by Zoey Parker
The racket erupting from the engine was deafening. It was loud enough to blot out the sound of the phone in my ear. I could just barely hear the dial tone still strumming.
The biker slid past me and as he did, he glanced over in my direction. I looked up just in time to catch the surprised look on his face. He was close enough that I could see he was shockingly good looking. His sharp jaw was stubbled with a thick beard and inky tattoos peeked out from his shirt collar and sleeves. His body was chiseled. He wore a cocky smirk that made something deep in my stomach twinge.
I wondered why he was looking at me so strangely. As if the initial clamor wasn’t loud enough, he’d come to a complete halt. Even at a stop, the motor of his bike was sufficient to drown out the phone call.
I gave him an angry wave. I was in no mood to deal with this B.S. I was on the verge of a breakdown. Between my stubbed toe, my rejection at the door of the club, and the sudden downward spiral that this night had taken, I was feeling lower than low. I just wanted to go to sleep and forget that anything had ever happened. A warm shower and bed were the only things in the world I wanted right now. So why was it proving so damn hard to get there?
“If you’re just gonna sit there, can you at least turn that thing off?” I yelled across the road to the biker where he had parked and sat, idling. The phone kept ringing. The biker didn’t respond. “Hello?” I repeated at the top of my lungs. “Are you deaf?”
Without a word, the man leaned forward and twisted the key to kill the motor. Silence stole back over the street, just in time for me to hear a voice in the earpiece. “Hello?” Daddy said. “Cor? Is everything —”
The phone went dead. I looked down and saw the screen telling me that the device needed to be charged. I let out an agonized groan.
“Great, just fucking great,” I muttered to myself. “Exactly what my night needed.” I set my phone down on the sidewalk and buried my face in my hands. Before I could stop them, the tears came fast and hot. I felt ridiculous. I was one of those girls, the ones who end up crying hysterically by themselves in the gutter after a bad night at the club. I felt stupid, useless, pathetic, but none of that could stop the tears pouring down my face.
After a long minute of sobbing, I became aware of quiet breathing in front of me. Just as suddenly as they had started, the tears stopped. I looked forward and saw boots on the pavement. The frustration evaporated. Anger rushed in in its place.
“Thanks a lot, asshole,” I said sarcastically, looking up at the biker. “Couldn’t even hear the conversation, and now my phone’s dead. I really appreciate you helping to make this night a big success for me.”
He didn’t say a word. I screwed my eyes up and glared straight into his face. But as I did, I felt my resolve soften just a bit. He was more than good-looking; he was straight up gorgeous. His nose was a perfect arrow and those eyes were pure chocolate, deep and warm and teasing. He had an amused smile on his face. I couldn’t decide if I hated it or loved.
“What’s so damn funny?” I demanded. “What are you even looking at me for?”
“You’re Growler’s daughter, aren’t you?” he asked quietly.
My breathing seized instantly. Daddy’s warnings echoed in my head on full blast. Maybe this was what he’d been warning me about.
“Who’s asking?” I said. My voice had dropped to a whisper. Instinctively, I drew my knees into my chest.
“You don’t have to look so scared,” he remarked, shifting onto his heels. “I ain’t gonna hurt you. I work for your dad. I’m Croak.”
“That’s a stupid name,” I said in a hushed tone, looking away from him.
He chuckled. “Fair enough,” he said. “Is yours that much better?”
I hesitated before answering, “I’m Corinnne.”
He nodded. “Corinne, that’s right. I couldn’t remember your name, but I knew I recognized you. Your dad keeps pictures of you in the office at the clubhouse.”
I groaned. “I’ve seen those pictures; they’re horrible.”
“They aren’t too bad,” Croak said. “You’ve grown up a lot since they were taken, though.” He offered a hand towards me where I sat huddled on the curb. I reached up and grabbed his fingers. They were rough and callused. I could feel his strength despite his gentle grasp as he pulled me to my feet.
“Thanks,” I said, keeping my eyes downcast. I fixed my shirt. I was suddenly aware of how naked I looked under this man’s gaze. He seemed to be able to peel away my clothes with just a glance. My fingertips were still warm where he had touched me. I rubbed them together unconsciously.
“What are you doing out here, anyways?”
“Long story,” I answered. “Bad night. Couldn’t get a ride home.”
He frowned. “Didn’t your dad warn you to be safe? There’s some trouble stirring up with the club. I would’ve thought he would tell you not to be alone.”
“He did,” I admitted. I raised my eyes to meet his. “But I’m not a little girl. I can take care of myself.”
He didn’t look away from me. His brown eyes stayed trained on mine until I couldn’t take it anymore and I broke the contact. “I’m sure you can, Corinne,” he said. “I’m sure you can.”
“What’s it to you?”
“You’re my president’s daughter. If he cares about you, so do I. And I know he cares about you a lot. So, you know — transitive property.”
