Clubs: Motorcycle Club Romance (Savage Saints MC Book 6)

by Hazel Parker

  “Truthfully?” I said. “Yes.”

  That was probably the first time I’d said anything so honestly.

  “BK is here because the problem with the Sinners extends beyond what any of us are capable of,” Richard said. “It goes beyond me, it goes beyond you, it goes beyond the capacity of fifteen, currently fourteen bikers. We need the numbers, and we need someone with experience in handling the numbers. BK can be that guy. This is just a collaboration. Nothing more.”

  What he was saying was logical. There was nothing I heard that I could argue with, especially since the Sinners outnumbered us at least three to one.

  But goddamnit. I just wanted my pride… I don’t know, respected a little.

  Maybe it’s because the last time you blindingly trusted someone, she never returned.

  “Just be careful,” I said back. “They might resent you for having left the family.”

  Richard chuckled.

  “There’s no might in that, Barber. I heard it all in our first few phone calls. But I’ll be aware. I’m keeping an eye on BK. He’s not going to get away with any shit on us.”

  I nodded and patted his arm in thanks. I didn’t have anything else to say, but damn did it feel surprisingly good to get it out and say what was on my mind to Richard. This wasn’t going to become a trend by any means—it was painful as hell to admit the truth—but the pain was short-lived, and the pleasure that came after felt quite worthwhile.

  Still, fuck BK. Fuck the Green Hills Saints.

  And fuck me for not being good enough to prevent them from being called in.

  Chapter 10: Cassie

  I spent more time than I cared to admit stressed about Brett after his “joke” about dying early.

  If it was a joke, he had extremely poor taste and would reveal himself to be an even bigger jackass than I thought when we hung out today. If it wasn’t a joke, then that may have been even worse.

  I deliberately kept out of club business—not that I could have gotten in if I tried. Mama kept the boys and us as separate as possible; she often even advised us to stay away from their Tuesday and Wednesday parties. It wasn’t a perfect separation, as it wasn’t church and state; Brett and I were a testament to that. But it did keep the two sides largely separate.

  When the end of my shift came on Monday, though, and Brett was outside, waiting to walk me to my car, I felt like I’d avoided the worst of it. He was still stressed—I think the lack of smoking and drinking, in the short term, was actually hurting him—but he was alive.

  “What are we gonna do tomorrow?” he said.

  “That’s up to me, is it?” I said, more bemused than taunting.

  “It’s more like I picked the first location, and I didn’t do a very good job with staying on top of my shit. So I figured for our next da… our next hangout, you could pick.”

  Date, huh? We’re putting it out there? If you weren’t such an ass to me at the end of the night, it might have wound up being just that. I already knew where we were going to go, though.

  “Red Rock Canyon,” I said. “Two in the afternoon.”

  “Fuck, that early?” Brett said, groaning as he put his forearm to the top of his head.

  “Hey, I’m going to be on just as little sleep as you are, so no excuses.”

  “I know, I know, just… damn.”

  I actually didn’t think it was that early. I mostly picked that time because I wanted to ensure that Brett didn’t have any alcohol when we hung out. If he did, that would ruin everything.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Brett,” I said as I got in my car. “I am looking forward to it.”

  Brett didn’t say anything, just locking eyes with me. It was hard to avert my gaze from him; even if I did find him sometimes offensively grating and foolish, his gaze would just send electricity coursing through my veins that could not be ignored. The desire to not hit other cars in the parking lot, though, won out, and I got home safe.

  I slept soundly that night, a rarity for me. Most nights, especially since I’d started at The Red Door, had seen me experience regret, anguish, and pain about how things had ended with Brett before. But there was something about tomorrow that had me feeling very hopeful—we might finally have the truthful moment.

  I might finally reveal why I left him fifteen years ago.

  That thought carried through my dream, in which we climbed up and up in an airplane designed for skydiving. I told him why I’d left in the dream, only to tumble out of the airplane without a chute.

