Tempted: The Numb MC
Page 28
“I don’t know,” Marie said doubtfully. “I feel like… sex is always better when there is a relationship there. It just creates another level of intimacy, one you will never be able to have with a stranger.”
“You’re such a traditionalist,” Kristina joked.
“If he’s one of the bikers though… won’t you have to see him at work?” Marie asked.
“Well, yes… but it’s not like there’s any pressure for us to talk or be friends. If I see him, I see him, and if I don’t, I don’t.”
“I’m going to be honest. This new mind set of yours is a little jarring to me,” Marie said, as she shook her head in Kristina’s direction.
“Why?”
“Because it’s so unlike you,” Marie said forcefully. “You’re just not that girl.”
“I know,” Kristina nodded. “Which is why I have to do it. I’m sick of being ‘that girl.’ I want to be wild for a change. I want to be reckless and crazy and young and thoughtless. I just want to feel like I’m living my life… at least before we graduate and the real world calls.”
“Just because you’re not doing a bunch of crazy stuff does not mean you’re not living,” Marie pointed out.
“I know,” Kristina nodded. “I’m just talking about myself… this is what feels right to me. I don’t regret last night at all. In fact, it might have been something of a sexual awakening for me.”
Marie smiled pointedly at her. “Was he that good?”
“You should see him,” Kristina said. “He’s gorgeous.”
“Describe him to me,” Marie said immediately with keen interest.
“Firstly, he’s tall,” Kristina began. “It seems as though he’s made of six feet of hard muscle and abs. His eyes are blue, but they’re incredibly light, and they’ve got this electricity running through them. And he’s blonde, but more strawberry than blond. He’s got tattoos, too. They cover his arms and chest, and I could barely make sense of all of them.”
“Plus, you were a little distracted,” Marie teased.
“I was a little distracted,” Kristina agreed.
Slowly, the smile on Marie’s face began to fade, and Kristina knew what was coming before Marie opened her mouth. “You’re not going to see him again, right?”
Kristina hesitated only for a second. “No.”
“What if he approaches you?” Marie asked. “What if he pushes you up against a wall and pulls up your skirt? Would you fight him?”
Kristina knew where Marie was going with this. She made eye contact and answered without blinking. “I would,” Kristina said confidently.
“Liar.”
Kristina looked down. “What do you want me to say?”
“The truth,” Marie insisted. “Because as far as I can see… it seems this guy has done a number on you.”
“You’re reading too much into this,” Kristina said. “He’s just a guy I had sex with, that’s it. And even if I were to have sex with him again, it still wouldn’t mean a thing.”
Marie’s expression didn’t change at all. “Under normal circumstances, I would agree completely. You’re young and hot, and if you want to have a bunch of one-night stands, that’s your prerogative. I would actually encourage it, just not in this case.”
“Why?” Kristina demanded. “Because he’s got tattoos?”
Marie rolled her eyes. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve got tattoos, too. This has nothing to do with those tattoos; it’s about what they represent.”
“You don’t like that he’s in a gang,” Kristina said.
“For good reason,” Marie said in frustration, as though she couldn’t understand why Kristina was being so difficult. “This is not some innocent teenage gang… this is serious stuff, Kristie. These are men who are involved in some pretty serious shit. Do you really want to put yourself in the middle of it?”
“I just work there,” Kristina said. Unbidden, the man who had called the auto shop that morning jumped into her head, and she wondered if she was just being naive to believe that. “I’m not going to be in the middle of anything. I’m just going there so that I can put a dent on my student loans.”
“That’s not the only reason and you know it,” Marie pointed out. “You just got through telling me that you wanted to make your life more dangerous.”
“I never said ‘dangerous’,” Kristina corrected quickly. “I said interesting.”
“Sometimes they’re the same thing,” Marie said, shaking her head. “The Iron Dragons are criminals…which means your tattooed prince is one, too.”
“Have you ever thought that there’s more to them than just crime and tattoos and… bad shit?” Kristina asked before she could stop herself.
Marie was looking at her as though she were a lost cause. “You’re a smart girl. And I know that you know bad boys don’t make good boyfriends. The only thing they are capable of doing is breaking hearts.”
Kristina was about to argue, but at the last minute she held her tongue and said nothing. She understood where Marie was coming from, and a few years ago she might even have agreed, but something had shifted inside her and Kristina knew that this new thirst she had would not easily be satiated.
“I’ll stay away from him,” Kristina said at last.
Marie stared at her for a moment longer and then nodded. “Ok.”
