“Jagger—”
“When do you get off?”
“Why?”
“Answer the question, Celeste.”
I watch her bite the inside of her cheek as she drops her arms from her chest and straightens her shoulders.
“Not for a couple of hours. I’m about to take my break so if you want me to take you—”
Her words are cut off by her gasp as I take her hand and tug her forward.
“Let me take you to lunch,” I mutter.
“What?” she stammers. “No, no, I’m—”
“I’m not asking you to run away with me, Celeste, I’m asking you to have lunch with me,” I rasp.
I should have asked her to run away with me six years ago.
I should have asked her two years ago instead of fucking her goodbye.
“The last time I went anywhere with you—”
“I know what happened the last time you went anywhere with me, if you want to reenact that we can do that too,” I suggest, raising an eyebrow. Taking another step closer to her, I back her up against the wall. “Let me take you to lunch,” I persist, placing one hand on her hip. “Unless you’re putting yourself on the menu…”
“Watch it, Jagger, my knee is in range of your balls,” she hisses before rolling her eyes and sighing. “I want a burger as big as your head.”
“I’ll buy you a fucking cow if it’ll put a smile on your face,” I tell her, nodding toward the door. Fighting the urge to touch her, I shove my hands into the back pockets of my jeans and follow her out of the room.
“I have to grab my stuff and clock out. I’ll meet you in front of the hospital.”
“I’ll be waiting,” I reply.
We stare at one another silently, assessing each other before I clear my throat and turn for the elevators.
“Hey, Cobra,” she calls.
My hand freezes over the button when she calls me by my road name and my first thought is that I want to hear her say it again. I didn’t put too much stock in how I’d react to hearing her call me Cobra. I suppose it’s mainly because I never banked on hearing her say it. But now that I’ve heard it, now that she’s said it, I want her saying it over and over again.
I slowly turn around and meet her gaze.
“That patch on your back,” she starts, pausing to swallow.
“Which one?”
“The Brooklyn one,” she croaks, clearing her throat. “Does it mean something?”
“Yeah, it does,” I murmur. “It means I found my way home.”
I stare at her expectantly, waiting for her to react, to give me something, anything. The elevator opens and I ignore the people waiting for me to step on as I watch her.
Give it to me, gorgeous.
Eyes locked pleading with hers, the elevator chimes and the doors begin to slide shut, forcing me to stick my boot between them.
Give it to me.
Bowing her head, she gives me a curt nod.
Give it to me, baby.
“Hello? Are you getting on or what?” someone calls from behind me.
“Take the next one,” another person grunts.
“I’ll see you in a few minutes,” Celeste says.
Then she smiles.
And fuck, if I don’t too
.
-Seventeen-
Celeste
Dropping the tube of lip gloss back into my purse, I pull the clip from my hair and let my waves fall loosely around my shoulders. I shouldn’t be wishing I was wearing clothes more flattering than scrubs or wondering if he still finds me as attractive as he did two years ago when I was wearing a short dress and my tits were still perky and perfect.
“You’ve lost your mind,” I say to my reflection in the mirror. “This is such a bad idea,” I continue, pausing when I realize I’m having a full blown conversation with myself.
I knew it was a bad idea the moment I agreed to join him. It’s why I called him Cobra and not Jagger. I thought if I reminded us both we aren’t the same people, that circumstance and choice has changed us, he’d change his mind. He’d turn his back and walk away.
But he didn’t.
And worse than that, when I asked him what that patch on his back meant he gave me an answer I wasn’t prepared for. Since I first saw him in the ER, I kept the truth I knew in the back of my head. Jagger doesn’t stick. He’s a flight risk and I can’t afford to attach myself to the illusion that one day he’ll wake up and decide he’s tired of running or that he’ll finally choose to be found instead of lost.
That doesn’t change how badly I want to believe the patch he wears does in fact mean what it says and his words aren’t a lie. I want to trust that he’s home, if for no other reason than to end the vicious cycle of despair.
Our story was sad before, but now it’s heartbreaking. There is a little girl sitting in day care who doesn’t know her father and a man outside who has a piece of heaven he doesn’t know exists. I look at him and I want so badly to tell him about her. In my dreams they’ve already met, he’s held her in his arms and she’s called him Daddy a thousand times.
In my dreams she’s his savior as much as she’s mine.
But dreams are just dreams and a child shouldn’t know they don’t all come true.
Drawing in a deep breath, I leave my conflicted feelings in the bathroom and make my way toward the elevators. If I remain detached and take the situation for what it is—two people with a past sharing a meal—then it shouldn’t be that hard. I’ll go back to work, finish my shift and take my daughter home. I’ll fix her dinner and pretend I didn’t sit across from her father debating whether to tell him she exists. I’ll forget Jagger ever was a part of my life and wait for the man named Cobra to disappear again.
Life will go on just as it always does.
Who the fuck am I kidding?
I’ll go back to work, replay every damn minute I spent with him in my head and then I’ll take Skylar home and cuddle her close wishing he was next to me. I’ll never forget Jagger and will yearn to know the man he is now.
