Harm's Way: Riot MC Biloxi by Karen Renee (best life changing books .TXT) 📗

should make him regret his words, but he didn’t.

“This is not a game.”

He mulled her words over. “Wouldn’t be too sure about that, babe.”

She scoffed. “You would say that.”

He grinned. “You gotta take a stand when your chips are low. And that asshole forced your chips low. Thing is, you make the right stand, you double...sometimes even triple your stack. Love isn’t a game, but it damn sure has a lot in common with poker. It’s risky as hell, but the rewards will overwhelm you with their sweetness.”

She took in a deep breath. “I’m glad you believe that.”

He squeezed her. “Don’t move.”

“You got your arms around me. Can’t say I’m going anywhere.”

“You know what I mean. Don’t leave. Damn sure not before you have enough cash for an actual bed.”

Before she could answer, his cell rang with Cynic’s ring tone.

“Fuck,” he hissed, and knifed off the bed.

Accepting the call, he heard the line filled with background noise.

“Prez, the clubhouse just got a Molotov cocktail thrown through a window.”

“The hell you say?”

He turned on his heel and snapped his fingers at Stephanie. She glared over her shoulder at him, but that gave way to concern when she caught his expression. He motioned for her to get up.

“Got the place locked down, right?” he demanded.

“Of course. The fire department notwithstanding.”

“How the fuck would they know about it?”

“New groupies were in tonight, guessing one of them called 911.”

He sighed. “They about done?”

“Yeah. They’re gettin’ in their rigs now.”

“Good. I’ll be there in ten.”

He tucked the phone in his pocket and looked at Stephanie. “Let’s go. Get your shit. We gotta go to the clubhouse. Someone tried to torch it with a Molotov cocktail.”

“Sounds like you need to go to the clubhouse. I don’t need to be around for that.”

He dragged a hand down his face. “Connect some dots, babe. Brick comes sailin’ through a bedroom window, I replace it. Now there’s a fire at the clubhouse. Not to be self-centered, but I’m pretty sure those things might have been meant for me. Either way it’s a message to me, and you aren’t staying here if there’s a chance some jackass might set the place on fire.”

“I could stay with Sammy.”

His temper rose. “No. Did you hear any of what I said to you before that goddamn phone call?”

She gave him a contrite look.

“Yeah. Call me crazy, but I don’t want to let another woman who could be my whole world get away from me.”

Her expression grew hawkish and he wished he would’ve thought before he spoke.

“Another woman?”

He waved it away. “It was years ago. Not talkin’ about that shit. You need to focus on the right-now. Grab your shit, and dress for the back of my bike. We gotta go.”

She arched a brow. “I’ll dress for being on my bike. But I can be ready in ten.”

He lowered his chin. “Too bad, Priss. You got five.”

Chapter 17 Put a Cut on Her Already

Stephanie

I DIDN’T UNDERSTAND why we weren’t hunkering down at his house, but Michael’s tone brooked no argument. I threw two uniforms and some other clothes in a duffel bag when it hit me.

“Michael!” I hollered.

A moment later he stood in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you have bungee cords? Or else you need to take your truck.”

His jaw clenched. “Woman, what the fuck are you on about?”

“I am not leaving my fabulous dinner behind. That may sound silly, but I assure you, it would be a crime to—”

“Get a prospect to handle it,” he muttered, pulling his phone from his back pocket. His eyes speared me with impatience. “You better be ready to go when I’m done.”

I shook my head, letting his words roll off me.

I grabbed my bag and my jewelry box before heading to the garage.

Tucking my duffel at the bottom of the saddlebag, Har made me jump when he asked, “What’s with the fancy jewelry box, Combes? I understand you keeping it close when moving, but we should be back tomorrow.”

I blew out a breath. “I know, Har. But I can’t afford to lose what’s in here, and I don’t have the cake for a safe deposit box.”

He stroked the leather box. “Got a safe in my room at the clubhouse—”

“Thanks, but I’d rather not have to bug you when I need to get my security key.”

His head tilted. “Security key?”

I grinned. “Compliments of my identity theft, I have a two-factor authentication for my financial log-ins and stuff. Massive pain in my ass, but that fucker isn’t going to steal from me again.”

He raked his hand down his face. “All right. Leave you to it—”

His words fell away when a Hyundai Accent pulled into the drive. Har jerked his head toward the front of the house. The engine cut off, and a lanky man with wild dark curls on his head unfolded from the car.

I turned back to Har when he spoke.

“He’s here for your food. Hang tight. Once he’s out, I’m gonna lock up the house and we’ll ride.”

WHEN I CUT THE ENGINE to my bike, I couldn’t help but notice the shiny red chopper next to me. Even though the sun had set, there were florescent lights making the parking area bright and the chrome on the front suspension of this bike gleamed. The leather seat would only accommodate one rider, and at the base I saw the belt-driven primary drive hidden by a flame-shaped chrome cover.

I dismounted and muttered, “Damn.”

“What’s wrong?” Har asked.

I shook my hair out as I took my helmet off. “That bike is sweet.”

He sidled up to me. “Not as sweet as you.”

I scoffed. “You know what I mean.”

He stared at me. “I don’t. Only thing sweeter than you would be you on the back of my bike.”

God. When he said things like that I couldn’t believe he was the President of a motorcycle club.

I bit my lip as I debated whether I would like being on the back of his bike and not in control. As