I roll my eyes. We’re just getting to the good part. I’m not exactly sure where we are, as far as town lines go, but I do remember that the road curves ahead, snaking wildly this way and that. It’s a fun stretch to drive in a car. I’m dying to find out how it is on the Harley.
Cliff makes a more fervid motion. His message is clear, but I pretend not to understand. Lifting a hand in a wave, I take off. For a second, I swear I hear a sigh behind me, but that’s impossible. My engine is too loud.
The first curve begins. I don’t slow, but I do lean into the turn just like Cliff taught me. The Harley leans so far, if I glance to my right, the road is only inches from my face. My heart thrusts blood through my veins, and despite the wind, I do smile. Pitted gray gravel blurs past me. A black spot could be an ant or a droplet of grease. I pretend it’s the former, that I’m some Greek goddess looking down on my Earth.
Taking it all in.
As the turn ends, I right the bike. Being vertical again makes blood rush from my head and I feel slightly faint. Dizzy. My hands go numb, my legs heavy. I let my body go limp on the bike, tipping my head back. The air rushes up my neck, a cold caress. I’m a little tempted to let go of the handlebars, but I know Cliff is right behind me and I’m sure my little stunt already gave him a heart attack.
I’ll hear all about it later.
For now I just ride, uniting my body with the machine between my legs, leaning into curves, pushing myself closer to the road every time. It’s an edge that I’m riding—too far and I’ll get myself a nice tattoo of road rash up and down that half of my body. Maybe even wreck myself entirely. It’s the line I’m straddling that gives me a high. Every time I sit upright again, every time adrenaline flushes my system, I feel invincible.
I decide I’m going to name the bike Até, after the Greek goddess of mischief. She’s another part of me, like we were made for each other. It feels like I have to put barely any effort into this. Then again, both Ravage and Donny have said several times that I ride like my father.
Mercy—the first man who taught me how to ride.
Not for the first time, I wonder how different things would’ve been for me if he’d stayed out of prison. If Bree had stayed put. I would have a family much different from the one that adopted me. Even though I wouldn’t trade Lucy for anything, being adopted has its complications.
Mainly, Cliff.
As I cross the Middlebury line, heading south on Route 63, he appears at my side. We’re doing a slower 40 mph, so I actually hear him when he shouts over to me.
“Are you trying to scratch up that Harley?” His silky black hair flies out behind him, and the urge to run my fingers through it makes my hands twitch. I’m always wet after our rides, and today is no different.
Yet this damned ceremony is the only thing Lucy and Cliff have been able to talk about for weeks.
I’m glad we missed it. My adoptive parents have no idea about my second life, but they will soon enough. They’ve done a lot for me over the years, and have always treated me as their own, but I haven’t told them about Cliff yet. It’s bound to cause an argument.
This is my life, not theirs. It’s not even Lucy’s or Cliff’s. Even though I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to do with this life yet, I want the freedom to figure it out. Patting the Street Glide, I slow down as I veer off Route 63 and onto Park Road, toward the restaurant.
At the restaurant, we back our bikes into spaces side by side. I kick down the stand but don't move. I'm not looking forward to telling my parents that I’m banging the nephew who ruined their lives—according to them.
Never mind what Cliff's father was doing to their daughter.
I've never known two people more in denial.
Cliff pulls me into his arms—thick, muscular limbs that wrap around me. He presses full lips to mine, the metal of his septum piercing cool against my skin. Another change he's made lately. Yet here I am, still the same.
“It's going to be okay, Olivia.”
The way he says my name sends warm tingles down my spine. Again I’m overcome by the urge to hop back on our bikes, go to my place, and ride him. But then I'd have to deal with his questions.
I'm not sure who I'd rather face right now—him or my parents.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
I lead him to Elena's, an expensive Italian restaurant that my parents are obsessed with. They didn't ask where I'd rather have my graduation brunch, same way they didn't ask where Lucy wanted hers. Nora and Collin always assume that they know best, end of story.
