Page 6 of Viper's Desire
The casseroles slideacross the passenger seat when I take the turn onto the dirt road, and I throw out an arm to keep them from tipping. Three of them, foil-capped, warm against my hand. The same seat I had a half-dead stranger bleeding all over last night.
I told my mother the food was for a sick friend. That part isn’t even a lie, depending on how generous you’re being with the term friend.
The gate is shut. A guy about my age steps out of the guard shack, and I roll my window down.
“Can I help you?” he asks. Then recognition hits him. “Hey. You’re the girl from last night.”
“Eden,” I tell him.
“Trapper,” he replies, introducing himself. He’s already hauling the gate open, gravel grinding under it. “Does Viper know you’re coming?”
“Nope.”
That gets a grin out of him, big and delighted. “Oh, he’s gonna love that.”
The lot is nearly empty. A few bikes are there, and a truck. Nothing like last night.
Stripped of the crowd and the dark, the place is much less intimidating. It’s two stories constructed from cinder block and weathered wood. It’s an old hotel that quit being a hotel a long time ago.
I get out of the car, go around to the passenger side, and grab the casseroles and my first-aid kit. I balance it all as I make my way up the porch steps.
The screen door is propped open, so I let myself in.
Inside, it’s dim and cool. A long table runs down the middle, couches thrown around it, a pool table off to one side with the balls scattered. The bar takes up a whole wall, and there’s a kitchen at the far end.
A man with dirty blond hair standing behind the bar looks up.
“You lost?” he asks, his eyes dragging up and down my body.
“I’m looking for Viper.” I’ve heard two men say his name now, so I’m pretty sure I have it right.
The grin spreads wide. “Viper’s a lucky guy.” Then he calls out, over his shoulder, toward the hall behind him, “Viper. You’ve got company.”
And Viper fills the doorway when he comes through it.
I’d half talked myself into believing I built him bigger in my memory than he was. I didn’t.
He’s cleaned up since the road. The blood and grime are gone. He’s wearing a fresh black T-shirt stretched over a muscular chest and biceps. He’s holding his left side carefully, where I stitched him up.
The tattoos I caught glimpses of on the road show clearer in the daylight.
His hair is dark and falls just above his shoulders. Gosh, he’s hot.
Brown eyes, dark as wet earth, land on me and don’t leave. “No,” he says. “You can’t be here.”
“Hi to you, too.” I smile.
He doesn’t return my smile, but I’m not discouraged.
“I told you not to come back.”
“You did.” I set the dishes and the kit on the bar before my arms give out. “But I wanted to make sure you were okay. I thought you could use some food. I cooked enough for your friends, too. Hopefully, you all love cheesy chicken with broccoli.”
Behind the bar, the blond says, “I love cheesy chicken with broccoli.”
Viper doesn’t look at him. He looks at me. “Girls like you shouldn’t be here.”
“Girl like me.” I let it sit between us. “You don’t know the first thing about a girl like me.”