Walking outside I push my sunglasses on top of my head and glance around searching for him. Leaning against a motorcycle, holding a helmet in his hands, he lifts his head and I’m frozen in place. It’s the way he looks at me—from the hideous sneakers on my feet to my messy hair, taking it all in with appreciation in his eyes.
He pushes off the bike and starts for me, forcing me to snap out of the fog his gaze induces. Silently, he reaches for my hand and leads me toward the Harley. My sneakers skid across the pavement as I shake my head.
“Hold it,” I protest, holding up a hand. “You want me to get on that?”
“You never been on a motorcycle before?”
“No, and it’s not on the bucket list so we can just walk across the street and grab a burger from McDonald's.”
“You’re scared,” he points out.
“No,” I argue, pointing to my scrubs. “I’m not dressed for it.”
His eyes rake over my body slowly.
“You’re fine,” he grunts as he straddles his bike. “Now hop on, gorgeous, and hug me like you used too.”
Stomping my feet toward the bike, I mutter a curse as I awkwardly grip his shoulder and climb on behind him. Unsure where to keep my hands and feet, I lean over his shoulder and shout over the engine.
“Where should I keep my hands?”
Without a word, he takes my hands and wraps them tightly around his midsection, squishing my chest against his back.
“A little lower,” he commands, pushing my hands down the front of his shirt. My palms glide across the thin fabric of his t-shirt, feeling the hardness of his abs hidden beneath.
“Good?”
“Lower,” he instructs, pushing my hands again until they touch the button of his jeans. “Keep going,” he laughs. Realizing he’s completely toying with me, I push his hands away and smack his chest.
“Can’t blame a man for trying,” he calls over his shoulder. “
You ready to ride?”
“Would you let me get off?”
“Say the word, babe, and I’ll get you off.”
“That’s not what I meant!”
His body trembles with laughter as he peels away from the hospital. True to his character and our past, he doesn’t start off slow. He dives right in, full speed ahead and my fingers grip the leather of his vest so hard that my knuckles fade to white. I close my eyes and bury my face in his shoulder as he swerves in and out of traffic with precision and confidence.
I feel his hand brush over mine and I clutch him harder.
“Open your eyes,” he calls over the wind. “Live a little, baby.”
They are the words he uttered time and time again. The words that got me riled up and ready to do just as they commanded. Forcing my eyes open I lift my head from his shoulders and stare ahead as he revs the engine and we pick up speed. The scream escapes my throat and quickly fades into laughter as I live for the moment and fight the urge to let go and throw my hands to the wind.
Minutes later, he slows in front of the Vegas Diner, pulls into the first available spot in the lot and drops the soles of his boots to the ground. Weak in the legs, still feeling the effects of the vibrations, I slowly climb off the bike first. I undo the chin strap and pull the helmet off my head. Running my fingers through my hair, I throw it over my shoulder and turn to him wearing a grin that takes up my whole face. Continuing to straddle the bike, he kills the engine and stares at me with a smirk planted on his lips.
“Don’t give me that look,” I say, shoving the helmet against his chest.
“What look?” he laughs, feigning mock innocence as he hooks his leg over the Harley. My train of thought flies out the window as I watch him straighten to his full height. The worn leather of his jacket stretches across his biceps as he drags his fingers through his hair and starts for me. I can feel my nipples harden and strain against my scrubs. Pulling my jean jacket closed, I cross my arms over my chest and cock my head to the side.
“That look right there,” I say, clearing my throat as I point to his face. “The arrogant look you make when you’ve taken a first.”
“The fact that I got you to give me another first deserves arrogance, babe,” he replies as he takes my hand and leads me toward the steps and into the diner. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll teach you how to ride.”
My eyes widen as I try to picture myself on a motorcycle. I think I would actually like to learn. Well…maybe.
One ride and I’m a rebel.
I can’t blame it entirely on the ride. It’s always been like this. He gives me a taste of something, gets me hooked on his promise and leaves me wanting more.
“Come on, Cel, don’t do that,” he sighs, closing his menu. My eyebrows pinch together in confusion as I lift my head and wonder if I actually spoke what I was thinking. He folds his hands on top of the table and leans back against the booth.
“Let’s get this shit over and done with,” he grunts. “Lay your cards on the table, ask whatever questions you got and I’ll give you what I can, but after that this shit is done. I don’t want you looking at me like I’m going to disappear any second.”
“You’re kidding me right now, right?”
“No, I’m fucking serious,” he snaps. “I hate the way you look at me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I argue, glancing down at the menu.
“Sure you do,” he growls, leaning over the table. “I keep drumming into your head I’m not the guy you remember, but I’m not the only one who changed. You never used to back away from a challenge, never kept a goddamn thing to yourself. You always spoke your mind, and gave me your lip. Now, you sit there avoiding everything, thinking it’ll go away if you don’t confront it. I guess I didn’t realize how much you changed too.”
“You know nothing about me,” I hiss, lifting my eyes to his.
“Sitting right across from you, looking to change that,” he points out. “But you won’t give me an inch.”
