Slow Ride: Powertools: Hot Rides, Book #2

by Jayne Rylon

  Which was why he’d been wandering aimlessly for…days, probably, though he’d lost track for certain. He’d ridden out to the cabin at the lake, paced the shore, screamed into the wilderness, and cried until he’d made himself physically ill. Stayed awake for days on end then slept for what seemed like a few more, unable to get out of bed. None of that had changed the numb dread inside him.

  His entire core was frozen.

  Jordan was more scared than he’d been when he’d realized they’d walked into an ambush near the border. Because he wasn’t sure that even Wren could thaw him. He sure as hell wasn’t going to be able to comfort her either, not when he felt like an emotional zombie.

  It was a disaster waiting to happen.

  He put his key in the lock and paused, wondering if he should knock. Technically, he lived there. But it was Wren’s place and he couldn’t imagine how he’d be welcome ever again. Not after he’d failed her. He’d promised to keep Johnny safe. To bring him home for her to love and be loved by in return.

  Now she’d have to settle for only him.

  Jordan knew he’d never be enough to fill both their shoes. Besides, he didn’t have the gentle touch his partner had. Without that to soften his sharpness, he wouldn’t be any good for Wren.

  It was a pointless exercise. He stood there long enough that he thought he might be better off tucking the key in the mail slot and walking away, leaving everything of his old life behind in that quirky, cozy apartment with Wren, and starting over as the entirely new and foreign person he felt like.

  Except right then the doorknob was snatched out of his grip.

  Wren stood there, gaping at him. Extremely bloodshot whites surrounded her irises, making them seem even bluer than usual. Her long blond hair was kinked and matted as if she hadn’t brushed it in the entire week since…the incident, as he’d started thinking of it to himself.

  For a moment, they simply stood there, staring at each other in shock.

  Then she screamed and flung herself at him. “Jordan! Son of a bitch, Jordan!”

  At first, he couldn’t tell if she was trying to pull him closer or beat him up as her fists pounded his chest and she buried her face against his shoulder. Probably it was a bit of both.

  He had no choice but to catch her or let her fall on the busted concrete sidewalk. No way would he ever let that happen, so he wrapped his arms around her and held her close as he half-dragged, half-carried her inside. Every blow she rained on him he absorbed, wishing it hurt more. Maybe then it would drown out the pain coming from within him for a moment or two.

  It felt wrong to hold her, to smell her, to cradle her so close to his heart when he knew he didn’t deserve her. Whatever had been between them had died as surely as Johnny. Grief, anger, betrayal, shame, outrage—all of it was too intertwined with his feelings for Wren and the man he’d lost before he’d ever found the guts to admit that he loved him.

  No, Johnny had known that. He just hadn’t understood that Jordan was in love with him, too.

  Now it was too late.

  He couldn’t fix any of it. Neither would he take it back.

  The past summer had been the hottest time in his life. He planned to hold it as close as he was hugging Wren right then. He’d relive it in his memories as often as possible to erase the despair that had nearly driven him to join Johnny. He wasn’t sure exactly how long he’d sat at their cabin, with his service pistol on the table, pointed in his direction, but it had been long enough to drain every drop of liquor they’d stashed in the cabinets there.

  He’d felt the weight of the icy steel in his hand, and had tested the feel of it against his temple.

  But as his finger had tightened on the trigger, he’d imagined he heard Johnny outside, singing along to Kason Cox as he worked on the outboard motor that was always quitting on them, forcing them to row their way home with the sunset glinting off the mirror-calm surface of Lake Logan before it dipped behind the majestic mountains on the opposite shore.

  Jordan had put the gun down and gone to look out the window, finding only leaves blowing past in the brisk autumn breeze. No Johnny. No Wren.

  Only the memories of brighter days had saved him.

  That didn’t mean he could keep the best part of his life all to himself now that Johnny was gone.

  “Where were you? Are you okay? Of course you’re not, but…” Wren was running her hands all over him then, as if trying to verify that he was in one piece. Jordan tried to ignore the way her touch electrified his skin. Even then, in the depths of his grief and guilt, she had the power to move him. “Jordan! Talk to me, damn it!”

