Riding Steele: Aftershock (2 page)

“It’s all right now. You’re safe,” he crooned.

She stared at him, wide, glistening eyes, almost hopeful.

He opened his arms. She hesitated for a moment, but then she pushed forward the short distance between them. He took her in his arms and pulled her onto his lap, holding her close. She rested her head against his chest and he stroked her hair. He could feel the dampness on his shirt as her tears flowed.

“You saved me,” she murmured. “Thank you for finding me.”

“Of course. I told you, I’d do anything to protect you.”

They sat like that for a while, him holding her in the comfort of his arms, then he lifted her and carried her back to the bed. She snuggled into his arms under the covers and he stroked her back, until her breathing became soft and regular. She was asleep.

He laid there, his anger at what had happened to her smoldering within him. He would do his best to protect her forever, but even after death, Donovan’s actions preyed on her.

How could he protect her from her nightmares?

*

A knock sounded on the door. Laurie opened her eyes and sunlight danced across her face. She was in Steele’s strong, comforting arms. She closed her eyes again.

The nightmare last night had shaken her, but Steele had been there to calm her and take care of her. His arms tightened around her now.

Another knock.

“Yeah?” Steele called, his voice hoarse from sleep.

Laurie shifted in his arms, but kept her eyes closed, not ready to be jarred from this comforting cocoon just yet.

“It’s Rip. Can I come in?”

“Yeah, hold on.”

She opened her eyes and met Steele’s dark eyes.

“Do you think he’s heard from Killer?” she asked.

His lips brushed the crown of her head in a tender kiss. “Let’s go find out.”

He pushed himself from the bed and walked to the door. Laurie pulled the covers close to her as he opened the door. Rip stood on the other side and Steele stepped back to let him come in. He carried two Starbucks cups in his hand.

Rip glanced at Laurie, concern etched in his face. “How are you doing?”

“Okay.” Despite her response, she felt small and vulnerable. She wiped sleep from her eyes and wondered if she looked like a lost child, tucked under the bedclothes, clinging to the scant protection of the covers.

Steele took the coffees from Rip and handed one to Laurie. She took a thankful sip of the steaming liquid.

“Killer just called,” Rip said.

Laurie’s heart rate accelerated, her focus locking on him. She watched as Rip walked to the second bed and sat down, facing her.

“We’ll have to go in for questioning.”

Her heart clenched. She had hoped this would all just go away.

“But it’s okay,” he continued.

Steele sat beside Laurie and slid his arm around her. “What do you mean, it’s okay?”

“They know it wasn’t us.”

“How?” she asked, hope coiling through her.

“When they found him, he wasn’t in the cage.” Rip stretched his long legs out in front of him. “There were two guys who worked for him. They showed up a few hours after we left and found him. When they let him out, apparently he became belligerent and started a fight with them. He fell and hit his head on the corner of the glass coffee table and cracked his skull.”

“And these guys admitted all that?”

“Not at first. Especially since they panicked and fled the scene, but there’s evidence proving he died from hitting his head and where. Once they were picked up they just filled in the details. Now we have to go in to give our statements.”

“Are you going to be in trouble for breaking in when you all came to save me?” she asked.

Rip gazed at her. “They know what he did to you. Donovan’s men admitted to kidnapping you and helping him lock you in the cage, then leaving you there. Killer told me they’re not charging us with a thing.”

*

Laurie drew her arms from around Steele’s waist. As he dismounted the bike, she stared at her town house.

The bright purple and pink petunias she had planted several weeks ago had filled out nicely and the golden-yellow Stella D’Oro lilies were cheerfully blooming. The wreath she’d crafted from lavender and pink calico fabric, silk flowers, and lacy ribbons adorned the lemon-yellow door, and the mat, with
WELCOME
written in a lovely script, surrounded by curlicues and flowers in pink and green pastel, was warm and inviting.

And familiar.

That should give her comfort. She should feel happy returning home, but instead she felt a lead weight in her stomach.

