Page 8 of Sinner's Steel
“And you are?” She pointed to the one percent patch on his cut that marked him as the one percent of bikers who didn’t follow civilian law.
“We’re nice outlaws.” His face softened again, and her tension eased.
“Isn’t that a contradiction in terms?” She was glad Connie wasn’t around to hear Evie steal her phrase.
“Aren’t you?” He gestured around the shop. “This is the last place I ever would have expected to see my sweet, innocent sheriff’s daughter who played video games, painted landscapes, and thought the world was really a beautiful place.”
“It was a beautiful place,” she said. “Now it’s just real.”
FOUR
Don’t mess around unless you know what you’re doing.
—SINNER’S TRIBE MOTORCYCLE REPAIR MANUAL
Zane watched Big Bill’s Custom Motorcycle shop all afternoon.
From his vantage point on the picnic table outside the diner across the street, he could see everyone who went into or came out of the building. And what he couldn’t see—Evie and her shop out back—he imagined. And then he would picture Mark and their son, and his stomach would twist in a knot. But this time there was nowhere to run. Conundrum was his town; the Sinners’ town.
The shop closed at 6P.M.and the mechanics and salesclerk left together. He hated them simply because they knew Evie and because they made her smile when she locked the door behind them.
How long had it been since he’d seen that smile?
When she didn’t follow them out, he crossed the road, and walked around the building to the back of the shop. Jagger had spent the morning with her, and whatever she’d told him made his best friend unusually distant and frustratingly uncommunicative. But he had grunted his approval when Zane offered to take first watch on the shop in case Axle returned.
Although tempted to look in the window, he didn’t want to scare her, so he leaned against a storage shed across from the back door. Should he wait or should he go in? What would he say? Did he really want to see her?
What the hell was he doing here?
He pushed away from the wall, intending to return to his bike when the shop door opened.
Evie.
Although he was prepared this time, he couldn’t stop the rush of blood pounding through his veins when she stepped onto the gravel, a piece of fairing in her hand. She wore tight jeans that clung to the swell of her hips, and a T-shirt, cut low enough to expose the crescents of her breasts. Her ponytail swayed gently as she held the fairing up to catch the light. More beautiful now than she had been as a girl. His words died in his throat. All but one.
“Evie.”
She froze, her head snapping to the side. And then her eyes widened. Recognition dawned. With a gasp, she dropped the fairing and staggered back. “Zane.”
He had imagined this moment every night for the last nine years: the words he wanted to say; the emotions he’d kept bottled up inside—anger, despair, loneliness, and a pathetic longing that just wouldn’t go away. In the fantasy, he lambasted her for not waiting for him, accused her of betraying him, let loose a stream of shouts and curses about her inconstancy, and after unburdening his heart, he walked away.
But he did none of those things. Instead, he concentrated on fighting back the desire to take Evie into his arms and hold her, the way he’d held her the last time they were together. Although his need for redress was strong, stronger still were the feelings he’d had for her since he was ten years old.
“I thought it was you,” she said softly. “Last night, when you spoke… your voice, and the way you were standing… but when you didn’t say anything—”
“You look good. Older.” Fuck. Not the right thing to say to a woman, but his tongue wasn’t working the way it should. She was beautiful and sexy, with a confidence she hadn’t had as a girl. But he hadn’t expected any less. She had always taken his breath away.
“Well, it has been nine years. People change,” she said bitterly. “Although it seems you haven’t, except for the whole biker thing. Still the silent, brooding type skulking in the shadows. I mean, who doesn’t say hello when you’re standing in front of someone you haven’t seen for nine years?”
“Had a job to do.”
“So did Jagger and yet he managed to say hello.”
Damn. This wasn’t going well. He cocked his head to the side and forced a smile, as if her anger hadn’t touched him where it hurt the most. “Hello, Evie.”
A smile ghosted her lips, and her voice lost its edge. “Hello, Zane. I go by Evangeline now.”
Encouraged by her gentle tone, he took one step, then another, until he stood only a foot away, close enough to see her eyes glisten. “Why? You hated that name.”
