Meet Your Mate (A Good Riders Romance Book 1) (9 page)

“I don’t have much choice. I need
those drugs. Some of my people are desperate enough to pay any amount.”

Covering her mouth to hold back her
gasp, Annabel leaned back to catch a glimpse of the conspirators. She might
need to pick them out of a lineup at some point. One was chubby with a long
ponytail. The other one was ferret-like, slim and edgy, sporting a gold hoop
earring and a skull-and-crossbones do-rag.

As they moved out of earshot,
Annabel considered what to do with the information she’d overheard. She’d
learned enough at the high school filming
Challenging Destiny
to know
that not all drug dealers lurked in back alleys and looked like gang-bangers or
street thugs.

Her initial reaction was to go off
half-cocked, but she kept herself in check. If she panicked, she’d call
attention to herself. Probably a bad choice. She could leave and forget all
about her suspicions. Or call the police with an anonymous tip. Probably the
choice the old, more boring Annabel would make.

Or she could play it cool and try
to discover the drug dealers’ identities before she called her vice-cop
neighbor and have him bring in reinforcements. Since she wasn’t in any
immediate danger, she liked the last choice the best. This could be the start
of a new career. Investigative journalism. True crime documentaries. Breaking
news stories.

Hah! If he weren’t careful, she’d
give Max a run for his money in areas besides the Community First award.

Just then the leader of the
bikers—Goatee Man—and another biker guy dropped into seats across from her and
set their platters of ribs on the table. A younger leather-clad guy slid
himself and a couple of pulled pork sandwiches into the space to her left.

“Mind if we join you?” Goatee Man
asked, somewhat after the fact. “Where’s Max? I didn’t notice him inside.”

“He was on his cell, talking to his
nephew. He’ll be along soon,” the one beside Goatee Man said, switching his
attention to Annabel. “I wanted him to introduce us, but since he’s not here,
I’ll take care of it myself. I’m Tim, and this is Dick, our fearless leader.”
He pointed to the third man. “That’s Gabe. We’re all friends of Max’s.”

“Hi, I’m Annabel.” As she shook
hands with Tim, he held onto hers a fraction longer than necessary. But when
she looked up at him to see if he meant anything by it, she couldn’t resist returning
his smile. He looked more clean-cut than the others and was kind of cute in an
Opie-Taylor-meets-Metallica sort of way. Gabe, the third guy in the trio, was
handsome, quiet, even a little reserved, but just as confident and self-assured
as the other two.

Tim studied her openly. “What’s a
nice girl like you doing here with a guy like Max?”

“Why wouldn’t I be here with Max?”
She’d gradually figured out that Max was a lot less harmful than she’d thought.
But after overhearing the drug dealers and noticing the white envelopes
sticking out of random pockets, Tim’s comment made her wonder all over again.
Of course, if she judged others by the company they kept, these three guys
wouldn’t be above reproach—and neither would she. There were always two sides
to every story. As a filmmaker, she prided herself on remembering that.

“He’s never brought a date on a
ride before,” Gabe said.

“Most of the women he knows don’t
roll out of bed before noon,” Tim contributed, ruining Gabe’s attempt at
diplomacy.

“A lot of news people work late
hours.” Annabel refused to rise to the bait. Strippers kept late hours, too,
but the last thing she wanted was to hear about Max’s female companions or to
be lumped in with them. “Besides, this might not qualify as a date.”

“What is it?” The curiosity in
Tim’s eyes heated up as he squirted an extra dose of sauce on his rack of ribs.

“We were set-up as a matchmaking
thing on
Let’s Talk
, and he kind of dared me to come with him today.”

Tim grinned, revealing a small
Opie-like gap between his two front teeth. “That’s what he said.”

“Didn’t you believe him?” she
asked.

“We-ell, sometimes, the
truth-according-to-Max bears little resemblance to the real thing. Especially
where women are concerned.” Tim’s words seemed to contain a warning she didn’t
need.

