SAVED BY THE BAD BOY (A DEVIL'S DRAGONS MOTORCYCLE CLUB ROMANCE)

by Nikki Wild

  Perfect timing meant that I wasn’t scheduled a single hour for the entire week after Dalton left. Banquet season had apparently slid down to a grinding halt. That meant less morning shifts to go around, and I didn’t have the energy to fight for the scraps.

  Natalie was a godsend. She’s probably the reason I climbed out of bed, made it to my classes, and turned in (most of) my homework.

  Dalton apparently did not have a Natalie.

  He hadn’t shown up in our class.

  He hadn’t tried to contact me in any way.

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” she reassured me one afternoon during a commercial break of some sitcom we both liked. “He’s probably just working through things on his own. The bastard will come around, and everything will be fine again.”

  “He’s not a bastard,” I told her.

  “Technically, he is!” She chirped up. “Guy’s parents never married, right? So that makes him a total bastard. It’s the textbook definition.”

  “Fine. He’s a bastard, then,” I grumbled.

  Natalie turned to face me with welling concern. Before she opened her mouth, I saw the impending, heartfelt lecture spring to life in her eyes. “Look, Clara…”

  “Don’t.” I cut her off, backing the word up with a glare. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “We both know that I might be a bit airheaded sometimes, but even I can see that you two love each other. You’re desperate for him, and I’ve seen the way he looks at you! You can’t ignore that!”

  I turned away, but she pushed the issue.

  “Find a way! Reach out to him! You know that he wants that!”

  “Would you listen to yourself?” I asked her bitterly. “What kind of person would I be if I asked him to set aside his dreams for me? I can’t do that to him.”

  “What was it again that he asked you to do, right before you went all psycho on him?”

  “I didn’t go psycho.”

  “Clara, I know you. If he hasn’t tried to reach out to you at all, then you totally went psycho. Anyway, answer the question.”

  I ignored her insult. “He said to let him make his own decisions.”

  “And you didn’t. You made it for him.”

  “He would have made the wrong one.”

  “You know that for sure?”

  I crossed my arms. “Yes.”

  “And why’s that?”

  I tried to turn away again.

  “Answer me, Clara!”

  I stood up and finally let loose.

  “Because they’re both the wrong fucking decision! No matter how you look at it, either choice is wrong! Either I make him go and uncomplicate both of our lives… struggle to get over him… not daring to think what life would be like if we were together…”

  “Or what?” She demanded.

  Defeat filled my veins when I looked at her.

  “Or… we get together, living some twisted double life around our parents and grandparents, unable to be really together without them judging or disowning us… until he inevitably resents choosing this life over traveling around the world.”

  We were silent for a while. The sitcom had come back on in the meantime, and the laugh track occasionally clashed with the atmosphere.

  “You can’t just let this go without trying,” Natalie pleaded quietly.

  I didn’t have a response for that.

  “Listen to me, Clara,” she continued. “So there are some kinks. It’s not easy. I get that.”

  I bitterly shook my head, and she ignored my response to get out her point.

  “Yeah. It’s a total mess and it sucks that the two of you are stuck in this unfair clusterfuck. But you can’t just let this thing slip out between your fingers without a fight. You know he makes you happy, and it sounds like you make him happy too. Just talk to him. Who knows what’s going on with him? If he’s dropped off the face of the earth, he’s obviously in a dark place. Maybe he needs you.”

  “I can’t,” I pleaded.

  “Clara, talk to him,” she insisted gravely.

  I slumped down into my sofa next to her, and my frustration broke down into sobs. Natalie held me close while I cried it out, and when I lifted my face she had a tissue ready.

  “Don’t think for a moment that I don’t want to,” I replied, gratefully taking it from her hand. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe he needs me right now. But this is short-term pain for long-term gain. He’s got a life, Nat, and he’s got dreams. Oh, if you’d seen the look in his eyes when he was telling me about them. I can’t take that away from him.”

  “Even if he goes,” she whispered, “if you two haven’t made up, what makes you think he’ll be happy? What if his feet take him across the world, fueled from a place of anger and despair?”

  “Then that’s his choice,” I answered.

  “No, it’s not. That’ll be what you did to him.”

  We sat in silence for the next episode, but the night was gone. That’s why I didn’t try to stop her when she picked up her purse and kicked her heels back on.

  “Just think about it,” Natalie told me when she kissed my cheek goodbye. “You might be making a huge mistake here.”

  “It’s a mistake either way,” I shrugged.

  After a solemn look in my eyes, she was gone out the door, just like Dalton.

  For the second time in about a week, I had driven someone away from the apartment – leaving me alone with miserable thoughts.

  You will probably not be surprised to hear that solitude plus an abyss of depressing thoughts is not exactly a fantastic combination.

  For the rest of the day I sat there on that couch, letting the TV mindlessly play in front of me. Maybe Natalie’s right, I found myself thinking. She hasn’t really steered me wrong yet…

  But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

  I knew what Dalton would say if we talked about it. He’d convince me that we could make it work. He’d find a way to talk me down, back into his arms, just shelving the problem for now.

  No, I thought to myself.