Relieved to have Marie off her back, Kristina sunk into her bed and sighed as warmth and comfort spread through her tired limbs. She hadn’t realized how uncomfortable her body had been all this time. With silence clinging to the room, Kristina was able to close her eyes and reflect on the last few days. The first thing she saw in her mind’s eye was the image of Keith, sitting astride his gigantic motorcycle, and a part of her felt a pang of regret that they had not had the opportunity to fuck again before saying goodbye.
If it hadn’t been for the fact that she had a roommate, Kristina knew that she might have asked Keith to walk her upstairs. Her desire for him burgeoned, and she felt moisture bubble between her thighs. She resisted the urge to slip her fingers downwards to relieve herself of some of the want that tickled her body. She could easily satisfy herself, but that was not what she wanted. She wanted him.
She wanted to feel the length of him inside her. She wanted the heat of his hands on her body; she wanted his tongue on her neck and her nipples. She knew immediately that their one night was nowhere near enough. Instead of fulfilling her as she had hoped it would, last night had only created a larger and deeper hunger. It was a hunger for the excitement and passion that Keith had given her that had evaded her all her life.
Chapter Four
Keith
The house still smelled of his childhood. Keith leaned back against the couch with his feet kicked up on the coffee table, trying to shake off the barrage of memories that haunted him every time he paid his mother a visit.
“Your boots are dirty,” Emma pointed out, as she came around the corner from the kitchen carrying a tray of hot dogs and beer.
“Sorry, Mom,” Keith said easily, as he placed his feet back down.
Keith had inherited his mother’s glassy blue eyes. On him, their lightness created an intimidating, almost sinister persona that Keith made full use of. But for Emma, their lightness created the appearance of fragility. Keith knew that this was simply an illusion. If there was one person out there who was made of invisible steel, it was his mother.
She was only fifty-three, but the lines marring her face, the strings of grey running through her dark hair and the hunch in her gait made her seem much older. She set the tray down and sat down opposite Keith, her eyes trained on him as though she were using full concentration.
“Stop worrying, Mom,” Keith said, helping himself to a hot dog.
“What makes you think I’m worrying?” Emma asked, as she leaned back into the chair.
Keith smiled. “I’ve known you a long time; I can read the facial signs.”
Emma returned Keith’s smile, and then she sighed dee
ply. “I hate to break it to you… but the worrying is never going to stop. Especially given…”
She trailed off and Keith allowed the moment to fall into silence. She didn’t need to finish her thought. Keith had known how his mother felt about his lifestyle from the moment he had entered into it.
“How’s Miles?” Emma asked, breaking the silence.
“He’s doing alright,” Keith nodded. “A bit nervous about impending fatherhood.”
Emma smiled. “There’s nothing quite like parenthood… he’s going to love it.”
“You never know,” Keith said without thinking. “Not everyone does.”
Keith gave himself an internal kick the moment he saw his mother cringe at his words. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s ok,” Emma interrupted. “You’re right, not everyone can handle it. But Miles is different, he’s a better man than your father was.”
Keith nodded. “He is.”
“And how are things… with everything else?” Emma asked tentatively, as though she didn’t want to ask the question but obligation drove her to.
“Fine,” Keith said shortly, knowing that the truth of the matter would only worry her.
Emma looked at him through lowered eyes. “It doesn’t seem like it.”
“What do you mean?” Keith asked, fixing his mother with a searching gaze.
“The local news is filled with reports of unrest at the borders. Apparently it’s being caused by a gang called the Rusted Chains.”
“I’ve heard,” Keith said flippantly, as though the news did not affect him directly.
“Reports of violence have been reported,” Emma went on in a calm tone. “As I recall, that’s where most of your shipments operate from.”
Keith looked up at his mother and held her gaze for a short moment. She knew some things about his life in the gang, but she didn’t know everything. Keith was amazed at how much she had managed to piece together without his help. He shouldn’t have been surprised though; he had always known that his mother was a smart woman.
“Did I tell you that?” Keith asked, simply because he was curious.
“My wits haven’t abandoned me yet, son,” Emma said with satisfaction. “I pay attention to things, especially where they concern you.”
“Yes,” Keith said finally, realizing there was no point in denying what his mother already knew. “That is where our shipments travel through.”
“Maybe you should lay low for a while?” Emma suggested innocently.
Keith understood her instinct to cower; he himself had felt the same way in those kinds of situations. He was not the scared little boy he had once been, however. Now, when he sensed danger, he tended to face it head on.
“It doesn’t work that way, Mom,” Keith said gently. “We have a business to run.”
“A business is it?” Emma said without judgment.
