Ride Me Right Page 4

  “Fine.”

  She left and Jake flicked through the book ’til he found Hade’s number. Really? Leaving alone a biker who was apparently a whole lot more deadly than half the scripted film heroes Jake worked with seemed like a much better idea than poking the guy looking for answers he probably didn’t want to give. Shaking his head, Jake whizzed through the reordering and reservation follow-ups and then went into the bar to eat his lunch.

  “Tried to give us the slip, you bastard? Thought no one would figure out who you were?”

  Jake turned and discovered Rocco, the older, rougher head of the Hell’s Boys gang. He’d been supposed to step down, but Hade had decided taking full charge of the gang wasn’t for him. So Rocco was still there and Hade took up the slack when the need arose.

  Rocco slapped him on the back. “Iceman. Who knew you were related to our little Bri-bird. Although I guess it kinda makes sense, the stunts that girl has pulled off you wouldn’t believe.” He chuckled.

  Jake had heard about the blackmail that had netted Briony her husband and the cash to renovate the hotel. But only the rose-tinted version, now that she and Cole were happily married and off on their honeymoon.

  “Anyway, this bunch of pricks didn’t believe me when I told them who you were. Figured you wouldn’t be wasting your time here if you were a big Hollywood hotshot.”

  “Guess they were right. I’m hardly a Hollywood hotshot.”

  “Phft.” Rocco waved him off. “This guy”—he indicated at Jake while he told the story to a group of younger bikers—“is the genius in Black Rider Storm. Remember that scene when they rode under the two-ton trailer? This guy. And the chase scene? All this guy. He plans the stunts for the best, and does ’em himself too.” He slapped Jake on the back but kept talking so Jake had no chance to stop him. “I always like an actor who does his own stunts. Respect, brother.”

  Jake shrugged and tried to leave, knowing that it was stunts like those that had made Sarah push herself to try to emulate him. Being a woman in the stunt industry was tough, he knew that. The top girls were a hard-core bunch, physically fit and even tougher than their male counterparts a lot of the time. And they had to push themselves, but the ones at the top knew their limits, it was part of what made them so good.

  Sarah hadn’t been at that level yet, and he should have found a way to tell her. To make her understand that it took time to get there. That it was okay to say no, people respected that in their field.

  But then he was the first to admit giving women advice had never been one of his strong points.

  “Morning.”

  His head jerked up when he heard the familiar voice. Lucy.

  “You already met the Iceman then?” Rocco asked as Lucy slid onto the bar stool next to the biker.

  “The Iceman?” her voice still held its husky fire, the dark lust of last night dimmed. But there was a dirty lilt to her tone that hit him straight in the groin.

  “Old nickname,” he said in response to her raised eyebrow.

  “Hardly old. I saw a film with you in it a month ago. This guy,” piped up Rocco, “balls of steel.”

  She laughed. Laughed? “That so?”

  It was the first time he’d had someone laugh at what he did, and rather than being offended, he found it refreshing that she didn’t take him quite as seriously. Rocco’s choice of words did have an uncanny fit to their previous night’s activities.

  “Never did tell me what you did,” she said. “Action-film guy, huh? Guess it goes with your hero act. But Jake the Iceman Slade? Really? Would have thought that was a bit cheesy for a guy like you.” Lucy smiled and despite himself, it warmed Jake.

  “Watch it, Black,” Rocco growled. There was some history there, Jake realized, though there seemed to be a begrudging respect under Rocco’s gruff tone.

  “I should get back to work,” Jake said but made no move to go behind the bar and checked the stock levels like he should have.

  “You work here?” Lucy asked.

  He nodded. “Helping Bri out.”

  “Why aren’t you under a bike anyway?” Rocco asked her.

  Her face dropped. “It was time to go.”

  “That so?”

  Jake saw Lucy pick her words carefully. “Half the bikes they work on are small-towny things.”

  “Gav fire you?”

  Her sigh was long and deep, but Jake watched her pull herself up from it as soon as it was out. “You know I should be running a shop for you. Make your motor purr like a fucking lion on speed.”

