Page 19 of Banshee's Lament

Banshee

We hadweeks of hurry up, and wait, while in Cedar Creek, and then in a matter of a few short hours, everything we had been there for was done. The fundamentalist fuckers were pretty much no more, Dragon and Laney were back at the clubhouse, and there was no more reason for us to hang around, so after a rip-roaring party to celebrate, me, Kracken, and Scythe had hit the road so we could swing by our Dallas chapter before heading home.

As my wheels ate up the miles, my mind spinning over what Wrecker’s dream walking had revealed, I kept hoping to hear my phone ring. “Dammit, Brick, I need to know if you’ve talked to RiffRaff yet,” I growl out, passing a slow-moving car. Up ahead, I see a smaller RV and can tell the hood is up, so I motion to the guys that we’re going to stop and check the situation out.

Not because we’re necessarily good guys; in fact, most folks tend to head in the opposite direction when they see we’re Royal Bastards, but because the color of the disabled motorhome tells me it’s likely a female is the operator.

Approaching the driver’s window, I smirk when I see the female sitting in the driver’s seat. I can tell she’s muttering to herself as she scrolls through her phone, and I presume she’s trying to find help.

“Looks like the radiator’s fucked up,” Kracken helpfully calls out as I rap on the window, causing her to shriek.

* * *

As I walk over to where she’s opening the tow truck door, I grin. She’s a little slip of a thing compared to my height, but I suspect despite her stature, she’s hell on wheels. Maybe it’s the glint in her eyes, maybe it’s because even though I can see she’s obviously overwhelmed by the overflowing testosterone, she’s holding her own.

“C’mon, Rory, let’s get you and your cat inside while they check over your RV and get her fixed up,” I say, reaching up to help her down before I grab the handle of the cat carrier.

“If I didn’t say it before, I will now. Thank you, Banshee, for stopping and offering help,” she says, smiling up at me.

Her sun-kissed skin and pouty, yet kissable lips, have me discreetly adjusting myself as we make it to the open door. Once inside, I walk her over to a table, pull the chair out and motion for her to sit down before carefully placing the carrier on the floor by her feet. After I assure myself she’s okay, I turn to the man standing there patiently and grin, pulling him into a man hug.

“Raptor, appreciate y’all’s hospitality,” I tell him once we’ve pounded one another a few times.

“Let’s get you a beer,” he says. “What about your friend?” he asks.

Turning, I look at her and ask, “Rory, you want a beer or something else?”

“It’s ten in the morning, Banshee!” she exclaims, causing Raptor to throw his head back and laugh.

“It’s five somewhere, darlin’,” he retorts. “But we’ve got soda or water if it’s too early for you.”

“Water’s fine, thanks,” she replies, grinning.

We walk over to the bar where one of the club girls is working and she quickly grabs two bottles of beer, popping the tops before sliding them in our direction. “Need a water, too,” Raptor tells her before taking a long drink. “So, what’s the deal? Didn’t know any of y’all had an ol’ lady.”

“She’s not, just a woman who was broken down on the side of the road. Wanted to help her is all,” I admit, taking a pull of my own beer.

I refuse to examine the feelings that swamped me when I got my first look at her. I realized rather quickly that she’s the kind of woman my father always told me he hoped I’d find. Since that hadn’t happened yet despite being in my thirties, I honestly thought it never would. Only… after her initial fear of me knocking on her window, she had settled in and treated me like I was a regular person. Hell, she had shown all three of us her RV and taken great pride in all the extras she and her grandfather had added, which impressed the fuck out of me.

Not a scary biker, which most would likely think seeing as I was covered in tattoos, had gauges in my ears, a Mohawk, and a cut that denoted me as a member of the Royal Bastards MC.

“May wanna reconsider that, Brother, seeing as she’s got the look of one,” he advises, smirking at me.

“She’s got trouble following her,” the tow truck driver says, coming up to the two of us. I look at his cut, which he didn’t have on earlier since he was in a cage, and see he’s the club’s SAA, Phoenix.

“What do you mean?” I question, looking over at Rory. Despite being in the middle of an MC, she doesn’t look ill at ease or uncomfortable as she drinks her water, which a prospect took over to her.

Phoenix quickly fills us both in on Rory’s ex and I feel a blinding rage which has me wanting to find the asshole and beat him until he’s bloody.

Or dead.

Either works for me right now.

“Think he’ll figure out where she is?” Raptor asks, his eyes never leaving me. They’re knowing, a little too knowing if I’m honest with myself.

I shrug before saying, “No clue. I’m unsure how far she is from where her farm is to be honest.”

“Need to find out,” Raptor advises.