I step inside, Cliff at my back, both of us still wearing our cuts, jeans, and riding boots despite the humidity. Better to sweat than to get third degree burns from the bikes.
The cold air is a welcome caress. I glance around for my parents and Lucy and, spotting them at a table in the back, ignore the hostess.
"Come on," I say in a low voice. I weave past the tables, trusting that Cliff is following me and not heading for the hills.
It's funny, the things that send us running.
For me, it's the prospect of moving in with him. The unspoken feelings he carries in his eyes.
For him, it's my parents. The history they share, long before Nora and Collin welcomed me into their home.
Mom smiles when she sees me, her face freezing and falling when she spots Cliff on my heels. Dad follows her gaze, his mouth hardening into a thin line.
"Hey, guys," Lucy says, rising from her seat and giving us hugs. It's good to know she's on my side, no matter how pissed off she is at us for making her wait.
"We only reserved a table for four," Mom sniffs.
I'm in for a long day.
6
Cliff
It’s been over twenty years since I last saw Lucy’s parents—my aunt and uncle. From the little that Lucy’s said about them since I got out, they don’t like me. Or, rather, they don’t talk about me or what happened. In just a little while, we’re going to have to at least endure small talk with each other.
I’m more worried about Olivia.
Lately she's been pushing me further and further away. She completely avoided answering my question back at The Wet Mermaid, and on the road, she blew past me. I know she's been having nightmares about Eli, even if she won't talk about them. I'm sure she's nervous about starting her new job, too, especially with this Esther thing going on.
Ever since we started her riding lessons, she’s been pushing the limits. It’s been obvious from her first lesson that she’s a natural—another reason for my aunt and uncle to hate me. Not only did I burst their bubble of denial, but I’ve also managed to corrupt their younger daughter.
Adopted daughter, I correct myself.
Olivia and that Harley are like two reunited souls. I’m not the biggest fan of the way she speeds and takes turns like she’s begging for road rash. Olivia’s reckless riding is going to give me more grays.
But it’s what happened before we started lessons that crawls under my skin.
Before the River Reapers made her a Prospect.
Why the club made her a Prospect, actually.
Now Olivia and I have even more in common than when we started out, and if her parents or even Lucy ever learned the truth, prison would be the least of my fears.
She won't even look at me as we stand in front of her parents. I can't tell whether it's because she is ashamed of me or blames me for what happened. Or if it's just that she simply doesn't want to be with me anymore.
"We can squeeze in one more," Lucy says, thawing some of the frost in the room. She signals the waiter. "Can we get another chair and place setting?"
"Of course." He hesitates, hanging around a moment too long.
Lucy frowns. "Thank you." She turns from him, her voice ice.
I glance at Olivia. She settles into the seat next to Lucy, her eyebrows lifted but her lips immobile.
My aunt and uncle smile woodenly at the waiter until he disappears.
"Do we have a problem w
ith the guy serving our food?" I ask.
All four of them glare at me.
I extend a hand. To who, I'm not sure. "It's, uh, good to see you, Aunt Nora, Uncle Collin."
Their faces are equally expressionless and they avert their eyes from me as if they agreed upon it before leaving their house.
Immediately memories from the last night I saw them flash before my eyes. Lucy’s never-ending scream. The growing pool of blood on the floor. My aunt and uncle bursting into the room, ordering me away from her.
The sickening crack of my father’s skull.
My stomach roils, my appetite gone.
Lucy, as always, saves my ass. "Are you nervous about Monday, Olivia?"
"Nah," she says with a wave, her eyes on the drinks menu.
“You know Olivia. She’s always thinking about what’s next,” I say.
“As if you know her,” Aunt Nora says. She still won’t look at me, but her voice drips with disdain. As if she knows me. She never did, not really. Neither of them ever tried. They were too busy partying to bother with their daughter or nephew.
