Free VENDETTA: A Bad Boy, Motorcycle Club Romance by Lauren Devane Page B

her. My phone didn’t have enough service at the last fuel stop to book a room in advance, and it was just as well. In my experience, small towns near the border run the gamut from very nice to decrepit, and it’s easy to put up a website that promises a lot more than it delivers. Searching out a good one would be much easier here in person.
    A white stone building that sprawled elegantly along the sand came into view. It boasted large balconies and a sparkling pool that I could see through an archway. Pulling into the lot, I shot a poisonous glare at the valet who eyed my bike with avarice, then pulled Emily off and helped her steady herself. Years of riding kept me rock solid no matter how long I was on the Harley, but she didn’t have her road legs yet.
    “What are we doing here?” Her wide eyes glanced around at the opulence of the hotel and she twisted to look up at me. “Flash?”
    “We’re going to stay tonight and tomorrow. Give the cartel some time to get off my ass.”
    Her lips thinned as she took in the high ceilings and rich furniture dotting the lobby. “We could stay somewhere cheaper.”
    “No, Emmy. We’re staying here.” She obviously had no idea that I was rolling in money from the club’s more illicit ventures. I wrapped an arm around her slender shoulders and together we walked deeper into the lobby. Her warm body against me would have been enough to lull me into sleep if I hadn’t been so on edge, checking every corner for unfriendly eyes or the gleam of a weapon.
    After I got a room at reception, we rode up to it in the silent elevator. Part of me wanted to ask about her life at home, to find out more about her than I’d been able to figure out over bites of beef jerky on the dusty roadside, but her eyes kept fluttering closed. Seemed like she needed sleep more than an interrogation.
    “Thanks for stopping,” she said, breaking the silence. Her lips curved in a smile and she reached for my hand, squeezing it. “I didn’t realize how tired I was.”
    “Made sense to stop,” I told her, not ready to let her know how she affected me, and led her to the door of our room. The lock blinked bright green when I inserted the key, and then the door opened to reveal our accommodations. One king size bed dominated the room, its cushioned headboard directly against the back wall. Emily wandered over to the bed and sat down, then fell to her side, curling up.
    “I haven’t stayed somewhere so nice since my parents died, I think.”
    Every cell in my body was screaming for me to join her on the bed and sink into her golden warmth, but I checked the closets and bathroom as a matter of course, then took a cola from the minibar. Before I could offer her some, her breathing went deep and even. She was asleep.
    Mindful of her comfort, I unlaced her shoes and slid them off, setting them on the ground. I polished off my drink, clearing the dust from my throat, and walked around to the other side of the large mattress. Slipping off my jacket, I sat down. The soft mattress felt like a cloud under my road-weary body and it only got better when I went horizontal. Couldn’t remember the last time exhaustion had overwhelmed me.
    I turned to look at her. Her dark hair was curling around her shoulders and her head was resting on her pale hands. Emily’s chest rose and fell with each breath she took—she was gonna be out for awhile. No doubt she needed it after what she’d been through.
    Her dark lashes lay against her soft cheeks and her eyes were still. No nightmares, I hoped. Though god knows she was going to be haunted with them for a time. Taking a life—even the life of a shit like Santiago—comes with consequences. But I’d never been a heavy sleeper and I knew that if she thrashed, I’d wake and comfort her, draw her out of her nightmares.
    So I closed my eyes and was asleep before the sun had fully set over the ocean. My last thoughts were of a joke Emily told me when we stopped to rest at that