Page 7 of Street

“Serrano.”

“Got it.” Pirate snapped a quick photo and stepped out of the way. His gaze fixed on Street’s, who easily read the question in the guard’s mind. Who was she, and why had she hesitated to identify herself? They both suspected there was a story there.

Pirate would work on solving the mystery as soon as everyone cleared the gate. Street would check in with him later. He didn’t need to know for himself. Street already trusted Rosa. If she’d meant to hurt him, she never would have risked everything to help him get away. The possibility of helping Rosa was most important to him.

Street drove through the quiet cabins to the second to last on the right. Each full member of the MC had the ability to personalize the blueprint of a cabin if they wanted to live in the compound. Street had selected one of the prefabricated cabins that visitors could stay in while he built the cabin plan he’d tweaked. The outer shell was already finished, and Street had started finalizing the interior with the help of several MC members who enjoyed working with their hands.

He chuckled inside as he imagined how his family would have reacted to seeing him smooth the concrete foundation and frame the cabin. They’d endured his military service, viewing it as a path to a political or other leadership position. But they’d stopped talking to him when he’d “lost his mind,” or as Street viewed it, wised up and escaped from the rat race. When Street had joined the Devil Daddies MC, they’d severed ties with him, whispering “PTSD” to their friends and neighbors. The only trauma Steele dealt with was having lost a few years to a concrete jungle.

He pulled into the driveway of the guest cabin equipped by the MC. The place was great, but he was looking forward to his own. Rosa got off and stepped away as he triggered the garage door opener. Street maneuvered the bike around to back the motorcycle inside.

Once on his feet, he walked toward Rosa and removed the helmet for her. This one was too big. He’d need to get her protective headgear that fit.

“He’s going to find out I have a warrant out against me,” Rosa told him. Her expression was guarded.

Her trust in sharing this with him rocked Street. He suspected she confided in very few people, if any. “Okay. Are you going to hurt anyone here in the compound?” Street asked.

“What? No!” Rosa bristled at the suggestion.

“Okay. Then we’re good. Come on in.”

“You don’t want me to leave?”

“No. Are you hungry?” Street asked, watching her face. A quick flash of relief played over her features before she wiped the expression away. He hated that Rosa had expected him to think the worst of her and kick her out.

“I’m okay.”

“Cool. Come on in.” Street picked up her duffle and carried the light bag to the door. He held it open for her, noticing that Rosa hugged Inky, who still lurked inside her shirt.

The door from the garage connected into the kitchen. From there, you could see out the back to a screened-in porch and an average-sized lawn. He led the way out of the kitchen to the family room. “Let me show you where you can sleep.”

She followed him down the hall and into the guest bedroom. Inside, a princess bed with a canopy of purple netting cascading to the four corner posts filled the space. He set her duffel bag on the purple comforter.

“Wow. That’s quite a bed. Did you pick that out yourself?” she asked sarcastically.

“No. I’m staying here while I build my own cabin. I like it, though. My Little girl will have her choice of bed. I’d prefer she enjoy snoozing safely in a crib for naps, but this is sweet,” Street said.

“You’re not kidding, are you?”

“No. I’ve always known how I was wired differently. Meeting the Devil Daddies MC was a really great day. A group of men whose interests match mine and who live every moment to the fullest.”

Her face didn’t reveal her thoughts this time. She was good at guarding her emotions from others. He hated that—hated that she’d had to learn how to close herself down. Street hoped she’d open up sometime.

“Would you like to take a shower?”

“Are you saying I stink?”

“No. I’m offering you a chance to get clean. The guest bathroom is off the hallway. You should find what you need in there. I’m going to throw a load of clothes in the washer. Anything you’d like to add?”

There. A hint of relief on her face. Street hated that a simple offer of cleanliness chipped away at her reserve. “I could get you a T-shirt to wear like a dress while your things are in the machine.” Anything of his would be knee-length on her.

After a brief pause, she nodded. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

Street walked diagonally across the hall to the main bedroom. She trailed after him. He opened a partially filled drawer and rifled through his T-shirts until he found a black Devil Daddies shirt. The thick, soft material erased any possibility of the makeshift outfit being see-through. “How about this?” he said, holding the garment out for her.

“That will be a dress,” she said, smirking.

“Perfect. Use anything you want in the bathroom. Whatever you need, Rosa. You’ll find toothbrushes and toothpaste in the drawers, shampoo, conditioner, and soap in the shower. Hell, there’s probably those ear-cleaner swabs stashed away somewhere. If you find an item stocked in my house, feel free to use it. Towels are under the sink and on the rack.”