Page 38 of Rio's Release

“His name’s Zig. Who has a name like that? But he’s actually pretty funny.” She hooks her arm through mine. “Come on. Let’s eat. I ordered quesadillas. How about you?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Second Chances

Rio—

My knee is bouncing a mile-a-minute, wondering if Shelby is coming back or sneaking out on me.

This isn’t going the way I’d envisioned. There’s such a wall between us now, and I hate it. Especially since I have no idea what I did to put it there.

Maybe someone talked some sense into her and told her she was crazy to try to maintain a relationship with a guy in prison. It’s the only explanation I’ve been able to come up with in all these years.

She looks good, though, and it’s been heaven just sitting next to her in this restaurant. The thought that it could be all I ever get from her is depressing as hell, and I know I’ll never be satisfied with it.

Finally, I spot her sashaying back to our table. She’s wearing a pretty floral skirt that swings around her hips when she walks with a white peasant blouse that sits off her shoulders with a big ruffle around the top. It’s nothing too overtly sexy, but it’s sweet and feminine, just like I remember her.

Our waiter brought our food while she was in the john, and as she slips into her chair, she stares at her plate and then mine, still untouched.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” she says, dropping her napkin to her lap.

“Of course, I did.” I pick up my fork. “It looks good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, the food here is amazing.”

We eat quietly for a few minutes, until she starts to push her food around with her fork, then sets it on her plate and looks at me.

“Who are you, Rio? I barely know anything about you. You said you couldn’t talk about it in prison, but you’re out now.”

Here it comes—the moment of truth. Do I tell her everything? What do I have to lose? If I’m reading the situation right, she’s going to climb in her car when this lunch is through and drive out of my life.

“Okay. I’ll tell you the truth. My buddy Zig and I grew up together back east. Neither of us had a good home life. When we were teenagers, we met some guys in a motorcycle club and started hanging around with them.” By the look on her face, I think she’s already picking up on where this story is going. “We prospected and became full patched members when we turned twenty-one.”

“You’re a biker?” Her mouth drops open.

“Yes, ma’am. Saint’s Outlaws MC.”

“And that’s who was there that day robbing the bank?”

I nod again. “No one can know that, Shelby.”

Her face flushes, and I’m afraid she’s going to bolt for the exit.

“I divulged none of that at trial, and the club never contacted me the entire time I was in prison.” I don’t explain about the attorney. It’s more detail than she needs.

“They abandoned you?”

“Nope. They were there the day I was released.”

“Back east, you said. Where?”

“That’s not important.”

“So, are you going to return there, then?”

“Actually, no. Zig and I and some of the others are staying here.”

“Here? Here where?”

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