“An illegal business is still a business,” Keith said calmly. “And it requires intelligent thinking and careful planning.”
“There are some things that you can’t always control, Keith,” Emma replied. “No matter how careful or intelligent you are. And in this case… you don’t have anyone to turn to.”
“Are you referring to law enforcement?”
“You won’t be able to report anything if things turn bad,” Emma said sensibly. “Are you willing to take that risk?”
“Every day in this life is a risk,” Keith said unblinkingly. “I knew that the day I made the decision to be a part of the gang.”
Emma sighed heavily and turned her head sideways, in the direction of the small table that held a number of rusted picture frames. Keith knew she was travelling years into the past, with the images in those frames as a guide. He couldn’t help but stare at his fourteen-year-old self, staring blankly back at him from a yellowing photograph.
“You hated taking pictures,” Emma said, noticing the direction of Keith’s gaze.
“I still do,” Keith said. “Taking pictures is a pastime for happy people with memories to capture.”
“We had memories...” Emma said softly.
“You mean the memories of dad kicking you in the stomach, or the memories of him pushing me down the stairs? Which one do you prefer?” Keith asked bitterly without thinking.
After a moment, he realized what he had just said, and he turned to his mother in apology. “I… didn’t mean that.”
“Of course you did,” Emma said unblinkingly. “And I can’t blame you. It’s just that sometimes… I suppose I like to pretend your childhood wasn’t as bad as it had been. It’s the only way I can control the guilt I feel.”
“You have nothing to feel guilty about,” Keith said firmly. “You hear me?”
“I am you mother,” Emma said distractedly. “I should have protected you. Instead… I forced you to grow up because I was incapable of fighting back.”
“You did no such thing,” Keith said. “That was my decision. I knew I needed something to make me strong… so that I could face him.”
“That wasn’t your job,” Emma insisted. “It was mine. I was his wife.”
“And I was his son,” Keith said through gritted teeth. “And he and I had a score to settle.”
Emma sighed again and turned away from his stare. “I remember that life like it was yesterday. I can remember him standing over you with his fists clenched and his eyes bloodshot.”
“You know what I remember?” Keith asked. “I remember you standing between us so that he wouldn’t have the chance to hit me. I remember you jumping on his back so that he would turn his attention on you rather than me. I remember that you only ever wore shirts with long sleeves because you wanted to hide the bruises he left on your skin. I remember the week that you stayed in your room because you didn’t want me to see the black eye he had given you. Those are the things that I remember.”
Emma’s eyes were far away when she looked back at Keith. “I was so scared when you joined that club.”
“I know,” Keith said, as he nodded gently.
“But it changed everything, didn’t it?”
“It did,” Keith said. “The club taught me how to let go of my fear. The club taught me how to be a man.”
Emma nodded as though she were distracted, her mind travelling into the past when she was still beneath the heel of her husband and Keith had just been a scared little boy. “It’s a dangerous life though,” she said after a long silence.
“Nothing in life is perfect,” Keith said. “I may not always be safe… but at least I’m free.”
“Do you still think that… after what happened with—?”
“Why don’t you eat something,” Keith interrupted her swiftly before she could finish her sentence. He did not want to have to think about that; he did not want to think about what he had lost in choosing this life. It was a catch twenty-two however. He would have had nothing to lose if he had not chosen this path.
“Have you met any nice girls lately?” Emma asked deftly, acting as though the previous conversation had no relation to this one.
Keith kept his face impassive. “None,” he said gruffly. “And I’m happy to keep it that way.”
“Maybe you should just consider—?”
“Consider what?”
“Opening yourself up a little,” Emma said gently. “You’re so closed off, Keith. You weren’t always that way.”
“I have good reason.”
“I’m not saying you don’t,” Emma said. “I’m just saying there are other ways of dealing with your loss. This is not a good one.”
“It’s worked pretty well the last two years.”
“And all these women you sleep with and then discard… do they make you happy?” Emma asked pointedly, raising her eyebrows and fixing him with a fire bright stare.
“The point is not to be happy,” Keith said stubbornly.
“It’s not?” Emma asked calmly. “Then tell me, what is the point?”
&n
bsp; “The point is to distract myself,” Keith said honestly. “And that I achieve with every one of those girls.”
“And you forget them afterwards?” Emma asked in a good imitation of casual disinterest.
“Yes, I do,” Keith replied, after hesitating for a moment.
The moment his mother had asked him the question, an image of Kristina popped into his head. He didn’t know why her face was so clear to him or how he had managed to retain so many details surrounding her. All he knew was that it was not a good sign that his mind had raced to her.