What would Holt do if she left? Despite the fact he’d crossed the room without her help, she could see the pain etched on his face with every step. He needed medical attention and she couldn’t understand why he didn’t contact his club. Not only that, she owed him a debt. No way could she have escaped the dungeon without him. And she didn’t know anyone who could do what he did. Her loose association with the Black Jacks had taught her how ineffectual the police could be when it came to biker politics. Aside from leaving the state, if she wanted protection from Viper, she needed the Sinners and Holt was their man.
A man who’d gone to take a shower, although he could barely stand, and she still hadn’t heard the water. She crossed the room and knocked on the door.
“You okay in there, Holt? You need a hand.”
“S’good.” His voice was faint, far away, and she felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of leaving him alone.
Sticking with Holt wasn’t an entirely unpalatable idea. Yeah, he was battered, bruised, and broken. But that hadn’t stopped him from doing what they needed to do to escape. He’d been resourceful, strong, and cunning. And she had to admit, riding behind him on the bike as they raced away from the Black Jack clubhouse had been just about the most thrilling experience of her life. At least until he’d crashed. She liked how he slapped Larry’s hand away from her leg when he became a little too affectionate in the cab of his truck, and how he snatched Larry’s phone number from her hand. Almost like he was jealous, although she was sure it was more about getting them to safety than anything else. Bikers and geeks didn’t mix.
She needed advice, and there was only one place to get it. With one last look at the bathroom door, Naiya picked up the motel phone and punched in her bestie’s number.
“I’m in trouble, Ally,” she said quickly, although she doubted Holt could hear her over the shower. “Viper came for me at the cemetery.”
“Bastard.” Never one to hold back an opinion that needed expressing, Ally spat out the word. Naiya could imagine the look on her best friend’s face. Ally was as expressive physically as she was verbally and more than once after they met at college in Missoula, Naiya had been on the wrong end of her flailing hands.
“You should have let me come with you to the cemetery,” Ally continued. “It’s not that long a drive from Missoula. He wouldn’t have dared touch you if I was there.”
“He probably would have taken you, too. And I didn’t want anyone there. I didn’t even cry, Ally. I just felt … nothing.” Even now she felt guilty. Who didn’t cry at their mother’s funeral? But then what mother would tell her daughter to go back to the man who had raped her to ensure her mother’s drug supply?
“That’s because your mother was a selfish bitch who only cared about getting her next fix and who she could sleep with to pay for it.” Ally knew about Naiya’s past and had been supportive and encouraging when Naiya decided to try therapy. She’d been the one to get Naiya back into the dating game, setting her up with sensitive, understanding men who didn’t mind waiting to have sex. Men like Maurice.
A hard-working lab tech and devout Catholic who shared her interest in science, Maurice had been happy to put the sexual side of their relationship on hold, which saved Naiya from the usual charade of faking orgasms and focusing on her partner’s pleasure to deflect attention from the fact she wasn’t enjoying herself. Although Naiya wasn’t sexually attracted to him, she thought Maurice was stable, fun, and comfortable to be with, and they rarely disagreed.
Ally’s tone softened. “Are you okay? I mean … Viper…”
She filled Ally in on the details: the threats, the dungeon, Holt, their escape, and now her predicament—stuck in a motel room with an injured outlaw biker who felt obligated to protect her, when really, she needed to get away from Montana, as far and as fast as possible.
“He needs medical attention, but he refused to go to a hospital. I was wondering…”
“I’m there. And I’ll bring the boy with me.”
A smile tugged at the corners of Naiya’s lips. Ally had been with her boyfriend, Doug, since she was sixteen years old. Although he was five years older than her, she often called him “the boy” because of his babyish face, easygoing nature, and his willingness to pretty much do anything she told him to do.
“I won’t tell Holt until you’re here. He’s not very receptive to suggestions when it comes to his health.”
“Is he cute?” Ally asked.
“Yes.” She blurted out the word before she could stop herself. “Blue eyes. Blond hair—long since it hasn’t been cut for a while. And he’s got a beard, although I’m not sure if that’s a normal look for him.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “He’s breathtakingly gorgeous and that’s with his face all bruised and cut up and his body doubled over in pain. He’s also stubborn, and he’s got a protective streak a mile wide. He’s a big guy, too. Not fat, obviously, since he’s been imprisoned for some time. But he’s got a linebacker’s frame and a lot of muscle. I can’t imagine what he was like before.”
“Annnnd … you’re planning to run away?”