Hard Ride Read Online Free Page B

Eight
     
    Houston stared at the TV screen, seeing none of the baseball game. His ego was bruised, and he had nothing to soothe it. Glancing at the clock for the umpteenth time, he growled. The digital readout said almost eleven at night, and he’d done nothing except brood.
    Rubbing his forehead, he realized the problem. His mother, an anthropologist specializing in the evolution of societies, warned him. Like his father, he had to be the one to ensure the survival of his pack and his chosen mate. Katie was part of it, and the damned woman wouldn’t let him do what he was meant to do. Probably because she didn’t see him as more than a friend that now included very pleasurable benefits. His mother had called them The True Alpha Males. Those more intent on the safety, security, and success of the group under their protection. Even if it meant breaking laws, killing, or dying.
    If today was just a taste of those benefits, he was never going to leave her alone.
    Flipping off the TV, and looking down at the tented boxers, he stood to head into the shower. A very cold one.
    It didn’t help until he gave in, remembering the taste of her, how her flesh squeezed him, came around him screaming his name . Two long strokes and he was done.
    Padding through the house, he opened the fridge and stared. Shut it. Opened it. Shut it. Walked away in total disgust at himself. Women did not dismiss him. Clenching his jaws, he got dressed and headed to the pub around the corner, aware it was his ego driving him out of the condo.
    One pint later, he had seven phone numbers, numerous offers, and one bottle blonde who wouldn’t stop touching his chest. It did nothing. Not even stroke the ego. None of them were Katie.
    Standing and tipping the bartender, he stalked out, walking the neighborhood. The cell phone in his pocked vibrated, and he almost sent Katie to voicemail. But something nagged at him.
    “What’s up?” Sound casual, as if it doesn’t bother you either.
    “Houston, I hope I’m not interrupting. But can you come bail me out?” her voice tinny.
    “Bail you out?” He stood in place, looking around to see if it was a prank.
    “Pulaski County, dude, come get me. I’ll pay you back. It’s …” he heard muffled conversation, “only eighty five hundred bucks.”
    “What?” he yelled.
    “I’ll explain and pay you back tonight. Can you do it?”
    “I’ll be there in twenty. You owe me.” He hit the red button, missing the old phones where he could slam the receiver into the cradle.
    Stalking to the house, he grabbed the car keys and drove to the county jail. She had plenty of explaining to do.
    Never let it be said bureaucracy is fast. He paced the waiting area, glanced at the clock and saw it was past four in the morning. She was going to explain when he could have happily been passed out by now.
    The door opened, and Katie walked out. He openly gaped.
    She wore jeans, a tank top, her favorite sneakers, and carried the ever-present messenger bag. But that wasn’t what stopped him. It was the bruises lining her neck and collar bone, the shiner around her left eye, the split lip and bloodied knuckles.
    Instincts rose, ones he didn’t know what to do with. Fists clenched, he gulped down the need to kill whoever had harmed her. He didn’t give a damn about laws, or society and justice.
    He raised an eyebrow, not wanting to voice his thoughts.
    “I’ll explain, but for now, can you take me home?” she whispered, gingerly touching each injury and hissing.
    He nodded, refraining from picking her up and carrying her to the car. “You’re staying at my place, where I can keep an eye on you.” He led the way to his Mustang, a modern beauty in gunmetal gray and black racing stripes. Opening the door, he helped her to sit, noticing she winced with every movement. Buckling her in, he closed the door and got in the driver’s side. He closed his eyes, concentrating on unclenching his fists, and demanding to know what