Raw: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Minutemen MC) Read online

“Careful, Johnny,” Dirk growled. “You’re going too far.”

  Immediately, the man clamped his mouth shut.

  “Any of you boys care to take up this issue with Stephan directly?” he asked after a moment. He received no answer. He smirked darkly. “I thought so.”

  He gave them all a lingering, scathing look to make sure they had all gotten the message, and then he stalked angrily out of the common room. His nerves were on edge, and his first instinct was to head for Camilla’s room. He paused just outside her door for a few moments, but then he decided against it and walked on instead. It worried him, the way he had sought her out in his distressed state. Could that be it? Could that be one of the signs that Stephan had told him to watch out for?

  Don’t be ridiculous, Dirk, he scolded himself sternly. Get a fucking grip on yourself.

  He walked to the house’s garage and resorted to venting out his frustrations in the way he had always done—by working on his bike. And yet, for the first time in a very long time—maybe ever—getting himself dirty with motor grease didn’t really do much for him. His hands were handling metal tools, but he wished they were tantalizing Camilla instead, making her pant and moan. He was caressing bike parts, but he wished he were caressing Camilla’s flawless olive skin instead.

  Dirk exhaled sharply in frustration. This was ridiculous. Lust was one thing, but this was something else. He didn’t have a name for it; all he knew was that he didn’t like it.

  “Falling is not something you ‘do,’” Stephan had said. “It’s something that happens. Just like that.”

  It wasn’t happening to him, of this he was sure. He had fallen once before, and it had felt nothing like this. He shuddered as he thought of Eleanor, and he quickly pushed her back into the dark recesses of his mind as soon as he realized that he was even saying her name in his head for the first time in what felt like ages.

  It was not going to happen to him again. Not if he could help it.

  “It’s out of your control,” Stephan had said.

  Dirk realized then that “control” was the true key word. He should have known, really; after all, it always was.

  Chapter 13

  A week after she had reluctantly struck a deal with Stephan Walker and the Minutemen, Camilla was going stir crazy. She had been granted full roaming rights to the house—after all, it was always so full of bikers that it would have been pretty much impossible to go anywhere unnoticed—and yet she soon found herself suffering from a very acute case of cabin fever.

  The only thing keeping her sane was Dirk. Or rather, Dirk’s body. Their clandestine sexual encounters had become a regular occurrence, and yet all the endorphins produced by regular orgasms did little to improve her mood. She felt trapped—which was effectively what she was—and she had begun to experience a pretty much constant feeling of suffocation.

  She tried to bring it up with Dirk one night, as they lay in “her” bed after a particularly intense session.

  “Dirk?” she called, voice soft, as she traced idle patterns on his scarred chest with her fingertip.

  Lying in bed naked afterwards was something else they had begun to do regularly, but neither of them took notice just yet. Or perhaps they did, but didn’t want to stop and think about what it might mean.

  “Yeah?” he said.

  “Do you think…?” Camilla hesitated and let the question hang in the air. She wasn’t sure how he was going to react.

  “What?” he prompted.

  “Do you think we could go somewhere?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She could practically hear the frown in his voice.

  “Do you think you could take me somewhere?” she asked hesitantly. “I don’t know, grocery shopping. For a stroll into town. To the local library. Anything.”

  Dirk chuckled softly. “What do you think this is, a vacation?”

  Camilla bristled quietly. “No,” she all but hissed. “I assure you, my idea of a vacation is nothing like this.”

  “Really?” He bowed his head to look down at her, an impish grin on his handsome face. “Not even this part?” He gestured to their naked bodies.

  Despite everything, she couldn’t help but smirk. “All right, so maybe this part is,” she conceded. “But I’m going stir crazy being cooped up inside; it’s not something I handle very well. Why do you think I became an on-the-field journalist?”

  “I’m sorry, Camilla,” Dirk said, and he sounded sincere. “There’s nothing I can do. You’ll just have to stick it out.”

  “It’s been a week and there were no moves from the Tar Mongols,” Camilla said. “Isn’t Stephan even considering letting me go?”

  “Not just yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “He doesn’t trust that this quiet will last much longer.”

  Camilla sat up and brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. She leaned back against the headboard and looked down at Dirk.

  “Isn’t that all the more reason to get me out of here fast?” she asked.

  Dirk smiled bitterly. “Believe me, Camilla, we all wish for this to be over soon,” he said. “But we know the storm is just around the corner. We can feel it. We can feel the electricity in the air. We can’t risk making a move until it explodes.”

  Camilla sighed heavily. “I don’t get it,” she admitted.

  “I know. But trust me, at a time like this, the best thing to do is to lay low. Herman Ruiz is probably waiting for us to do something anyway, and that’ll be his cue to sweep down on us.”

  Camilla wanted to argue further, but as much as she didn’t like to admit it even with herself, she knew he knew best. She might have been reporting on a few of them over the years, but she didn’t know how gang dynamics worked; she couldn’t read between the lines and decipher the subtleties of signals.

