Brute_A Motorcycle Club Romance_Dark Vultures MC Page 3

  “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, man.”

  “Thanks.” Rascal left and headed for the clubhouse.

  Chapter Three

  Vera

  “What can I get for you?” The bartender stood next to her table and watched her with friendly eyes.

  “Um …” She felt strange about this whole situation. Rascal had said he would open a tab for her, which made it sound like he would pay for whatever she ordered. She didn’t feel right about spending his money. After all, he had already done a lot for her. But seeing as she had no money of her own, she didn’t have much choice.

  “We’ve got a great Reuben sandwich on special tonight,” the bartender offered. “And you seemed to enjoy that craft beer last night.”

  “What?” Vera swiveled in her seat to get a better look at him her hair dancing around her neck. Was this the person who could give her a clue as to what was going on. “Last night?”

  “Yeah. I’ve still got your ID, by the way. It must have fallen out of your purse or something, because I found it on the floor while I was sweeping up. I figured you would be back for it.”

  Not for the first time that day, Vera’s heart was pounding. At least this time, it was with hope. “Can I please have it? Right away?”

  His eyes narrowed slightly, but the bartender nodded. “Yeah. You want the sandwich and the beer, too?”

  “Sure.” She would do almost anything he asked as long as she could see who she was again. It was such a strange notion not to know, but at least things were starting to look up.

  The bartender returned a moment later to slap an identification card on the table. He turned and headed for the kitchen before she could say anything to him. The woman who looked out at Vera from the identification card was familiar, but in a way that felt distant. Her hair was much longer, hanging in limp waves that cascaded past her shoulders, and it was a mousy brown. She flicked forward a strand of her current hair to study the dark shine of it. When had she cut and colored it?

  Vera continued to study everything she could about the card, even examining the little recreated signature underneath the picture. Vera Evans. It was written in a loopy script, and she wondered if she would be able to reproduce it if she had a pen and paper at hand. She turned her attention to the address as the worker returned with her meal. “Excuse me, but can you tell me what street I’m on?”

  He gave her that look again, the one that said he thought she might be crazy. “VanBuren.”

  It wasn’t ringing any bells, but she hadn’t given up yet. “Can you tell me how to get this address from here?” She tapped on her license.

  Now he wasn’t trying to hide his feelings about her at all. He raised his dark eyebrows and stared at her for an uncomfortable few moments. “That’s in South Dakota. You’re gonna need a GPS.”

  “What do you mean?” A second ago, she had felt that she was close to home. She had a piece of her own history in her hands, she knew she had been right about her name, and she was going to get home, wherever that was. Now it was all collapsing again.

  “You’re in New Mexico. I’ve never been to South Dakota, and I don’t know how to get there.” He turned on his heel and disappeared into the kitchen once again.

  New Mexico? How on earth could she have traveled across the country and not even know it? That didn’t make sense, just like everything else she had experienced. She was left with more questions than answers, and it was a feeling she didn’t enjoy.

  Taking a sip of the beer, Vera watched the bar around her as she thought. That awful canal had been a bad place to start, and she had been fortunate that a man like Rascal had come along. He had been able to fend off those nasty brutes who wanted to have their way with her, and then she had even convinced him to give her a ride into town … whatever town this was. He had seemed like the safest bet in a scary world, but she had her doubts even about him. How could she know he was trustworthy? It was for that reason that she hadn’t come right out and told him about her amnesia. Somehow, she knew that could be dangerous.

  At least that decision had been one that made sense to her, but she wasn’t sure why she didn’t want to go to a hospital. She felt like hell, and Rascal’s suggestion had been a sensible one. But her rejection had come from deep down, an instinctive urge to stay away from such places. She felt a similar feeling when it came to the bar, the beer, and even the clothes she was wearing, as though some remnant of her memories was telling her these things were simply wrong. Vera had no reason for it, though, and that bothered her even more.

  Her seat faced the front of the bar, and she looked up hopefully every time the front door swung open. She knew there was a chance Rascal wouldn’t come back, and then what would she do? She was having a meal she couldn’t pay for on her own. She had no way of contacting anybody, even had she known who to contact. She didn’t even know where she would sleep that night.

  Rascal had been kind, but there was no telling just how far that kindness would extend. He was a sexy man, and she had to admit to herself that was part of the reason she thought she might be safe with him. Attractiveness didn’t mean he was a good guy, but so far he was proving to be the best one she knew. He had that dark hair, hints of curl in it as it lay combed back against his scalp. His eyes had seemed equally dark when they had met in the canal, but in the light of the bar she had found them to be a dark blue. His heavy, square jaw matched the wide set of his shoulders, and he looked like he could save her from anything.

