Ride of Her Life: A Biker Erotic Romance Read Online Free PDF Page A

paid a pretty penny for all those AKs.”
     
    “Cartels? As in the bastards shooting up public buildings and making a mockery of the police department?” Cecilia snapped, hands clenched into fists. “Ray Owens, what the fuck have you been doing?”
     
    Ray rounded on her, his face grim and almost unrecognizable. Gone were the laugh lines and the spark of mischief in his eyes. He didn't look at her with that tenderness he'd always reserved only for her. There was a guarded look on his face, a careful barrier keeping her far from his thoughts.
     
    Who was he? What happened to her Ray?
     
    “I told you we went straight, Cece.” He ran a hand through his mussed hair and shot a glare at the 'enemy', or whatever the hell he was. “Get the fuck out of here before I use your face as target practice. You delivered your damn message, now leave us be.”
     
    “Whatever you say, boss .” The man winked and took off, presumably to rev up that annoyingly ear-shattering hog he’d ridden over, not that it could be heard over the loud music. Ray turned to her again, but he still had some level of reservation about him. Cecilia's hands had yet to stop shaking. Her lip had joined them, quivering against her teeth. She refused to look at him.
     
    “Ce—”
     
    “Don't.” Cecilia waved her hand sharply in his direction and turned away. “Leave me alone.” Silence followed. When she began to move, after forcibly blinking away tears, she didn't hear him follow behind.
     
    “For how long?” came the question, almost inaudible. Cecilia swallowed the lump in her throat.
     
    “I don't know. A while. I haven't decided yet.” With that she twisted on her heel and took off. Not at a run, but she was damn close to a sprint, dodging patrons until she reached the door. They weren't too far from her place, maybe a mile. And it was better to walk than stay here.
     
    She had to get away, far away. Think. Ray talked about not having a very law-abiding situation with his club—gang would probably be a better term. But he didn't say anything about guns. Drugs were bad enough, but guns too?
     
    And he had the gall to stroll back into town boasting about getting straight? How far had he fallen before scraping his sorry excuse for a life off the ground and acting as though his past actions didn't matter?
     
    Ray had transported weapons. Illegal weapons. To violent men who’d shot up two elementary schools in the past six months—all because they wanted to make a name for themselves to the public. And he had been okay with this? Getting the Knight's Reapers straight was one thing, but getting himself neck-deep in that sort of mess in the first place was appalling.
     
    It had been ten years. She had changed completely from the little girl she'd once been; who was to say that he hadn't as well? Her conflicting thoughts only grew more morose as she walked, the chill of the night and the whoosh of cars passing by completely disregarded.
     
    She needed time.
     
    She might not get through this at all. Cecilia had never been able to properly label Ray with any one title, but was he really a murderer?
     
    What was she to think?
     
    ***
     
    Pissed off was not even fractionally close to describing exactly how Ray was feeling. Livid. Violently upset. Royally miffed. Not one could fully encompass Ray's roiling emotions. Worse, anger was tainted with the sour bite of guilt.
     
    He'd left a lot out of the conversation. But how do you broach the subject of cartels with the one you love? I should have known better. Cecilia was a strong, stubborn woman who placed a high moral value on everything. Of all the wrongs she could forgive, lies were not among them. Once Ray prided himself on always being truthful and trustworthy.
     
    He could no longer claim that .
     
    A nonthreatening wall outside the bar met his clenched fist in a crack of knuckle on stone, and the scrape of rock tore into the flesh of his fingers. Blood welled in crimson droplets,