  “No doubt.”

  Jake looked between the two of them and wondered how the woman in front of him fit into the biker world. She’d told him she worked on bikes, but not that she was looking for a job here, with the gang. Girl under a bike surrounded by bikers? Sounded like a whole bunch of trouble. But there was something in the mental picture that also made his hackles rise. He could see her with her tight pants pulled flat across her belly, her top riding up, showing off her stomach, and her breasts pressing against the soft cotton fabric. More than that, he could see the circle of bikers looking on, their eyes as hungry as the ones in the bar right at that moment. You’re jealous? Of the imaginary people someone you have no intention of seeing again might have watching her work and thinking about getting into her pants? Good one.

  “So, Iceman. What’s your ride when you’re out killing women’s ovaries with your dashing Hollywood charm?” Lucy’s question pulled him out of his head and he focused on the glitter in her eyes.

  “Depends on the film.”

  “Seriously? You don’t have your own bike?”

  “Not anymore.”

  Lucy cocked her head, waiting, and Jake realized he wasn’t going to get away without extrapolating. “I had to sell it. I had a Vincent. Vintage. Then some stuff went down. I got rid of it. End of story.”

  Lucy gave a low whistle. “Sheeeit. A Vincent? That’s vintage, all right. What year?”

  “Forty-eight. Black.”

  “A Black Shadow? Seriously?”

  Jake nodded, thinking of the beautiful lines of his bike. He’d bought it with his first real paycheck as a reward for finally making it and it had purred like no woman he’d ever ridden.

  Now all the bikers sucked in a communal breath. “You’re either an idiot or that was some serious stuff that went down,” Lucy said, her voice low. “And you don’t seem like an idiot. So, I’m sorry.”

  Jake nodded. He’d sold the bike when he’d realized he shouldn’t be trusted with something as dangerous as his precious bike. That and he wanted to punish himself. Selling his baby had done it. He’d moped. For weeks. But there wasn’t much use owning a piece of machinery like that and not being able to ride it. And he couldn’t ride it. Not with the shakes still sneaking up on him when he least expected them.

  “Well, if you ever want to go for a ride, I could drop you off somewhere.” There it was again, the glitter in Lucy’s eye. Jake felt his shoulders loosening. The woman knew all his buttons. The hot ones, and the calming ones. He wasn’t on a movie set, maybe he could loosen his icy grip on every aspect of his life for a bit. It wasn’t like he needed to keep himself in check like he did when he was riding. He didn’t know if he was ever going to need to be Iceman again.

  “I thought I would miss her. But it’s been okay,” he said, even surprising himself. Both that he’d volunteered anything personal with strangers, and that he meant what he said.

  “Well, next time you want to sell a mint bike like that, you let me know,” Lucy said. “The boys and I will do a whip around and make sure something that beautiful doesn’t go to someone who shouldn’t be riding it. Am I right?” She nodded at the men in leather around her and they all nodded.

  “Gotta go find someone to give me a uniform. Maybe see you tonight, Iceman. Moon’s full in two days, just saying.”

  Lucy turned and stalked out of the bar and Jake sucked in air like he’d run out.

  He was still standing a foot away
from Rocco and the older man cleared his throat. “She’s a wildcat, that’s for sure.”

  Jake tried to keep his face passive but from Rocco’s expression it was clear he’d given plenty away.

  “Whatever. Gotta go check the kegs.”

  Rocco nodded. “Girl’s a gun on a bike and a whiz under ’em too, I’ll give her that. She’s all over the place though. Watch yourself, Iceman. You’ve already lost your bike, don’t want you losing your mind too. Need to get you back on that big screen.”

  * * *

  It was supposed to be a one-night thing, but seeing Jake’s broad shoulders and thick dark hair in the bar had sent Lucy’s nerve endings dancing. Especially when she thought of how much they hadn’t explored together. No wonder he was called the Iceman though, the guy’s face hardly moved, even when he talked. Only just at the end had she managed to catch a glimpse of what might be going on behind his hard jaw and coal-black eyes, and it wasn’t all sunshine and rose mojitos either.

