Page 10 of Retribution
“Better.” The biker rolled his shoulders and licked his lips. “I’m treating you the same way I would any other broad that was in trouble. I don’t want jack shit out of it. The truth is that I just couldn’t deal with my conscience if I let something happen to you down the road when I could’ve prevented it. So, until we know for sure that you’re gonna be okay and you got a plan, I’m offering you a place to crash with protection. Nothing more. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“Nothing in exchange?”
“That’s what I said, and just so you know—I don’t like repeating myself.”
“I’ll try and remember that. So, is this the part where we swap names?”
“Are you gonna give me your real one?”
Dakota scoffed and crossed her arms, observing the biker with a slight bit of side eye; he was looking at her watching him. The intensity pulsing between them was palpable. Tingles skittered across her body, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
“Dakota. That’s my name. What’s yours?”
“Leo, but I go by Cobra. Stick to Cobra.”
“Got it, Snake.” Dakota grinned when he glowered, then she slid back onto the bed.
“How old are you?” he asked.
“What difference does that make?”
Cobra let out a strained sigh. “I don’t need any trouble if you’re a minor.”
The corners of her mouth twitched up. “I’m legal, so you don’t have to worry about it.”
His lips parted, and he stared at her.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m twenty-one. Satisfied?”
“Bullshit.”
“I am. I can’t help it if I look younger than my age. You can check my ID in my backpack.”
Not thinking he’d really do it, surprise etched on her face when he walked over and began rummaging through it. Cobra held up her driver’s license. “If you paid more than ten bucks for this shit, you got gypped. Where’s your real one?”
The surface lines on her forehead deepened. “Do you always think you know everything?”
“Yep.” He poked around in her backpack for a few more seconds, then pulled out a small vinyl card holder and unzipped it.
“Hey! I didn’t say you could do that.” Her hand swatted at the air.
“You said to look for your ID. Fake shit doesn’t count.”
Dakota pursed her lips as she watched Cobra’s green eyes scan over her actual driver’s license.
“So you’re twenty. That’s good to know. I figured you were around eighteen,” he muttered.
“Since we’re sharing so much … how old are you?” A frown creased her brow.
“Thirty.” He shoved the card holder into her backpack.
Dakota paused to let a smirk run across her face. Then she said, “You look older.”
“Whatever.” Cobra leaned back and rocked on the heel of his boots.
For a moment or two, silence stretched between them. She fidgeted with the lose threads on the blanket and then realized what she was doing and willed her hands to stop. Clearing her throat, she pushed the cover away from her and looked up. “So I’m assuming you want financial help in paying for this lovely room. I’m pretty sure this isn’t a free ride.”
“Do you have any prospects for jobs? Maybe a waitress?”
