Free ROUGH RIDER by Nikki Wild Page A

causing a lifetime of scars and making me get neck-deep in countless situations where I’d have been better served to just walk away.
    Some of the scars you could see. Like the small moon shaped scar under my right eye where his wedding ring caught me when I threw out my crappy dinner instead of eating it. I’d never been hit in the face before, and he made damn sure I didn’t forget it once I had. It took weeks for that cut to heal.
    But most of the scars were in places that I made sure nobody saw. Because I didn’t open up to anyone and I liked it that way. And yet, despite my best efforts, here I was - tangled up in some shit that I didn’t know how to get out of.
    I forced myself to let go of Gabby and started pacing again. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. Waiting. Waiting for me to pull some magical plan out of my ass.
    The fucking mob was looking for me because I’d run off with the Boss’s daughter.
    The fucking Godz were looking for me because I’d killed two of their guys.
    The fucking cops were looking for me because of both of those reasons.
    As far as I could see, I was fucked. Pure and simple. Fucked.
    And yet here I was, still concerned about someone else. Still concerned about defending and protecting someone.
    I glanced back at Gabby and saw the fear and confusion in her eyes. She was used to Daddy getting her out of trouble, but that wasn’t going to work this time.
    “We stay here. That’s all I’ve got right now. Nobody leaves,” I strolled past them, their questioning eyes staring me down - everyone but Bear, who was standing quietly at Gabby’s side - wanted answers I didn’t have.
    Yet. The answers would come. I just needed time.
    I left them all outside, closing the door after Bear followed me in, and headed straight for the kitchen.
    I may not have any fucking answers, but I had a bottle of whiskey, and for now, that would have to do.

18

Gabby
    O ne by one , the members of Dante’s club turned off their bikes and tore off their helmets. If I hadn’t already had the daylights fucked out of me by Dante, and if I wasn’t totally freaked out by finding out that I’d allegedly murdered someone, then I was pretty sure I’d be melting from all the testosterone these guys were throwing around.
    For fuck’s sake, each one of them were extremely hot in their own right.
    Alonso and Italo looked like they’d just stepped out of a fucking Italian GQ magazine - their smoldering eyes and lashes for miles were enough to stop any woman in her tracks.
    Angry Bobby had eyes so gentle and kind that I wanted to crawl into his arms every time he flashed them at me. He had long black hair, longer than Dante’s, and it whipped around his face in the wind as we all stood outside of the cabin talking.
    Gio was a man’s man. All thick muscle and machismo, his python-sized biceps threaten to rip right out of his leather jacket. His long black hair hung in a heavy braid down his back and he had a tattoo of a snake around his neck that scared the shit out of me. He didn’t say much; instead, he kept his arms crossed over his chest, his face drawn tight as he listened intently to everyone else. His eyes were like black pits of mystery that left me wondering if anyone ever got close to him. And if they survived.
    Romeo was the hottest of them all, even hotter than Dante in a way. You could tell he was the player of the group. He strutted around the parking lot, pacing with nervous energy. He was tall and thin, his ropey, sinewy muscles rippling with every step. He wore a black patched leather vest with a tight black t-shirt underneath, leaving his heavily tattooed arms exposed. It was his grin that appeared to be his secret weapon. The confident way he flashed it at me made me glad I was wearing jeans, because I was pretty sure my panties had melted away.
    Bats was the most interesting of all, though. He was tall and lanky like Romeo, but he was quiet and calm. So much so, it was unnerving. Like Gio, he