Survivor: Steel Jockeys MC by Evelyn Glass Page A

used to being the only woman around here most of the time.
     
    "So. Kyle Clarke's sister," Sean said. “I was beginning to think you were just a rumor. A story Joey Boy here made up to keep himself warm at night."
     
    "Oh," Ruby laughed nervously. "Like a ghost?"
     
    "Like an angel," said Sean, without even the trace of irony. Sean shook her hand, holding onto it for a second longer than anyone with purely innocent intentions would have. "Welcome to Cat’s.”
     
    "Sean, I know being treated like a piece of meat is fairly standard for any girl who happens to stumble in here, but Ruby's been through hell and back and it's not even 9 p.m., so maybe you can give her the formatted-for-prime-time version of Late Night with Sean Donovan and let her get some sleep."
     
    "Oh, come on, man. We--"
     
    "Not later. Now." And when Sean stared back at him, Joe said. "In a bed. An empty bed," he added hastily.
     
    Sean slowly raised his eyebrows, then slowly lowered them, looking from one new arrival to the other. "Something tells me it won't stay empty for long."
     
    "Why, is this your version of room service?"
     
    Ruby couldn't help but admire the cool, even-handed way Joe handled Sean. Joe had leaned back against the bar, casual but still wary, never letting Ruby too far out of his sight or out of his reach. And as much as Ruby hated to admit it, she was hesitant to stray too far away from him. After all, it was Joe with whom she had placed her trust in--not the handsome but shifty Sean Donovan or his belly-baring barmaid.
     
    "Although I’m fresh out of pillow mints, I live to serve." Desiree’s face was surprisingly soft as she came around the front of the bar and placed a hand on Ruby's shoulder. She was heavily made-up, but Ruby recognized a tenderness behind all the armor. "You'll stay at my place." Recognizing the stricken look Ruby knew she must have been wearing as she pictured what the spare room at Cat’s biker bar might look like, Desiree reassured her. "Don't worry. I don't live here; I've got my own place next door. Alone. No boys allowed. There's body wash, toothpaste, shampoo, fuzzy pajamas, and cable TV. You know, civilization."
     
    Ruby managed a smile, admittedly taking comfort in Desiree's sisterly embrace, which felt genuine enough. Joe, however, looked serious, his brow knitted. Normally, she would have hated having to defer to him, but the sense of potential danger that seemed to lurk everywhere in this world led her to believe that it was best to take her cues from the young man who seemed to know it intimately.
     
    "I'll be right here," he told Ruby, and before she knew what was happening, he had reached down to slide his hand into hers. She knew her hand was warm, as it usually was due to her good circulation, but Joe's fingers curling around hers were cold. She had to fight the desire to tighten her grip on him, to massage the frost out of his fingers. But he released the squeeze almost as quickly, and Ruby’s heart was back to normal almost before she realized it had quickened. "All night. If you need me for anything--"
     
    "Joe, it’s okay," said Ruby. "We'll figure this out. You should get some rest, too." But she suspected he wouldn't. As she walked away, she noticed his rich amber eyes were bright, vigilant, and longing.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
     
    Joe had given Ruby her purse back--cell phone, gun and all--in a show of good faith. In Desiree’s bathroom, Ruby scrubbed herself robotically with a shea butter wash, trying to keep weight off her ankle and quickly toweled off. She remembered the restroom at the service station--scraping up the caked mud off her boots and swiping an alcohol wipe across her face to remove the dirty streaks and then pulling a comb out of her purse and working it through the truly epic knots the wind had introduced to her curly chestnut tresses. Joe had let her lean on his shoulder, curling his arm around her waist. He then bought a bag of ice for her twisted ankle