She waited for him to disagree and tell her that he wanted to hear about her life. Instead, he stood from the bed and started dressing.
A soft glow shone on the curtain covering the window. It was late enough; she could get up for the day. She stood on the other side of the room, fully naked. The time to be self-conscious around Brage gone.
He'd used her, and to be fair, she'd used him. There was not a part of her he hadn't seen and enjoyed.
"I'll meet you in the kitchen for breakfast." He stayed by the door.
Feeling the heat of him looking at her, she glanced at him. What did he want from her? A thank you?
"Fine." She picked through her clothes looking for something to wear.
The door shut quietly, and she sighed. Somehow, she needed to find out what she could give Slag Motorcycle Club to gain her freedom. There had to be something they wanted, they'd be willing to let her go.
After visiting the bathroom, she went downstairs. The Slag members turned their heads. All eyes were on her.
Brage called her name. She hurried into the kitchen and sat down beside him at the table. She felt safer when he was the only one around. With the other bikers giving her judgmental looks, it made her accept that her situation was grimmer than she wanted to believe.
"Eat up." Brage poured her a glass of orange juice from the pitcher on the table.
She looked at the piece of toast with several things on the top sitting on the plate in front of her. Plucking a thin slice of radish off, she studied the items piled on the top.
"What is that white stuff?" she asked.
Brage wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand. "Herring."
"As in fish?" She wrinkled her nose. "For breakfast?"
"Ja." He held up his toast with the same things on it. "You don't like?"
"I've never had it."
"Try it."
There also appeared to be egg salad smeared across the top of the toast. None of those things went together.
She had a feeling it was either eat or go hungry in the Slag clubhouse. Putting the radish piece back on, she took a bite. Gingerly chewing, she waited for her gag reflex to kick in.
"Okay?" he asked.
She swallowed. "It's not bad."
It wasn't something she'd eat for breakfast. She leaned toward cereal or oatmeal, something cheap and easy.
Heather walked into the kitchen, spotted her, and smiled in excitement. "Well, good morning to you. You're becoming a regular here."
She covered her mouth with her hand, chewing her food. There was nothing good about today.
"Peach made breakfast." Brage pointed to the counter. "You've got cleanup."
"Seriously?" Heather's shoulders sagged. "There's no way I'm the last one up. Where's Rune?"
"Outside," he said.
"Damnit. He's always the one stuck doing the cleanup. I was sure I'd beat him." Heather moved over to the fridge.
Losing her appetite, Dinah put the last couple of bites of toast on the plate and drank her orange juice. She was positive Heather had no clue she was being punished for spying on Slag and instead believed she was spending nights with Brage because she wanted to be with him.
She'd tried to broach the subject with Monica a couple of times at work, but Peer was always there stopping her. He'd made it clear that she was to have no secrets with the women who belonged to Slag members.
Brage brushed his hands over his beard and tied his hair back. She slid her hands under her thighs. At his will, she waited to find out what he needed of her.
"I'm going to go work on my Harley." He placed his hand at the back of her neck, squeezing gently.
She understood that he was trying to help her relax, but having his hands on her only wound her up tighter.
"Do you want to go in the alley with me?" He leaned back. "It's nice out. I can set a chair out there for you, and you can enjoy the sun."
She shook her head. What she wanted was time alone, away from the clubhouse. She wanted her Jeep. More than anything, she wanted to go back to Idaho.
Without giving her any instructions or telling her where to go, Brage left the kitchen. She looked over at Heather fixing herself the herring, egg salad, radish toast concoction.
Slipping out of the kitchen without Heather noticing, she walked back up the stairs and shut herself in the bedroom. Something had to give.
She had nothing to hand over to Slag in exchange for letting her go. Lying to them would only make her punishment worse.
A motorcycle revved up outside, penetrating the walls of the clubhouse. She yawned and curled up on the bed. The helplessness inside her dug its claws in and wouldn't let go.
Chapter 15
Peer slid a beer down the counter to Brage. He lifted the glass and knocked the road dust out of his mouth. Needing to take a shift riding security around the vicinity of the clubhouse for the last two hours gave him time to loosen up and clear his head.
Too bad the road therapy failed to solve the problem he had with Dinah.
"Anything I should know?" Peer took the empty tray from Heather and waited until she left the bar area. "You look serious, man."
"Roads are clear. No sign of trouble." He turned around on the stool and watched Dinah talk with the customers leaving.
The bar closed in ten minutes. Drinks were cut off. Customers paid their tab. Soon, he'd be back in bed with Dinah.
He'd made it a week without having sex. Someone should give him a fucking medal.
It wasn't easy sleeping next to Dinah when he had the memories of having sex with her. He'd sought her out because he recognized a need within her that also dwelled inside of him.
The excuse of having an itch to scratch helped him walk away from her the first time. The second time, it was pure lust. He'd wanted