  That thought carried through in the morning when I made myself some quick oatmeal and had myself full enough to hike by half-past noon.

  And that thought carried up to the moment when his bike pulled up about three feet in front of me at the base of Red Rock Canyon, the one place where I didn’t want the revving of his engine. I liked his bike, but not in a natural, peaceful setting like this, where the sky seemed to extend endlessly, and the rocks were red.

  “You’re here early,” he said, checking his watch.

  I smiled at him as I unfolded my arms and tucked my hands into my shorts.

  “I didn’t want a repeat of last time.”

  “You and me both,” he said with a chuckle. He nodded his head toward a parking spot, and I followed him over, waiting for him to kill the engine. “You know, at some point, you’re going to have to let me give you a ride on this thing.”

  “Really,” I said nonchalantly, even though the idea enticed me.

  I’d heard of how riding a motorcycle for women could be an absolute delight, especially since I was wearing shorts. Logistically, it wasn’t, since I had brought my car, but he did say “at some point” not “today.”

  “Oh yeah,” Brett said as he swung his leg over. “I got a helmet for you and everything. You get on this, and you’re in for the ride of your life.”

  I decided not to say, “prove it, bud,” and instead started walking with him to the trail.

  “So you really picked an outdoor trail in the summer to have our date at, huh?”

  “So you really are calling it a date, huh?” I shot back.

  Brett looked at me with a grin.

  “Is that so bad?”

  The answer was obvious.

  “Not at all.”

  Over the next two hours, the two of us hiked different trails, took great photos, and tried to spot Las Vegas from the various lookouts before us. I found several moments in which I could have spilled the truth… but it just didn’t feel right. Things were too good, too happy. I felt like I needed a serious moment to discuss it, not one in which we were laughing about Brett’s ridiculous hat or my tank top.

  Yes, I was continuing to be a coward, but I was a coward with the only love I’d had in my life. If ever there was a time to be a coward, this was it.

  The hike, of course, was just the beginning of our day. I’d chosen it as a spot in case the asshole Brett had shown up, but not only did he not show up, good-guy Brett had taken his place. When we got to the base and back to our vehicles, I told Brett to get into my car.

  “Why?” he said, a hint of pleasured suspicion in his voice.

  “Why would I spoil the surprise?” I said.

  I hadn’t bought the surprise with the intent of using it with Brett, but the timing seemed perfect. We were both chipper and happy, and I wanted to ensure we continued going down that path. Rather than try to eliminate alcohol as an option, I decided to replace it.

  And I knew just what to replace it with.

  “Because you’re a nice girl?” Brett said.

  It was strange to hear his voice turn almost to paranoia. Sometimes, it was easy to forget that he still had trust issues with me; it was easy to just fall into the moment and forget that I had to prove myself in a lot of different ways to him.

  “You’ll see; it’s nothing bad, I promise,” I said.

  Brett nodded as I unlocked the car, and we both got in. I reached into my glove compartment, fumbled around with some papers, and t
hen pulled out what I was looking for.

  “Edibles?” he said with a chuckle.

  “Why not?” I said. “I’m not a fan of smoking, and I know you do, but it’s my car, so, yeah, deal with it. I thought it would help us relax.”

  Brett looked… it was hard to say what he looked like. In one light, I could say he looked curious. In another, he looked like he suspected something, maybe not a trap, but a game of some kind.

  “It’ll help me open up,” I blurted out.

  That was actually true, but it was not something I’d intended to say. I had more figured that was going to be the kind of thing that would eventually come out of having the edibles.

  It had its intended effect, though, because Brett couldn’t hide the resolution on his face any longer.

  “Alright,” he said, dipping his right hand into the bag and grabbing two brownies. “One for you, one for me.”

  “Good enough,” I said, taking mine and popping it open-palmed into my mouth without hesitation. “It’ll hit me harder, but I do this more regularly.”

  “Damn, good thing we don’t drug tests at The Red Door.”

  “Oh, please, like you all would make it through.”