“Mom.” Lucy huffs. “This is Olivia’s special day.”
“I just don’t understand why he’s here,” my aunt continues.
Lucy puts her hands on her hips, looking every bit the schoolteacher she is. “Like it or not, Cliff is a part of our lives, and our family.”
“And what? We just ignore that he ripped our lives apart?” My aunt’s voice goes up an octave with each word.
My uncle, of course, remains silent throughout the exchange. Nothing has changed.
"Let's just try to have a nice time," Lucy says, eyeing her own menu.
I stand awkwardly over the table, feeling every bit out of place as I should. This isn't my scene. Nor is it my family. And, apparently, it's not my girl, either.
Lucy gives me a small smile across the table. She is the closest thing I have to a sister, and my best friend. I would kill for her.
And I have.
If nothing else, I'll always have her.
The waiter returns with a menu and cutlery, a bus boy dragging a chair behind him. "I'll give you guys a few more minutes," he says, and they both hurry out of the dining room.
"We're going to the bar for drinks," Nora announces, standing. She wraps an arm around Collin's, practically dragging him up with her. Neither of them offer to get anyone else something. They hightail it from the table like we've all got contagious rashes.
Lucy's green eyes are dark with memories and anxiety. “They don’t blame you for . . . what happened to me," she whispers. "At least, I don’t think so.”
“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” I settle into my seat, my knee bumping Olivia's. She draws away from me, her gaze intent on her menu. I scoot my chair back a little to give her space, accidentally bumping the chair into a man at the table behind us.
People don’t make room for people like me. The world is built so that, no matter how hard I try, I can never make myself invisible.
The man and his family stare at me without trying to hide their disgust. With my long hair, what's left of my beard, and septum piercing, I look like a criminal. Since I'm wearing my cut, I fit the part of the murderous biker rampaging through their imaginations.
Lucy sighs beside me.
“What?” I ask her.
“Did you really have to wear those?” She gives Olivia and me a pointed look.
I cock my head at her. “Is there a closet full of suits in your condo that I don’t know about?”
She rolls her eyes. “You could have tried.”
I gesture to my clothing. Under the leather vest, I’m wearing dark jeans and a solid black T-shirt that doesn’t have holes in it. This is as dressed up as it gets for me. “What’s wrong with my outfit?”
“Would you wear jeans to your own wedding?”
I snort. “Luce. Do I look like the marrying type?”
Lucy laughs. "Yes."
Next to me, Olivia stiffens.
I can't help but think of the conversation Lucy and I had, back when Olivia and I were just starting . . . whatever it is we're doing. Lucy warned me to be careful, accusing me of being the marrying type and warning me that Olivia is not.
Her parents sit down beside her and our conversation grinds to a halt. I half listen to my aunt and uncle as they catch up with their daughters. They make no effort to learn about my life, and I don’t bother to ask them anything. They’ve already made up their minds about me. Right now I’m just an ugly fixture in the restaurant that they’re tolerating.
I could just leave. I should. If I do, I'd just be proving them right. So I sit at their table while they ignore me, Olivia only acknowledging me long enough to ask me to pass the salt.
I definitely spooked her by asking her to move in with me. All I can do is hope that, once we're away from our family and in the club house, we can go back to just being us. Everything else is just details.
Or so I'd like to believe.
* * *
On our way back to The Wet Mermaid, I let her take the lead. Something inside my chest swells, expanding until I can barely breathe. Pride and other emotions thicken in my throat. Despite everything, here she is, a real life hero ready to step out and save the world.
I just hope she hasn’t become tainted by me, the villain.
Away from my aunt and uncle, I feel less on edge. Everything is simpler. I don't have to watch what I say or how I eat my food. By the time we reach the club house, I'm myself again. I let Olivia go inside first.
The guys whoop and whistle, holding up drinks to toast her and Esther.
"Congratulations, sweetheart," Mark says, giving her a hug and kiss on the cheek.