It had been so long since she’d been here and her whole life had changed in the time away.

“You look so serious,” Steele said, watching her. “Aren’t you happy to be home?”

She smiled. “Sure. I’m just taking it all in.”

Steele helped her from the bike. Even though her ankle was feeling much better now, she’d gotten used to Steele babying her, and it felt good being taken care of by him.

Being loved by him.

He hadn’t said the words, but she could see it in his eyes. And she felt the same way.

Just like returning home, that should make her happy, but it just left her feeling unsettled.

She handed Steele her helmet and smiled. “You don’t mind staying here without your men?”

“It’d be pretty crowded in your small place with all seven of us. I’m sure the others are quite happy back at the cabin.” His arms came around her and drew her close, then kissed her soundly. “And I’m looking forward to some private time with you.”

Most of the days they’d spent on the road getting home they’d camped under the stars as they typically did, which allowed no privacy.

His words and the heat in his eyes reminded her they hadn’t made love since before …

Her gut clenched. She didn’t want to think about Donovan. She wanted to put that whole part of her life behind her.

Steele grabbed his pack and took her hand as they walked to the entrance. Three young women walked along the sidewalk, glancing her way as she walked toward the front door with the big, tattooed Steele beside her, and she smiled at the obvious envy in their eyes.

She unlocked the front door and Steele followed her into the entryway. As soon as the door closed, he pulled her into his arms again and kissed her, his tongue gliding between her lips, then caressing the inside of her mouth. When he finally released her, she was breathless with need.

He seemed to fill the place with his big, broad-shouldered frame. He glanced around, taking in her feminine paraphernalia. “Nice place.”

She glanced up at him with a smile. “You don’t find it too girly?”

He drew her close, holding her tight to his hard, masculine planes. “I find it sweet and pretty, just like you.”

His hands glided down her sides, and over her hips, then his mouth swooped down and captured hers. She melted against him, feeling soft and feminine against his hardness.

Then she felt another hardness, pressing against her belly. His arms suddenly felt like ropes coiled around her, and his body big and menacing. She stiffened, her heart suddenly racing.

This isn’t Donovan. I’m not trapped.

She tried to calm her erratic breathing, but she needed space. She pressed him back and he easily yielded, releasing her.

She pasted a smile on her face and gazed up at him. “I just want to get in and settled. I think I’ll go shower and change. Why don’t you grab a cold drink from the kitchen, then I’ll take you on a tour?”

She escaped to the bathroom, then closed the door and leaned against it. What had come over her? Steele had been protective and caring of her ever since he met her. He was not Donovan.

She stripped off the biker chick clothing she’d borrowed from Raven and stepped into the shower stall. As the water ran over her, she heard the bathroom door open.

“I could use a shower, too,” Steele said from outside the foggy glass door.

She heard his jeans hit the floor, then his other clothes follow. She turned as he opened the glass door.

“Room for one more?”

The sight of him … big, tattooed, and muscular … took her breath away. All she could do was nod. He dwarfed any space, so it would be a tight squeeze with both of them in such a small shower stall, but she wanted him here. She wanted to feel his body close to hers. To feel him stroke and hold her.

He closed the glass door behind him and picked up the soap, his dark gaze gliding over her naked body. He lathered up his hands, then stroked them over her shoulders, then down to her breasts. His big hands covered her, and her nipples puckered to hard nubs. She turned her back to him and he cupped her breasts, caressing them, then drew her back against his body.

The water careened down on them and her heart beat rapidly as he stroked her breasts, then glided his hands along her hips. She wanted to grind her behind back against his growing erection, to open her legs and lean forward in open invitation. She wanted him to make love to her. Now. Here.

She ached for him.

Steele drew her back against him, his lips nuzzling her neck, his arm coming around her waist. Drawing her back against his hard body.

But the space was small and memories of being locked in the small cage Donovan had trapped her in flashed through her. Memories of Donovan’s arm around her waist, pulling her tight against the cage. Her stomach clenched.