  “Owner’s privilege, I don’t have to.”

  “Bastard.”

  We shared a laugh, and when the laugh died down, we found ourselves looking at each other with familiar intensity. It was the kind of sober, romantic intensity that we’d had for each other back in the day… a look that we might have had a week before if not for Brett being drunk and me being a coward.

  It was a look that, I realized after the fact, had me inching forward.

  “Where to next?”

  Brett pulled me out of my movement, as if I’d slept-walked to being just a foot or so away from his face. He’s still being cautious after last week. And after fifteen years ago.

  Can’t say I blame him.

  “Well,” I said, trying to collect myself from the semi-rejection. “I figure we’re going to be hungry as hell in about an hour. And we just finished a hike. So… dinner?”

  “Or lunch, for us night owls,” Brett said with a chuckle. “We could do a buffet.”

  “A buffet?” I said with a giggle, lifting an eyebrow at him. “Do I look like someone who could get her money’s worth at a buffet?”

  “Who said anything about using your money?” Brett said. “I did suggest this was a date, did I not?”

  Huh. Now it’s actually beneficial.

  “Oh, in that case, can you pay for my brownies too?”

  Brett smirked and snorted.

  “Don’t push your luck. But we can do something at the Fashion Mall and then head up to the Stratosphere?”

  That sounded perfect, although anything that continued my time with Brett worked for me. He could have suggested just about anything that didn’t include alcohol or sex and I would have agreed to it. Food, hiking, putt-putt, museums—it all had a wonderful appeal to it.

  “Let’s do it.”

  * * *

  The edibles kicked in right when we were in line for our second plate of food. I didn’t recognize the warm sensation rushing through me at first as being from the edible.

  But as it coursed through me, I found myself just wanting to hold Brett. I just wanted to fall into his muscular, stocky arms, to feel his heart, and to listen to his deep voice tell me things would be all right. I wanted to be one with him, not even in a sexual sense, but just more in a spiritual sense.

  Our touching became much more frequent, but I could still sense that he was holding back a part of himself. I blamed myself for this, but because I was on a feel-good high, it was not a particularly harsh self-criticism. It was more an awareness that I’d need to work to get him to open up.

  But that started with me opening up.

  And in this state…

  Come on, Cassie. I know you feel good. But you have to tell him by the end of the night the full story. You can’t be hiding anymore. No more. OK?

  Come on girl; you got it.

  “So,” Brett said as he put his arm around me in our booth. “Where to now? Now that we both feel good, relaxed, and happy?”

  An answer came to mind that I hadn’t planned yet, but it seemed like the perfect touch of improvisation. It also gave me a good excuse to make a joke.

  “We could get even higher than we are now.”

  “For real?” Brett said. “I feel good right now, but I’m not sure I’d want to get much higher. Edibles—”

  “No, I mean, we can literally get higher,” I said, turning to him with half-closed eyes. “Think about it. Think about it.”

  It took a second for Brett to get it before he chuckled and put his head in his hands as if he were embarrassed at how bad the joke was.

  “So how much further elevation are you thinking of getting?” he said with a groan.

  “As much as we can get,” I said. “There’s a certain building about a quarter of a mile away that’s the tallest point in Las Vegas… it’s got a great bar that rotates… it’ll show us everything we’ve ever wanted to experience in Las Vegas.”

  Brett snapped his fingers.

  “Stratosphere?”

  I nodded. And then I got an idea that was going to make this even better.

  “Do you want to drive?” I added with a smile.

  Brett smirked. He was going to get at least one of his wishes today.

  “Damn shame the first time is going to be so short.”

  Don’t make a joke about that. Tempting!

  “But I’ll make sure it’s worth your while.”

  “I’ll bet,” I said.

  Brett left about twenty dollars’ worth of cash to tip for our buffet as he took me down the escalators and to his motorcycle. For a few seconds, I just stared at it, remembering all of the warnings I’d received about the dangers of bikes. I thought about how much my parents would flip out if they knew I’d gotten on a motorcycle—and with my ex, no less!

