“Where’s your girl?”
She blinked, not expecting that. She took a breath, her lungs filling with his scent, and turned her head to face him. “In bed. Asleep.” Where Daisy was every night when she got home from Crazy Pete’s.
“She good for a bit?”
Cassie frowned, wondering why he’d ask that. “Yes. My sister and her husband are home with her.”
“Means you got time to talk.”
That wasn’t a question, it was stated as a fact. “Only if you tell me what I want to know.” And that was a fact, too.
“Gonna tell you that. And more.” He reached over and shoved the shifter into Park, turned the key and pulled it from the ignition. Instead of giving it to her, he closed his fist around it and climbed out of the Honda. He leaned down into the open doorway and said, “C’mon.”
She stared at him. Could she trust him? He was part of the same club as Dodge, Stella and Trip. And she would’ve hoped Dodge would have warned her about him the other night if he was untrustworthy.
Wouldn’t he have?
Or was their brotherhood strong enough that they covered for each other? That Dodge wouldn’t snitch on his “brother” about him being some sort of psycho stalker.
But Cassie’s gut wasn’t telling her any of that.
Though, she didn’t completely trust her gut anymore. Not after finding out Dennis had hidden his gambling problem for years.
Years.
She had been that blind to it.
A total fucking fool.
“Where are we going?” Because that’s what a normal person would ask, right? Not just get out of her CRV in the middle of the night, in the dark, and follow some biker without knowing where?
He straightened, shut the passenger-side door, and came around to her side. She could lock the doors, but since he had the key, that would do no good. And he wasn’t going to hurt her. He could’ve done that in the dark lot that night. Or one of the many nights he followed her home.
He opened her door. “C’mon.” He jutted his big hand into the Honda.
She stared at it for a second, then unlatched her seatbelt. She sat in the seat for another couple of breaths before she finally put her hand in his.
It was so big. She swore it was twice the size of hers.
His fingers curled around hers with a gentle strength and he helped her out of the SUV.
“Where are we going?” she asked again, thinking a sane woman would need to know this first.
“To talk.”
“We can talk in the car.”
“We could. But we ain’t.” Keeping a grip on her hand, he pulled her along with him toward the metal stairs at the back of the building. He stopped at the bottom, released her hand and jerked his chin toward the steps. “Up there.”
Her gaze rose up the metal stairway. At the top landing were two doors and two large picture windows, both dark. “What’s up there?”
“You always ask so many fuckin’ questions?”
“Well, this situation kind of warrants a lot of questions.”
“Not gonna hurt you.”
“You keep saying that.”
“And you don’t believe it.”
No, she did. But that didn’t mean she should do something stupid and regret doing that stupid thing later.
“I’d take you into The Barn to talk but thinkin’ that might not be the best place for privacy since there was a party tonight. Not sure who or what’s left behind...”
“Dodge hadn’t returned before I left.”
Judge snorted. “Yeah. There’s a reason for that. You and Stel might be runnin’ the bar tomorrow by yourselves.”
“Did he get drunk?”
His lips twitched. “Among other fuckin’ things.”
“A patch party’s a big deal, right?”
“Big fuckin’ deal,” he confirmed.
“You didn’t get drunk.”
He said nothing.
“Because you had to drive.”
Again nothing.
“Because you’ve been following me home every night after work.”
Still nothing. He just jerked his head toward the steps again.
She sighed, took a deep breath and climbed them. With each step, her heart pounded a little more.
At the landing, he grabbed a folding chair from near the door on the right and moved it next to the single chair that sat by the door on the left.
“Warm enough to sit out here for a few?”
The night was crisp, but the wind wasn’t blowing so it was bearable. Living in Rochester, she was used to the cold. “Yes.”
“Then sit.”
He dug into his pocket, pulled out a key and opened the door on the left. “Just need to be quiet since Red and Sig are probably sleepin’.”
She had no idea who Red and Sig were and he didn’t explain.
One of the American Bulldogs he had with him the other night rushed out with a soft whine, nudged Judge in the crotch with its nose and an enthusiastic tail wag. “Go pop a squat,” he ordered. The large dog rushed down the steps and into the dark.
He shut the door quietly and settled into one of the folding chairs, which complained under his weight.