The Way I Like It (The Soldiers of Wrath MC, #5) (6 page)

S
triker wiped off some of the blood from his hands on the rag he held and watched as a couple of the prospects carried the body of the lifeless motherfucker to the back of the van. There was a loud lump as they tossed the body in the back.

“Get the bleach,” Nerd said.

The prospects gabbed the two jugs of bleach, and although the likelihood that anyone would come back here, see the stains of carnage, and call the cops, they didn’t want to take any chances. Bleach might not actually wash away the evidence of what Striker had done, but it would mask it enough that the club, and Striker, wouldn’t feel the spotlight.

“Where are we taking the bodies?” Ash was a prospect that was coming up on his year and would most likely be patched. Blood coated his hands and shirt, but the big motherfucker didn’t look fazed.

“Take Route 56 for about five miles. The dirt road that leads up through the woods will get you far enough away from town and anyone stupid enough to snoop. You can bury them further up there without notice.”

Ash nodded and grabbed the rag Striker handed him. Now that this was cleaned up, all Striker could think about, the only thing that consumed his mind, clouding his thoughts, was images of Elena. He still smelled her on him, a sweet fragrance that wasn’t artificial.

Something inside of him wanted her, had wanted her from the moment he saw her. And then he’d talked to her, had her at his home, and something else shifted in him. He couldn’t describe it, couldn’t even make sense of it. Hell, Striker didn’t want to.

“I’ve got to go. You guys have this under control?” He asked Ash, and then looked at Nerd and the other two prospects.

“We’re good.”

Striker nodded and headed to his SUV. His bike was already gone, but he didn’t want to be on that beast right now anyway. He headed back to his place, his thoughts focused on one woman.

When he finally pulled up to his place and cut the engine, he knew he’d need to figure out what in the fuck was going on. He didn’t need an old lady, didn’t want a woman in his life. He was a sadist, a Dom, and the type of relationship he wanted was one that had a woman submitting to him. He wanted her willing, begging for the pain he could give her because it would lead to her pleasure. Elena didn’t seem like the type of woman that was into what he liked, and he’d never force a woman into anything. But he couldn’t lie and say thinking about her, hell,
just
thinking about her, had him feeling things he’d never thought possible.

The truth was he never thought he’d be able to have anything other than the sexual relationships he had with his submissives. Those were for a few hours at a time, because any more and he became detached. But there was something special about Elena, something dark inside of her that he’d noticed right away.

He got out of the SUV and headed inside. Once the front door was shut behind him, he heard her cries right away. The lights were off, and he saw her on the couch, twisting on the cushions and whimpering. Turning the light on, he walked over to her quickly and crouched beside her

“Elena?” He said her name softly, but when she kept whimpering, he reached for her shoulder and shook it lightly. “Wake up,” he said louder.

She opened her eyes, gasping, and sat up. Her hair was a wild mess around her head, and her eyes were wide, filled with fear.

“What the fuck?” God, Striker was worried about her, and he didn’t get worried about anyone, least of all a woman. “Are you okay?”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I was having a nightmare.” She opened her eyes. “I was having a nightmare about the life I ran away from.”

––––––––

K
neeling by the couch, Striker frowned. “What did you run away from?”

“My family, everything. I didn’t want to do something that my parents demanded, and I ran. I’ve been running ever since.”

She’d sat up, but he stayed on the floor, staring at her. Shit, what was he supposed to do? His heart was racing. The very thought of her being in distress had affected him deeply. Running fingers through his hair, he glanced back at her.

“We’ve all got a past, sweetheart. Don’t let it define who you are.”

“You’re not going to ask me about it?”

“Why would I do that?” he asked. “It’s your story to tell, not mine.”

Elena bit her lip, and he couldn’t resist reaching out and stopping her.

“Don’t bite your lip.” He hadn’t meant to sound so demanding, but he was a very dominant man.

“My family are religious,” she said.

He winced. “Religion and me, we don’t mix.”

She laughed softly. “They wanted me to marry my uncle, head of our church. My mother was training me to be a good wife, a perfect woman for him.” She cringed. Striker stood and moved toward her. He took the seat beside her.

“An actual uncle?”

“Yeah. He is older than me by a lot, obviously, and they said it would be good for me to have an older husband who would know how to control me.” 

His anger spiked once again. There was nothing he hated more than an overbeating family, selling off their daughters to the highest bidder. Arranged marriages weren’t common practice anymore, and might even be illegal in some parts, but it didn’t stop families from actually doing it. He rubbed her back, trying to offer her comfort.

“Is that why you’re working in a diner?”

“Yes. I had to get away. I don’t have anything. I’m just trying to get by with what little I have and earn.” She sniffled, and he closed his eyes, hating that she’d had to go through this. Women were not his area of expertise. Pain, sex, the club, and killing were his life.