  And then I remembered how I could not give two shits about what my parents thought since they had never given a shit about me, and I became even more determined to ride the bike.

  “Anything I should know before I get on?” I said, the warm glow of the high still coursing through my body.

  “Well, for starters, throw this on,” Brett said as he pulled up the seat and grabbed the helmet. He almost tossed it over, but he stopped himself at the last second. “Allow me.”

  He placed the smaller-than-expected helmet on my head, his fingers brushing over my skin as he clipped it. I had little doubt that I could have done this myself, but I also had little doubt that Brett was doing this on purpose. It was making me feel a thousand times better, and I was already feeling pretty good.

  “You’ve got everything on now,” he said with a smile, as if proud of himself for putting it on me properly. “When we ride, lean into me and hold on tight. You’re light enough that you shouldn’t affect the weight of the bike too much, but it never hurts to be careful. So just do what you can to hold on, OK?”

  “You make it sound like it’s super hard!” I protested.

  “I did?” Brett said, arching an eyebrow in surprise. “I… it’s not hard. You’ll find it’s easier than you think.”

  I actually didn’t think it sounded hard. I just wanted to give Brett some good-natured ribbing. I was feeling good from the high and finally able to melt into his body, albeit in a safe, almost mystical sense. The physical aspect would come if I had the courage to speak the truth…

  Which, as my high was starting to diminish just a smidge, was becoming more and more possible.

  Brett got on the bike first, lifting his right leg over and then squatting down. I went the opposite way before wrapping my arms around him and squeezing at the bottom of his ribs. Feeling my arms around him reminded me of one of my favorite antics in our youthful days—to surprise him with a hug from behind, whether in the school hallways or at home when he wasn’t expecting it. He always c
laimed to hate it, but in reality, one day, I caught him smiling in the mirror and knew the truth.

  I wasn’t ready, though, for the loud roar of the engine, and I squeezed even tighter.

  “Do you trust me?” Brett said over the bike.

  “Yes!” I shouted. “I wouldn’t be on here if I didn’t!”

  “Just making sure,” he said. “I’m not going to put you in trouble. But if you didn’t trust me, it would make me worried about driving you.”

  “I—”

  But I didn’t finish, as Brett began moving the bike. Like a child scared by the slightest bit of movement, I quickly ducked my head behind Brett, closed my eyes, and squeezed.

  The bike moved forward, and my world just became the red splotches of closed eyes, the whirring of the motorcycle engine just inches from my calves, and the smell of oil against the heated concrete of the Las Vegas Strip.

  We went up a hill, and my vision got bright. We were outside. And we weren’t dead yet!

  Open your eyes. It’s going to be much better if you do that. But you gotta open them.

  I took a deep breath. I got my chance when we came to a red light just by Encore. I opened them, and sure enough, not that I didn’t know it already, but we weren’t dead.

  In fact, it was kind of cool to have the view that I did. It was like getting to see the Strip without the inconvenience of the hood of a car or a window blocking my view. I might as well have been standing in the middle of the street.

  And then the light turned green, the engine roared forward, and I let out a yip as I closed my eyes.

  But I didn’t let myself remain in that state. I opened them.

  At first, it felt like being on a horizontal roller coaster. But slowly, my eyes adjusted, I dared to look over Brett’s shoulder, and I let out a loud cheer as I felt us roaring down the street. It was funny how thirty miles per hour on a bike might as well have felt like two hundred miles per hour in a car—there was just something about having the wind rush against you that a car could never reproduce.

  I wasn’t going to say it was magical, but it was quite wonderful.

  We pulled into the Stratosphere parking lot, and it was only at the end that I thought of how warm my legs felt and how… how aroused I felt. Even though I had anticipated it, there was no way to know just how ridiculous the vibrations would feel, how much the bumps in the road would send a surge of pleasure through my body, how even something as simple as going uphill in the parking lot would send a gush through my body.