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  Jesus, she wasn’t doing very well at charming him. “I wasn’t complaining. Just, you know, it’s a bunkhouse.”

  “No, I don’t know what you mean. It’s dry. And warm. And free.”

  “I know. I wasn’t trying to be a bitch.” She sighed. “Maybe that toilet brush got stuck and I’m destined to talk shit the rest of my life.”

  “Maybe.”

  She took a breath to calm down a bit before she spoke. “They call you the Iceman for a reason, huh?” She bent to put her bucket of cleaning products in the corner and saw him give her an up and down. Flicking her long dark hair back over her shoulder, self-consciousness suddenly descended and her skin felt too tight. “I put my stuff there. Here.” She grabbed her bag and tipped it out onto the bunk before standing back.

  He picked up each piece and then folded it carefully. With every fold, Lucy felt her skin grow tighter and the anger turn to shame. This was what her life had boiled down to. A guy she’d screwed going through her stuff so she could keep a shitty job and stay in a shitty shared bunkhouse? “There’s nothing there, alright?”

  “If you want to keep this job you need me to vouch for you. Suck it up.”

  Lucy shrunk. Was he enjoying this? She watched him: his bent form, the broad shoulders leaning over her bottom bunk, his long hands fingering the seams of her jeans, her shirt, her . . . “Hey. Do you really have to go through my underwear?”

  He straightened to his full height and suddenly the bunkhouse was way too small. “Someone has to. Here.” He handed her the four pairs of clean underwear and the spare bra that had been in her bag. “Shake them out or something.”

  She shook them one at a time and then ran her fingers along the seams. “There. Nothing. Okay?” But when she looked up at him, the hardness in his face had gone. He wasn’t leering at her underwear, he wasn’t even looking at it. He was looking at her. Looking hard at her, as if he was trying to see inside her head to how she was put together. As if he wanted to know.

  “Thank you. I appreciate that having me go through your things must have been uncomfortable. I’ll let housekeeping know that you weren’t involved.”

  Just like that.

  The shame, the anger, everything dissipated and Lucy fell flat in the face of his reasonableness. “Right. Okay. Thanks.”

  “A piece of advice?”

  She shrugged; he was obviously going to give it to her anyway.

  “Keep it low-key here. I don’t know you, but I already know that you make yourself a target.”

  She bristled. “No I don’t. I’m just trying to do a job.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You’re loud, and hot, and lots of people, men and women, find that confronting.”

  He thinks I’m hot. Lucy took a deep breath. He was right. Of course. Didn’t mean she was going to let him know it. “If you say so. Well. I’ll be off then. Shit to clean. Toilets to scrape. See you around, Iceman.” She stalked out of the bunkhouse and back toward the hotel and felt his eyes on her back until she got to the door.

  Great. Nothing like discovering it was your boss you’d screwed when you were trying to make a good impression. Not that he’d been her boss last night. And when he worked out she was telling the truth, he’d been fairly decent about the whole earring thing. Still, didn’t need to be quite so cold about it. She was a human being. With feelings. She slammed her bucket of cleaning equipment down on a table and the noise gave her a small burst of satisfaction. Fuck this place. Getting accused of stealing on her first day? That blew.

  “Everything okay in here?” Jake was suddenly at the doorway and Lucy had to take a deep breath to stop herself from snarking at him. She managed a curt nod.

  “Head down. No trouble.” He left without saying anything else.

  “Head down, no trouble.” She mimicked his deep voice with a bitchy whine to make herself feel better. “More like shut the fuck up and do what I say.” Taking a brutal swipe at the shelf in front of her, she tried to imagine wiping the cold look off Jake’s face.

  Jake was her boss. Well, there went any thought of future shenanigans. Straightening her shoulders, she let the reality of Jake and his position hit. If Jake the Iceman was such a Hollywood bigshot, what was he doing slumming it here? The stuff that went down must have been damn near fatal.

  “Not your problem, girl,” she grumbled to the empty room. Love ’em and leave ’em was an understatement, perhaps fuck ’em and fuck off could be her new motto. Shame she was stuck here for the foreseeable future. Looking at the dust on the bookshelves, she started attacking the room properly. She could do this, she would do this. And then when she was back on her feet, she’d give Jake Slade, and Wilde’s, a wide berth for a while.

