“Yup.” She followed him out the front door. His bike sat in the sun by the front porch, and she had the weirdest moment of déjà vu. In so many ways, the scene was the mirror image of when they’d arrived almost a week before. In reality, so much had changed.
Ike handed her a helmet, stowed their bags, and mounted the bike. The engine growled to life, the sound cutting through the springtime air. Jess got on behind him, and then they were off. Heading out of the long driveway, turning onto the curving mountain road, and riding to another place she’d never before been—the home of the Raven Riders Motorcycle Club.
Normally, being in the saddle of his bike cleared Ike’s head and fed his soul. Not today. Not when he’d purposely hurt the person he cared about most in this world, and the only woman he’d developed any feelings for since Lana.
Because he was a fucking coward.
Ike leaned into the turns and sped up on the straightaways as they made their way over the mountain, the bike cutting through the warm evening air. Jess’s hands grasped lightly at Ike’s waist, though she didn’t wrap herself around him the way she had on the way out of Baltimore last week. The distance between them felt like a steel bar sitting on his shoulders, making it hard to breathe, hard to even sit upright.
But he couldn’t blame her for erecting a wall between them. After all, he’d handed her the bricks and taught her how to build the goddamned thing—right after he’d thrown so much hurtful bullshit right in her face.
Around a bend in the road, the Ravens’ compound came into view. It was a huge piece of property—pushing 300 acres if Ike recalled correctly, and it could be accessed from two directions—the front, public entrance that led to the Green Valley Speedway, and the rear, private entrance that led more directly to the large clubhouse building, the chop shop, and the cottages. The latter was the heart of the Ravens’ MC.
Ike took them around to the private entrance since they were meeting Bunny, Doc, and Rodeo at the clubhouse for dinner and staying there for the night. Most of the Ravens were in Baltimore helping Nick’s team, but some of the Old Timers from Doc’s generation who couldn’t much ride anymore and some of the newer and prospective members had stayed behind. In case the shit hit the fan, those extra hands were better than nothing. Ike felt more secure having Jess behind the Ravens’ guarded walls until the fight in Baltimore played out.
And, frankly, it was probably better for both him and Jess to be surrounded by other people given how badly Ike had fucked things up—and to keep him from fucking them up even more.
He’d hated staying out of the house the previous night, but he’d been too raw, too angry, too torn apart—about so many things. And he didn’t know how to make any of it right. Jess’s easy acceptance, forgiveness, and understanding of what he’d done to Lana had been so fucking hard to take. Because Ike had none of those things for himself, and that made him want Jess—and want everything she had to give—even more than he already did.
And, Jesus, he did. He wanted Jess. Not just in his bed, although that had been fucking fantastic. He wanted her in his arms. By his side.
But Ike…Ike was fucking terrified that he’d let himself fall…only to have it all ripped away again.
It made him realize that he’d been living half a life since the day Lana died—closed off, not taking chances, not feeling half of what he should. Which meant he’d wasted so much time. But he didn’t know how to change, how to put the past behind him, how to fucking man-up.
And now he’d screwed things up with Jess royally. But, what did he know? Maybe it was better that way. For her.
Ike banked the bike onto the mountain road that led to the private entrance. You could tell when you hit Ravens’ property, because the road narrowed and signs told you to turn the fuck around. Ike rolled up to a card reader with a mounted camera. They might be bikers, but they had some tech where it counted—and security was definitely one of those areas. He slipped his card into the slot and waited while the gate slid open.
When he had enough room, Ike shot through the breach and followed the road a short distance to where it opened up into a large parking lot. It was weird seeing it so empty of bikes and cars when it was usually hopping. The chop shop across the lot appeared quiet, too. Ike parked in one of the spaces right in front of the clubhouse, a long two-story, brown brick building with a front porch that ran the length of it. Back in the day it had apparently been some kind of mountain inn, and now it housed the club’s main social spaces, a kitchen and mess, their meeting room, a workout room, and some rooms upstairs where people could crash or fuck or otherwise find some privacy.
“This is it,” Ike said over his shoulder.