Twisted Scars (Comanche Sons Motorcycle Club Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

the way the wind whipped around her. When they came to a stop outside a seafood joint near Boston Harbor, she was pleasantly surprised. It was an upscale place, not enough to make her feel dowdy in her old jeans, but it was a far cry from the pub where she ended up taking most of her meals.
     
    He’d reserved a table. Fancy! The man sure had some moves for a biker. Most of the guys in Comanche Sons were happy to feast on anything that she put in front of them after half a dozen bottles of beers. He was different. The waiter gave them the menus, and she glanced at it. “I’ll have the clam chowder.”
     
    “Good choice. I’ll take the same,” he said.
     
    After the waiter left, she looked at him. He appeared comfortable in this place. “Have you come here before?”
     
    “Belongs to a friend of mine, so yes. It’s one of my favorite haunts, and their food is good.”
     
    She cocked her head as she studied him. “You don’t seem like the other guys in the biker’s club.”
     
    “I’m unique, too.”
     
    “Yes, you sure are. So when did you join the boys?”
     
    He shrugged. “Nearly four years ago. I was at a loose end, didn’t have much to do, anyplace to go…so well, they seemed like a nice fit. There isn’t that much work pressure. All I do is handle the supplies’ department for all the bars, and the rest of my time is mine. No office where I’ve got to clock in hours; no pants, shirts, and ties; and I get to ride my bike as much as I want.”
     
    “You went to college? Got an education?”
     
    “How do you know?” he asked.
     
    She grinned. The waiter brought their food, and she gazed appreciatively at the soup she’d ordered as an appetizer. “Have you heard the way most bikers’ speak? You’re different, more cultured…I’m guessing at least a bachelor’s degree.”
     
    “I was in the army.”
     
    The spoon that she’d dug into her soup clattered, as she stared at him. “You were…what?”
     
    “Got admitted. Went through basic training, the works. Was posted in Afghanistan. Did a couple of years. When I came back…hell! They called it post-traumatic stress syndrome, but I just thought it was basically shit hitting the fan. Was in a pub, got into a fight and lobbed a guy hard enough to send him to the hospital for three months. He recovered, but I couldn’t. Was thrown out and had to find other employment.”
     
    She took a few mouthfuls of her soup, as she sifted through his story. There was anger, oh yes, she could sense it, but it was mostly directed at himself. “I’m sorry,” she said.
     
    “Don’t be. It was my fault. Guess the life didn’t suit me. Too much stress. I’m happy to paddle along now and do what is necessary to get through the day.” There was more to this story than he was telling, but she didn’t want to pry, especially given the fact that she didn’t want to stick around. Sure, he was a nice guy, but she wasn’t looking for anything permanent. “What about you? What’s your story?”
     
    Oh! She wouldn’t ever tell him the whole of it. She couldn’t. “I got through high school, never went to college. This was the only job that I’d done since I was fifteen, and I’m pretty damn good at it.”
     
    “Yeah, I’ve seen you in action. If you stick around, you would easily be promoted, become manager soon,” he said, causing her to shrug. It was his turn to cock his head. “But you don’t intend to stick around, do you? I wonder why that is.”
     
    “None of your business.” Riley raised a hand. “Sorry. You’ve been nice to me. I shouldn’t have said that.”
     
    “Never mind. You’ve got walls around you that are a mile high, Riley. Any fool can see that you’re hiding from something. What is it? Law?”
     
    “I didn’t kill anyone.”
     
    “So? Theft? Breaking and entering? Come on…you can tell me. I’ve got a good lawyer. Trust me…he got me off after I broke a guy’s legs. I could’ve gone to jail, but