by Blue, Jayne
Ridge was my new neighbor. He’d be sleeping across the hall.
I cursed Dziadzia under my breath.
“Thanks a lot, old man.”
I was going to have to be on my guard. I had no idea how long Ridge planned to stay, but I needed him to get the heck out of here as soon as possible.
I didn’t know how long my Our Lady of Perpetual help upbringing would hold, living this close to Ridge, uh, Ridge? I didn’t even know his last name.
Great job, Kaminski. Great job.
Seven
Ridge
I walked away. It hurt every step of the way. What the fuck?
Twice. I’d seen her in trouble twice. Should have been a big damn red flag that the situation with Frankie Kaminski was not right. Well, not right for me, anyway.
The fucking fact that Crank, that asshole, that little prick, and bastard who’d used MY CLUB as a shield for his bullshit had been involved pissed me off beyond belief.
And they had it out of Frankie, I could see that now. How the hell did I walk right into that twice? She was in the sites of Crank and Danny, and whoever else was left in that bullshit crew.
As violent and terrifying as it appeared, Frankie was barely fazed by the fact that she was the target.
It told me a lot about her. She was tough, that was for sure. And she wasn’t scared of anything or anyone. Shit, she could have been a puddle of fear after the situation in the ally, with that Danny fucker.
But she wasn’t. She was pissed, defiant, and barely missed a beat on her trip to the bank. She worked her business, her block watch, and then tonight, still working, when Crank decided to pick up where Danny left off. She didn’t back down or even, oh, I don’t know, call the cops.
I’d never run into a tougher broad, or sexier one.
Shit.
I knew now that I had to have her. I had nearly killed that fucker Crank, after I saw him on top of her. I didn’t let my mind to think about what he was planning to do with her.
I lost my shit, totally lost it. Like back when I was kid out of high school, fighting with anyone who looked at me sideways. I was a lunatic. No wonder she stopped me; she was right to do it.
But I wasn’t like the dicks who’d run the Great Wolves in her neighborhood. For the first time, I thought about the club through her eyes. How was I any different?
Frankie Kaminski, and everyone in this place, thought of the GW Chicago as a stain on the neighborhood. Crank and the rest were making life hell for the people in Stickney Forest. I was sent here to turn it around or burn it down. I was doing it for the greater club, for the Great Wolves’ reputation all over the country. We weren’t this gang of idiots and thugs anymore.
Chicago needed to know what the new GWMC stood for.
A goal crystalized in my head. It was solid, it was right, and it infused my mission here with something more.
I wanted Frankie to see what we could be, what the club was in other places. I no longer just wanted to do this for Sawyer, and my brothers. I wanted Frankie to understand that there was good in this club.
That there was good in me.
I never before had given one thought to whether the women I was with thought I was good, bad, or indifferent. It was just sex. It was good sex, don’t get me wrong, but it didn’t mean anything. Now, I was giving it a hell of a lot of thought.
I wanted to be good enough for Frankie Kaminski.
I thought about her lips, the way her body felt, her smell, and little moan she didn’t even know she made when I squeezed her tighter to me.
I wanted her in my bed. It fucking hurt to think about. That wasn’t all, though; I wanted her in my life.
What the hell was happening here? How had one day changed my outlook? How had one woman so totally gotten under my skin?
I shook off the last few minutes of mind bending and opened the travel bag I’d packed.
I always packed light; you had to on the Harley.
Then I assessed my new living situation. Thank you, Dziadzia Kaminski.
There was a kitchenette, a couch, a bed, and bathroom in the two-room rental. I was paying one thousand a month, three times what it was worth. I was the one who volunteered that price. I doubt Frankie would have said yes to my high offer, but the old man thought he was getting the better of me in a negotiation. I knew they needed it, so I was doing a small part to offset the shit they’d been in thanks to the Great Wolves.
I threw my jacked on the couch. I needed a shower. A cold shower. And I needed to think about what came next.
I had a mess to clean up with Crank and his crew. And they weren’t going quietly. Crank was trying to squeeze the residents and business owners here.
He fucking didn’t fear retribution from the legit Great Wolves. Well, maybe he did a little. He was going to be seriously bruised tomorrow and looking ugly.
My temper was out of control, that was true. But my blows were measured, there was a decent chance that I just put him out of commission for a few days.
That was good.
I’d start the legit operations of the Great Wolves that I had here. I listed them in my head, I had Thorn, Kase, and Brogan? Yeah, Brogan.
A dozen good men, or at least I hoped they were.
I was going to show them what it meant to be in the Great Wolves M.C.
And I was going to prove to Frankie Kaminski that I wasn’t the same as the assholes who’d terrorized the South Side.
Eight
Frankie
Of course, I had a hot dream about Ridge, whatever his last name was. Maybe I should ask Dziadzia since he was the one who took first and last month’s rent from the guy. Did he do a credit check? No, no he did not.
I shifted in bed. Something hurt, my lower back. What the heck? In the heat of the moment with Crank’s attack and me throwing myself on Ridge, I hadn’t really taken time think. I walked to my bathroom and turned on the light. I had a unit just like the one across the hall.