  She’d spent the day working out where everything was and trying not to picture Jake in every room in the hotel. It hadn’t worked. Every glimpse of the pool through the big picture windows in the dining room had her feeling his hands on her waist, and in the hotel bedrooms, every glance at the bed she’d imagined his sleeping face set against the white pillows. She’d checked out every man who had walked through the restaurant and none of them carried themselves like he did, or dressed as sharp, or had the spell of being different like he did. And? And nothing. She was here for one reason only—to make money, take care of her sister, get her shit together, and look out for herself. And while she was at it, get Rocco and Hade to give her the gig working on their bikes. Just because Jake had made her shatter in a way no one else had . . . No. A night of lust was one thing, doing anything else with a man was entirely another. Especially someone who was a fancy Hollywood type, and working at the same place she was. Recipe. For. Disaster.

  Love ’em and leave ’em. It was a motto that had served her well the past couple of years. So what were you doing flirting with him in the bar?

  Good question. He was hot and he knew how to ride a bike. Didn’t take much to get her motor running these days. Nothing about the fact that he got your motor running way, way, better than any man had, well, in the history of time? Okay. So that was . . . different. But right now she had bigger fish to fry. Like how the fuck she was supposed to clean anything in this getup. Looking in the mirror at the various parts of her anatomy spilling out of her housekeeping uniform, she sighed. She’d fought for so long to be taken seriously as a bike mechanic, and now here she was, boobs busting out of her too-tight top, ass practically on display with the shortest skirt she’d tried on in, well, ever. But they didn’t have anything bigger, so she was stuck with it. “It’s not forever.” No. Just until something came up in one of the bike shops in town. Or until some of the Hell’s Boys let her work on their machines and she could convince Rocco and Hade to start up a shop for real.

  The next few hours were an uncomfortable mess of tugging at her skirt and cleaning toilets. No wonder no one wants this gig. The bottom floor of the hotel was her domain for the evening. The dining room mostly, a couple of bedrooms, and also every set of toilets that were available to the bar patrons. It wasn’t pretty and she hadn’t counted on it being such hard manual labor. Falling into a chair and downing the best part of a bottle of water, Lucy heard her phone ping and pulled it out of her pocket. Katie.

  Hi Luce. What’s up? Can’t wait for prom day. I’ve picked out my glasses to go with the dress i’m borrowing. Mom is still threatening to lock me in the basement for the night, but whatever. Glad you taught me to pick locks. F04A will send pics, promise.

  Lucy couldn’t quite decide whether to grimace at her Mom’s refusal to let them do anything normal, or to smile at Katie’s insane ability to stay cheerful anyway.

  Take care of you, she typed. And you’re right, no locks can hold back us Black girls. Can’t wait for pics.

  Lucy pushed send and put the phone back in her pocket. It wasn’t hard to read the subtext. Her mom was on the warpath against fallen western morals again. Lucy looked down at her too-small uniform. If she saw Lucy in this getup her mom would have tried to lock her in the cupboard under the stairs for a good two days for being lascivious.

  Sighing, she looked around and went through the list of areas she had to clean before she clocked out at 3 a.m. “Fuck me with a toilet brush and call me Mary.”

  “Mary? Wouldn’t have picked that for a kinky stage name.”

  The smile broke out over her face before she could stop it. “Mary was my nemesis at junior high.”

  “Well, then. Screw Mary.”

  For a moment, there was nothing else in the room. Lucy felt herself drawn in to those midnight eyes, sucked under like they really were pools of oil, slicking over her skin, making her slippery, wet, cool. Jake took a step toward her. His Adam’s apple bobbed, like he’d swallowed a sentence before he’d let it out.

  He looked a little lost, maybe she could go there again. Do it her way, take back control. Are you kidding? Hell yes. “We must finish around the same time,” she said. “And the moon is even fuller tonight.”

