by Nicole James
It’s all eating at me from the inside out, and I suddenly can’t sit here and pretend it’s all good now that leadership has changed. I surge to my feet and snap, “Goin’ out to smoke.”
I walk across the clubhouse and shove through the doors. The night air feels reviving as I pull a pack of smokes from my pocket, shake one out and dip my head to light up.
As I blow the smoke heavenward toward the starry night sky, the door behind me swings open and Bouncer and North stroll out. They stand beside me, lighting up smokes of their own.
They don’t say anything at first, but I know why they’ve come out here—some kind of brotherly support. I’m not sure I want it right now, so I say nothing and keep smoking.
Finally, Bouncer speaks.
“Look on your face, I thought you were going to shoot Chaos.”
“The night’s not over,” I say calmly, eyeing the sky.
“Brother.”
I know he’s talking to me. I take another hit off my smoke and twist my head toward him, but say nothing.
“She’s gotta know you’re not responsible, right?”
“I don’t know what she knows.”
“Yeah, but I’ve seen the way you are with her. She’s gotta know you’re not that man.”
“Aren’t I?” I jerk my chin towards town. “Some other business falls behind on payments, think we’ll go easy on ‘em?”
“We work with them. We protect them. It’s not the same fucking thing as Vic and his bunch. You fucking know that, bro.” North lets me have it.
Maybe I don’t want to hear it.
“She’s really got to you, hasn’t she?” he asks.
“Yep.” I’m not going to deny it.
“Then make her understand. If she’s worth the wait, she’s worth the trouble.” North squints at me through the smoke.
I huff out a laugh at that and drop my cigarette, grinding it under my boot. “You sound like my ma.”
Bouncer gets a chuckle out of that one until North cuts him a look and snaps, “Shut the fuck up, Bouncer.” North stares back at me. “Look, it finally caught up to them—the lies, the secrets, the manipulations. Vic’s reign as king has been long over. They went too far. And they went down for it. Done deal.”
Bouncer agrees. “What Vic did to Cullen was a dick move. The kid seein’ it makes it even worse. Ain’t a brother in this club who doesn’t agree with that.”
“You think she sees me as any different?”
North shakes his head. “Damsels in distress. You never could resist ‘em.”
“Okay, love our little talks.” I drain my beer and toss the bottle in the rusty fifty-gallon drum with all the other empties, and the glass shatters loudly.
“Fixin’ relationships when you’re a fucking biker—yeah, there’s no handbook for that,” Bouncer murmurs.
“No shit,” I agree.
“We’re brothers. When one of us is hurt, we close ranks.” North slaps his hand between my shoulders and gives me a shake, a smirk on his face.
I shove him off. “Now you’re just trying to piss me off. You hug me and I’ll punch your pretty face, you pussy.”
North laughs. “You can’t catch me. I’m too fast for you.”
“Wanna bet?”
He grins and makes a kissy face at me.
I turn to Bouncer. “Sorry you came out here?”
He rolls his eyes and says sarcastically, “No lingering regret at all, bro.”
We all chuckle at that.
“Let’s cut this crap. Time to ride.” He lifts a chin at me. “Come on, Sly. You jump on that bike, hit the throttle, and all this shit melts away.”
I turn to Bouncer. “Best idea you’ve had. Think you just earned a merit badge.”
He throws his leg over his motorcycle and works the strap under his helmet. “Lets open these babies up.”
“If you ain’t first, you’re last.” North follows, climbing on his and turns to look over at me, growling over the thunder of his engine. “You’re goin’ down, dude.”
I fire up mine, blasting the throttle in neutral and letting it roar. “Eat my dust, North.”
I pop it in gear and we peel out onto the highway, gunning it. The Harley’s engine shudders beneath me, begging to be cut loose, so I give her what she wants.
Fourteen
Sly—
I’ve been busy with the club all week, and haven’t had a chance to make any time to stop by Mooney’s and see Michaela.
I didn’t even realize it was deadline day until Bash’s ol’ lady started talkin’ about Easter Sunday bein’ the day after tomorrow. Then it hit me, today is Good Friday.
Now I’m standin’ by my bike outside the clubhouse, knowing I’ve got to go collect that money from Michaela. I run a hand down my face, wondering if she’ll even have it, and what the fuck I’m gonna do if she doesn’t.
I can’t say I haven’t lain awake nights, starin’ at the ceiling and trying to figure out the answer to that very question. Usually that leads to me thinking about Michaela, and then my mind always drifts to what it’ll be like when I finally fuck her. I already know it’s gonna be phenomenal. The electricity bouncing between us is a sure enough sign of that. I glance down at my phone to check the time. It’s past midnight and they’ll be closing up soon. I can’t put this off any longer. I can either cover the debt to the club myself or offer her an arrangement for part ownership of the place.
I mount up and head over there.
The glowing neon bar signs indicate they haven’t made last call yet. While I park and climb off my bike, the music carries to me out on the street. I walk in and find a couple of tables still occupied and a few people lingering at the bar.
Michaela is nowhere in sight.
I order a long neck and then amble toward the back hallway. There are bathrooms back here and nobody stops me.
