Page 51 of His Loyal Rebel

Though her reasons for going to the cabin the first time were insane and extreme, she wanted the security Whip gave her. The urge to take him away so that nobody could ruin what they had together pounded through her veins.

His gaze intensified as he waited for her to explain. Finally, he kissed her forehead and whispered, "Yeah, sis. I'll take you."

She got in her car. Following him away from the drama, her body relaxed. Whip understood her. At least he hadn't blamed her for what had happened back at the clubhouse.

For the first time in her life, someone had made an effort to get closer to her instead of pushing her away.

Chapter 18

Whip

Black rubble scarred the ground, erasing any sign of the fifty-year-old cabin. Whip straightened from his squatted position, turning away from the remains. The cabin had withstood the harshest of Montana winters and had housed many Tarkio members when they needed a roof over their heads.

He scanned the area. There was no smoke, no heat, no signs of any coal still smoldering.

"Who do you think burned down the cabin?" Twyla rubbed her arms despite the warmth of the day.

He had a good idea who was responsible for starting the fire. Cusclan Motorcycle Club wanted to show Tarkio they were aware Twyla had stayed at the cabin.

"Don't know, but we'll find out." He reached for her. "I need to go back and let the others know what happened here."

"Sure, I understand." She walked with him toward her car and his motorcycle.

She rubbed his back, letting him have peace and quiet while he rolled around a few ideas about why someone would burn down the cabin.

Through the years, Tarkio used the cabin to house members or visit during the summer while they partied at the river. When they weren't here, most people gave the cabin a wide berth while recreating along the Clark Fork, respecting the private property signs posted.

Besides garbage strung around or a few stray pieces of clothing from a couple who decided to fuck in privacy or a broken window from the harsh winter that needed replacing, nobody had gone as far as arson. There were a hundred cabins strung along the Clark Fork for miles, all privately owned.

He had a feeling; Tarkio's cabin was the only one burned to the ground.

Twyla hesitated at the driver's door and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Are you okay?"

He smoothed her hair back from her face. She had no idea that she was in the middle of a war, and he'd put here there.

"Pissed." He kissed her hard and pulled back. "Nothing I won't fix."