Page 10 of His Road Dog

Chapter 4

Nicole

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THE CHAIN ATTACHEDto Priest's wallet jingled with each step. His muscled arms brushed against his Tarkio Motorcycle Club vest, making a swish-swish against the leather. Each boot heel thunked against the wood floor as he approached Nicole.

Nicole remained in bed with her eyes closed and the covers bunched up to her neck. She'd dozed for the last hour or so, waiting for him to let her out of the room. Not that she wanted to get up. The bed was much more comfortable than the one at the motel.

"Wake up."

She pretended to sleep. His about-face last night and locking her in the bedroom wasn't cool. But, once she'd turned on the light and checked out the room, all she wanted to do was go to sleep.

Priest ripped the blankets off her. She stretched her toes and arched her back like a cat before opening her eyes. Sitting up in bed, she crossed her legs and clasped her hands, putting them between her thighs, keeping parts of her private.

She'd had no other option but to sleep naked. He hadn't even offered her a T-shirt.

Meeting his gaze, she wasn't prepared for the heat coming off him. How could he be angry before noon?

"Get dressed." His dark gaze lifted from her breasts to her eyes. "We're going to the clubhouse."

She untangled her legs and stood in front of him. Her nakedness seemed to take all his attention.

He wore his hair loose, hanging down around his shoulders. She combed her fingers through her curls, wishing it was his hair she touched. His silver strands mixed in with the black perfectly. She would swear a stylist frosted his hair. But his haircut wasn't perfect, though it looked good.

She could make it perfect if he asked.

It was a shame only women came into work and wanted a cut and style, because the natural aging process with men, who had virgin hair, was seamless and beautiful to see on untreated hair.

"Can you drop me off at the motel?" She walked past him to the dresser where she'd put her clothes she'd worn yesterday.

"The cops aren't going to let you in the room." His large hand paused while straightening his beard.

Her stomach fluttered, imagining him touching her. Everything about him was big. At least six feet, three inches, he seemed even bigger the closer he got to her.

"I know. Officer Gardner promised me he'd return my suitcases they'd confiscated, and I could pick them up in the motel office after I told him coming back to the station today was a long walk for me, seeing as I don't have a car." She slid on her shirt.

He blinked, dragging his almost black gaze up to her face again. "Where were you planning on staying?"

"At work. I have a key."

"At the beauty shop?"

She patted his chest. "You've done your homework, Michael. If I were a teacher, I'd give you an A."

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her from the room. She hurried to keep up before he pulled her arm out of the socket.

She gazed at his butt as she walked. He had tight buns that filled out his Levi's.

In the kitchen, he let go of her and pointed to the mug of coffee. She grabbed the drink, needing the caffeine if she planned to go head-to-head with him.

"Who is Roy Guthrie to you?" He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms.

Her chest tightened, and she sagged into the chair at the table. "God, I can't believe he's dead."

"Was he your boyfriend?"

"No," she said softly.

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