Page 34 of Taking What's Ours

Something inside me sees the irony of the situation. Given everything I’ve found out today, along with Desiree’s visit, the fact that I can sit here and enjoy that these are hands down the best onion rings I’ve ever tasted, doesn’t escape me.

I sort of feel like Alice gone down the rabbit hole. Nothing is what it seems.

Elliott was supposed to be the good guy. He works in an office, dresses in nice suits, drives a nice car. Dylan is mysterious as fuck, rides a motorcycle and has five guns under his bed.

Why, when I look in his eyes, do I feel at ease?

He’s been nothing but kind to me. That’s why.

“Can I ask you something?” I whisper.

His warm brown eyesmeet mine. “What do you want to know?”

“Are you friends with those bikers?”

At my question, his glance flicks down the hill to where the burger place is plainly in view. I answer his question before he can ask it.

“I saw them pull in. It looked like they sat at your table.”

He sucks in a deep breath and exhales slowly. “Okay, yeah. I know them. Look, I guess this is one of those lay-your-cards-on-the-table moments. If you want the truth, I more than know them.” He watches for my reaction. “I’m one of them.”

I don’t know how to react. Part of me wants to run down the street in fear. Part of me wants to shake my head, rejecting his words. Part of me is frozen in place, hoping he’s got more good in him than bad, because I don’t want him to be bad.

“Elaina, I’m still the man you met outside that reception. I’m still the man who went with you to get your dog. I’m still the man you laughed with the other night. Please don’t look at me like I just grew devil horns.”

“I’m just realizing I don’t know you, and given my track record, I’m doubting everything. I don’t seem to be able to judge character very well.”

“Bull shit.”

“What?”

“Something inside you must have told you Elliott was an asshole. There had to be red flags. You ignored them because you wanted him to be Mr. Right.”

“Maybe I’m doing the same thing with you.”

“I am not like my brother. Not in any way.”

“You just told me you’re a biker in a motorcycle gang.”

“Club. Motorcycle club.”

“Oh, what? You’re a bunch of boy scouts doing charity work?”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“Tell me the truth.”

“Okay, we’re not boy scouts. Far from it. But I’d never—never—do anything to hurt you or put you in danger.”

I frown and pull my chin to the side. “Put me in danger? Am I indangerif I’m around you?”

“No. Yes. You could be in certain situations, but the club’s not at war with any MCs right now.”

“At war? Oh, my God.”

“Look. How about we take a ride on the bike? We can swing by the clubhouse. You can meet some of the guys and their ol’ ladies. It’s Lola’s birthday, and everyone will be up there tonight.”

Silence hangs between us while I try to decide if I want to do any of that.

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