Page 2 of Taming Bull

My pulse slowed as I absently stroked Boots’s fur and watched Candice, wondering what her deal was. “Do you live here? With the bikers?”

She shook her head. “No. Noah Kinlan attacked me, too. I’m here to testify, just like you.”

Ah. She was one of the “others” Emily had mentioned. “When?” I asked.

She gave me a blank look. “The trial starts in a few days, but I’m not sure when I’ll be called to testify.”

Shaking my head, I tried again. “No. When did he attack you?”

“A few years ago.”

“Did you know him?”

“No. I was going to U-dub, and he attacked me on my way to class. I’d seen him around campus, but I didn’t know him.”

I’d been on my way home from work when Noah had grabbed me. I didn’t even see him. “Did you report it?” The question came out packed with anger and indignation, sounding a lot like an accusation. For the life of me, I didn’t know why. Candice was a victim. I shouldn’t be upset with her, but I was. If she was attacked years ago, it was her duty to report it and put the bastard behind bars. He never would have gotten to me if she’d done her duty.

“Yes. Actually, I did.” She pulled herself up to the full height of her five-foot nothing frame and stared me down. Short and thin, with brown hair that fell past her shoulders, we looked like we could be related. Were we Noah’s type? Did he have other victims out there who looked like us? “Well, I tried, at least.” She visibly wilted and puffed out a breath. “People came after me. Lawyers. Associates. Reporters. Friends of the Mayor. They threatened, and I was stressed and scared. My grades started slipping and a couple of the professors singled me out. I lost a big scholarship for a bullshit reason and had to drop out. Yeah, I reported him, and it cost me my degree. Did you report him?”

My stomach bottomed out as I realized I wasn’t so much angry with Candice, but at myself. “No. I…” I ran. I hid. I hadn’t even thought of the women Noah would attack after me.

I’m a fucking hypocrite.

Her expression softened. “It’s okay. Probably wouldn’t have mattered anyway.” When her gaze met mine again, there was steel and determination behind it. “But now, it’s different. We’re gonna take this fucker down, and make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone ever again.”

Now that was a plan I could get behind. I nodded, feeling emboldened by the conviction in her voice. Maybe we could win a fight against the mayor’s son after all. And if not, it wasn’t like I had anything to lose. I had no college scholarships or family at risk. Hell, I didn’t even have a car or a permanent residence. I barely had a job.

“I should probably go and let you get settled. There’s a huge fully stocked kitchen downstairs if you get hungry or thirsty. I’m right next door if you have any questions or need anything.” Candice walked toward the door. Her gaze snagged on the dog still staring at me like I hung the moon, the stars, and all his treats, and I half expected her to call him away. Instead, she leveled a stern look at him. “Boots, watch over Lily.”

“Thank you,” I said, more relieved than I would care to admit. There was something about dogs that takes away the lonely and makes a person feel protected and loved. I needed that now. Desperately.

She nodded. “The Dead Presidents are good guys. You’re safe here.”

Safe.

The word bounced around in my head like some foreign language I couldn’t quite grasp. ‘Safe’ could have easily been a territory on Jupiter for all I knew about it. I hefted my bags onto the bed and glanced at the dresser, knowing I should put my clothes away, but wanting the mobility of leaving them in my bags. If shit went south and I had to bail again, I’d be glad I stayed packed. Besides, I wasn’t one to get too attached to luxuries like a dresser and my own space. That stuff never lasted long.

The room was quiet and relaxing, and exhaustion weighed heavy on each and every cell in my body. When was the last time I’d had a decent night’s sleep? Before the attack sometime. I was tempted to snuggle up with Boots right there and then, but breakouts and cavities were real, so I rummaged through my bags until I located my toiletries. Then I headed for the door with Boots hot on my heels.

This was my first time visiting a biker club. For some reason, I’d expected blaring rock music and wild orgies, but the place seemed calmer than the shelter. No girls were arguing over the bathroom, nobody was talking loudly on the phone in the next room. The hum of conversation and sounds of a game on the television were the only noises drifting up from downstairs. Interesting. I slipped through the door.

A dark-haired biker was leaning against the wall in front of my room. Surprised by his presence, I pulled up short and checked him out. With hair a little on the shaggy side, a toned body, and a strong jaw line, he appeared to be about my age and on the fiery side of smoldering. I’d seen him before. When I’d made the trek to Emily’s Jag, he’d been waiting by his bike, watching me like I was a curiosity. He stared at me like that now. His intense, steel gray eyes churned with emotion. I was certain we hadn’t been introduced, but he looked at me like my presence physically hurt him. But he didn’t look away.

He was the one loitering outside my room. I’d done nothing to him and didn’t deserve that look. “Wasp and Emily said I could stay here,” I informed him.

He sucked down a breath and dropped his gaze. I got the feeling he could no longer stand to look at me. “I know.” His voice was deep and raspy with a slight southern drawl.

“Then…” I glanced back at my door. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“No ma’am.”

Seconds ticked by. His gaze jumped around. My shoulder. The wall. His hand. My bare feet. He wasn’t leaving, but he wouldn’t even look at me. That pissed me off. I marched back into my room, grabbed the key from on top of the dresser, and locked the door before marching past him and down the hall. Once my teeth were brushed and my face was washed, Boots and I wandered back to my room. The hot weirdo was still standing beside my door. This time, as I approached, he pushed off the wall and intercepted me.

“It’s not your fault,” he said.

Confused, I asked, “What isn’t?”

“What that piece of sh...” His jaw ticked and anger narrowed his eyes, still staring at my shoulder. “What Noah Kinlan did to you. It’s not your fault.” He bit off each word like they tasted foul.

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