As stunningly attractive as Max
Williams was, he was not her type. But he could be fun and exciting, and that
was all she needed for today.

“No resemblance to what?” Max set a
plate of plain grilled chicken and coleslaw in front of her. He deposited his
own loaded plate in the small, empty space to her right.

“The truth,” Tim said.

“You can’t be talking about me,”
Max objected. “I’m almost Clark Kent, a mild-mannered reporter in search of
truth, justice, and the American way.”

Forking into her chicken, she
realized that he took his promotional slogan as “The People’s Reporter” more
seriously than his self-mocking implied.

“Always around when there’s
trouble,” Gabe ribbed.

“Leading poor Lois into trouble,
too,” Tim jabbed.

Annabel blinked as all three of
Max’s friends looked her way. “I’m not poor anybody, and no one has ever tried
to lead me into trouble.” Now, why did that statement sound more like a
complaint than a recommendation?

“I didn’t think they had,” Tim said
with a wink. “Plus, you’re miles out of Max’s league.” He tipped his can of
soda in her direction in a silent salute.

“Thank you, I think.” Rather than
accustom herself to the spine-tingling thrill of Max’s thigh pressed against
hers, she tried to ease away from him. When he quickly closed the gap, she gave
up the retreat. It seemed silly to avoid such innocent contact after they’d
been touching a lot more than thighs all morning.

“No, she’s not. We’re in the same
league.” Max looked up from removing the onion from his sandwich. “We’re
nominated in the same category for the Community First award.”

“Nice,” Dick offered.
“Congratulations. I like an accomplished woman.”

“Way to go, Annabel,” Tim said.
“Which entry is yours?”

“It’s called
Challenging
Destiny.
” Her cheeks glowed with pride. Bless Max for bringing up the
subject.

“Hey, I saw that one,” Gabe said.
“They showed it at P&G the other day as part of the United Way’s pitch for
corporate sponsors. Great piece of work.” He answered her smile with one of his
own. “What did you do on the project? Write? Produce? Direct?”

“All of the above,” she said. “My
title was associate producer, but it was a four-year labor of love, and I ended
up holding just about every job description.” She remembered the fulfilling
hours with satisfaction.

“So you’re a producer?” This from
Tim.

“I wish. We were very low budget,
and I came cheap when the original producer moved on to another project.” She
held up her crossed fingers. “If I win the award maybe I’ll get a promotion and
the title, but with a daughter on her way to college, I’m just happy to be
employed.”

“You’re not old enough to have a
daughter on her way to college,” Dick objected.

“Stepdaughter,” Annabel explained.

“You’re married?” Tim asked.

“Widowed,” Annabel told him.

“Ah. That explains a lot.” Tim
nodded wisely before adding an “
ooph
” when Dick’s
elbow connected with his ribs.

Gabe cleared his throat. “When’s
the award ceremony?”

“Next Friday.”

“Are you taking
Shawntel
?”
Dick asked Max.

Shawntel
?
Annabel frowned. The name sounded like it belonged to another stripper. Didn’t
the man know anyone named Jennifer or Sally?

“She’s not sure she can go.”

“She
should
go,” Dick
insisted. “If it hadn’t been for her, you wouldn’t have done that piece—”

“She hasn’t decided yet, Dick.”
Max’s comment cut off his friend. When Dick raised questioning eyebrows at Max,
Annabel saw him slant his eyes in her direction.

“Oh, right. Well.” Dick stood up.
“Think I’ll go get a piece of that cherry pie before we head out. Anybody want
anything?”

“No thanks.” Max checked his watch.
“Annabel?”

“None for me, thanks.”

Tim turned a high-voltage smile her
way. “If Dick’s still feeding his face, that means we have time to stretch our
legs, Annabel. How does a stroll by the river sound before getting back on
Max’s monster hog?”