Mine was decorated simply; only things I loved could stay. I was Marie Kondo before Marie Kondo. There wasn’t spare room to keep crap, so there were only my beautiful or sentimental items.
I had a soft couch, a fluffy bed, and a clean kitchenette. Though I rarely cooked here: I grabbed Lamont’s food, or my own during work. This place was my sanctuary after a long night at the bar. I loved it here. My family, friends, people who had left the neighborhood wanted me to leave. They didn’t see what I saw.
I didn’t want to leave.
But there were moments today, that made me think I would get hurt here, killed here, if I kept leaning into the wind.
Then I thought of the neighborhood watch meeting. I wasn’t alone. Sure, we bickered and complained over our individual neighborhood problems, but we came together. We wanted the same thing. I started to think we’d be okay and that this could work. Maybe I could save the South Side.
My grandiose community organizing was interrupted by a little spike of pain.
What had I done? Or better yet, what had Crank done to me? I flipped on the light and tried to get a look at what was hurting. I sort of saw a swollen area around my lower back.
A quick check in with Dr. Google had me diagnosing myself with a lower back bruise, which typically occurred after a fall on concrete or a hard surface. I replayed the moment when Crank slammed me to the ground. Great. I was sure it was bruised or whatever.
Since I wasn’t about to pay for a doctor visit, it was home remedy all the way. I needed ice. I opened the fridge, and no surprise, no ice in my ice tray.
I grabbed my robe and put it over my t-shirt. I would need to get some from the kitchen. I padded down the back stairs and found a bag. I scooped some ice in the bag and tied it off.
Trying to ice my tailbone was proving not so easy. I turned in circles to try to get the bag on the right spot.
“You look like a dog chasing its tale.”
I jumped a foot and squealed.
“What are you doing down here?”
“Heard a noise, thought I better check.”
I wasn’t used to anyone else worried about night noises at the bar.
“And you found me, looking like a dog, very nice image.”
I pulled my robe around me with one hand and realized walking around in a t-shirt and flip-flops was not smart considering I now had a neighbor.
“Well, you’ve got a nice tale.”
I blushed and had no comeback for that.
“What’s your last name, or your real name?”
“My name is Ridge Diaz Callahan.”
“That’s a combo platter if I ever heard it.”
“Mama was Mexican, daddy was Scottish and both of ‘em are long gone.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What are you trying to do?” Ridge looked in the direction of my ass.
“I, uh, well, I think I bruised my tailbone or something when Crank tackled me to the floor.”
“I should have killed him.”
“I think you nearly did.”
“Let me help you.”
“I don’t think that’s the best idea, Ridge Diaz Callahan.”
“Look, you helped me when you thought my knuckles were split open. I’m just returning the kindness. I’ll help you put ice in the right place.”
There wasn’t a raised eyebrow or inuendo in his tone. He genuinely seemed concerned that I’d busted my ass.
“You see one broke ass you seen ‘em all?” I joked and he did not take the bait to lighten the mood. He was serious.
“If you’re in pain and there’s not a bruise I’m taking you to the E.R.”
“What?”
“Internal injuries are nothing to be joking around about.”
“I cannot afford a trip to the E.R. Okay, look, just tell me if it looks like a bruise back there. I couldn’t see.”
He was right. If I had a worse problem than a bruise, I’d need to figure something out. It was conceited of me to think I was so hot the average male couldn’t look at me and not get turned on.
“I’m going to walk toward you.”
He had his hands up like I had a gun on him.
“No funny business, Callahan.”
“This is serious as it gets.” He was serious, he was worried, and that made me a little bit worried. What if I was really hurt? I didn’t think I was but still.
“Turn around,” he said, and I did it, slowly.
He shifted my robe to the side. He was getting my rearview, with only my panties and nothing else to cover me. I tried not to get turned on by this fact, but I failed.
I strained to look too, to see if I had a goose egg on my back.
“You’ve got a huge knot here. Like tennis ball sized. It hurts, right?”
“Yeah, it does. Fucking Crank.”
“Give me the ice bag.” He wasn’t being sexy, or flirty, he was matter of fact about it. But still, I hesitated.
“Let’s just see if we can reduce the swelling. That will make it feel a lot better.”
“I, uh.”
I handed him the bag and he put it on my skin. I sucked in air at the shock of the cold on my skin. He steadied me with one hand and held the ice with the other.
I was at a loss for words, what was the conversational etiquette for this situation?
“Sorry,” he said as I tried to adjust to the cold and how close we were.
“Oh, uh.” I had no words for what happened next, except my back seized up, and I felt a terrible cramp. I was going down!
But then I wasn’t.
“I got you. Let me get you upstairs.” Ridge had swept me up in his arms before I could hit the floor.
“I, uh, it’s cramping or seizing up or. Oh boy.”
I felt a twinge in my back like a nerve was doing a tap dance on my spine.
“The ice is doing the job, but you’re having a spasm. You need to stay off your feet while it works.”
“How the heck am I going to get upstairs?”
“I got it.” Ridge took me back to my apartment and put me on my bed.
“Nice place. Turn over.”
