“You can’t have loyalty to Forsaken and Mancuso. I don’t care if he is your father.”
Gathering all the courage I have, I say, “I have no loyalty to his family.” As awful as it sounds, it’s the truth. Carlo has always put his family before mine. Never once have I felt he loves and appreciates me for who I am, but rather what I can do for him. I want to believe he loves me, in his own way.
“Don’t make us regret this.”
And just like that, our conversation is finished. Ruby takes me by my arm and leads me away from the crowd, around the corner of the cabin. Night is falling now, and the sheer darkness of the desert is intimidating.
“The van will be here soon, but we won’t be leaving until morning,” she says gently. I nod and open my mouth, but nothing comes out. She catches the movement and raises an eyebrow. “There something you want to say?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. I’m not sure what I should say, if anything. Staying in this place overnight strikes a chord of panic within me, but I can’t really say that aloud. I’m so anxious to get to wherever home is and to see it with my own eyes, that I can barely contain the frustration at this delay.
“It’s Jim. He and Rage have some shit to work out. If it were up to me, we’d go straight through.”
“It’s okay,” I say, but she shakes her head.
“Who is Rage?” I ask. He seems to carry himself with a certain amount of authority, but I can’t place where he fits into all of this. I know Jim is the president, but I don’t know if that means he’s the president of all Forsaken members or just the ones in his group.
“He’s Jim’s father. Old bastard retired out here some years ago,” Ruby says, clearing her throat. She shakes her head and gives me a forced smile. “Ryan’s going to keep an eye on you until Duke and the others get here. Since you two are getting along, I thought you’d prefer that to one of the other guys.”
“Thank you,” I say, trying to control the nervous excitement that pulsates through my body. Unlike the other night when the men stayed outside of my room, I’m hoping Ryan comes inside. So far, he’s the only person who’s really talked with me. Ruby’s made some sort of effort and Ian is getting there, but other than that, it’s been a lonely journey.
In the distance, I see Ryan approaching. Despite the encroaching darkness, I can see the pleasant smile on his face as he nears. In his left hand is my bag, and in his right is a similar-sized leather bag. He comes to stand beside me, shifting both bags to his left hand. He places his right hand on my lower back, guiding me toward the surrounding cabins. From behind me, I hear Ruby shout, “Remember what I said!”
Those men are off limits to you.
I tell myself I’ll respect her wishes, even if the thought of being alone in a cabin with Ryan gives me other ideas.
Chapter 10
Love begins with an image; lust with a sensation.
Mason Cooley
RYAN LEADS US to one of the most isolated cabins. It’s set back a few hundred feet from the rest. There is no porch light to guide our path and no walkway for us to follow. But he seems to know the way. I think back on what Ruby said, that Rage is Ryan’s grandfather. I imagine that Ryan’s familiarity with the land has something to do with that connection.
On the rickety front porch of the cabin, I’m suddenly nervous at the prospect of being alone with him. Even though I want this time with him more than anything right now, my stomach is alight with an intense fluttering of nerves. Ryan is all man. He’s tall, and muscled, and tan. He wears his black jeans (the same he wore the day I met him), black leather, and his tattoos with an arrogance that is as much a part of him as his bike is. I’ve spent more than my fair share of time around arrogant men—men who think the world owes them something, and they owe the rest of us nothing—but not a single one of them has anything on Ryan. Aunt Gloria says I’m a good judge of character. If I were to judge Ryan, I’d say that all he’s really missing in his life is a good woman on the back of his bike.
But I’m also nineteen and hopeful as all hell.
“You comin’ in?” he asks, breaking me from my thoughts. He’s already inside with the light on. I let out a shallow breath and cross the threshold, shutting the door behind me. Inside, the room is barely furnished, but Ryan’s presence is so overwhelming it fills up the space. There’s no cheesy artwork on the walls, no phone from what I can see, and certainly no Bible in the bedside table. There is, however, a twin bed and a recliner. Like the rest of the cabin, they’ve seen better days. The walls are covered in signatures and phrases that would send my mother running to church.