“Well, um... maybe
a very short one.” Placing her palms on the table, Annabel prepared to push
herself to her feet. Max’s friend had been so nice, refusing would seem rude.
But she worried her rubbery legs would collapse beneath her. With Max, Dick,
Tim, and Gabe watching, she hoped she wouldn’t fall on her face.

“I guess you’ve already got
somebody taking care of your bike.” Max made the statement as he slid his arm
around Annabel’s waist, holding her in place.

“My bike?” Tim’s eyes widened. “No,
why?”

“The rear tire looked a little low
when we pulled in. I thought you knew.”

“No! I didn’t. Annabel, excuse me!
See you at the next stop.” Tim reached the bottom of the patio steps before the
last word floated back to her.

While he polished off a rib, Gabe
looked at Max accusingly. “I saw what you did there. There’s nothing wrong with
Tim’s tire.”

“There might be.”

“That was mean.” Annabel didn’t try
to hide her smile.

“From your expression, I didn’t
think you wanted to go for a walk.” He wiped his mouth and fingers with a
napkin. “But I’ll get him if you’d like.”

She held up a restraining hand.
“No, thanks. Maybe I’ll just rest a while longer.”

He narrowed his eyes and studied
her. “How’re you really holding up? Pretty sore?”

“I’m good.” She smiled brightly so
he wouldn’t guess the truth and offer to let her skip the rest of the ride.
Going home now didn’t seem nearly as appealing as it had before. An idea had
been germinating in her brain about a documentary on a biker club, with or
without a drug angle. The visuals would be spectacular.

Maybe she should run the idea by
Max first. Maybe bike clubs didn’t like a lot of publicity. Or he could be here
investigating a breaking story himself. “I’m really enjoying myself, but—”

A woman dressed in Harley-logo
overkill slid onto the other bench. “This your first road trip, honey? You
wouldn’t like it nearly so well if you had to ride at the tail end of the group
and eat dust and fumes all day long.”

“I was wondering about that. How do
Max and I rate riding in front?”

“You’re with our local celebrity,”
Gabe said. “When Max rides with us, he gets front and center. We like to show
him off.”

“Oh, shut up and eat,” Max said
without any real heat, “or else we’ll be here all day.” He checked the time
again. “And I’d like to get to the final destination before nightfall.”

“Fifteen more minutes,” Dick said,
returning with a piece of pie. “Then we ride. Go spread the word. And remind ‘
em
to see the dealer.”

“Right.” Max stood and pulled
Annabel up with him. His strong hand under her arm held her steady until she
had her feet firmly planted. He continued to hold on as she stepped over the
bench. She expected him to let go of her then, but he tucked her arm through
his and pulled her close. “Come on, Annabel. If you don’t want to walk, I know
a nice place for you to wait.”

All too aware of his solid body
next to hers, she worked hard to keep a casual tone. “Um, yeah, sure. I keep
meaning to ask you—”

“Hey, Max, have you seen Gordo’s
new bike?”

“Hey, Max, you going on the ride to
Minnesota next month?”

“Mad Max, know anybody interested
in a deal on a Fat Boy?”

Every few steps someone high-fived
him or called for his attention. Without seeming to slight anyone, he kept on
moving until he pulled her around the side of the building. They stopped beside
an old-fashioned swing hanging from a huge oak tree.

“Have a seat.” He made an
exaggerated sweeping gesture.

She looked at the sturdy
rope-and-board contraption for several seconds before circling it in amazement.
“I don’t even remember the last time I sat on one of these.” Breaking into a
wide smile, she almost clapped her hands in delight.

“It’s easier than riding a bicycle.
You never forget how.” Max steadied the ropes while she lowered herself into
place. “Didn’t you ever take Carly to the playground?  Or let someone push
you during a picnic?”

“Carly was past the playground
stage when I married her father.” And Carl would have thought it beneath a
professor’s dignity to do something so frivolous. Marriage to an older man had
stifled spontaneity. The compensations had included companionship, stability,
security, and Carly, of course.