  Another woman came through the door. “This is her,” she said.

  Jake’s face flattened and the ice flooded back into his eyes. “You’re sure?”

  The other woman shrugged. “That’s what the guy said. And no one else has been in there.”

  “Looks like this might not be the job for you,” Jake said.

  “Wait? What?” The creep of fear chilled Lucy’s skin.

  “A pair of earrings has gone missing from one of the guest rooms.”

  Lucy let her jaw drop but then shut it with an angry snap. “And?”

  “And, there have been questions raised as to whether you might know of their whereabouts.”

  “Questions raised by her?” Lucy raised her eyebrows at the other housekeeper.

  Jake’s face gave nothing away and it just made Lucy’s blood run faster with anger.

  “You know this is a biker motel, right?”

  “Indeed. Apparently there has been talk in the bar about your knack for getting in trouble. Which is why I was hoping you could walk me through where you’d been this shift.”

  “You need me anymore?” The other housekeeper had backed away as Lucy had gotten angrier.

  “No, thank you, Sharon. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  Standing in front of him, alone again, Lucy felt his eyes drill into her as if he was searching her through her clothing. “What? You want to search me?” She puts her arms out and spread her legs as if he’d asked to pat her down.

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  “You sure? You seem pretty sure that I’ve done it.” But she dropped her arms. “No pockets, see?” She patted herself down, at least gratified she wasn’t going to have the indignity of an impersonal search. “Nowhere to hide anything in this thing anyway.”

  “About that.” His words were clipped and she watched his face flatten, then harden further. “Do you really need to wear your uniform like that? And I think there was something about staff needing to have their hair up. Keeps it neat and tidy. I know it’s a biker hotel and all, but there are standards.”

  Lucy’s jaw clicked as it dropped faster than an atomic bomb. “You’re giving me hair advice? And wear my uniform like what? How about, this was the only one they had and I didn’t want to complain that it was too small? How it fits is not my fault. I’ve got boobs. I didn’t hear you complaining about them last night.” She heard the disdain in her voice but couldn’t stop herself. It wasn’t like she wanted to look like a stripagram anyway.

  “Last night I wasn’t your boss.”

  “Seriously. You’re going to pull that one out of the bag? You’re running Bri’s hotel for her. Good for you. Doesn’t make you the boss of me.”

  “It does if you’re working in her hotel while I’m in charge.
”

  Lucy pulled her top down as much as she could then did the same with her skirt. “Better?”

  “No.”

  “Well, get me a different uniform.”

  He paused. “All I’m asking is that you straighten up your look. You’re representing the hotel. For now anyway.”

  Lucy pulled a full salute and put on her best fuck-you smile. “No problems, sir.”

  “Don’t call me sir,” he said, the ice now front and center in his voice. “I thought you needed this job?”

  That got her. “I do.”

  “Well then. How about you start by proving it. You say you didn’t take the earrings, make me believe you.”

  Lucy had to bite down, hard, to stop herself from telling him to fuck off right there and then. She did need this job, and fuck if she was going to let some skank from housekeeping take it from her. “Right. Come on then.” She led him through the rooms she’d cleaned and stood back as he pulled back pillows and looked under books.

  “Although I’d be a bit of an idiot to stash them in rooms someone else is gonna stay in.”

  He straightened and looked her in the eye, hard. “Indeed. How about you show me your quarters.”

  “Quarters? Jesus, we’re not in the military, Iceman.”

  No reaction.

  “Look, I didn’t take anything, okay? I know I’m new, and I drink too much when I can afford it, and, fuck, I dunno, I’m louder than a Harley with a hole in the exhaust, but I’m no thief.”

  He took a breath and for a moment she thought he was going to smile, but he just nodded. “I want to believe you.”

  “Come on then.” She led him outside, and fishing the key out from her bra, opened the door to the bunkroom. “Welcome to the height of luxury. Sorry about the dust.”

  His eyes narrowed again. “No one else has complained about the bunkhouse. If it’s not clean enough for you, you could practice in there perhaps?”