The office door is open and Michaela is behind the desk, her attention on something behind her. I lean on the doorframe and take a sip of beer, watching her. Her hair is in that complicated braid again that goes from the crown of her head on down. She’s wearing a tight-fitting, long-sleeved black thermal shirt with the Mooney’s Pub logo over one breast. It has a scoop neck with laces up the front.
Michaela’s reading something. It looks like some kind of official letter. Her free hand toys with the gold pendant I’ve seen her wear before. She pulls it back and forth along the delicate chain. I can’t take my eyes off the soft skin of her throat. I want nothing more than to nuzzle my nose there and suck her earlobe into my mouth.
She takes a deep breath and my gaze drops to her cleavage. It’s more than I’ve ever seen her show before. And if she’s leaning over the bar in that shirt, I’ll bet she’s getting some great tips tonight.
The fabric of her shirt stretches across her breasts, accentuating them, and I want nothing more than to take them in the palms of my hands and squeeze. I’ve never wanted to touch a set of tits more than hers. I want to hear her moan while rubbing against me and begging for more.
Michaela moves and draws me from my fantasy, tossing the letter on the side credenza. Leaning an elbow on the desk, she puts her head in her hand and rubs her forehead.
“Bad news?” I ask, startling her.
She jumps, and her hand goes to her throat. “Goddamn. You scared the crap out of me.”
I grin and saunter in. “Sorry, kitten.”
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to see you’re worried about something. What’s in the letter?”
“None of your business.” She licks her lips, staring up at me. “I suppose you’re here for the club’s money.”
Before I can answer, she pulls an envelope out of a drawer and comes around the desk, holding it out to me. “I only have half of it. Here, you want to count it?”
I take the envelope and toss it on the desk. “Shut up about the money.” Then I surprise the shit out of her by grabbing her waist and hefting her up
on the desktop. Before she can spew a litany of swear words at me or even utter a sound, I move between her knees, grab her face in my hands, and do what I’ve wanted to do since the moment I first laid eyes on her. I capture her mouth with mine and taste those soft, lush lips.
Her surprise works in my favor. She wasn’t ready, so her guard’s not up. Michaela’s lips are pliant and my tongue slips easily inside. I take my time exploring, tasting, realigning our mouths, and coming back again and again with soft brushes of my lips against hers. She lets me explore and take the lead in this. It surprises me how she doesn’t resist, but I’m fucking happy she’s not. I feel her hands slide up my chest to my neck, pulling me down for more.
I give it. I’ll give this girl anything she wants from me when she’s so sweet and compliant in my arms. Finally, I break off.
We’re both breathing hard, and I can’t stop from dropping my gaze to that fabulous cleavage. Of course she sees where my eyes go.
“Is this the part where you take the balance out in trade?”
“You’ve got a real sassy mouth. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“You’re just now figuring that out?”
“That’s okay. I like a woman with sass. As long as she knows when to shut up.” I take that mouth again and teach her how I like it. She gives it to me, moaning deep in her throat and it’s the sexiest sound ever. My dick is hard and I’m fighting the urge to clear off the top of the desk with one sweep of my arm, press her back and take her right here. She’d probably let me. Maybe. I’m sure I could persuade her, tempt her; lure her into agreeing to anything I ask.
But something stops me. I realize I want more from her than just a fuck, no matter how hot that fuck would be. I want it to mean something to her. For that to happen, I know I have to back off and slow this down.
I kiss her again, then press my forehead to hers, staring down into her eyes, my hands still cupping her face.
“You hungry?”
The change of topic throws her. “What?” Her voice is soft and breathy.
I pull back a few inches, giving her breathing room. “Food. You want some?”
“I’m always hungry. Bad thing about small towns? There aren’t any all-night diners, and our kitchen closed two hours ago.”
I grin. “I know a place. Come on.” I lift her off the desk.
“I have to close up.”
“Don’t you have people who can do that? I know for a fact, Cullen didn’t close the bar every single night.”
She nibbles on her lip.
I’m tempted to lean down and bite that plump bottom lip myself. “Babe, you keep right on doin’ that … You have no idea how much it turns me on.”
She frowns. “Doing what?”
I chuckle at her cluelessness. “Let’s go.”
“Don’t forget your money,” she reminds me, taking it off the desk and holding it out to me.
I shove the envelope in my back pocket, grab her hand, and lead her out to the bar. Not giving her an option, I take control, and she lets me.
Leaning across the bar, I tell Phil, “Michaela’s going with me. Close up for her.” It’s not a question.
He stares at me, dumbfounded, his eyes moving between us. Michaela is pressed against my back. I don’t wait for his response but instead move through the bar with her tight to my side and walk us to my bike.
She stops at the curb. “I’ve never been on a motorcycle before.”
“You scared?” I challenge her, lifting a brow.
Her chin goes in the air. “Of course not.”
It’s one of the things I love about her. The girl never backs down from a challenge. I smile and hand her the helmet I’d bought for her two weeks ago knowing I was going to put this girl on the back of my bike one day soon.
