely a
man. But you do not know how to run, to escape, properly," he said
flatly. "You have tried this before and each time you have done so,
you have learned a new skill, a new way of hiding from him.
However, he always finds you."

Fuck! My stomach clenched and my jaw seized
mid-chew.

"This time, though, is different. You have alluded
either him or the men he has sent after you and have gotten further
away than you ever have before. But you know that he and his men
are still searching."

Goddamn! How had he… what had I said or done… how did
he…

"Stop. You need to keep a clear head and you must
tell me of this situation," he said, making a small hand movement,
probably in response to whatever expression my face held, or the
lack thereof. Ice was now running through my veins. I needed to
think and think quickly, but my brain had turned to sludge at his
words.

"You're imagining things, Dude," I replied, breaking
the laser beam of his eyes before turning away and upending the
last of the soda can into my extremely dry mouth. "My car broke
down and I just need to get to a motel so I can rest up and get my
peeps to, you know, come and take care of things."

Of all the things he could've said or done in
reaction to my words, none shocked me more than him breaking out
into laughter. Not just a chuckle or a smirk, but a head pointed
straight up, braying into the night sky, full-on laugh. I didn't
think what I'd said was funny in the least, so I just sat, waiting
for him to get his shit under control.

I saw him wipe his eyes with a corner of his t-shirt
sleeve as the barks of his merriment slowed, which took more than a
few minutes. Minutes that I used to gather up all the paper, metal
and plastic from our meal and take to the nearest trash can.

"Peeps?" he said with a chuckle when I sat back down
at the table. "No, I do not think so."

Okay, he maybe one of the most gorgeous things I'd
ever seen, and I admit that he seemed to have the 4-1-1 on how to
keep a girl safe and out of the public eye, but he was really
starting to piss me off. True, I hadn't trusted him at all, mainly
because of his gender in the beginning. But at his words, that
distrust had started to morph into good old fashioned
shut-the-fuck-up anger.

"You don't believe me?" I asked with as much outrage
as I could, considering, once again, he had caught me in a lie. As
stated, I'm not a very good at the prevarication stuff.

His eyes again zeroed on mine and all traces of humor
were gone from his face as he shook his head 'no'.

"Which part?" I pushed. I needed to know so I could
back pedal as fast as my legs, erm, my mouth could work.

"All of it," he said finally after letting me stew
and squiggle under his unwavering stare. "Let's start at the
beginning. What is your name?"

"Ah…uhm," I began trying to remember what name I'd
given him earlier. I always tried to keep the first letter the
same, but I couldn't dredge up the one I'd given him before. Remy?
Roxy? Reina? Rita?

"Look at me, please," he barked on a low note. "I
asked for your name, which should not be a difficult question. Not
for someone that just needs a place to sleep so she can call her
people to resolve her 'problem'." The bastard even used his fingers
for air quotes over the word problem.

I snapped my eyes back to his and saw his were
guarded. He was on to me, and I couldn't shake him off.

"Your name?" he prompted, breaking the silence that
had descended. A silence that wasn't comfortable in the least. "And
the truth this time."

I stared at him, doing a bit of measuring and
assessing myself.

Could I trust him?

I reviewed the hours I'd been with him, trying to
find a chink or a crack in any of our interactions that showed me
he was looking to profit from my 'problem'. The way he'd held me
during my freak-out over the storm was the part that swayed me as
well as the bit at the truck stop in hiding my hair.

While I couldn't trust him completely, I was willing
to take a small risk.

"Reese," I said finally, and I felt the tension in my
shoulders release a bit as I spoke. "I won't give you my last name,
but my real, first name is Reese."

"Reese," he repeated and I loved the little burr on
the 'R' when he said my name. The way he said it made my plain, old
everyday first name sound sexy and mysterious.

"Yeah," I said, ducking my head and tucking my hands
between my knees. This honesty shit was scary.

"Are you running, Reese?" he asked with a head
tilt.

"Yeah," I admitted quietly, feeling my heart beat
hard within my chest. I still wasn't 100% sure he wasn't working
for
him,
even though Bayco was way better than any of the
others that I'd had run-ins with before.

"Do you need help?" he asked, his voice almost a low
growl in the quiet of the park. I turned my head and saw the
baseball game was breaking up. This question was harder to answer
than the other ones. But it wasn't
me
asking
him
for
help. Rather it was him asking if he could help me.

A big difference.

Huge in the fact that for once in my life, someone
other than my mama was trying to give aid. And it was a man who was
doing the asking. In my life, in the few times I'd actually tried
to request it, I'd either been laughed at or found that the male
version of help only seemed to help them—never me.

I swallowed thickly before I nodded, crossing my
fingers underneath the table.

He blinked slowly. "I want to hear the words,
Reese."

"I need help, Bayco," I muttered.

"How old are you, draga?" he asked, his voice still
quiet and deep.

"Twenty-one and what's that name you called me? That
'draga' thingie?" I answered and glanced at his face, catching his
look of doubt. "What? You don't believe me? It's the truth!"

"You look and act so much younger," he said
thoughtfully after a thorough study of my face. "Since you seem
unsure of your name, I gave you one of my own."

I let what he said settle around me and felt my eyes
narrow as I thought.

"How old are you, then?" I asked and felt my chin jut
at my question, making it more like a challenge.

"Twenty-five," he answered without hesitation and
without breaking eye contact.

It was my turn to be shocked. He was only
twenty-five? No, that couldn't be right. I studied his face. Maybe
it wasn't so much his looks that made me think he was so much
older. His attitude? His calm, his control, in spite of
everything?

"I, ah, I thought you were a lot older," I stammered.
He lifted one eyebrow in question. "Not, like, old-old But you
know, like thirty-old."

I got a dual eyebrow lift at my explanation. I
decided to shut up since I was only making it worse as I tried to
explain. At that, the lights, which had dimly lit our wooden
rectangle, went out.

I heard him sigh from across the table as my eyes
tried to adjust. All I could see was the shadow of him in the
street lights that encircled the park.

"I am tired, Reese, although I need to get home
quickly. We will find a place to stay and sleep for a few hours.
Then we will continue our journey and our talk," he said and I
could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

Hey, wait a second.

Who was he to be making decisions about what 'we'
were going to do? As a matter of fact, when did the two of us
become a 'we' anyway? I opened my mouth to disagree but before I
could, he spoke over me and my mutinous thoughts.

"Please do not argue with me, Reese. I am tired and
sore and short-tempered."

Although I wanted to say a lot more, I shut my mouth
and simply followed him to the motorcycle. My arguments could wait
for another time.

Dedication

As ever this book is dedicated to my progeny—you know
who you are, especially for listening when mom starts talking about
people that aren't even real!

And to Jennifer Guffey. A reader who took the time to
email me and ASK for the Hellion Series after reading Hiding in
Plain Sight. I can't thank you enough, Jennifer!

Hat's off to Laura Kingsley, my editor and Faustino
Gaitan, my book cover designer. You two are helping me learn how to
be a professional author instead of a girl that just types out some
books about love.

And to you, dear reader. For taking a chance on a new
author and sticking with her as she is still learning and growing.
It really means a lot!

For those of you that have been with me on this
journey, thanks for the memories!

For those of you still on your way, where've you
been? My heart's been waiting for you!

Author Bio - J.A. Hornbuckle