  The door swung open again, and her heart leapt forward in her chest. It dropped as soon as she saw a young couple stumble into the bar, their arms around each other as they laughed over some private joke. Very couldn’t help but be jealous of them. They were obvious comfortable and happy. Neither one of them was alone in the world, nor did they question who they were or where they had come from. She wanted to be like that. It would make her life a lot easier.

  Just as she finished off her sandwich and her body was starting to feel a little bit less as though it had been dragged behind a truck, Rascal returned with a drawstring bag hanging from his fist. He strode to the table, eyed her empty plate, and nodded. “Good. I ran and got you some clothes. I don’t know what you like to wear, but it’s obvious you aren’t going to be able to wear that dress much longer.” The corner of his mouth turned up into a slight smirk that he quickly wiped away. “I thought it was at least a good start.”

  She stood and took the bag, so grateful to him not only for bringing her a change of clothes but for actually coming back. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” She was unable to keep the breathy appreciation out of her voice. The bag he handed her was like a lifeline.

  “Yeah. No problem. The restroom is right over there.”

  She followed his finger to the back corner of the bar and dashed off. She didn’t know where her dress had come from or why she was wearing it, but she knew that she’d had nothing but bad experiences in it and was ready to take it off. The bathroom was a small and dark one, but there was enough space for her to get the job done. She washed her face in the sink, looking up from the basin to stare at her visage in the mirror. It was one that was very similar to the face on her driver’s license, yet different. There was not only the hair, but she had a haunted look in her eyes that made her want to look away. The girl on the card hadn’t been wearing any makeup, but the girl in the mirror had applied heavy layers of black eyeliner that didn’t want to come off easily. Still, she managed to scrub it away until there was only her bare face staring back at her.

  The little black dress came off, barely staying in one piece as it did, and she threw it in the trash. Unpacking the bag Rascal had brought, Vera discovered that he had taken care of everything. Not only had he grabbed jeans, a tank top, and a jacket, but boots, socks, underwear, and a bra. These still had the tags on them, and she envisioned a big man like Rascal walking into a lingerie store and asking for undergarments for some strange woman he had met on the street.

  The clothes, alt
hough cute and providing much more coverage than the skimpy dress, were not new. Vera wondered for a brief moment where he had gotten them, but she immediately shoved the thought aside. It didn’t really matter. He had continued his kindness toward her, and she sure couldn’t run around wearing a torn piece of fabric for the rest of the night.

  At the bottom of the bag, Vera found a hairbrush, deodorant, and even a small bottle of perfume. “You really went all out for me, didn’t you?” she whispered to herself as she finished her ablutions. “I don’t know who you are, Rascal, but I’m sure glad you found me.”

  She felt so much better when she emerged from the restroom, and Rascal seemed to notice the difference. He sat up a little in his chair, those sapphire eyes raking down her body. He cleared his throat. “You look good. Are you going to join me for a drink?”

  Vera was suspicious that the beer she’d had with her sandwich was partially to blame for her suddenly better mood, but what did she possibly have to lose? If this guy was going to take advantage of her, then he would have already done it. “Yes, thank you.”

  “Vinny, get us two beers,” he called across the bar.

  Relaxing into her seat, Vera pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She felt sleepy and comfortable, almost safe. There were still so many questions that she had, but she felt there wasn’t anything she could do about them right now. The only option was to play along and see where she landed, and for the moment she had landed at a small table in a bar with a handsome man who wouldn’t stop looking at her. She had imagined he would come back, pay the tab, and just leave her to fend for herself. Asking her to sit with him was a pleasant surprise. The foam of the beer head was tantalizing on her tongue, and nobody was chasing her or trying to rape her. It was a start.

  “I have to tell you, I don’t usually pick up random women down at the canal. I was there on business, and I had planned on coming straight back to the clubhouse afterwards.” He took a long, slow sip of his beer, but he never took his gaze off of her.

  “Clubhouse?” Vera found that it was difficult not to look at him. If you took a classic superhero and dressed him in leathers, then you would have Rascal.

  “It’s where the motorcycle club stays. It’s a little way across town. That’s where I went to get those clothes for you. I knew one of the women would probably have something that fit you. And I have to say, it’s a good look for you.” His dark eyebrows quirked slightly as he glanced down at her body.

  Vera felt a flush of heat in her cheeks. “Well, it was very kind of you. What I had on wasn’t exactly decent anymore.” She wasn’t sure it had been decent in the first place, considering how short the dress was and how much of her cleavage it showed. Either way, she was much better now. Her body felt warm around the edges as the alcohol flowed through her system, and the muscles that she had been keeping tense for the last couple of hours were finally relaxing again. Still, she was eager to keep the topic of conversation away from her. “So tell me how you got a name like Rascal. It doesn’t really seem to suit you.”

  “Why not?” he asked with a grin.

  Vera tipped her head to the side and smiled back. “It sounds like someone a lot less mature, more irresponsible. I know I don’t know you all that well, but from what I’ve seen so far it just doesn’t match up.”