She fastens it and climbs on behind me. The first touch and I’m already addicted to the feel of her curvy body pressed up against my back. I grab her hands and wrap them around my stomach, then grab her thigh and squeeze it twice. “Hold on, babe. You ready?”
She nods and I hit the throttle, roaring off down the street.
Fifteen
Michaela—
I am in love with this motorcycle! I love riding. Where has this been all my life? I’m ready to trade my dream of buying an RV in for my new dream of buying a Harley. I’m already wondering where I can take lessons.
It’s a warm night, the perfect temperature. I’m not cold at all, except when we ride out into the country and the highway rolls through dips and valleys where the mist collects. Then I get a chill and press against Sly.
More than once, Sly’s reached back with his left hand and run his palm over my thigh and squeezed. It’s addicting, that touch of his. His palm is warm and big and feels so good running over me, protective, but also affectionate.
We’re headed toward the interstate, several miles from town, and I wonder how far he’s planning to go to get food. Or if that was just a ploy to get me to go with him. The next town down the interstate is at least ten miles. As we approach the overpass, I expect him to make the turn onto one of the ramps, but he takes neither. Instead, he slows the bike as we approach the truck stop on the other side of the overpass and makes the turn. At first, I think maybe he just needs gas, but he veers off toward the restaurant side and parks.
“The truck stop? Really?” I ask with a smile as we climb off and stow the helmets.
“They have great burgers and awesome fries. Besides, there’s someone I want you to meet.” He guides me with a hand at the small of my back and holds the door for me. I can’t help but wonder if we’re meeting one of his club brothers.
Sly leads me to an empty booth.
A moment later, a waitress approaches with a pot of coffee. She turns our cups right side up in the saucers and begins filling his without asking.
“You want coffee, honey?” she asks me.
I nod and she fills my cup, then lingers a moment, studying me. I look over at Sly, who’s grinning, which make me frown, not sure of what’s going on.
“Ma, this is Michaela Mooney. Michaela, this is my mom.”
I’m sure my eyes get as big as saucers and my mouth falls open. “Your mother?”
“Mooney’s daughter?” the woman asks, turning to peer down at Sly with as much surprise as me.
He nods his head, still grinning like a fool, then crosses his arms and leans back in his seat. “She sure is, Ma.”
“She’s pretty.”
“Beautiful,” he agrees.
“I’m sorry about your father, dear. Everyone in town loved him.”
“Thank you.”
“How long have you known my boy?”
“Not long. A month, maybe.”
“How’d you two meet?”
I can see he’s worried about what I’ll say. It seems his mother’s opinion is important to him. “He … came in to pay his respects one day.”
She nods, and suddenly the wall she has up drops, and her face lights with a smile. “You two hungry? We got some chicken fried steak tonight.”
Sly nods. “Bring us both a plate, Ma.”
“Nice meeting you, Michaela.” She gives Sly a smile like they’re sharing some secret, and then moves off to place our food order.
I lean forward. “You brought me to meet your mother?” I’ve never been introduced to a man’s family before, but I’m pretty sure it’s kind of a big deal.
“Yeah, why?”
I sit back, confused by his reaction. I look around the place. “So, she’s a waitress at a truck stop.”
“Something wrong with that?” he snaps, lifting his mug.
I shake my head. “No, not at all, just … unexpected. What does your father do for a living?”
“He was a long-haul trucker.”
“Was? What does he do now?”
“Nothing. He’s dead. He was murdered when I was twelve.”
“Oh, Sly, I’m so sorry. What happened?”
“Picked up a hitchhiker. Guy
robbed him and killed him. All for forty-four bucks and an old watch.”
“That must have been very hard on you, to lose your father so young.”
“Ma and I got by.”
I study him. The memory affects him, whether he wants it to or not. I can relate. The pain of losing a father must linger for a lifetime, no matter how hard you try to get beyond it. In Sly’s face, I see my future. Years from now, I’ll be just as affected by my da’s death as he still is by his father’s murder.
We were having fun, and now I feel like I’ve somehow ruined it. I look out the window, hoping to change the subject. “I like your bike.”
The corner of his mouth pulls up and he leans forward. “Yeah?”
I nod. “I think I’m addicted. I want one.”
He chuckles. “Oh, you do, do you? I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you a ride on the back of mine anytime you want, kitten.”
I take a sip of my coffee, smiling behind the rim. “Watch out. I may take you up on that.”
“Hoping you do.”
“You’re serious?”
“Don’t say shit I don’t mean, doll.”
I study his face. I know he means every word of that statement. “That’s what scares me.”
“Why?” He searches my face. “Don’t want you scared of me, Michaela. That’s the last thing I want you to feel about me.”
“So you’ll be straight with me? Always?”
He sets his coffee down and takes one of my hands in his, stroking his thumb over the back. “I’ll be as straight with you as I can be, barring club business. Got my word.”
I decide to test him. “All right. So who’s the chick you carry that helmet around for? It’s obviously sized for a girl.”
“Did it fit you good?”
“That’s not what I asked.”
The corner of his mouth pulls up. “You. Been carrying it around for you.”
“What?”