  “I’m sorry,” was all he could say.

  Wren paused then, blinking up at him as though she didn’t recognize his monotone voice. Hell, he didn’t either. Neither did he recognize the distance that wedged between them, tearing them apart.

  “This wasn’t your fault…” she began.

  “It should have been me,” he told her, refusing to lie.

  “He knew the dangers. He did this job anyway.” Wren sniffled. “That’s what makes both of you heroes.”

  “I’m no hero.” Jordan put Wren to the side. He paced the entryway until she grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the kitchen. More memories assaulted him, reminding him of the nights they’d danced, joked, and fucked in what should have been their home.

  Wren shoved him into the recliner he and Johnny had rescued from the side of the road one night before garbage pickup. Then she climbed into his lap. She smothered him in hugs and gentle kisses that felt like the ultimate betrayal to Johnny, who’d been the seductive one in their duo.

  “Wren, don’t.” He clasped her narrow waist and set her away from his chest, hoping he could draw in the breath required to make her understand.

  “I needed you. Didn’t you need me?” She bit her lip as if she could keep the words from flying into the gap he’d deliberately put between them again. It would be too easy to erase that space. To give in. To make things worse.

  How could he admit it without harming her further? He couldn’t so he didn’t. “I was lost.”

  Still was. Might always be.

  Wren nodded slowly, her hair falling forward to frame her gorgeous face. “Can you tell me…anything? About what happened?”

  Jordan winced. He could, but he didn’t want to. Unless that’s what it would take for her to get it. To understand why he didn’t deserve her. Why he couldn’t do this anymore. He drew in a shaky breath past the iron bands that had been constricting his chest since he’d witnessed the light going out of Johnny’s green eyes.

  “If it’s too hard—”

  “There was a double agent. He told the smugglers where we’d be.” Jordan spit out the details in staccato blasts that reminded him of the shots that had rained down on them. “I went in first. Something tipped Johnny off. He roared. Dragged me back and threw himself over me.”

  Wren’s lip quivered between her teeth. Her chin wobbled. Then tears dripped off her cheekbones as she began to shake all over.

  “They got him here.” His fingers touched the spot where blood had sprayed from Johnny’s neck like the garden hose Jordan had run over with the lawn mower last summer. He’d never seen so much blood. So fast. There hadn’t been anything they could do to stop it. “It was over in a matter of seconds.”

  The longest damn seconds of his life.

  Jordan could swear he and Johnny had an entire conversation in the glance they’d exchanged. But he hadn’t so much as whispered the only words that had mattered in his best friend’s dying moments. I love you.

  He hadn’t realized he was crying too until Wren leaned in and kissed the trail of his tears, attempting to take away his pain as easily as the moisture there. Impossible.

  But her touch did dull the ache a tiny bit. So he gave in and let her hold him, and let himself embrace her, too. He rocked her against his chest until she shifted, her long legs overflowing the recliner. Then he stood, holding her as he move
d without thought, carrying her toward the bedroom.

  He’d only meant to make her more comfortable. To put her somewhere she didn’t have to be scrunched up and awkward.

  Except, when he set her down and she refused to unwind her arms from his neck, he went with her onto the soft, warm bed where they’d made love so many times that his body responded with muscle memory.

  It was impossible not to mix up the past and the present, to recall how much hope and joy he’d had a week ago. He wanted to be that man again, if only for a moment.

  Wren, never a passive lover, was thrashing beneath him, kicking off her sweats and wriggling out of her shirt. Thankfully, she hadn’t been wearing anything beneath her clothes. He paused to drink in the sight of her pale skin and the flush of her nipples before ripping his own shirt off as she unfastened his jeans.

  It was rushed. Hurried. With no time to think or regret or second guess.

