Elias Read online

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Elias woke at four in the morning Monday. Chelsea was trembling in his arms from the torments of some restless dream. He smoothed her hair, hummed, and gently kissed her neck. "It's alright baby, you're safe," he whispered.

  She woke with a start and locked eyes with him, and then relaxed, gripping fitfully at his arm around her.

  "Just a dream baby, just a dream," he soothed.

  She turned into him and nuzzled his chest while gripping at his shoulders and replied, "I know, I know, but that's not what is hurting."

  "What is it Chelsea?"

  "You know so little about me, and you are doing so much, risking so much for me. I want to tell you, I really do, but I'm so scared, and it hurts so much even to think about. He's so mean, Elias. Meaner than you know. Really. You handled him well but only because he didn't expect to be ambushed like that. Next time, he'll be ready for you, and the way he gets ready for things is with overkill." She looked up into his eyes, "Please don't leave me, and give me more time. Please? I want to be worth it to you, but… I know I'm not. You just don't know, and it's tearing me apart."

  Her tears glistened in the moonlight coming through the window, and he leaned down and kissed her gently. "I'm not going anywhere."

  "You should. You should dump me back on the road, get on your bike, and never look back," she whimpered, and then she clutched at him. "But please don't."

  "I'm not going to do that, and yes, I can wait," he told her, running his fingers through her hair, which was damp with sweat.

  "But you shouldn't have to," she bawled. "You are risking your life, and the club, and Larry, and John, and men I don't even know. He's not alone. He has friends. Friends on the force, and friends off the force who are even worse than he is."

  "You've met these friends?"

  She shivered in his arms—deep, trembling shudders that came from her bones. "Yes," she whispered. "I've met them." And the degradation coming through her voice made him want to get his gun and start removing people from the sphere of her life.

  "Do you know any of their names?"

  She nodded, but didn't say anything.

  "Even their names scare you?"

  She nodded again, and then resumed trembling. "What scares me most, Elias, is what you are going to think of me when I finally have the guts to tell you what I should have told you before you risked your life today. I want so much for you to like me, to see me like you do now, but it's just not going to happen, and I know that. I'm a selfish bitch because I can't bear to let this go. To let this dream end."

  Elias gently lifted her chin to look her in her tear-filled eyes. "If you never believe another thing from me, believe this—nothing you can tell me about your past is going to affect who I see you as right now. You are who I met at the bar, and who you have become to me now. You are the woman I ride with, and who I will fight for, and nothing in your past is going to change that."

  "You don't know—" she started to bawl.

  "You left that past," he told her, stopping her protests. "You had the strength to run, and to risk everything doing it. That's hard stuff. Many people, men and women, never have the strength to take that kind of risk, to run from hell, knowing hounds will be on their trail. That's what I know about you. That's who I care about. Who you were in hell isn't, and will never be, more important to me than who you are to me right now."

  Her face flashed with a series of emotions, and then she broke into a keening wail of tears and sobs. "Fuck, Elias! Shit! You are tearing me in half!"

  He kissed her cheeks, and her forehead, and then soothed her and caressed her with his hands, massaging her deeply, and pulling her into him. He petted her and cooed at her until she calmed down and began to kiss him back.

  "Please make love to me? I need you Elias. I need to be the woman you see, because I can't stand the woman I see. Make me your woman, Elias. Make me believe I'm yours."

  ***

  When Chelsea's eyes fluttered open again, it was dark and she was alone in Elias' bed. She looked over at his bedside clock and saw it was after nine. Elias would be at his computer, or maybe out in the garage working on the bike frame he was designing. Or maybe he was painting another work of art for his walls with oil paints. She sighed. He was such a complex man. There was so much to him—depths she wanted so much to explore and enjoy.

  On the nightstand beside her she noticed a tall glass of orange juice and a folded note under it. She reached and took both off the stand. After a long drink she read the note. Good morning lover. You are my woman, it said.

  Tears welled up in her eyes. "Fuck," she sobbed.

  How could she tell him what he needed to know without telling him what she became? Yes, she did it to survive, and no, she didn't enjoy it. And yes, it wasn't her fault, but no, none of that really mattered. She wasn't even a whore. Whores get paid. She was something so much less. She felt so humiliated when she thought about Elias possibly being hurt because of her, and so deeply ashamed when he said things like he said last night. He didn't know who he had in his bed, who he was letting his heart care about, who he was calling lover.

  "But he has to know. He has to know what he is risking, and what he's up against," she told herself as she wiped her tears from her cheeks with her palm. "I have to tell him. He'll leave me, or at the very least, he'll move me back into the guest room and never touch me again. But I have to tell him."