  I have to be strong for him… for both of us.

  A slight rumbling pulled my attention away. I glanced over at my phone to see a number I didn’t recognize. Nope, not the time, I thought to myself.

  Instead, I tried to embroil myself into the television. I was actually starting to chuckle at a few of the jokes when the phone rang again.

  Same number. I ignored it again.

  Not two minutes later, it rang again, and then again. I was starting to get frustrated now, but the caller wasn’t letting my voicemail pick up.

  It was on the fifth call that I bitterly snatched the phone up, paused Netflix, and answered.

  “You’ve got the wrong number!”

  “Oh, I think I have the right number…”

  My breath caught in my throat.

  “…Jeremy?”

  “Yeah, it’s me,” my ex-boyfriend smoothly whispered down the line. “I switched phones a few weeks back. Glad to see that your number still works, because it didn’t before…”

  “I blocked you,” I angrily told him. “Just like I’m going to in just a moment.”

  “Before you do that, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Jeremy coolly stated. “Can you give me just, like, five minutes of your time? For old time’s sake?”

  Right then and there, I knew that I should hang up. But I was weak and upset, and something inside me seized up.

  “Look, what do you want?”

  Jeremy paused. “Clara, you sound upset.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s been a rough couple of days,” I bitterly mentioned. “So just go ahead and tell me whatever you want to tell me. Not five minutes. You’re getting two. Clock’s ticking.”

  “No, that’s not important right now,” Jeremy replied, sounding almost concerned. “What’s much more important to me is that you’re okay. Are you okay? You sound like you’re about to cry.”

  “Just leave me the fuck alone,” I growled.


  “Look, I know we didn’t exactly end… on a good note, but I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am,” Jeremy murmured. “And we don’t ever have to speak again… if that’s what you really want. But I’ve changed, Clara. I was such a fool to let you go…”

  Is this SERIOUSLY happening right now?

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I half-chuckled. “After all this time, you choose now to apologize for that shit? You seriously hurt me, Jeremy. I didn’t think I’d ever get over what you did to me. I’m only just becoming okay with it now… or, I thought I was.”

  “I know,” he replied. “I was a serious asshole. I deserved you dumping me. That’s exactly what it took for me to see the truth…”

  Oh, no. Don’t you DARE.

  “…That I love you, and I’m just lesser without you. You make me complete, Clara. You always did.”

  “We are not having this conversation right now,” I told him furiously, feeling something inside start to crack. It cracked so quickly that it even broke my voice. “Just leave me alone. I’ve moved on, Jeremy.”

  “I can tell that you haven’t, not really,” he replied calmly. “Look, I’m not asking for any promises or anything. But it sounds like you’re having a rough go of things, right? Maybe that guy from that date; I’m guessing things didn’t work out so well with him?”

  My breath stopped in my throat, and I couldn’t even squeeze out the slightest reply.

  Jeremy chuckled sardonically. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’ve been hurt again. All I’m asking is for a little of your time, okay? I know you’re comfortable around me. Let’s get your mind off of him, isn’t that what you need?”

  “What I need, I have,” I barely choked out.

  “Let me guess… you’re at your apartment. Natalie’s out, so you’re alone and watching Netflix, right? Just you, alone with your thoughts?”

  Goddammit, he’s got me fucking pinned.

  “Look, Clara, I know you. And you know me. You know that I’m not a bad guy, I just got my… priorities fucked up, for a little while there. I’m not asking you back… I wouldn’t dream of that yet. But I’m lonely, and you’re lonely… we’re both hurting. Let’s go get dinner together, okay? Just dinner. No pressure. What do you say?”

  It was so sudden. I hadn’t seen it coming, and I was never good about being put on the spot like this… especially with someone that I did miss, even if he was a complete asshole.

  But then again, Dalton had been a total prick the night that I met him, too… at least at first. Maybe Jeremy had changed. He certainly sounded like he might have.

  And he was right, as much as I hated to admit it. The last thing that I really needed right now was to be alone with myself, trying to solve some depressing problem in my head that nothing was going to fix, no matter how I tried…

  I could use the distraction.

  Besides… it was only dinner, right?

  Dinner was practically harmless.

  “Okay, Jeremy, ” I finally conceded with a defeated shrug. “Let’s do dinner tonight.”

  “Perfect. I knew you’d come around, Clara.”

  As I heard his wicked little chuckle over the phone, I wondered if I hadn’t just made a huge mistake…

  18

  The Californian sun baked down onto my shoulders as I stepped out onto the familiar driveway from my rental car. Covering my eyes, I began strolling the short distance around the front of the expensive little house, perched at the edge of this cul-de-sac.

  It hadn’t taken me long to consider the hot, bright desert of the American Southwest another stunning rendition of home sweet home. After all, I’d spent years under this burning sun, in an environment easily just as inhospitable as this one.

  While I walked up the driveway, my mind drifted back to the same place it had the entire week that I’d been here: my last night with Clara.

  …And what a clusterfuck that had been.

  She’d seriously wounded my soul with the severity and suddenness of her emotional reversal. It had taken me an hour of stomping around my rental house and throwing shit before I could finally cool down enough to think rationally. That’s when I’d decided to call upon one of my closest friends in the marines, and I booked a flight for the following morning out to California.