“I’m pretty sure if the nuns saw me now, they would be saying a rosary.”
“Well, I was raised Catholic, so it’s just fine.”
“Ah.” I turned to my side and Ridge put the ice back on my bruise. My skin was getting numb but after a few minutes it was clear that the swelling was going down.
“That’s good, I think it worked.”
Ridge removed the ice.
Then I felt his hand on my skin. It was hot next to my now frozen flesh. It felt delicious.
“That feels good,” I said, and his rough hands gently worked the spot. I was face down, on my bed, and starting to melt, everywhere.
I don’t know exactly the moment things shifted, but they did. Both Ridge’s hands were rubbing my back, my hips, and then my cheeks. His hands slid under my t-shirt and I moaned. It all felt so good.
He leaned down and I felt his hot breath in my ear.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous; your skin feels too good. Tell me when to stop.”
“I can’t tell you that. I won’t.” I was going to let him fuck me. This made no logical sense, but logic wasn’t my deal right then. I’d nearly died twice today, and I needed this.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t and stop talking.”
I didn’t want to change my mind or talk myself out of this. I wanted it. It had been a very long time since I’d had a man treat me right. I didn’t have much experience but nothing so far in my 24 years had been anything like this.
I rolled over and found his mouth with mine.
The kiss earlier in the night was incredible. This one topped it. It was deep and it went on and on. Ridge hovered over me, supporting himself with one hand, the other explored my body, over my t-shirt. I wanted it off; I wanted us skin to skin.
Ridge’s kiss trailed down my neck, to my chest, to my nipples that were straining against the fabric of my t-shirt. He pulled on one, then the other and I felt myself undulating in ways that were sinful. This man was exactly what the nuns warned you about.
Next I felt his lips on my nipple, his teeth pulling, and I was going to go insane, right there, no question. His lips trailed to my stomach and I knew what was next.
I moaned again and ran my fingers through his hair. I felt like one lucky girl suddenly. Ridge cupped my sex with his mouth, through my panties. I felt his tongue probe in, and knew I was holding on to control by as thin a fabric as my t-shirt and panties.
His hands reached up and caressed my breast. Damn, he was working me. He knew exactly what he was doing. I rocked my hips as he teased me.
“I’m not sure if I can stand this,” I said, and he lifted away from me.
He crawled up to me and looked at me. Everything had stopped.
“You’re right.”
“No wait, what?”
“You’re hurt, you’re vulnerable, and I fuck—”
He pulled away and laid next to me. He’d misunderstood what I said. I could stand it. I wanted to stand it!
“I asked you to, I mean, I’m good here. Fully in my right mind,” I said, and I was already aching to have him touch me like he had been.
“No, I am no better than those assholes if I take advantage of you like this.”
He was not taking advantage, but what was I supposed to say now?
He was clearly not as swept away as I was. I was starting to feel self-conscious. My sex kitten experience was limited, extremely limited.
“Oh, uh, well, this is weird now,” I said and meant it. I was ready to make love like an animal and now this rough tough biker was having some sort of crisis of conscience.
“I need to leave or I’m going to fuck you and you need to rest.”
The way he said, “fuck me” had me nearly over the edge with the sound of his voice.
“I uh, okay.”
I had no idea how to play this now. I had now
here to go since I was just rejected mid-whatever it was.
“I’m so sorry for this. I’m a pig.”
He got out of bed and I bit my lip seeing his body. He was in jeans and a t-shirt. I hadn’t been able to really look at him when I was bent over in the kitchen. Oh brother, a flood of heat assaulted me.
“You’re not a pig, you helped me,” I said as I tried to get up and felt a twinge in my back. And I seized up. “Oooph.”
He was by my side again. Yeah, this was very sexy on my part.
“Let me get the bag of ice, hold on.”
He lowered me back down on the bed. My near orgasmic experience had me forgetting about my back pain. I was officially now one hundred years old.
“It’s okay, uh.”
And Ridge was gone running down to the kitchen. A minute later he was back and this time he didn’t tell me to turn over, he just rolled me gently to the side.
“Here, you’ll be better by the morning.”
“Uh, thank you,” I said. What else was I supposed to say? I’d have to move out of town by tomorrow though, seeing as I didn’t want to see Ridge again after this colossal embarrassing non-one-night stand.
Ridge grabbed the covers that were at the end of my bed and tucked them under my chin.
“What’s your code?” he said and picked up my phone.
Of course, I told him, since I was now operating like I had no brain in my head.
“I’m putting my phone in. Text, call, and I’ll be back if you need anything.”
Ridge looked at me, like he was in pain. He put my phone next to me and walked out.
What the actual heck had just happened?
I realized that my embarrassment was also layered with anger. He’d revved me up so tight I didn’t know what to do, say, or how to act.
It was completely awkward, and I didn’t like it one bit.
I was going to do everything possible to make sure I didn’t cross signals with Ridge Diaz Callahan ever again.
Nine
Ridge
When it came to being a piece of shit, well, I tried to avoid it, but dammit if I didn’t let my fucking attracting to that woman turn me into a complete and total asshole.
