Duck (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 8) Read Free

Reuben continued, “I have…I need to make sure he doesn’t catch sight that she’s within reach, Mason. That means I need to get down there and see the lay of the land once the trucks show up, figure out how to keep her…safe.” His words were rushed, tumbling over themselves as he said, “Means I can’t do the gig here, man. I’m sorry, but this is—“
    With a nod and a chin lift, Mason wordlessly interrupted, giving him permission. Reuben sucked in a harsh breath of relief, knowing he would have been going anyway, but this way, Mason made it easy for him. Easy for him to keep his solemn—if unspoken—promise to make up for his cowardice. For walking away, for closing his ears to the tortured screams coming from the rig. For letting his brother touch something that was sassy, sweet, cute, and loved, breaking that beauty in ways Reuben knew would never be healed.
    He couldn’t undo the past, no matter how much he wanted…needed, even prayed for a chance to walk a different path. He couldn’t change history, but he could hold tightly to the future. And he would. He had promised himself he would. For the rest of her life, Mica Scott would be safe from Ray. Reuben would make sure of it. She wouldn’t see Ray, didn’t have to think about him, and— please, God, someday —she wouldn’t have to remember time spent with him and what he’d done to her. No skeletons in her closets to bring her grief. Not as long as Reuben could keep her safe.
    ***
    Three nights later, leaning a shoulder against the wall behind the clubhouse, Reuben took the first untroubled breath he had drawn in days. The first free-feeling lungful of air since learning his family had won the bid for the college rodeo at UI in Springfield. Tension had coiled around him as soon as he knew their trucks would be rolling into Mica’s town, bringing the chance of Ray with them, because once he'd lost Mica, Ray had dropped from the circuit. He had gone home to help run the business, taking over when their old man died.
    At least that was the official line presented to the public.
    Reuben knew differently, which was why Ray coming to Springfield scared the absolute shit out of him. Because the unofficial, back-door talk said Ray was looking hard. Obsessively going through his contacts trying to find the one woman he never thought would walk away from him, using the business to hide his inquiries.
    Finally, after a weekend which seemed as if it lasted for-fucking-ever, everyone was safely at home. A none-the-wiser Mica tucked back into her on-campus apartment, and him standing just outside the club’s base in Chicago. Since patching into the Rebels, he chose to keep a room at the clubhouse instead of renting a place. This had the dual benefit of giving him access to the few amenities he needed, as well as making sure he stayed deep in his brothers’ pockets, keeping him in the middle of things within the club. As a prospect, he still worked to prove himself every day, and this situation immersed him in the club in a way he found he liked.
    He shifted, tipped his head back, and closed his eyes, resting and relaxing for a moment. Still filled with nervous tension from the weekend, he was trying to unwind before heading to bed. By himself. He knew if he were looking for company, he could have it at the drop of a hat. There were plenty of girls inside who would be happy to help him. Party dolls, prospects of a different sort, proving themselves, ready and willing to do whatever any member wanted.
    He could have his pick of them, but as always, not one of them drew any interest from him. Even now, when the emotional response to a satisfying day was to want to master something, not a single one of those women were what he wanted in his bed. None of them were his dream woman, the one girl who ruled his thoughts. Most would think it was the girl he kept safe, but they’d be wrong.
    “Bee,” he breathed and his cock swelled in response. Just her name