I’m going to fuck you. So hard you won’t be able to stand for a week. Then I’m going to do it again. And again.

Donovan’s words ripped through her brain and she froze. Panic welled in her.

She shoved away Steele’s arm and pushed past him, scurrying from the shower. She grabbed a towel as she hurried out the door and into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

*

Steele’s gut clenched as the door closed behind Laurie.

Fuck, he was pushing too much. But he had been careful with her for days, treating her like a fragile doll. Loving, sensitive, and understanding.

He had only been trying to ease them gently into what he knew they both wanted. And needed.

When she looked at him, he could see the hunger in her eyes. She wanted physical intimacy just as much as he did. Maybe even more. But she was frightened. And traumatized by that bastard.

He wanted to help her, but he didn’t know what to do.

He washed his hair and scrubbed his body, then stepped out of the shower and dried off. With a towel casually draped around his waist, he went into the living room and pulled out some clean clothes from his bag and donned them.

He could definitely use come coffee. He walked into her kitchen and found coffee and filters in the cupboard then put on a pot. As he waited for the pot to fill, he leaned against the counter and glanced around. A flowery picture was on the wall and a silk flower arrangement on the small rectangular table in the corner. A shelf about a foot down from the ceiling held delicate teacups on saucers, and a bookshelf of cookbooks was adorned with little plaques with homey-type sayings.

This was definitely a woman’s home. Very feminine and it gave him a very different view of Laurie than the striking woman in the stilettos and short club-style dress—that her asshole ex had picked out for her—and then the jeans and biker-girl Tshirts, which she’d borrowed from Raven.

He lifted the edge of a frilly, lace-edged pot holder that hung from a hook on the wall and it struck him. He really didn’t know anything about Laurie. When she’d been riding with them, she’d been outside her element. Fleeing from an abusive ex, and the law. Living on the edge and just coping the best she could.

This—he took the pot holder in his hand, staring at the words
HOME SWEET HOME
embroidered in a delicate script—was who she was. She wasn’t a woman like Raven who would be willing to give up her life and ride around with a band of bikers, living from day to day. Laurie wanted stability. She wanted a home.

She wanted to be safe.

His heart compressed.

She couldn’t find that with him. He was a nomad. Always moving. Never wanting to stay in one place. When he was younger, he’d stayed in Chicago to look out for his sister, to give her a sense of home, but once Chrissy was gone …

He shook his head. He wouldn’t have changed those years trying to help her, but they’d done no good. And Laurie was a totally different situation. He was sure she’d learned from her mistakes and wouldn’t get into a relationship with a man like Donovan again. A man who would abuse her.

Fuck, a man who would dominate her.

What the hell had he been thinking? She didn’t want a man in her life who would try to control her. She found it exciting, sure, but who was he kidding?

She couldn’t be in a relationship with a dominant man. Not now. Not after what that bastard had done to her.

He opened the door to the cupboard and stared at the cups. They were all pretty, adorned with flowers, butterflies, kittens. He grabbed one with a fluffy kitten staring out a window, with another staring in. It was adorable.

It was totally Laurie.

He poured a cup of coffee and walked into the living room and sat down.

*

Laurie drew in a deep breath and opened the door to her bedroom. She had to face Steele, and explain what had happened.

She walked into the living room, dressed in her own jeans for the first time in over a week, and a floral halter top. Steele sat on the couch, looking totally incongruous sitting in her distinctly feminine living room, holding her favorite cat mug.

He was too big for this room. Too masculine. To rough and ready.

“You want to talk about it?” he asked.

There was no point asking what. They both knew.

She nodded as she sank into the chair in front of him.

“I’m sorry. I just … I keep reliving what happened with Donovan.”

He put down his cup and leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees. “I’m not Donovan. I’m not going to hurt you like he did.”

She nodded. “I know.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

Guilt washed through her. She did know, but she’d been treating him as if she didn’t. She stood up and walked toward him, then perched beside him on the couch.