  And then something Dirk had said registered, and she looked down at him with a frown on her face. “You all wish for this to be over soon?” she said, repeating his words at him.

  “Yeah,” he said, frowning in confusion.

  “Even you?”

  “Of course. It’s exhausting to wait for something to happen. The men are tense, and it’s beginning to get to me, too.”

  “Right.” Camilla nodded. She hesitated, and then she asked, “Do you wish for this to be over soon, too?” She gestured between the two of them.

  “Hell, no,” Dirk replied immediately. He grinned up at her in satisfaction. “You’re the best sex I’ve had in a long time.”

  Camilla couldn’t help but grin back at him. “Right back at you.”

  Dirk stretched languidly. “I’d better go now,” he said. “The shorter my stay is, the lesser the risk that someone finds out.”

  Camilla nodded. She watched as he rolled out of bed and got dressed. She ran her gaze appreciatively over his miles-long naked form. God, the man is gorgeous enough that his presence should be declared illegal in various states, she thought.

  “Stephan knows, doesn’t he?” she asked after a few moments. “About us, I mean.”

  Dirk looked up at her halfway through zipping up his blue jeans. “There ain’t no ‘us’, princess.”

  Camilla rolled her eyes and huffed in annoyance. “Yeah, I know that,” she said. “I meant about the sex.”

  “Oh. Thank God, I thought things were about to get complicated.”

  Camilla smirked at him. “Not a chance, sweetheart.”

  Dirk arched an eyebrow at her. “Sweetheart?” he repeated, blinking in surprise.

  Camilla shrugged. “Just something I was trying out.”

  Dirk grimaced. “Please, don’t.”

  Camilla laughed. “Well?” she asked after a moment.

  “Well, what?”

  Camilla rolled her eyes. Even though he was smart and clever, sometimes Dirk had the attention span of a five-year-old child. “Does Stephan know about us?”

  Dirk snorted. “Of course he knows.”

  “Did you tell h
im?”

  “I didn’t have to. He figured it out. “

  Camilla had thought as much. “How long has he known?”

  Dirk shrugged. “Pretty much since we sat down at the table in the meeting room a week ago.”

  Camilla’s eyes widened in surprised. “That long?”

  Dirk laughed. “I told you, he’s good.”

  Camilla scowled. “A little too perceptive, if you ask me,” she grumbled.

  “That’s Stephan for you,” he said. “That’s why I was telling you it’s never a good idea to lie to him.”

  “I haven’t lied to him,” Camilla said.

  Dirk nodded. “Good. See that you never do.” He walked up to the bed and leaned down, holding himself up with one knee on the mattress. “I have to go now,” he said. He kissed her swiftly and then, just like that, he was out the door.

  That was one more thing they had started to do; every time they went their separate ways—or as separate as their ways could be, given the circumstances—they would exchange a kiss. Once again, neither of them cared to stop and think about what it might mean.

  Camilla burrowed under the covers and turned off the bedside lamp. Her head was swirling with thoughts that were more or less unwelcome. First thing first, she didn’t know why it was bothering her so much that Dirk had made it very clear that they were nothing more than great, casual sex. After all, it wasn’t like he had ever led her on to believe otherwise, or that she wanted them to be anything else. Still, the urgency with which he had gone about making sure she wasn’t getting any ideas left a sting, just like the fact he had made it perfectly clear that he couldn’t wait for her to leave…out of his life.

  It was stupid, really. Why do I even care? It isn’t like I’m falling for an outlaw biker…or am I? Camilla shook her head vigorously as soon as the thought entered her mind, as if with that movement she could throw the notion as far away from her as possible. Of course I’m not falling for an outlaw biker. That is ridiculous.

  In fact, she wasn’t falling for any of it. There were no aspects of her current situation that she felt even remotely comfortable with. And why should she? She was a prisoner after all. No matter how nicely Dirk and Stephan and anyone else from the Minutemen put it, the reality of the matter was still that she was a prisoner in their home and world. The more she thought about that, the less she liked it.

  She thought of Kurt back in New York, and she wondered what he was thinking. Does he think I’m dead? Is he going to send someone to find me? Is he going to the FBI? (Mexican cartel issues surely are no matters for the regular police.) Has he given up on me?

  She shook hear head to push that thought away as well. Of course Kurt wouldn’t give up on me so soon or so easily. We might not always see things eye to eye, but Kurt Davis is my mentor, and he will do everything within his power to find me and bring me home—hopefully alive.

  She opened her eyes wide in the darkness of the bedroom. Now, that was a thought that hadn’t entered her mind before. Kurt would look for her. He would get people involved. Quite possibly, he would even manage to figure out where she was, or at least whom she was with. And then what? Would someone get hurt because of her?