  “You’ve got me there,” he admitted. He tapped a patch on his vest that depicted a large black bird with bones in its talons. “I joined the Dark Vultures when I was really young. I didn’t know what I was doing, and that was the nickname they gave me. It stuck, and I’m just used to it now. I don’t really think about it anymore.”

  Vera had to wonder why she would feel comfortable with someone in a motorcycle gang. Those were the types of guys who rode hard and did what they wanted, fearless of the law and ready to move on to a new place whenever things got bad. But Rascal was charming, and he had done a lot to take care of her already. He wasn’t like the stereotype she knew from TV.

  The thought made her glance up at the screen in the corner of the bar, perched amongst antique liquor bottles and neon signs. It was on the news, but she couldn’t hear it over the din. Major Cult Busted; Dozens of Victims Rescued scrolled across the bottom.

  Rascal had followed her line of sight to the television. “Isn’t it crazy? Some sick bastard brainwashed all those people into living with him. I heard on the news yesterday that he had 10 wives or something like that.”

  “Yes, it’s crazy,” she agreed absently. But something was niggling at the back of her brain. She couldn’t place her finger on it, but there was something about the news story that really bothered her. It made her wonder who she had been before she had woken up in the canal. Was she the kind of person who would have helped those people? Or maybe it was just that she was watching the news, and that was the sort of thing she used to do a lot.

  “What’s even worse is that he had all those people who believed that he was their spiritual leader and that everything he said was gospel. You’d think at least a few people out of that entire compound would have realized something was going on and maybe have gotten away.”

  “Maybe they didn’t feel like they had a choice,” she countered. It was an automatic argument, one that she couldn’t explain the source of, but one that she knew she felt strongly about. “Those people live in those cult compounds for years, and I’d bet some of them truly don’t know any better. Or they know that if they escape, they’ll just be brought back.”

  “You sound like you know a lot about this stuff.” Rascal was watching her carefully now.

  His gaze made her uncomfortable, wondering if he had figured out just how little she knew about herself. She had tried to just be evasive, but she wasn’t sure that it would work on a guy like him. Clearly, Rascal had experience in the world. “It’s just my own personal theory. I don’t really know anything.”

  “No? You’re not going to tell me you’re some sort of therapist or counselor or something? That could explain why you were in the canal, just maybe not why you were dressed like you were.”

  His heavy gaze told her he wanted to know more about who she was, where she was from, and why he had found her in the state she had been in. Unfortunately, she didn’t have those answers. She wasn’t even sure she could make some up that would make sense. “I’m, um, I’m between jobs right now.”

  “I’ll accept that for the moment. So tell me, mysterious Vera from the canal, what are your plans for the rest of the night?”

  Vera felt her muscles tense again, but not nearly as much as they had been before. She didn’t know this guy from anyone else, but he seemed to be the safest route. At the very least, he knew his way around the city, and she hadn’t even figured out what city she was in. She would play this out as long as she could, for lack of better options. Besides, she couldn’t deny the way this man made her feel. There was something about him that made her want to know more about him, even though she knew so little about herself. “I’m not sure yet. Did you have anything in mind?”

  Chapter Four

  Rascal

  Rascal watched the beautiful woman across the table from him, wondering just what he had gotten himself into. He wasn’t the sort of guy who went running all over town to do things for others, not unless it was a mission for the Vultures. But Vera had him hooked. He’d known as soon as he had walked out of the bar and left her in there that he had no choice but to come back. He needed to know more about her, and the only way to do it was to get her some clothes, get her comfortable, and spend some time with her. Maybe once he knew she was all right he would be able to get her out of his system.

  He’d done his best to avoid questions when he got back to the clubhouse, but it was inevitable when he’d asked Rita for a change of clothes. She was one of the club girls, and she looked to be about Vera’s size. “No offense, Rascal, but I don’t think you’re exactly my size,” she had giggled, flicking her dark hair over her shoulder.”

  Any other time, he might ha
ve spent a moment joking with her. But he’d felt an incredible urge to get back to the bar and make sure Vera was all right. She’d seemed so innocent and naïve, and he’d wondered if he had made a mistake in leaving her alone. There was no telling what kind of trouble she might get herself into. “No, seriously. I’m trying to help someone out.”

  “Why don’t you just bring her here?” Rita had suggested. “I can fix her up.”

  It wasn’t a terrible idea, but Rascal wanted to keep Vera to himself, at least until he knew a little bit more about her. Bringing someone back to the clubhouse would involve explanations, and he didn’t really have any of those. “Maybe another time. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy; just whatever you have lying around.”

  Rita had shrugged and led him back to her room. She’d dug around in her closet and started tossing garments out. “Here. I have a few things I was wanting to get rid of anyway, so your friend doesn’t need to bring them back.”