  No matter who they were, it seemed men were all the same, just wanted to tell her what to do, how to live her life. Something she was not going to let happen to her again. Lucy allowed herself a moment to think about her mother and sister, stuck on the outskirts of Bountiful, just outside of Salt Lake. Her mom didn’t even let Katie go to the doctor when she’d broken her arm because the leader of her fucking cult told her that pain was a path to enlightenment. Lucy pulled a fresh cloth out of her bucket and gave the table a good slap with it. It felt so great she did it again. And Katie is still stuck there. She slapped the table again, harder. Her only consolation about having left her kid sister at home was that she was able to send money back to make sure Katie had things that her mother would never allow. She’d tried to get Katie to leave, but she didn’t want to. Not yet anyway.

  “And Katie is—Katie.” Thinking about her kid sister again gave her pause, but in a way that filled up her skin with warmth. Katie was better and smarter than she was. Her warm and generous spirit charmed the pants off pretty much everyone, even their mom on occasion. But things were getting worse instead of better. Lucy needed to make this job work; Katie needed those glasses if she was going to keep studying. Wiping the table in a big sweeping circle, Lucy ticked off the areas she still had to go. It was going to be a long night and an even longer week. But at the end of it she’d get to pay off the next instalment of Katie’s optometrist’s bill and her mom wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Maybe Jake was half right: head down, no trouble, take the money and run.

  4.

  “What the actual fuck?”

  “It’s past nine o’clock, sleepyhead. I thought you were working here.” Sly, a biker who was the one truly loyal client she had, was looking down over her, holding a half-empty bottle of water. The rest of the water was currently trickling down her neck.

  “I worked the night shift. Didn’t get in ’til three a.m.”

  “Oh. Sorry, no one told me that. Cruel bunch of bastards.”

  “That about sums it up.” Lucy struggled to sit up and hit her head on the bunk bed above. She felt for blood, but it was a different spot from where she’d connected with Jake’s door. Man, she had to be more careful. “You sitting there gawking ain’t helping. About as useful as tits on a bull, Sly.”

  Sly grinned. “Nice. Good to see you’re awake now.” He moved back and sat on the bottom bunk opposite hers.

  “So. I’m awake now. What?”

  “Heard you needed some real work.”

  “Apart from cleaning toilets you mean?”

  “Fixing bikes.”

  If she could have turned her body into a huge ear, she might well have done it. Today might just be worth getting half a bottle of water in the face. Sly had ridden with the Hell’s Boys for a while, then decided it wasn’t for him. He was a short, weedy kinda guy and men didn’t warm to him. But he always came to her when he needed his bike fixed. He understood her passion for it; she saw the awe in his eyes and it made her heart glad.

  “Has a job come up? Where?”

  “Not so much a permanent position yet, but there’s an opening.”

  Lucy narrowed her eyes. “Don’t screw with me, Sly. Is there a job or isn’t there? And if the answer is no then you’ll be wearing a lot m
ore than half a bottle of water.”

  He held up his hands. “Okay. Listen to the whole story before you say anything, okay?”

  This didn’t sound good.

  “Okay?”

  “Not like I’m going anywhere,” she said.

  “My bike’s gone. I’m an idiot. But you already know that. It was a dare dressed up as an initiation test, I guess. And I lost.”

  Lucy interrupted. “Hell’s don’t do stunts like that. Not now. No one wagers their bike to get into a biker gang, that’s just stupid.”

  “Remember how you weren’t going to interrupt?” He gave her a look before continuing. “Nah, Hell’s don’t. But the Reapers of Menace do.”

  “Wait. What? You don’t want to join the Hell’s Boys but you’re okay to join the Reapers of Menace? What kind of crazy are you?” Her thoughts went back to the Hell’s guy bleeding in the bar, the stories she’d heard, the funerals she’d never attended. “I’ve seen what those guys do when they ask nicely. What are you doing with them? And how did you get in here if you’re riding with the Menace? What the fuck, Sly—”

  “This is why I made you promise not to interrupt. Jesus, Lucy, give a guy a break, okay? They’re good guys deep down. The new head guy is solid, well except for last week, that was a bit rough. But they’ve had my back. There was this punk trying to shake down my pop’s store, and . . . anyway, they sorted it out.”