I laughed out loud. That was the last thing in the world I’d expected him to say. “Transitive property?” I giggled.
Croak raised an eyebrow. “I’m a biker, not a dumbass,” he reminded me. “I know shit.”
“Oh, yeah?” I challenged. “Like what else?”
“Like that you shouldn’t be sitting on a curb by yourself at three in the morning,” he retorted. “Although, to be fair, even a dumbass knows that. So what’re you?” His eyes shined with mirth as he looked calmly at my face.
I had half a mind to slap him right then and there. But there was something about that cocky smile and the twinkle in his eyes that made me squirm with an unfamiliar warmth instead. It was a feeling every bit as strong as hate, but just a little bit different, like hate’s cousin. The intensity and heat, though, was the same.
I turned on my heel abruptly and started marching down the street away from him. Fuck this; I’d walked home if that’s what it took. I sure as hell wasn’t going to stand around and let this man insult me, however good looking he might have been. I didn’t have to put up with his crap.
“Where you going?” he asked as I walked away.
“Home!” I called over my shoulder.
He didn’t say anything. I snuck a glance back over my shoulder and saw him walking towards his bike. Good, he’d given up. I didn’t give a damn if he really did work for my father. Let him go tell Daddy what’d happened. Maybe he’d yell at me, but I didn’t care. Croak was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and he’d used up the very last drop of patience I had. I fully intended to walk the five miles home.
I rounded the corner and kept moving. Behind me, I heard the distant chuckle of Croak’s motorcycle. I hoped he ran along and got back to whatever it was he’d been doing in the first place.
Which is why I frowned when the sound got louder. I looked back and saw him swooping around the corner, leaning his back low and gunning the throttle. He flew ahead of me, then swerved across, cutting me off. His back tire stopped mere inches from my feet.
He held a hand out towards me from where he sat on the back of the bike. “Alright, I’ll give you a ride home,” he said. “You coulda just asked.”
“No chance,” I fired back. “I don’t want a ride home from you. I don’t want to go anywhere with you.” I brushed aside his outstretched hand and resumed walking down the sidewalk.
Suddenly, his arm shot out and wrapped around my waist. I shrieked as he flipped me up and around onto the back of his bike. It took me a moment to realize how strong and deft he’d been to manage to do all that without l
eaving the seat of the motorcycle. He gunned the engine and we slid back onto the road.
But as soon as I came to my senses, I started bucking. “Let me off!” I cried. I battered my fists on his broad back. Croak barely even noticed. “Let me the fuck off of this thing!”
I heard him laughing. “Squirm all you want, princess,” he said, “but you’re gonna fall off if you move around too much. And I ain’t slowing down.”
He was telling the truth. The ground beneath me was whisking by at a crazy rate of speed. If I fell, I’d be roadkill.
For the time being, I was stuck.
Chapter 7
Croak
We pulled up outside Corinne’s digs. Corinne had stopped beating a rhythm on my back after I’d told her that she’d bust her ass and get some serious road rash if she kept it up. She’d settled down right quick, thank God. Not that it hurt especially bad. She was a little thing, although she’d tried her damndest to knock some sense into me. The world had been trying that for twenty-five years, though, and she wasn’t about to be the one who succeeded where all my teachers and mentors had failed.
And judging by the way she’d reacted, Corinne was one of those, too. She had a temper to her, just like her pops. At first glance, I’d thought she’d be all kinds of meek and mild, especially with how she was just sitting around and bawling on the edge of that sidewalk. But something in me had really set off something in her, and she’d turned into a real she-devil right quick.
I had to admit, I kinda liked it. There were too many women in this world willing to just lie down and take it. I preferred to be around the ones with some fight to them. Corinne seemed to have that. Her daddy must’ve raised her right.
“Here we are, your highness,” I said. She didn’t wait for me to help her off the bike. Instead, she leaped to the ground and glared at me as she smoothed her clothes back into place. I tried to stop myself from looking at her body, but there was never any hope of succeeding at that. I raked my eyes over her from head to toe, and it was a strenuous effort not to whistle out loud. She was put together like a work of art. And in that outfit, too, she was something out of this world. Her frame was petite but strong, and those curves were just begging for a touch.
I blinked and shook those thoughts out of my head. I’d have to have a death wish to go anywhere near Corinne. She was the president’s daughter, after all. Laying a finger on her would cost me my left nut, if not both of them. I liked the way I was just fine, thank you very much. Still, I couldn’t deny that the temptation was there.
“That was pretty rude, you know,” she said, pouting with her hands on her hips.
“Sorry, darling. Had to do right by the patch, you know.” I patted the Inked Angels insignia on my jacket. “Your daddy would’ve had me strung up if he found out I’d left you crying in the gutter by yourself.”
“I have a name,” she said. “And it’s not ‘darling.’”
