Page 26 of Biker's Property

Steel just keeps looking at me with those big sea-green eyes and I get more nervous the longer he looks at me.

“It’s hot,” he says.

I get nervous when he says things like that.

“Stop it.”

“It’s true.”

“You are crazy.”

“Keep calling me that. Doesn’t stop you from being fine as hell.”

I ignore that comment, and Steel ushers me out of the hotel room. When we walk past the bathroom, my body tenses up, but he doesn’t repeat the earlier incident at all. It’s like nothing ever happened. Seraphine is on the phone when we leave, and she just waves goodbye as Steel puts the room keys on the front desk and holds my forearm as he leads me out.

“We need to get back to my bike,” he says. “I bet you’d look cute on the back.”

“I have no interest in motorcycles.”

Steel laughs. “Not yet. Once I take you for a ride, I bet you’ll change your mind.”

The truckjust reminds me of the desert. Steel is inwaytoo good of a mood puffing on that damn e-cigarette considering what we’re doing.

“We can’t just drive back to my house,” I tell him.

“Of course not,” he says. “Once I get your sexy ass in that truck, I’ll be calling club members to help me out. You’re gonna be staying at a Flying J a few miles away, pretending to work behind the counter with my cousin.”

“What’s a Flying J?”

“Gas station along the old Route 66 highway. My cousin owns the place and my second cousin works the counter. You’re gonna sit still until I verify your husband’s death.”

“You don’t know what he looks like.”

“You’re gonna help with that, church girl. Now get your ass in the truck. I told you…trust me.”

He gives my ass a pat.Steel’s firm hand touching my ass sends a thrill right through me. I remind myself that he’s drunk as fuck and that’s why he’s touching me up like that. It doesn’t make me want to get in the truck with him.

“Can you promise at least not to drink and drive?” I call over my shoulder.

He doesn’t answer.I only hear his version of a response when I open the truck door and feel Steel’s hands lifting me into the truck.

“I can take a step up on my own.”

“Why should you, church girl?”

He pats my thigh, sending that strange thrill through me again. This man acts so comfortable around me that he scares me a little. But it at least gives me some comfort that he won’t drive me straight to the cops. I don’t want to head back to Dripping Springs either…

Once Steel gets in the driver’s seat, he pulls out his cell phone. I don’t know why I’m shocked he has an iPhone. I don’t see what number or contact name he taps on, but whoever it is answers after a couple rings.

“Southpaw wants me out at Oske’s trailer, but I’m caught up with something. I need you.”

The voice that crackles over sounds exactly like Steel’s. It’s eerie.

“Where are you?”

“Heading towards Dripping Springs. Are you far out?”

“No. Heading towards Oske’s trailer,” the voice says. “Southpaw sounds pissed.”

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