  Almost every day since then, I’d ventured out into the blinding, white heat to come to this house… the one place that I thought might heal me.

  “Dalton!”

  My old marine buddy, Darren, was standing in the backyard and waving me over. “You’re right on time, man. I’m just heating up the grill now. Not exactly bangers and mash, but how do you feel about a solid, one hundred percent unadulterated American burger?”

  “You guys always kicked our bloody arses when it came to food,” I grinned. We embraced with matching backslaps, and his beautiful wife popped out through the sliding backdoor.

  “Dalton! I thought I heard you pulling up a moment ago. Welcome back!”

  Sam gave me a peck on the cheek as I hugged her. “Are you feeling any better?”

  Samantha was Darren’s high school flame. They’d separated after he entered his marine career, unable to withstand the distance, but when he got out two years ago they had worked to rekindle that fire.

  The rest was history.

  “Oh, leave him alone,” Darren smiled as he played with the charcoal. “He’s still here, which tells me what I need to know.”

  I overlooked them talking about it in front of me as if I wasn’t here, but I was pleased that the subject was being dropped.

  “I’m fine,” I reassured her. “Just enjoying this little impromptu vacation for the moment.”

  “Good! How are you liking California?”

  “Not too bad, although I’m sure I’ve bedded women wetter than this entire state,” I smiled crudely. “Once you get over that part, it’s actually pretty nice out here.”

  “I’m sure you have!” Sam laughed. “Hell, maybe I have, too…”

  It had come as a bit of a surprise that they had an open marriage. It personally wasn’t for me, or anything I’d ever participate in, but it didn’t take much convincing for me to see that they were hopelessly in love with each other.

  Good for them, I thought to myself.

  “Anyway, can I grab you anything from inside?” Sam politely asked me. “I’d be a horrible hostess if you were out here parched under this sun!”

  “Actually, could I trouble you for a beer?”

  “By all means. We still have a few Newcastles in the fridge, unless you’d like a Mexican import? Options are Dos XX and Corona, off the top of my head…”

  “Dos XX, if you’d be so kind,” I replied. “If you’ve got it, Lager.”

  “I think we just might,” she smiled before turning back to her husband. “How about you, dear? Feeling thirsty?”

  Darren was preparing a few patties on the counter beside the built-in grill. Pausing to think for a moment, he shrugged. “Go ahead and make that two.”

  “Okay then, back in a sec!”

  She sauntered inside, and we started trading old war stories.

  Darren was a good man. He’d been one of the more senior members to my platoon, an older, more rugged version of myself. We’d become fast friends in the line of fire… bash brothers, they sometimes called a pair like us.

  Darren had retired three years before I left the marines. With a steady military pension and a ton of money in the bank, he’d had the luxury of throwing himself into picking up a new skill.

  The others were a little surprised to see that he’d become a freelance novelist, but it didn’t surprise me much. The guy was highly introspective, and very detail-oriented. With his firm grasp of Marine life, a greater scope of military operations, and a ton of stories kicking around in the back of his head, he was already starting to make waves with his first novel's release.

  Last I’d heard, he was a sure shot to the tail end of the New York Times Bestsellers Li
st.

  When Sam returned with the refreshments, we were laughing riotously over some of the military pranks we’d pulled during our tenure overseas.

  Life was always rough out there, and war never changed. But it was all about the approach you took to the life you chose.

  We spent a good couple of hours chatting away, cooking up great food, and basking in the pleasure of our own company. Darren was a fantastic friend, same as always, and his wife was a real treat too. It was gratifying to watch her sit against him, her head on his shoulder and he delighted in tales of our old life, and ridiculous stories from before my time.

  They really loved each other, he and her.

  At least they got their happy ending, I thought.

  “I have to admit, this has been a little on the surreal side for me,” Darren chuckled as he swished his beer around, towards the end of my visit. “I figured I’d see you around at a few reunions or something, but I sure as shit didn’t expect you to pick up the phone and be here in town for a week.”

  “Yeah, it’s been a while since we’ve really seen each other, hasn’t it?” I smiled, glancing through the window at the dry, arid environment. “Although, you must not have wanted to get far from the desert if you settled in the American Southwest like this…”

  “You know that’s not what I mean,” the older man sighed, setting his beer down with a deep, drawn out sigh.

  I looked back at him.

  “I don’t think I follow.”

  A shrewd smile crossed Darren’s lips. “Dalton Carlyle. The British Bastard! I have seen you pull marines off of grenades with my own eyes. You’ve always, always had my back. You’re the only one out of our pack that I ever completely trusted with my life. When I was wounded and down in the dirt, you defended me from an insurgent with just a combat knife and the grit in your teeth...”

  I shifted in my seat slightly, remembering that uncomfortable flashback again. Pushing the mental images away, I forced a faint smile at the recognition.

  “…And yet, after all the things that could have killed us out there, it’s a woman that cripples you. From what you’ve told me, a good woman at that. Put you in the desert with a knife, or put someone you actually care about in harms way… and you’d go for the knife, every time.”