  Just the thought of Elias never wanting to touch her again forced her to curl into a ball of sobs and moans.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Chelsea Shore woke on Saturday morning inside Elias' embrace, feeling warm, happy, and content. She never expected to feel any of these things ever again, and it still amazed her every day she woke up with Elias. Her smile lifted her cheeks and she stifled a giggle, hoping not to wake him.

  Easing out from under his arm, she slipped out of bed and boldly walked through the house naked to make coffee and start breakfast. Once coffee was made, she remembered it was Saturday and that the club was riding up to Sam Houston's National Forest, which the White Wolves simply called Sam's. This meant no breakfast was required—they would eat at the Log Cabin and then ride north. Chelsea did a little happy dance and then went back to the room to take a shower.

  Once out of the shower, she found the bed empty. She grinned and put on her short blue satin robe—the one that turned Elias on so much—and left it untied. Then she went back out into the house searching for him. She found him at the coffee pot, looking out the kitchen window, thoughtfully sipping on his first mug. He turned, looked at her, and then stared at her. Her smile broadened.

  "I truly love the way you look at me Mr. Elias Neal."

  "So do I." He grinned and set down his mug. "Come here, sexy, I want to kiss you good morning."

  "Hmm, that sounds delicious," she said in a teasing voice, and she strolled toward him, rolling her hips and letting the robe flash as much of her breasts as it wished to. She continued until she was pressed up against him, and then lifted up on her toes to take her promised kiss. His arms encircled her and she moaned her delight as his lips pressed against hers, and then she opened her mouth, allowing him to explore her tongue and take as much pleasure from her as he wished. His large hands cupped her ass and massaged her cheeks with his strong fingers, bringing a deep sigh of delight out of her throat.

  "I really love the way you hold me, Elias. It makes me feel so sexy and desirable."

  "You are sexy, and very desirable," he told her.

  "It is Saturday," she announced.

  "Yes," he agreed.

  "We are going to Sam's?"

  "I'm looking forward to it. You?"

  "Very much," she said with a nod. "You should take a shower so that we can get the bikes gassed up and get some breakfast."

  "Sounds good."

  "Would you like me to join you?" she asked, running her hand down his side and then further down to his cock. She stroked him through his pajama pants. "I
can wake you up so you won't miss your coffee," she purred.

  "You are much better than caffeine," he admitted.

  "I do aim to please, and thank you for that raving review," she teased.

  He kissed her nose. "Come on then. I find your offers very difficult to ignore."

  She smiled brightly and then pulled him by the hand while she skipped ahead back to the bedroom.

  Once her man was clean and satisfied, she toweled him off and then left his side to get dressed. Glancing back over her shoulder she found him watching her ass as she walked away, and felt warm all over again. "Should I bring my bikini again?"

  "You don't really need to work on your tan. You don't even have any lines," he told her.

  "Naked sunbathing is the balm," she told him as she nixed the idea of a bra and slipped on a black Harley baby-doll top, and then picked out a pair of leather pants she bought during the week. She also decided on a thong and slipped that on, noticing as she did that Elias was still watching her.

  "Elias?"

  "Yes?" he asked.

  "Aren't you going to get dressed? I don't mind, but some of the men might not want their wives looking at you like that. Not everyone is a Greek god, you know."

  "I'm Norse and Irish," he told her.

  "I love Thor," she told him.

  "He's a redhead."

  "I thought he was blond."

  "That's just the comic books. The real Thor is a redhead."

  "Oh, well, I still love him. Blond, redhead, same thing when you have pecs like that," she said in a serious voice.

  "Think I better get back in the gym. Don't want to lose you to a myth."

  "Probably a good idea," she agreed, trying hard to keep from giggling as she lied down on the bed and wiggled into her leather pants, which fit her like a second skin. She could swear she heard a sealing pop when they finally came up over her ass. "These aren't going to be too hot, are they?"

  He looked out the window. It was bright and sunny already. "Might be, once we are up there. Pack some shorts in your saddle bags, and maybe some Levis."

  "Good idea." She nodded and skipped to the closet again to pick out her stand-byes.

  "Come on!" she urged. "I'm still a little hungry, even after that wonderful shower."

  Elias came off the door jamb he was leaning on and said, "Alright. I'm coming."

  "You said that earlier. Get dressed," she teased.

  Once they had the bikes ready, they rode over to the Log Cabin Restaurant and Bar—the clubhouse of the White Wolves Motorcycle Club. She pulled her bike in beside Elias' V-rod and noticed a large blue and chrome trike parked beside the building.

  "Is that Duffy's trike?" she asked as she lowered the Sportster down on its stand.

  "Yep, I guess he's coming."

  "I finally get to meet the infamous Duffy," she said with delight, shaking out her long blond hair out from her helmet and then putting back on her sunglasses.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  As soon as they walked in the bar they were given a chorus of greetings. Chelsea took Elias' arm, still not use to such warm greetings from so many people, but she smiled and nodded to the few that she knew. Larry, the attorney—who looked more like a brawler—was one of them. John, the president—who looked like a leather armored bear—was another.