Annabel sat for a few seconds,
pushing herself back and forth with her feet firmly planted.

“What about boyfriends in
elementary school, high school, or college?”

Lifting her feet, she leaned her
shoulders forward and then back to generate a bit of motion. “Oh, there weren’t
many of those.”

With silence stretching between
them, she wished she’d cut out her tongue before admitting that pathetically
sad fact to a man who went through women like peanuts at a ballgame.

After a moment, she glanced over
her shoulder at Max. Before she could decide if the odd expression on his face
was pity or disbelief, he set his hands next to her hips on the wooden seat and
pulled it back, before giving her a strong push forward.

She raised her feet, beginning the
pumping action required to keep going. On the backward arc, Max pushed again.
Up and back, she soared higher and higher. The gentle breeze flowed through her
hair beneath the awning of branches and leaves, making her feel airy and free.

She owed this feeling to Max, this
lightening of spirit. Carefree, she stretched her legs and reached for the sky
with her toes. She turned to throw him a smile over her shoulder. All her
worries and responsibilities slid right off her shoulders and straight to the
ground.

Her body immediately followed.

The rough rope scuffed her palms
and tore at the flesh before she flailed through the air with the grace of an
elephant. Hurtling toward terra firma, she closed her eyes and prepared for
immediate and immense pain. Out of nowhere, she hit a solid brick wall. With
arms.

Somehow Max managed to pluck her
from mid-air. He stumbled, caught himself, then stumbled again, toppling them
both to the grass.

Cradled in his arms, Annabel landed
spread eagle on top of him. The world teetered and tottered as she lifted her
whirling head. When the stars, birds, and fireworks finally settled down, she found
herself splayed against him. She levered herself up and stared straight into
his glittering eyes. “I guess I was supposed to hold on.”

He clasped her tightly to him with
one hand and smoothed along the lines of her body with the other. Searching for
broken bones, no doubt. “You all right?”

Flustered by the intimacy and a
surge of desire, she gulped and nodded before stopping his roaming hand in
mid-roam.

He grinned and folded his hands
behind his head as if lounging at the beach. “Nice dismount. I’d give it a
ten.”

Behind the grin, his dark eyes
studied her. Every inch of his body hardened beneath hers. A pulse beat rapidly
at the hollow of his throat.

Was it only the years of sexual
deprivation that made her want desperately to press her lips against that pulse
and lick up to his jaw, feeling the rough stubble where his beard shadowed his
skin? Or was it the thrill of danger, the delicious appeal of the bad boy, the
attraction of the unknown that beckoned to the recklessness she’d kept buried
for so long? 
And did any of that matter?

As she dipped her head to taste
him, one of Max’s friends called out. “You two all right?”

Annabel jerked her head up to spot
Goatee Man, Gabe, and Tim heading straight toward them.

Stifling a sigh, Max crawled out
from under her and lifted her to her feet.

“Do you need a doctor?” Tim asked.
“Wait here, Annabel. Gabe, go get—”

“No, no, I’m fine.” She ducked her
head and brushed herself off. “How about you, Max?”

“Never better.” His smirk
telegraphed a thousand possibilities.

“What were you doing back here?”
Dick asked. “I thought you were going to round up the troops.”

“I got distracted.” Max shrugged.
“So sue me.”

“Aw, I’ll let it pass this time. I
can understand you wanting to swing with a pretty girl instead of rounding up
that bunch of roughnecks. But if you’re finished showing off for your new
girlfriend, we need to rock ‘n’ roll.”

Annabel stooped down to retie her
boot and hide her rosy red cheeks. She hadn’t been called a “pretty girl” since
she was six. She sure wasn’t Max’s girlfriend, and she hadn’t been discovered
in such an awkward position since—well, since last night at Music Hall. Darn,
she’d been right about Max being a bad influence.

