Page 12 of His Loyal Rebel

She looked up at the dark sky. It was hard to sleep in Angie's tiny house with her and Ringtail always screwing in the other bedroom. She'd left and came here, expecting to finally get some sleep, and all she could do was sit by the fire.

She leaned over and picked up the last two sticks and threw them on the hot coals in the makeshift pit someone else had made out of river rock. It was probably a stupid idea to run out of Angie's house and go two miles out of town to sleep in her car, but she wanted to go somewhere there wasn't anyone around.

Half afraid the biker that came for Ringtail would tell her to leave Missoula again when he sat outside her sister's place, she'd raced away from the house without thinking.

She pushed up from the rock she sat on and brushed the back of her jeans off. There was no use putting off going back to Angie's house. If she knocked too late in the night, it would only tick off Angie and Ringtail even more.

Picking up the kettle she had in the back of her car, she walked into the darkness. She shuffled her feet along the worn path to the river, glad she had most of her belongings stored in her car after she'd left Big. At least she could take care of herself—no matter the situation.

In the daylight, it was an easy one-hundred steps to the river. In the dark, it was an obstacle course, trying to dodge the boulders in her way.

She wished sometime in the past; she would've thought to buy a flashlight. That would've come in handier than a hairdryer out in the woods.

She stubbed her toe, moved to the left, and stepped forward. The closer she got, the more the current muffled her hearing. She couldn't hear the fire snapping or the traffic on Interstate 90.

Close to the bank, she inched forward until the moon's light reflected in the water, and she could see the last twenty feet. Hurrying, she dipped the pan at the edge of the river and made her way back to the car.

As soon as she stepped out of the patch of trees, the hair on her forearms stood up. She stopped, peering around the fire, the car, and found a motorcycle parked to the side. Scanning the open area, she found a man on the opposite side of the fire in the shadows.

She gripped the hands of the kettle. Throwing cold river water on someone probably wasn't going to stop him if he planned to hurt her.

"Come out, sis. I'm not here to hurt you."

She couldn't mistake the gravely tone and use of endearment. It was the guy who had told her to leave town and wasn't afraid when she pointed the gun at him.

Big's pistol was sitting on the ground beside the rock she'd used as a chair. Silently groaning, she wanted to kick herself for not taking it with her.

She stepped forward, set the pot on the ground, and picked up the weapon, holding it behind her back.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Looking for you."

"Why?" She squinted, trying to make him out better in the darkness.

"I had a talk with your sister today."

"Why?"

"There were questions." He moved closer to the fire, staying on the other side.

"Why?"

Seeing his chocolate-colored eyes, she stiffened at the amusement shining back at her. Having him around wasn't a joke.

"Like I said, I had questions." He squatted down and stirred up the coals, producing a flame.

He made making a fire look easy, which irritated her.

Able to read the patch on the front of his vest for the first time, she tried to picture other people calling him Whip. Like, Big was called Big because he was big. He had about forty extra pounds he packed around his middle.

A name like Whip made her think of someone skinny as a grass blade—which he definitely wasn't.

Whip was solid and appeared strong. The sleeves of his t-shirt pulled against his muscles. Tattoos covered both arms from his wrist up until they disappeared under his shirt. He also left his vest open in the front to make room for his chest. A spattering of hair below his neck peeked above the material

He was taller than Big. But he was different, because his solid body fit him. It fit him perfectly.

Her fingers tightened on the handle of the pistol. "Why did you go to my sister?"

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