  John was talking to a beautiful and amazingly alluring Mexican woman, who was probably close to forty-five but, with a little makeup, could have passed for thirty. Chelsea silently prayed that at forty-five she would look so good. Elias guided her toward the two of them and then introduced her to Mary "Doc" Maynard.

  "You're a doctor?"

  "Psychiatrist," she told Chelsea.

  "Wow," Chelsea replied. "This club has some serious brain power."

  "You're on the arm of one of the brightest," Mary told her, and then leaned forward and gave Elias a kiss on each cheek in European fashion. "How you doing, big boy?"

  "Good. You riding with us?"

  "I thought it would be good to get out of the house for a while. I've been stewing in my own shit too much lately."

  "Don't be too hard on yourself; we all miss him," Elias told her.

  "Miss who?" Chelsea asked.

  "My husband. He passed away six months ago. He was a patch holder in the club. Treasurer."

  "Oh, I'm so sorry," Chelsea said, suddenly feeling guilty for asking.

  Doc shrugged. "We had twenty-three beautiful years together. Most people can't claim half of that."

  Chelsea bet that didn't make it any easier. In fact, that felt like it would be even worse, but she kept her thoughts to herself. "Are you riding your own bike?"

  "No, I thought I would hitch a ride with John since he offered. You riding your own?"

  "Thanks to Duffy." Chelsea smiled. "And by the way, where is Duffy? I would like to meet him," she asked, looking around and trying to spot someone who looked like they walked hand-in-hand with the gods of chaos and karma.

  "There he is," John pointed, and then called out for Duffy to come over and introduce himself.

  The man that turned, and hopped off the bar stool looked like a large, over-sized gnome. He had a bald head, a large gray and brown beard, and wore gold wire spectacles that he blinked behind. He was at least five inches taller than she was, so that put him at probably five-eleven. His shoulders were broad, but his arms were thin and wired with apparently strong muscles and painted with several tattoos. He had a paunch of a belly, and was slightly bowlegged.

  "You must be Chelsea," he said with the heaviest Texan accent Chelsea had ever heard—and since they were in Houston, that was saying something.

  "I guess I will be, then," she said with a smile, and then gave him a hug. "Thanks so much for letting me borrow the Sportster."

  "You know, I have your Shelby at the garage," he told her.

  "I know, but can I please keep borrowing the Sporty? I love riding it."

  "I can do without it for another couple of weeks, but don't get any ideas about trying to keep her. I like that little bike. It's got style, and grace."

  "Yes it does." Chelsea nodded. "Maybe you could keep a look out for a bike that I can buy?"

  "I would love to help get you saddled up," he replied. "You got the money?"

  "I could afford probably ten grand, but not much more than that," she offered.

  "Ten will get you a real nice used Sporty," Duffy told her. "I'll send out the hounds and see what comes back."

  "Good, that would be so nice. Do you think you could also help me sell the Shelby?" she asked.

  "Oh hell, I could have that sold by the end of the day. I can't tell you how many offers I've already gotten for it. That's a sweet ride, if you are into that sort of thing."

  "I was, but I'm thinking bikes are much more fun."

  "That's the way of it alright," he agreed. "What you wanting for it?"

  "As much as you can get, and then take twenty percent for your effort."

  "Won't be any effort at all. Hell, the thing has sold itself at least fifteen times since it arrived on Monday."

  "The pink and registration are in the glove box, already signed," she told him.

  "That's kind of dangerous, isn't it?"

  "Well, I honestly didn't think I would ever see her again. I figured someone should have her," she sighed.

  Duffy nodded. "Yeah, I've heard part of the story, and filled in some of the rest with what I heard about that feller coming by here to give you a hassle. The one Elias shot the shit out of the doorjamb because of. Some kind of detective, wasn't he? They're all assholes. Especially those narcs."

  Chelsea smiled, having heard that Duffy dabbled in drug running and had been arrested several times by those assholes, although nothing ever stuck on him. Something always happened to mess up the case. Evidence would go missing, reports got screwed up—it was weird but apparently consistent. Elias told her that, despite it all, Duffy still had a clean record.

  The five of them got a table together and orde
red breakfast. A few minutes later, Larry, who got the restraining order and the lawsuit filed for her against Tomas, came over and sat with them. "Hey all, how's the world treating you folks?"

  "Very good, thank you," Chelsea told him with a grin. "And how is my favorite lawyer today?"

  "Splendid. My bike is running beautifully, thanks to the Duff, and my back feels great, and I'm looking forward to riding through some scenic views."

  "What happen to your back?" she asked, concerned.

  "He tried to date a nineteen-year-old college girl, and she rode him near to death," Duffy laughed.