  With a few more brusque motions, he was naked and they were pressed together skin-on-skin from their collarbones to their ankles. He nearly rolled to his side, giving Johnny room to spoon her from behind, to wrap her in his arms as Jordan filled her again and again. Until he realized that wasn’t how this was going to go.

  Not tonight. And not ever again.

  Jordan hesitated, but Wren didn’t allow him to disengage. She wrapped her fist around his cock and pumped it until it was fully hard. Then she guided him between her legs and lifted her hips up, working him the barest bit inside her.

  Jordan groaned. His muscles flexed of their own accord. He buried himself in her pussy, trying to warm himself in her heat. Wren slung her arm around his shoulders and held him close. She screamed his name and clutched him to her heaving chest.

  It was primal. Raw. Ungraceful. Everything they were on their own, without Johnny’s suave influence or his finesse.

  Wren met him thrust for thrust, rocking upward to absorb his frantic fucking. She growled and bit his shoulder, as if that would be enough to stake her claim on him and hold them together when they were so close to flying apart.

  Jordan tried to show her his wrecked heart with every lunge. He balled his fists in the sheets on either side of her and unleashed all of his pent-up agony, fear, and disappointment.

  She took it and turned it into something beautiful, moaning as he impaled her.

  Somehow, she transformed his grief into bliss, if only temporarily. Her eyes flew open and she stared deep into his as she lost control. She surrendered to the relentless pistoning of his cock and the smack of his flesh against her clit.

  Wren came, wringing his dick with every contraction of her muscles.

  She clawed his back as she did her best to hold him to her.

  He reveled in every scratch that reminded him he was still there. Still alive.

  And when she rose up and latched onto his mouth, feeding him a series of moans, he joined her. Jordan spilled deep within her, his ass clenching in time to the spasms that launched his come from his balls.

  It was a release, yes. An epic one, even. But it wasn’t the same.

  Johnny wasn’t there to appreciate their show or to take Jordan’s place while he recovered enough to have another go at bringing Wren rapture. They were reduced to being ordinary.

  It wasn’t what they’d had before.

  Jordan had lost more than his best friend that day, even if Johnny hadn’t known how he’d felt.

  Wren opened her eyes and the sadness in them hadn’t vanished. In fact, it seemed to have amplified. “How can he be gone? Is he, really?”

  Just like that, reality came crashing in. Jordan nodded, unable to let her believe even for an instant that they were going to get that part of their souls back. Johnny was dead. Only his ghost would ever join them in this bed, and in their relationship, again.

  No matter how desperately Jordan wished it could be different, he was never going to have the opportunity to come clean with his partner. Or become more than the other guy’s friend and co-worker.

  Wren reached up and touched his cheek lightly, caressing him with the pad of her thumb as if she was trying to comfort him. How much had those piercing eyes of hers seen? Everything, her touch told him.

  “You knew?” Jordan asked on a wheeze.

  “That you were in love with Johnny?” She smiled faintly around a stifled yawn. The past week had obviously exhausted her. “Of course. I thought there was time…that we’d work things out.”

  Except there hadn’t been and they wouldn’t.

  Jordan should hate himself for what they’d just done. He hadn’t meant to give in, but clearly he had no willpower when he was near Wren. He already despised himself so much, what was one more sin on the pile?

  Besides, the single orgasm he’d given her had seemed to settle her.

  When he slipped from her body, they both sighed. He reached over to the night table and took the brush there. As gently as he could, he began combing her hair, untangling the mess it had become at least partly because of him. If only he could fix the rest of their relationship as easily, he would gladly do it.

  There was no hope for that except to cut it off.

  Wren must have felt it too, deep down. She was dozing off, clutching him to her so tightly he couldn’t slink away or pack his shit or do any of the other things he should. So, instead, he lay there next to her and watched her sleep for most of the night.

  Only when the first glimmer of dawn began to turn the sky from ink to the deep blue of the lake on a stormy day did he shake himself. What was he doing? Making things more difficult, that’s what. He had to go before he forgot to do what was right. He had to make a clean break and let Wren go, free to find what happiness she could after this.