  “So instead they’re going to shake down your pop and then take your bike? Yeah, sounds like they’ve really got your back.”

  “No. It’s not like that. When I’m in, I’m in. And Pop is sorted. He’s getting old. Shouldn’t have to deal with the shit that goes on in his part of town, but he’ll never leave.” Sly looked away for a moment then seemed to remember where he was. “But losing my bike wasn’t part of the plan. I need it. So I need you. I heard Gav gave you the sack and when I asked around, I figured I’d find you out here. The lock on the door wasn’t exactly rocket science.”

  Lucy went to say something but bit her tongue when Sly put a hand up. “If you help me, I can get my bike back and then I’m all square with the Menace. I just have to beat Tex.”

  “Tex Holdings? Are you insane? He even beat Martinez in a race a few months back. And Martinez is one of the best there is, Hell’s Boy or no Hell’s Boy. Even if he is a douchebag who thinks he’s god’s gift to women.”

  Sly smirked. “I wondered if you and Martinez had history. Good to know.” Then he made his face serious again. “I’m good at racing, Luce. Honestly. Really good. If I didn’t have all that debt to pay off and Pop to think about I would have tried out for Supercross or Speedway or something. But, anyway, I need you to fix up the bike I’ve got. I had to borrow it and, well, it’s a bit shit.”

  “What sort of shit?”

  “Exhaust’s packed in, can’t get any guts out of it. Might be the gears too. Dunno, you’re the expert. Pretty sure it’s not anything big though. I just need it primed, you know, pull the heart out of it so that it goes like a fucking bullet train. I gotta win this race. That bike is my baby.”

  Lucy took a long calming breath. “That’s it?”

  “What?”

  “The whole story? You asked me not to interrupt.”

  “Which you totally ignored.”

  “True. But that’s it now? No twists?”

  “That’s it.”

  Lucy swung her legs over the side of the bunk, taking care this time not to crack her head on the one above. Grateful she’d fallen into bed in her singlet and boy-short pants rather than naked like she usually did, she pulled the covers back and stood. “Fix the shitty bike, so you can win a shitty race and get your old, less shitty but still shitty bike back.”

  “My bike isn’t shitty.”

  “I said less shitty.” Lucy gave him a wry smile.

  “I’m so desperate I’ll even let you call my bike shitty.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay you’ll do it?”

  “You’ll have to pay for all the parts up front. And I’ll have to find some more tools somehow, fuckers at Gav’s stole a bunch of mine. But if I can figure that out, you’re on.” She bit her lip. “Where are we going to do this though? I don’t have a workshop.”

  “You can do it over at the Reapers shop. There’s no one there. The last mechanic left ’cause, well, ’cause he was a dick.”

  A shudder ran through Lucy. Fixing up a bike for someone was one thing, doing it in a rival club’s shop was another. Not that she was a member of the Raising Hellfire MC. And not that it looked like anyone here gave a shit about her if they were willing to point the finger at her for lifting a pair of earrings. While Hade might talk up letting women in, they still hadn’t. Probably never would. But working from another gang’s shop? “Still seems like a shit idea. I need this job ’til I find a real one. Word gets out I’m working in your shop, I’m screwed around here.”

  “We’ll do it early mornings or something. When no one is around. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. Never know, you might get a regular gig out of it. Better than working in this hole. If there’s anyone that looks after their bikes, it’s the Reapers of Menace. Honestly, Luce, they’re not as bad as this crew. Not by half. Talk of letting women in too.”

  “Yeah right. So they can have them to party with and then do the cleaning up? I’ve heard the stories. Less respect there than here. Chances of your crew letting women in on an equal footing are about as high as with this gang.”

  There was a knock at the door and both of them looked up. “Expecting company?”

