She turned the key in the ignition before realizing they were trapped in the parking spot by dozens of motorcycles.
They could do nothing but wait and watch until the police were finally able to break up the fight, arresting all of the men and the Last Riders’ women. Beth’s friends came outside to taunt everyone as they were loaded into the waiting squad cars. Loker was brought outside with his hands handcuffed behind his back and put in the back of the Sherriff’s car. Winter hoped they locked him in jail and threw away the key, but didn’t have high expectations that her prayers would be answered.
***
Winter heard the knock as she stepped out of the shower. Hastily pulling on a pair of pink sweats and pink t-shirt, she rushed to answer the door. Opening the door to find Loker in the doorway was not what she wanted after the revelation that she had been nothing more than pawn used to get closer to Vincent. She hadn’t been home ten minutes before the small town rumor mill had been at work. When she had hung up from the third call, she had known everything there was to know about the president of the Last Riders.
She tried not to appreciate his muscular frame dressed in jeans and black shirt. The suits he had worn disguised how physically cut he was. Winter was embarrassed that she had ever believed a man like him would want her. In the two years she had known him, he had never come to her house dressed so casually. She figured now that the whole town knew his true identity, there was no longer a need to pretend.
“Loker, why are you here?” Her tone was less than welcoming.
“I would like to come in and explain.”
Winter held the door firm. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”
Loker reached out and pushed the door open, easily forcing her back from the door.
“We need to talk.” She was smart enough to realize there was no way to avoid the humiliating end to the farce of a relationship they had. Sighing, she closed the door. This time it was her turn to paste on an expressionless mask.
“I was just about to pour myself a cup of coffee, would you like one?”
“No thanks.” He followed her down the hallway to her bright kitchen. The sunny room was warm and inviting with touches of her personality. She loved to cook, spending her free time in the room. She had even padded the chairs at the table because she preferred to do her paperwork there instead of her office.
“Take a seat.” She offered, not turning around to see if he had taken her suggestion. Removing a cup from the cabinet, she poured herself a cup of coffee. Out of habit, she did not add sugar, even though she liked her coffee sweet. With the sweetener, it tended to put her in hyper drive. She already felt on edge, she didn’t need the added stimulation.
Unable to put it off any longer, she turned to face Loker to see that he was sitting at her table, grimacing as he adjusted himself carefully in the chair.
“I see you’re a little worse for wear today. I did notice they seemed especially intent on you and the one with all the tattoos,” Winter said unsympathetically.
“They were.”
“I don’t think they appreciated their women wanting to fuck you two.”
Loker froze at her use of the explicit word. Winter had never even said damn in front of him since they had met.
“Winter…” She broke in before he could continue.
“Of course from what I heard, the women would have to wait in line. A long line.”
“Sit down and I will explain.” At one time she would have done just that; did whatever he told her, how he told her. Those days were over.
“I don’t need your explanations. I am not stupid or even blind as I obviously was. I can understand English and can figure out exactly what happened. I was a way to get close to Vincent, wasn’t I?”
“Yes, Ben Stiles also. I didn’t know which of the two was responsible for my brother’s death.”
“Congratulations, mystery solved.” Winter could not prevent herself from tacking on, “I am sorry about your brother.”
“Thank you.”
“Now will you leave Loker, or do you prefer Viper?”
“Whichever you prefer,” he said, trying to remain patient.
“Very well then, Viper, get out.”
“I am not leaving until I explain. I want to maintain our friendship, and whether you believe me or not, I care about you.”
“As friends?”
“Yes.” A knife to her gut would hurt less. It was time to level this playing field.
“I am afraid that’s not going to work for me. I don’t want or need a con artist for a friend.”
“I didn’t steal your money. You think because I am in a motorcycle club that I am a criminal?”
“You stole something from me that I will never get back. Well, to be honest, two things, my time and trust.”
“I was very careful to maintain a platonic relationship with you. I never led you to believe that it was an exclusive relationship.”
“But you were aware my feelings were not the same.”