Rachel listened to Logan tell Holly about his ride on the Ferris wheel as she pulled out her keys from her jeans pockets.
“I’ll ride home with you, and Dustin and Logan can drive back home together,” Holly offered.
“Sounds good.” It wasn’t far to their house, but Rachel would be glad for the company. She’d do anything to keep from thinking about Cash.
Dustin reached his truck first.
“I’ll follow you home,” he said, putting Logan in his car seat.
“Okay.” Rachel had learned long ago not to argue with his over-protectiveness.
As she put her key in the door to unlock it and Holly went to the passenger side, a loud giggle drew their attention. On the next row over, Cash was getting out of his truck, holding the door open for a woman to slide out. Rachel’s eyes widened when she saw Cheryl taking her time getting out, bracing her hands on Cash’s chest. Her hair was a tumbled mess and her top was messed up.
It didn’t take a second for Rachel to figure out what had happened in his truck. Rachel felt as if a knife had been stuck in her belly.
“Rachel?” Holly asked, trying to open her still-locked door.
“Sorry.” Rachel fumbled with the lock, finally able to unlock the door.
As she opened her own car door, her eyes were briefly caught and held by Cash, who had turned at the sound of Holly’s voice. She tore her gaze away, refusing to look at the couple as she got in the car, put her key in the ignition, and reversed out.#p#分页标题#e#
“I thought we were supposed to wait for Dustin?” Holly questioned, staring at her curiously.
Rachel’s shaking hands gripped the steering wheel, forcing herself to calm down. Finally able to breathe, she stopped at the end of the row long enough for Dustin to come up behind them.
Her hands then clenched the wheel the whole way home as her mind played back the look on Cheryl’s face. She had to force herself to focus on driving and not the flushed satisfaction Cash’s expression had showed before he had seen her staring at him. Rachel wanted to cry over not being able to keep from revealing her own hurt.
* * *
Cash wanted to slam his truck door closed. Of all the times for Rachel to happen to be standing there, it couldn’t have been a more inopportune one.
“Want to go back to my apartment?” Cheryl’s voice drew his attention back to her and away from the hurt look on Rachel’s face.
He had gone to the fair with several of The Last Riders; however, he and Rider had broken away from them when Rider had run into Kaley and Cheryl. Rider had left not long afterward, headed to the nearby motel with Kaley. Cheryl had been all over him, so he had brought her to his truck. The lot only had a few vehicles left. Therefore, he had let Cheryl give him the blowjob she had promised, allowing her mouth to give him relief from the torture of wanting Rachel again.
None of the women he had fucked since her had been able to, though, and he didn’t know why he expected Cheryl to. Still, her mouth had relieved the fire in his dick enough to keep him from sneaking into Rachel’s bedroom, whether she wanted him there or not.
“No. I have something I need to take care of. Where’s your car?”
When Cheryl pointed to her car three rows over, Cash walked her to it and waited until she was inside before moving away.
He drove to his meeting spot, pulling into the dark lot of the clubhouse. The bikers gave him curious looks before turning away when they saw him take a seat at their president’s table.
“Want a drink?” Stud asked, motioning for Sex Piston to leave the table.
His wife’s lips tightened but she got up, going to sit with her crew at another table.
“No, thanks. She’s going to make you pay for that.” Cash watched as Sex Piston glared at Stud from the circle of her friends.
“What’s new?”
Cash had to admire the way Stud handled his wife. There weren’t many men who would be able to handle the temperamental redhead. Cash didn’t want to think about his own problems with a certain redhead.
Sex Piston and Rachel couldn’t be more different. Sex Piston’s hair was a reddish gold while Rachel’s was deep, burnt red. Stud’s wife oozed sex appeal, yet Rachel was quiet and softly feminine. Her appeal was more subtle, grabbing him by his balls and twisting them into knots of desire he couldn’t quench, despite the other women he mercilessly fucked.
“Any news?” Stud asked.
“They call themselves Freedom Riders. Scorpion is the leader; Vaughn is vice. They are a large club, mainly anti-government. I thought, at first, they wanted Jamestown to run their drugs or filter money.”