"Let me hug my goddaughter," Ravage interrupts. He engulfs Olivia in a bear hug. "I'm proud of you, baby."
"Thanks, Pres." She moves away from me through the crowd, toward the bar.
"You good?" Ravage asks me.
"He's had a rough day," Lucy says from beside me.
"Hey." I wrap her in a hug, careful not to crush the flowers she brought for Olivia. "I didn't know if you were coming."
"I wouldn't miss the real party." She kisses my cheek. "That was fun, huh?"
"I need a drink." I nod toward the bar, where Olivia is yelling at the poor young woman making drinks in her place.
The crowd parts for me and Lucy, and I lead her toward two empty bar stools.
"Are you two okay?" she shouts over the music. "I caught a vibe."
I scoff at her over my shoulder. "Like the vibe between you and the waiter?"
"Waiter?" She tries to smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes.
"Is he the would-be fiancé, Luce?"
Her eyes tighten, lips flattening.
"I'll take that as a yes. I guess we've both got trouble in paradise." Reaching the bar, I place my hands flat on the lacquered wood, leaving the seats open for Olivia and Lucy. But my girl takes her drink and saunters away as if she didn't see us.
"Guess so." Lucy hops onto the stool. She rests her elbows on the bar and puts her chin in her hands.
"What do you want to drink?" I ask.
"I'll just take a soda."
"A soda? After the 'family' reunion we just had?" I signal the bartender.
"I have to drive, Cliff," she says, giving me her stern teacher look.
"You're not staying long." I tilt my head. "What's going on with you and the waiter?"
Before she can answer, the bartender reaches our end.
"Hey," she says, all burgundy hair and big green anime eyes. "I'm Trish. What can I get you?" Her eyes rake over my muscular arms, pause at the septum piercing, then skim up to meet my eyes. She winks.
From across the room, I can feel Olivia watching us. I turn in my seat and, sure enough, she's leaning against the wall, sipping her drink as she gives Trish the death glare.
Turning back, I chuckle. I guess there's nothing to worry about after all.
"Let me get a
couple Snakebites," I tell Trish. I nudge Lucy. "You're having one. It's gonna be a good night."
With a shake of her head, she hops down from her stool. "I'm gonna give these to Olivia," she says, holding up the flowers. "Then I'm heading out. You two have fun."
I watch her as she moves through the club. She says something to Olivia, who replies with a smirk. I wish I could read their lips. Lucy nods toward me and Olivia says something else. Pressing the bouquet into Olivia's free hand, Lucy gives her a kiss on the cheek. Then she's gone.
Olivia downs her drink, setting it down on a nearby table. Eyes locked on me, she heads over.
When Trish brings me my shots, I down them both. Then I meet my girl halfway.
7
Olivia
"Are we good?" Cliff whispers in my ear. He backs off a little, holding me at arm's length in front of him, those big hands on my waist.
I nod, red painted lips curling into a smile.
"I'm not trying to push you into anything." His brown eyes search mine, a wall of hesitation between us.
"I like it right here where we are," I say, scooting in closer. I stand on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck.
I like being with Cliff. I really do. Right now, everything is simple with him. Easy. There are no expectations. We're just together. The way he's been looking at me lately—those puppy dog eyes that go soft every time he sees me—is far from simple.
I don't know what to do about it. Guys like Cliff want the whole package. He's the type who needs the wedding and three kids. Eventually that's going to shake this whole thing up—probably sooner rather than later.
It won't be fun anymore.
I did the whole promises thing once, and it almost destroyed me. Kind words were replaced by vile ones. It got so bad, I thought I did something wrong. Turns out there's a word for that: gaslighting. I know Cliff isn't like that. He'd never hurt me. I knew it from the moment we met.
Still, we want completely different things. We just haven't said so out loud yet.
A Risky Prospect (River Reapers Motorcycle Club Book 2) Page 3