“Do I have time to step into the
ladies’ room before we go?” She brushed off the knees of her jeans and tried to
pull herself together. “I’m probably a mess.”

Max tugged on a curl that tickled
her cheek. “You look great all ruffled and touchable, but we have time if you
want to freshen up.”

“Don’t you have the damnedest
luck?” Dick asked Max as Annabel hurried ahead of them toward the Blue Moon.
The men followed a few steps behind her, but their voices carried on the
breeze. “Seems like every time I turn around, women are throwing themselves at
you.”

“Yeah,” Gabe agreed, “but this is
the first time you’ve ever bothered to catch one.”

At the next stop, Max left Annabel
in Dick’s safekeeping and slipped away from The Dockside Tavern. He followed a
path through the tangle of brush that hugged the riverbank. If he judged the
location right, he’d emerge near the boat ramp where he should have met Mercer
fifteen minutes ago.

Keeping a couple hundred bikers on
schedule was never easy, but punctuality wasn’t the snitch’s strong suit
either. Money was the only language Mercer spoke. He’d either be there or he
wouldn’t, depending on what other offers had materialized.

Quietly making his way to the
meeting place, Max found Mercer waiting as promised. Slumped down in his ten-year-old
Caddy, the informer smoked a stogie and listened to a Reds game on the radio.
He’d grumbled about driving all the way out here, but Mercer refused to be
caught anywhere near Max in Cincinnati.

“You got it?” Max asked with a rap
on the roof of the car.

“Yeah, I got it,” the snitch
growled, squinting at Max through a haze of cigar smoke. “You got my money?”

Max pulled an envelope out of an
inside jacket pocket. “Here’s half. Let’s see what you got before you get the
rest.”

“I should get double for this.”
Mercer handed over a memory stick. “Gasoline don’t come cheap, you know.”

“I’ll need to see it.”

“I know, I know.” The snitch tapped
into a small laptop, then took back the memory stick and slid it into place.
“Look at this.”

With a low whistle, Max scanned
documents that revealed the double-bookkeeping records on an equipment scam in
city acquisitions. “Just a little more and I can shut these jerks down. If you
can get to me
before
the next operation, I’ll triple your fee.”

Beads of sweat formed on Mercer’s
flat forehead. “Oh, man, you don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Sure, I do.”

“That could cost me my job.”

“Nah, I’ll protect you as a source.
And if I can get pictures independent of this evidence, half the
mooks
in your department will land in jail and you’ll
probably get promoted.” Max grabbed the memory stick and tucked it in his
pocket, then extracted the other half of the payment.

Mercer ran a hand over his bristly
chin while he wrestled with his decision. As Max expected, greed won out.

“I’m not promising, but I’ll text
you if I hear anything.” He dropped the money on the seat beside him and
started the land yacht.

“By the end of the week,” Max
prompted.

“Nah, that’s too soon. Maybe next
week.” Mercer threw out his cigar butt with the less-than-original parting
shot, “Don’t call me, I’ll call you.”

The whole transaction took about
two minutes. And not spending any more time with the slimy Mercer than that
pleased Max just fine. He preferred to get back to Annabel before Tim tried to
move in on her again. She was no match for the innocent-looking smile his buddy
used to disguise his hit-and-run tactics.

Max turned to head back to The
Dockside. His step faltered as he discovered Annabel standing at the edge of
the trees watching him. She’d removed her jean jacket, showing off how well her
tidy body filled out her T-shirt and jeans. With her hair scraped back in a
ponytail again and her lips pursed thin like Tinker Bell in a snit, she looked
anything but happy to see him. Although now that he knew her a little better,
he detected a hint of excitement behind her ocean-blue eyes.

“All right.” She crossed her arms
and tapped her foot. “What’s really going on?”

“What do you mean?” Max closed the
gap between them in six long strides. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled
her against him. Partially as a distraction, but also due to inclination.