Free Sweet Perdition by Cynthia Rayne

remembered what Ryker had said about Horsemen respecting women who held their own and decided to head Shepherd off at the proverbial pass. “Let me guess, you stopped by to invade my privacy again?”
    He flashed a smile. “Pretty much. There’s no such thing as a private life in the house of pain, sweetheart.”
    “Then why don’t I get snoopy with you this time then? I’ve been wondering something since this morning. Why do they call you Shepherd? Are you religious?”
    He chuckled. “I believe in hellfire and damnation, if that’s what you’re asking. But I’m not the church going type. No amount of holy water’s going to wash me clean.”
    “Well, when would you have the time, between beating up alcohol distributors and interrogating wayward women?”
    “No rest for the wicked, sweetheart. I’m the club’s VP, the second in command. Since Captain, the Prez, is away for a bit, I’ve stepped up to handle other club business,” he said vaguely. “But, I usually work with the prospects. I show them the ropes, train ‘em. Lead them to the promised land of the Four Horsemen, MC.” He tipped an imaginary hat to her. “That’s me. Drill sergeant and older brother rolled into one incredibly handsome package.” He pointed to her. “But I want more of your story, Pin-”
    “If you call me Pinky, you are going to wear some of my Merlot,” she cautioned, raising the glass aloft in a threatening manner. “My name is Elizabeth.” She actually found the nickname charming when Ryker used it, but she wouldn’t give anyone else leeway.
    He ignored her request, opting for another nickname instead. “You’re scaring me sweetheart, threatening me with stains.” He feigned a shudder. “Come on. Out with it. What’s your story?”
    She shrugged. “Not much to tell. I’m a librarian.”
    Shepherd howled with laughter. “Holy shit. A librarian.” He shook his head. “Some of the guys have kinks, but banging a naughty librarian? That is twisted.”
    “I’m not naughty!” she snapped.
    His lips twitched. “You’re here, aren’t you?”
    Good point. She took a swig of wine.
    Shep pulled a Zippo lighter from his pocket and it had a horse’s head engraved on the silver surface. He lit a menthol cigarette and took a deep drag, blew the smoke out in rings. Then, he offered it to her.
    She shook her head.
    “I got to be honest with you, sweetheart. This is a record for Ryker. Excuse my bluntness, but he gets more pussy than a tomcat. What’s the deal? Are you two getting serious?”
    She felt a flush creeping up her neck at his crudity. “I honestly don’t know.” Better to be vague, right?
    “I see.” Shepherd searched her face. “What has he told you about the club?”
    “Not much.” She bit the inside of her cheek. And no information was much worse than unpleasant info, because her imagination could fill in all sorts of blanks.
    “Well, judging by Ryker’s clubhouse seduction scene going on here, I’d say on the serious scale, y’all are hitting ‘pretty damn’. What if he wanted to make you his old lady one day?”
    She lifted an imperious brow at him. If she’d had glasses, she would have perched them on the end of her nose, librarian style. “Why is my private life your business?”
    He smirked at her. “It isn’t, but Ryker’s is. We don’t let everyone become an old lady, just like we don’t let any guy become a prospect.”
    “Well, I’m neither one of those things.”
    He leered at her, all villain-in-a-movie style.“Well, we got two kinds of chicks in the clubhouse, sweetheart. If you aren’t an old lady, you’re a hellion.”
    She remembered Cowboy calling her a hellion earlier. “What’s a hellion?”
    “They’re women who hang around the club. They usually got some serious daddy issues and a biker fixation. They come and go as they please, as long as they are useful and,” he drawled, “very, very, accommodating.”
    Yuck. She’d been warned Ryker was a slut, but