“We’ve all got a past, and we’ve all got our crosses to bear. Some of us have it worse than others.” He tilted her head back so she could look at him. “You’re welcome to stay here,” he said.

“I’ve got my own place.”

“You’re alone in a city that’s fucking rotten, baby. You’ve got more chance of surviving in the fucking wild than you do here. You’re damn lucky you’ve made it this far. Your family is religious so you’ve been protected from a lot of shit. Take my help.”

He didn’t even know why he was helping her. The last thing he needed in his life was a woman running from her past. It shouted trouble, yet he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t walk away and let her go.

“I’ve got nothing to give—”

“I’m not asking for anything. I’ve got a spare room. Keep clean, stay quiet, and you and I won’t have a problem. I’m good to live with since I’m not really here that much. I’ve got my own life, a club I’m at most of the time.” He stood up, needing to create some distance between them. “I’ll show you the room.”

Walking on ahead, he opened the spare room door and flicked on the light. “It’s not much. Tomorrow, I’ll go gather your shit. You can still work, save up, and we’ll talk about what you can do next. Do you have any plans?”

“No. My only plan was to hide.”

“Then I can help you stay hidden.” Rubbing the back of his head, he blew out a breath. “I’m grabbing a shower and getting some sleep. When do you work next?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“Tell them you fell down or some shit. Don’t say anything about being attacked.” He nodded at her face.

Get away from her.

You’re a monster.

She’s an innocent.

“If you need anything, let me know.”

He left her alone and made his way into his own room. Striker took a quick shower in the en-suite and climbed into bed. It had been a long damn night, and it was too damn early to be getting up. His cell phone buzzed with a message from Nerd. The bodies were buried, and there was no trace of any action. He took deep breaths, just lying there for a moment, not able to fall asleep right away because he kept thinking about Elena.

It was a bad move he’d made with her, but it was one he couldn’t change.

Fuck.

Shit, there was nothing he could do.

Leaving her out in the world alone was like throwing a kitten to the wolves. He’d never do something like that, even if he was one of those fucking wolves.

Deal with it tomorrow. Everything will be fine then.

E
lena woke up to the sun shining through the curtain. The spare bedroom was large enough for a bed, a small dresser opposite the bed, and nothing else. It was nice, and what she loved about the small bedroom, compared to her apartment, was she felt safe.

She hadn’t felt safe in a long time. Even at her parents’ house, they’d allowed her uncle to visit her. Nothing happened. He used to watch her sleep and maybe touch her hand. Elena had noticed a change in him though. He started looking at her in ways that didn’t have anything to do with watching over a loved one. He’d wanted to do more and was waiting for the right time to do it.

Her time had been running out, and when she’d finally had the opportunity, she’d run and not looked back.

Climbing out of bed, she made her way into the kitchen. Striker’s door was still closed. What should she do? Waking him up seemed rather rude, especially since he’d been more than kind to her. Going to the bathroom, she used the toilet then washed her hands, before brushing her teeth with the spare one Striker had left for her to use.

Once that was done, she walked back into the kitchen, recalling how clean and neat he actually was.

I can make him breakfast. It’ll be a small token of gratitude.

She opened the fridge and pulled out some eggs, butter, and right at the back was some cheese.

Checking every cupboard, she found some bagels that needed to be used, along with a couple of items that would serve as breakfast.

Elena was putting the finishing touches to the eggs when he came out, dressed in a pair of baggy pants. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and her mouth watered. He was covered in ink, not the nice kind either. Different designs covered his body, and her cheeks heated from staring.

“You like what you see?”

“I’m so sorry.” She dropped the empty pan on the floor, and quickly bent down to pick it up. “I made you breakfast.”

“You don’t need to be embarrassed. I bet you’ve not seen that many naked men, have you?” 

“No.”

He shrugged. “I’ve got no problem with you looking.” He grabbed a fork and scooped up some cheesy eggs from the plate she’d set out on the table.

Biting her lip, she stood wringing her hands together, waiting for what he actually thought of the food she’d made for him. Her father always graded her on the quality of her food. No man would want a wife if she got less than a B.

She was starting to sound like a lunatic in her head.

“Why are you nervous?” he asked. “You poison the food?”

“No. I hope you like it.”

“It’s food, and it’s covered in cheese; I’m going to like it.”

Swallowing down her nerves, she took a seat opposite him, and against all of her training, she took a bite. Striker watched her intently for several seconds.

“I take it your parents wouldn’t let you do shit like this, eat with the men?” he asked.

“My father preferred to grade the meals I cooked before I was allowed to sit with him. If my food was awful, I wasn’t allowed to sit at the same table with him.” Yeah, her home life had been pretty damn twisted.

“Your father is an asshole. Don’t think about him. This is damn tasty.”

Breathing out a sigh of relief, she smiled. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. You cook like this all the time, I’m not getting rid of you.”

She didn’t want him to. Elena actually liked Striker, even if he was a stranger.