“An inch? I came here with you didn’t I? I got on the back of your bike and agreed to lunch when I had a perfectly good Lean Cuisine in the freezer at work,” I hiss, wagging a finger at him while his eyes flicker with amusement. “Don’t!”
“Don’t what?”
“You keep pushing to get a rise out of me,” I accuse.
“Yeah, I am,” he admits. “If all I can get you to give me is your fire then I’ll take it as long as there is some form of life in those eyes when they’re on me.”
My temper flares as I grind my teeth and brace my hands on the edge of the table.
“You want fire? Here’s your fire, Jagger…Cobra, whatever the hell your name is these days,” I seethe. “I want to know everything but I’m afraid of the answers. I’m afraid of knowing where you’ve been, what you’ve seen and I’m petrified to know what you did after I saw you last. I want to know why you’re back in Brooklyn,” I sneer, my voice raising slightly as I slam my hand against the table. “I want to know why in God’s name you asked me to lunch and more than anything I want to know when you’re leaving so I don’t have to watch you go again.”
“Attagirl,” he says.
He remains completely unaffected by my outburst, causing the anger in my veins to boil and my hands to tremble.
“Call me whatever you want, babe. Call me Jagger if it makes it easier for you, but I’m not going to lie, hearing you call me Cobra did something to me. It got me thinking of all the ways I could hear it come from your lips. It got me wondering how you’d look under me, panting it,” he growls and bites his cheek. “Yeah, it fucking did something to me,” he confirms before continuing.
“I know I fucked us up when I left but I can’t take that shit back. Now you got questions you don’t want the answers to because you’re scared, but living in fear never got you anywhere before and it won’t now. So buckle up, gorgeous, because it ain’t pretty.”
I’m about to tell him he’s wrong, that I’ve been waiting for these answers for years. I want to tell him I’ve wanted the chance to make sense of everything but always felt he robbed me of the opportunity. I don’t get to tell him anything though because he opens his mouth revealing everything.
“You know why I left, I told you that before you walked out of that hotel room two years ago. But you thought you were walking away from a man that wore a suit and carried a piece.”
“There was more than a piece in that bag,” I correct.
“You going to let me finish?”
“Fine.”
“I was already a nomad with the Satan’s Knights at that time and the suit was a cover. I left you and delivered justice the only way I knew how. Then I got back on my bike and continued chasing the crumbs Rick threw at me until the man I spent most of my adult life searching for went completely off the grid. There wasn’t anything left to chase. Every sacrifice I made was for nothing because I’ll never get him. That bastard got away without having to pay for a single crime he committed and that fucking wrecked me. That’s when I met Wolf. He was passing through the clubhouse I was staying at and was at the end of his rope. His club was hurting, and he was the man sent to find the power that would fix it. Only a man with nothing left to lose would join their ranks.”
“You,” I whisper.
“Yeah, me. I knew coming back here there was a chance I’d see you, but I fought real hard not to. I didn’t want to fuck you up any more than I already had. I’ve been home a year and every day I struggle with my conscience not to go to you. I picked up the phone and called Rick over a dozen times but always hung up before he could give me your address. Then that bomb went off, and I saw you again at the hospital,” his voice trails off as he glances down at his hands and shakes his head.
“You looked at me and those two worlds collided again,” he rasps, lifting his eyes back to mine. “Innocence and sin aren’t supposed to coexist, yet here we are again and I’m thinking we’re fighting a losing battle. You can
turn your back on me, walk out that door and pretend like this never happened. I can turn and drag my pipes across the country, but you and I, those two worlds, they’ll keep coming for one another.”
Tears sting my eyes as a flood of mixed emotions engulf me, pulling me in two different directions.
“I asked you to lunch because in a few days I’ll be on the road, and while I intend to come home, there are no guarantees in this life. I’m not the man that waits for a judge and jury to deliver justice, I take it myself without remorse and sometimes there are consequences. I told you once before they have to catch me to kill me, and if that day should be sooner rather than later, then at least I gave you the answers you needed.”
He tilts his head to the side as he arches his hips and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a scrap of paper.
“You remember how I used to keep a tally of your smiles?”
I don’t know if my heart can take any more truth but I nod my head anyway, sadly wiping away my tears. He reaches across the table and turns my palm upward, dropping a piece of paper with four little lines. I lift my watery eyes to his and a slew of mixed emotions slam into me.
“You’ve given me four this time around,” he says huskily. “After this ride, I’m coming home and you’re going to smile for me, Celeste.”
I close my eyes as he says my name, barely processing the first assault of words before he delivers the next one—the words that destroy and heal in a single breath.
“Heaven and Hell already know you’re mine, baby, now, it’s time for you to know too.”
And just like that I'm hooked on his promise, wanting more
.
-Eighteen-
Cobra
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I cast my eyes toward the narrow hallway that leads to the diner’s restrooms. It’s been at least five minutes since she bolted from the table and ran away from me without a word. The waitress comes over, placing two cups of coffee in the center of the table and flips open her pad.
“Are you ready to order?”
The Nomad Series-Collectors Edition Page 42