I swung my leg over and sat leaning against the bike. “Fair enough,” I said. “No more ‘darling,’ then.”
“It’s Corinne.”
“I know that. You told me already. I ain’t stupid, despite what you seem to think.”
“You’re not stupid.”
“Huh?”
“You said ‘ain’t.’ That’s not a word. You should have said, ‘I’m not stupid.’”
“Honey, you are one brash little girl.”
“Corinne.”
“What?” I sighed, exasperated.
“You called me a name again. I’m not ‘honey.’ I’m Corinne.”
I laughed and shook my head. There was no winning with this girl. She seemed determined to bust my balls until they were black and blue. I held up my hands. “Okay, okay, I surrender. Corinne. I’ll never call you anything else.”
“Good,” she snapped. I wondered why she was hesitating out here with me instead of going inside. She started to say something else, then fell silent.
Without warning, a huge yawn ripped through me. I tried to stifle it, but it came out regardless. When the tears cleared from my eyes, I saw Corinne’s face softening. “You look tired,” she commented.
“Been a long day.”
She gnawed at her lip. “Do you, um… want a cup of coffee, or something?” she offered hesitantly. “For the ride home?”
I paused. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought that Corinne was hitting on me. But I brushed the thought aside and buried it deep. I just could not allow that line of thinking to gather steam. I would end up in an awfully sticky situation if I let this get out of control.
But my eyes flicked down once more over her skinny hips and the tight curve of her ass. “Just one cup,” I said. “Then I’ll get out of your hair.”
She nodded and turned to go inside. I pulled the keys out of my bike and followed behind her. It was impossible to keep my eyes off of the waggle of her ass. I just wanted to take a bite of it. A creeping feeling in my stomach told me that this was headed in a bad direction, one we both might end up regretting.
She unlocked the door and held it open for me to go inside. I passed by her. As I did, my hand swinging by my side grazed hers and our eyes locked at the same time. I almost jumped. It felt like an electric shock passed between us, from me to her and her to me. There was no mistaking the fire in those eyes of hers. It was the same one that had taken to raging deep in my gut. The fire of want. Need. Desire.
Fuck, I thought I’m gunning for trouble. But I just couldn’t stop myself.
Chapter 8
Corinne
We sat across the table from each other, steaming mugs of coffee clasped in our hands, hardly daring to make eye contact. It felt like the room was maybe a thousand degrees, judging by how hard it was to draw a satisfying breath. I could barely glance at Croak for a moment without feeling a hot blush rise in my cheeks. The air was thick enough to slice and serve.
I wanted to say something, anything, that would break the tension. But I knew that words wouldn’t be enough. It had to be something else: his touch.
I tried to reason myself out of the situation. He works with your dad, I counseled myself. He’s older. He’s an asshole. Each of those things might have been true, but together, they were tiny little matchsticks compared to the inferno burning all along my skin and between my legs. It was an achy, agonizing fire, one that got worse the more I thought about it. Weird, half-formed visions of Croak’s lips and his hands kept flashing in front of my eyelids every time I blinked. I felt like I was losing my mind.
And yet here we were. Neither of us had touched the coffee. In fact, we hadn’t said a word since we’d first stepped into my apartment. The only thing I could hear was the deep, steady slush of his breath in and out of his chest.
“Why did my dad call me tonight?” I asked quietly without looking up. “He told me I needed to be especially careful.”
I heard Croak hesitate. “There’s a guy who, let’s say, works for us from time to time. He’s a, um… a businessman, you might call it. And apparently, he’s lost his cool a little bit. Been saying some crazy things. I’m sure Growler’s just worried the guy might do something stupid. That’s all.”
“What’s his name?”
“I’m not sure I should tell you.”
“You can tell me.”
He took a long pause. “Ricardo,” he said eventually.
I repeated it. “Ricardo.”
“Yes.”
“He’s a drug dealer, right?” I looked up at Croak, who hadn’t yet answered. “He is, isn’t he? That’s what you mean by ‘businessman’?”
Croak nodded.
I took a sip of the coffee. “And what do you do?”
He shrugged. “Whatever needs to be done.”
“Do you hurt people?”
His eyes flashed again, an inscrutable sheen sliding across them. He looked steely all of the sudden, his teasing calm replaced by a centeredness that verged closer to icy. It sent a shiver down my spine. “Sometimes,” he s
aid in a near-whisper. “If they need to be hurt.”
I could feel my hands trembling. I was in the company of someone who did bad things from time to time. I knew my daddy had done things, maybe even hurt people, too, but he’d never come this close to admitting it directly to my face. Whenever I asked him straight questions, he always deflected, too worried about protecting my innocence.
Croak didn’t give a damn about protecting my innocence. If I had to guess, I’d say he was more interested in corrupting it.
“I should go,” he said, standing suddenly. His chair scraped against the kitchen floor.