  He gently unwound her limbs from his body. Even in sleep, she’d wrapped around him as if that could keep him by her side when they both knew love wasn’t strong enough for that.

  Jordan rolled from the bed and stood.

  “Where are you going?” Wren mumbled groggily, and reached out. If her fingers so much as grazed his, he wouldn’t be able to do what he had to. For both their sakes.

  He might not have died, but he’d been irreparably damaged.

  It wouldn’t ever be possible for him to be so reckless and uninhibited with his heart now that he knew how bad it hurt to lose a part of it.

  “To the store…” He was a coward. So much so that he couldn’t tell her the truth and listen to her fight for something they’d already lost. “Go back to bed, Wren. Have sweet dreams of how things used to be.”

  She looked up at him, blinking sleepily in the darkness. He thought she saw a flicker of resignation in her azure eyes. Did she know this was goodbye for good?

  “Just remember, I love you. Always will.”

  He couldn’t say it back. Because it wouldn’t be fair and he wasn’t sure he even had a heart anymore. It had been ripped out the day Johnny had died. Instead, he lifted her hand, kissed her knuckles, grabbed his clothes off the floor, then turned and locked the door before he walked out.

  He refused to look back in case he caved again and ran to her.

  3

  Five Years Later

  Wren rubbed her stomach as she leaned back from the break room table at Hot Rides motorcycle shop and belched. She hoped her friend Devra took that as the compliment it was. “Damn. If my assignments had tasted this good when I was in school, maybe I would have given a fuck about them.”

  Now that the fall semester had begun at their local college, Devra had restarted her coursework, double majoring in culinary arts and restaurant management. Being one of the woman’s designated taste testers was another unexpected perk of the employment agreement Wren had finally caved and signed about three months ago.

  Quinn, one of Devra’s two husbands, had made Wren better offer after better offer until she literally could not refuse his generosity. Secretly, she hadn’t wanted to either. It felt nice to have some stability and a core group of people surrounding her again. Though she tr
ied desperately to think of her employer, co-workers, and their zillions of friends and extended family as mere acquaintances, it was all a bunch of bullshit.

  Despite her bad manners and social awkwardness, they’d gradually taken her in and made her one of them, for which she would be forever grateful.

  “Oh, come on. You’re telling me you weren’t a straight-A student?” Trevon, Devra’s other husband, laughed at Wren. His golden eyes sparkled against the backdrop of his rich, dark skin. “You’re too much of a perfectionist to have been anything else.”

  “Ah, well. Busted. But just because I did well in school didn’t mean I liked it.” She shrugged one shoulder. “More like it had been unacceptable to my parents for me to be any less than a model student. They still haven’t forgiven me for leaving home at eighteen, turning down acceptance letters to all the colleges they’d made generous donations to, and paying my own way through trade school to be a lowly welder instead. Can’t say I’ve ever lived up to their expectations, especially not by being independent, which meant they couldn’t use their money as leverage to run my life anymore.”

  “Yikes. Sorry.” Ollie, who was also newish to Hot Rides, knocked his shoulder into hers. The salvage man was cute, funny, and sweet. He hadn’t tried very hard to hide his interest in her either. If she were smart, she’d be attracted to him as more than a co-worker or a garage buddy.

  Clearly, she hadn’t aced any relationship tests.

  Despite the fact that Wren hadn’t returned his flirtations, Ollie hadn’t let things become weird between them. He was one of her favorite people to hang out with and ensured that she never felt like a third—or was that fourth?—wheel in Trevon, Quinn, and Devra’s powerful relationship.

  Okay, so if she was being totally honest, some small part of her was jealous of their insane chemistry and the fact that Devra was living Wren’s fantasy life. Still, the trio never made her feel unwelcome. Besides, with Ollie around, plus the Hot Rods and their ladies coming over to talk shop or non-shop with her, she didn’t seem out of place. Even more than that, with their kids to play with and the warm welcome from Tom and Ms. Brown, who were quickly becoming like surrogate parents to her, the Hot Rides felt like family even more than friends.