Page 32 of The Gentleness of Rage

Once I paid and made sure I tucked the receipt away, Slate called for a prospect to take my items to the yard, as Ezra was still there. Slate ordered them to ensure everything was placed carefully or there’d be hell to pay.

He then took me to a store to get coffee, and I bought a variety of different cookies and some candy. Customers would appreciate the treats.

Once done, Slate turned to me. “Finished shopping?” He grinned.

“Definitely!”

“Date time. I’ll follow you to your house, and then we’ll go for a ride,” Slate said.

“On the back of your bike?”

“Yup. Ever been on one?”

“No! This is so exciting. I’ve always wanted to ride behind someone,” I cried.

“Come on then. There’s a nice diner I want to take you to,” Slate replied as he led me to my car.

“A diner?” I asked, somewhat confused.

“Roll with me, babe,” he said and headed for his Harley.

Once home, Slate made me fetch a jacket and put a helmet on my head. He easily straddled the motorbike and, balancing it, showed me how to climb on. I mounted and placed my hands on his waist. Slate yanked me closer so my thighs tucked in behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist.

Oh shit. This felt deeply intimate.

Slate started the engine, and I jumped a little at the rumbling under my legs and then, with a final check I was holding on tightly, Slate rode out. After five minutes, I relaxed; another five, and I was loving this. It was so damn freeing. I was euphoric when Slate pulled over at a diner that held a load of bikes and cars outside.

As we entered, Slate said hi to some bikers as he led me to a booth in a corner. It was the last free one. Several more men spoke to Slate as we passed, and we slid into the booth.

I noticed several were looking at us curiously.

“Are they friends of yours?”

“Allied clubs, but yeah, we’re loose friends. They are great people. How come you’re not prejudiced?”

“Because I know better than anyone that people can lead you astray and be deceitful. Not everyone who is supposed to be honest, good and trustworthy is,” I replied.

“And you’re running from him? This bad person?”

“I don’t want to talk about him, Slate. He doesn’t have a place at this table or in my life,” I whispered as my hands began to shake.

A large hand settled over mine, and the warmth surprised me.

I looked up into Slate’s eyes.

“One day, you’ll tell me, and I’ll take care of your problem. You can’t run forever,” he murmured.

“But for now, I can.”

“Agreed. What do you fancy?” Slate asked, passing me a menu and showing me a picture of a huge milkshake. I laughed because a brief glance showed me most of the men here had one.

“Is that a staple for bikers?”

“In here it is. It’s a crime not to get one,” Slate replied. And just like that, the subject was changed, and I liked that about Slate. No pressure to spill the beans, just acceptance and calmness. That actually felt great for once.

Slate

He saw the wariness in her eyes when she mentioned bad people hiding behind a front. There was a clue in Jaelynn’s words. Jaelynn had been dating someone who was supposed to be honest and trustworthy, and they hadn’t been. That narrowed down a lot of options.

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