Biker Chick Campout (Rebel Wayfarers MC) Read Online Free PDF Page A

club.” For making you feel less than you are . “The Rebels trust you to keep
their old ladies safe,” she said, gesturing out at the groups of
women sitting, dancing, or reclining on blankets talking. “That
tells me you are more than ‘just’ anything to your club.” Tipping
her head towards her friend, she indicated Ruby. “Right there is
your chapter president’s woman, but more than that, she is his
life, stolen from him once before. Something so precious, he guards
her night and day. For him to entrust her to you means something.”
Turning to look at Mica and Molly, she directed his attention that
way with a tilt of her head, then turned to gaze up at him. “I know what those two mean to your national president.” His
expression had become severe , the line of his jaw hardening as his gaze
remained locked on her face, listening carefully to her words.
    “Each of these women is important to someone in the club. Different chapters, but each of
them your brother.” Appetite vanished , she bent to place her plate on the ground, and
then turned, looking outwards, towards the edge of the clearing.
Into the darkness, out where the woods began. Anything could be
hiding in those woods , she thought with a shiver. Anyone . “This is a secluded location. Nothing
about us being here was publicized.” She snorted softly before
continuing, “Even Jess was warned off social media. But, even your
national president clearly holds you in some esteem, because you
are here” — she swept a hand out to indicate
the women — “with all of them. Their
lone protector for the weekend.”
    “I didn’t really think about it like that.”
Hurley shook his head. “Should have, the guys laid it out for me.
But, Jesus , all the politics that go along with prospecting
into a club kinda muddies things.” He scoffed. “Politics. They’ve
had me doing double-time, shuffling between Chicago and the Fort.
Most days it feels like double the pressure
because I’m trying to please two chapters. It’s almost more than I
can wrap my head around sometimes.” He fell silent, and she could see his shoulders contract in a
protective move; he’d said more than he intended. He shifted his
feet, boots shuffling in the grass, voice flat as he muttered, “I’ll head back to the van. Thanks for the insight,
Mela. Food for thought.”
    At her name coming from his lips, she drew a breath. “Wait,” she blurted, and then
paused, at a loss because she didn’t know what she’d intended to
say. She knew what she was feeling and had been for days. Angry and
out-of-control, like she was free-falling all alone. Hurley helped
quell those feelings, and she wasn’t ready to
lose that, even if it were something he didn’t know he offered.
    They stood like that for a moment, and then
he tilted his head and held out a hand. Not
overtly, so everyone would notice. No, his arm extended only slightly, a discrete angle of
his palm towards her. His words wrapped around her, a slow cadence
of exploration. “Wanna talk some more?” Without hesitation she
reached out, accepting the invitation by slipping suddenly cold
fingers into his warm ones, letting his large hand engulf hers, and
following as he tugged, pulling her towards the shadows by the van.
He opened the door, and they settled side by
side in the opening, Mela shifting back far enough to bring her
legs up, crossing them Indian-style, all while Hurley doggedly
retained possession of her hand.
    “I’ve never seen you around the clubhouses.”
He spoke quietly, threading and unthreading his fingers between hers, a constant caress of skin-on-skin. The
non-question didn’t surprise her because only
a few people knew what her affiliations were. She shook her head.
He continued, “If you aren’t club, then why are you here?”
    Lifting her gaze to him, she answered his
question with one of her own. “Do you know the story of how Slate
came to the Rebels, and how he got his name?” At his