  Camilla sighed heavily and tried to get her racing heart under control. No, she thought, Kurt getting his resources moving to find me is a good thing. She felt certain that, in due time, he would indeed find her, and when that happened, she decided that she had to be ready for it.

  Perhaps, she reflected, it is time that I really tried to help myself. She couldn’t stay there. She was tired of waiting around, waiting for others to “make moves”, as Dirk had put it, and take action on her life. She had to do something for herself, otherwise she would just go mad.

  Camilla mapped out the Minutemen’s clubhouse in her mind. She had explored it thoroughly over the past week, grateful that she had been allowed at least that. Getting out would not be easy, but it wasn’t impossible. The difficult part was what to do after she had gotten out of the house. She had absolutely no clue how to ride a bike, and the house was on the outskirts of town and isolated enough that the chance to get anywhere useful on foot was pretty much non-existent. There was no car in the clubhouse’s garage, no familiar means of transportation that she could steal and put to good use.

  Besides, she had to reluctantly admit, even if there had been, even if she hopped in a car and drove, they would be after her in an instant. Covering her tracks from any gang was difficult enough, but it would be particularly hard—if not impossible—to do it when it came to this gang.

  One thing that distinguished the Minutemen from other outlaw gangs was that they were all ex-military. All of them. Dirk was an ex-marine tenant who had served multiple tours in Afghanistan, and so had a few of the others. Other members had served in Iraq, and a few had been involved in conflicts in even more remote countries. They were all smart; they were all trained; and they all had developed a strategic mind over the course of their careers. It made for a formidable ensemble.

  And then, of course, there was Stephan Walker. Camilla didn’t know where he had served or what his story was, but the man gave her the creeps. He was too smart, and his skills of perception were almost off the charts. As irrational as that may sound, Camilla was fairly certain that, should she truly begin to plot her escape, he would smell it from a mile away.

  She tossed and turned under the covers until she could find a comfortable position, and then she let out a long, frustrated breath. She felt stuck for all intents and purposes. She didn’t know where to turn or what to do. It felt as though anything she might think up would eventually just turn out to be a huge mistake and blow up in her face.

  She thought of Dirk and of his Greek-god-like body, and as she drifted off to sleep, she wondered why her thoughts always ended up gravitating towards his gorgeous nakedness—no matter what else was going on around her.

  Chapter 14

  Over the next few nights, Dirk made extra sure that his sexual encounters with Camilla were just about that. Sex. Nothing else. He knew she wasn’t really getting any ideas, but their brief exchange from a couple of nights ago made him realize just how easy it would be for that to happen—for either of them. For reasons that he didn’t really care to examine or think about, telling Camilla in no uncertain terms that there was nothing else but great, scorching hot sex between them had left him with a sense of dissatisfaction in the pit of his stomach.

  And so Dirk took extra measures to make sure there were no misunderstandings of any sort.

  He had not been lying when he had said that the men’s mounting tension was starting to get to him. In fact, the whole situation was. It was less than an ideal predicament, stuck in Northburg waiting for their enemies to make a move. Camilla wasn’t the only one who felt like she was suffocating. Dirk, too, was pretty much climbing the walls.

  It didn’t help that whatever was going on between him and Camilla—he didn’t really have a name for it, although he would never be caught admitting that anything was going on at all—was bringing back memories of Eleanor. He was spelling out her name in his head now, no longer an ensemble of letters he refused to even think about.

  Eleanor, who had been the one to make anything matter after the war. Eleanor, whom he had loved so fiercely he had thought he might just die from it. Eleanor, whom he had asked to marry him. Eleanor, who had brought him back to life and whose death had killed him again. Eleanor, who had been killed by Tar Mongols president Herman Ruiz in retaliation.

  After that, Dirk had sworn to himself that nothing as horrific would ever happen to someone he loved, ever again. In his way of life, however, the only way to make sure of that was to simply not love anyone. Dirk would not and could not fall for Camilla, no matter what went down between them. No matter how telltale the signs were.

  Because he had noticed them, the signs. He wasn’t stupid. He might not be as skilled in matters of the heart as he was in combat, but he wasn’t blind either. He knew Stephan had been ri
ght. He knew there was a concrete, actual chance that he might fall for Camilla. And he had to put a stop to it.

  He didn’t put a stop to the sex, of course—it would have been suicidal to do so—but he did put a stop to the shared moments right afterwards. Now, he made sure he was out of the room as soon as they were done. He could tell Camilla was infuriated by it, but she wasn’t saying anything, and he was secretly grateful to her for that.

  Control. It was all about that, ultimately. It always was. Control over her and over himself. It was the only way Dirk knew to make sure nothing ever happened to her.

  ***

  Even with the emotional element cut out—provided that there had ever been an emotional element to speak of—sex with Camilla was mind-blowing. The sudden, stubborn distance he had put between them didn’t seem to affect her performance. If anything, it seemed to enhance it, as if he had lifted a weight off of her shoulders, too.