  Lucy shook her head but went to the door, her whole body stiffening at the sight of Jake. Those black eyes gave nothing away, but his body language confused her. Open shoulders, head up, a clear gaze, he put a hand on her arm as she held the door open. It was a soft gesture, not a hard grip, and her bones melted so only her skin held her up in that moment. This was not the cold, dark man from the early hours of this morning. Her treacherous body opened up further in response, her blood rushing in a hot, heady path straight between her thighs. Anyone say start your engines? Despite her fuck ’em and fuck off decision, Lucy found herself wanting his hand to linger on her arm. To have it linger and then move swiftly up to her neck before sliding her singlet strap off her shoulder and stripping the rest of her clothes off in quick succession. And—? And then she wanted to snuggle the crap out of him. Good one, genius. Like that worked out so well the first time. Especially now that he was her boss. And related to Briony. Even for her, that was too close for comfort. Off-limits. Period.

  She saw the moment he spotted Sly and everything changed. His hand dropped away, his eyes darkened further, and his full lips tightened into a straight line. Gone was the conflict in his body language. Now he just read business, the Iceman of his nickname. Taking a step past her into the room, he squared up on Sly. “This guy giving you trouble? I don’t remember anyone being booked in here.”

  Sly stood and sniffed. “What’s it to you?”

  Jake’s fists clenched and the room was smaller instantly. She looked from one to the other with wide eyes. Part of her wished Jake would do something wild. Stand up for her like no one ever had. But he was her boss, a boss who had made it quite clear that he was going to take that role fucking seriously. Sly, on the other hand, had sought her out with an offer of real work.

  “I’m not on until tonight.” The words were out before she could stop them and the sharp tone wasn’t what she’d meant. Too late.

  He turned from Sly and his eyes flicked up, down, and away before she could catch him at it, but her body felt the look as much as if he’d run his hands over her. Skin burning, mind racing, Lucy did what she did best: snark. “I’d invite you to stay for coffee, but you made it pretty clear last night that you and I need to give each other a wide berth. Anyway, I’m not sure Sly here likes to share.”

  His lips tightened and the darkness in his eyes seemed to transfer to his whole face. She’d hit a nerve, hard.
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  “I just came to check that the place was alright. You didn’t sound all that impressed last night.”

  “It’s dry and it’s free, right?” Lucy wanted to stop herself but her mouth continued to run, ignoring reason and the reality that the guy in front of her could make life tough for the next couple of months.

  “Well, good.”

  Jake just stood there. What now? Waiting for what seemed like at least ten minutes, Lucy shrugged. If he was going to stand there, she was going to carry on. Fuck ’em and fuck off, remember? The sensation of his hand on her arm was just that, a sensation. An attraction, it meant nothing. Well, nothing that was useful to her. Turning her back on Jake, she spoke to Sly. “I’ll call you later.” Every fiber of her body was aware of Jake still standing there and she injected more efficiency into her words than she’d probably done since she’d told her mom she was leaving, for good. “We done here?”

  Sly nodded and she indicated the door. Perhaps that was the signal Jake was waiting for, because he turned abruptly and left at the same time.

  Shutting the door after both men, Lucy reached for a hotel towel and shampoo. Something about the way Jake had looked at her made her need to get wet, wet and hot. Stop it. Fucking things up all by herself was plenty for her to deal with without mixing an extra shot of Jake Slade’s trouble into her life-cocktail.

  Then there was the other thing. Pulling out her phone before she changed her mind, she flicked off a text to Sly. I can’t believe what you just talked me into. Then she sat down. Sure this is a good idea? Nope. She wasn’t sure. Working out of the Reapers of Menace shop was dangerous but it would mean more money when Sly paid her. The money she needed to get to Katie. Perhaps it would show other people she could work on her own terms too. Heck, maybe it might jolt the Hell’s Boys into getting off their asses and hiring her for the pure pleasure of rubbing it in the Reapers of Menace’s faces. Win-win?

  It would be so much easier if she had access to a shop. Being able to check through their suppliers’ contacts, just call a number, or send through an order and a part arrived . . . She’d told Sly she’d organize the parts, but that was easier said than done. The list at Gav’s shop floated temptingly in her mind’s eye, that and the tools she knew were still there. It wouldn’t take much to pop in after hours, grab it, and get her tools back. Seriously? Now, that would be dangerous. But she needed her tools. Who knew what would be waiting for her at the Reapers’ workshop.