Page 9 of Chaplain

Diesel is silent for a moment before he wipes one massive hand over his stubbled chin and turns for the door. "There's a party tonight. It's not safe for you. I'll walk you to your car."

Tempted as I am to provoke him by denying his offer, self-preservation wins out. Wordlessly, I follow Diesel's imposing silhouette through the shadowy back hallways of the clubhouse and out into the parking lot, the tension between us palpable.

At my car, Diesel seems to struggle internally before gritting out, "I think you're working too hard."

I pause with my hand on the door, studying his conflicted profile in the fading light. "What makes you think that?"

His jaw works soundlessly for a moment. "You're working long hours. You're visibly tired. And last night..."

He thinks last night was because I'm overworked? This man doesn't have a clue. Holding his searching gaze, I keep my tone even. "I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine. And don't worry. Last night was a mistake." I offer him a polite smile. "Have a good night, Diesel."

As I pull out of the lot, the image of his frustrated face stays with me. This detachment is clearly eating at him, sparking something territorial and possessive. Good - now he knows how it feels to be kept at arm's length. Let him stew on that awhile. This is a war of attrition, and my patience has deep roots. He may be able to outplay me, but he never outlasts me.

6

Diesel

The clubhouse is packed tonight for Big Buck's retirement party. After 40 years riding with the Dark Angels, he's stepping down to spend more time with his grandkids.

Ronnie told me he'd invited Eden, but I didn't expect her to show. Club parties tend to be raucous, debaucherous affairs - not exactly her scene. But there she is, lingering uncertainly near the entrance. The pulsating music, drunken laughter, and crow eaters in their cut-off shorts and cleavage seem to disorient her.

She's trying not to stare at the sweetbutt doing a topless table dance for our guest of honor. Still, I catch her stealing glances and don't miss the pink building on her cheeks and running down her neck.

She can't stop watching this new world reveal itself to her, and I can't stop watching what the rawness of it does to her body. Rather than her usual casual tee and jeans, tonight she's wearing a slinky black dress that hugs every curve. It's modest but form-fitting, with a plunging neckline that frames her blushed cleavage. Her hair cascades over her bare shoulders in loosecurls I know took her some effort to create, and she's wearing heels that make her calves stretch into toned, smooth muscle.

I'd like to take her over to Buck's table, sit her on my lap, and run my fingers along those silky, defined legs while the heat of her arousal from the dance soaks through my jeans and hits my cock. Then I'd take her back to the bunks, lock the fucking door, and show her how dangerous it is to play around this clubhouse after dark.

"That fucking new girl's hot." One of the prospects walks by, running his mouth to kids we're planning to patch next month. I'm halfway to following them out the door and bashing their heads in when it hits me. Eden's playing with fire, and she doesn't even realize she's the match. The unattached members won't understand she's trying to gain my attention with that sultry little outfit. They'll think she simply wants to get laid, and they'll be more than accommodating.

That thought has a growl of protection growl in my throat. I instinctively approach her before catching myself, clenching my fist around my beer to remain rooted. I'm not Eden's protector. She's made it clear that she wants nothing more to do with me, even if tonight's choices say differently.

I'm working on my second beer when Ronnie sits beside me at the bar.

"She's looking a little lost over there, brother," he says, nodding toward Eden, still hovering awkwardly near the door. "Didn't you give Luca your word you'd keep her close?"

I take a long pull from my bottle. "I'm sure she'll manage on her own."

Ronnie gives me a look. "Might not hurt to go say hello, make her feel welcome. Maybe give some of these horndogs the heads-up she's off limits."

I avoid his gaze and watch Eden instead. "Don't think she's much interested in talking to me these days."

"All the more reason to be social. Bury the hatchet." When I don't respond, Ronnie claps my shoulder. "Just my two cents."

"Is that why you invited her?" The words grind out from behind my locked jaw. "To keep her close for Luca?"

Ronnie takes a long swig from his bottle. "Maybe I'm just tired of watching you punish yourself, brother. There's nothing wrong with finding a little salvation. And if keeping an eye on her lands her in your bed well, just make sure you leave things amicable after."

I tip my bottle in Eden's direction. "That's not salvation, Prez. That's a fucking siren's call to eternal damnation dressed up in angel wings and a halo." Ronnie shakes his head and laughs. "Suit yourself, brother."

He returns to the party as I lean against the bar, brooding. I know Ronnie's right, but the cold shoulder Eden's been giving me lately has my pride bruised. Besides, Eden's not a one-and-done kind of woman. She forms attachments. She gets hurt. I don't want that on my conscience.

Soon, Eden heads out on the dance floor, and my breath catches as she starts to move. She sways tentatively to the music until one of the sweetbutts joins her on the floor. After a bit of warming up, she starts letting loose, even grinding on some of the girls to whoops and hollers from some members.

I try to look away, to focus on my brothers, and not watch Eden's body moving to the pounding beat as her dress sticks to her sweat-slicken skin. But my eyes keep getting drawn back to her irresistibly.

The way she tosses her hair over her shoulder before she closes her eyes and gets lost in the rhythm...it does things to me it shouldn't. It makes me imagine doing those things with her.

When a slower song comes on, Eden keeps dancing, running her hands up her sides and rolling her hips in a way that brings her silky dress too far up her thighs. I shift uncomfortablyagainst the bar, unable to tear my gaze away as she moves. I know I gotta stop torturing myself. I need to walk away. But I can't seem to move, caught up in her intoxicating spell.

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