Hard Truth (The Alpha Antihero Series Book 4)

by Sybil Bartel

Looking over my head, he pretended to study the view of the ocean beyond the living room windows. “I think we have an audience.”

  I glanced over his shoulder at the realtor and put on my sweet voice, even though I kinda hated her pushiness. “Can we have a minute alone, please?”

  “Of course.” She smiled and pivoted on her too-high heels.

  When her clicking disappeared, I looked back up at my man. “It’s got a three-car garage.”

  His ice-blue eyes met mine.

  Lord help me, I got wet.

  That was all it took. One look. One stoic, commanding, alpha, dominating look and I wanted to crawl up him and forget about everything else. But we were in public, sorta.

  “You can’t look at me like that,” I accused.

  His arms still, his gaze unwavering, his breaths even, he kept looking at me.

  “What?” I squirmed.

  He graced me with his sexy, deep voice. “No tattoos and you can have the house.”

  I laughed.

  His compound speak came out. “I am not joking.”

  “I know. That’s why it’s funny.”

  He scowled.

  I smoothed my thumb between his eyes. “You’ll buy me the house no matter what if I ask for it.”

  His chest rose and fell once. “You do not have to ask.”

  I smiled. “I know. That’s why I love you.” He’d buy the house if I simply said I liked it. I wouldn’t even have to ask.

  “No tattoos,” he repeated.

  “Tell me the real reason and I’ll consider it.” I was learning that a whole lot of life with this man was about compromise. Not that I minded. I appreciated it so much that he was willing to bend.

  “I found you pure,” he stated like it was the obvious answer.

  I tried not to jump to anger based in shame. “I’m not pure anymore, Tarquin.”

  His expression didn’t change. “Do not mark your body for me.”

  Ah. “Because you’ll…” I raised an eyebrow. “Feel guilty?” I knew he carried a lot of guilt. We both did.

  Breaking eye contact, he glanced around. “Do you want the house?”

  I dropped my hands from his neck. “No.” Maybe. I didn’t know.

  I couldn’t get past him thinking I was pure and that ink on my body would make me impure, as if the whole part of my life spent in that clubhouse didn’t exist. He’d promised me that he’d buried our past, and we never talked about it. But I felt like it was hanging over my head, just waiting to come falling down at the worst possible moment and ruin everything. Worse, I didn’t know if it was all in my head or if it was in his too and he was feeling the same way but just pushing it all down.

  Startling me out of my thoughts, he grasped my chin and tipped my face up.

  His expression stark, he studied me for a long moment. “Stop it.”

  “I’m not doin’ anythin’.” I was.

  “Let go of the doubts,” he ordered, as if he could crawl inside my head and hear every thought.

  I didn’t even bother to hide my smile that was colored with a shade of irony. “Is there anythin’ you don’t know about me?”

  “Yes,” he admitted. “Do you want the house?”

  My expression sobered, and I gave him my thoughts. “I think a house should be somthin’ you feel the second you walk into it. Your feet cross the threshold, and you just know. I didn’t get that feelin’ here.”

  Nodding once, Tarquin took my hand and led me out of the house.

  As we passed the realtor, I tried to smile. “Thank you for showin’ us the house. We’ll think about it.”

  Faking a smile, she jingled her keys. “Of course. Just let me know if I can answer any questions or if there’s another property you’d like to see.”

  “Sure thing.” I mustered a wave as Tarquin got on the Road King and fired it up.

  Getting behind him and settling my arms around his waist, I knew the loud bike didn’t fit in the gated neighborhood with all the fancy cars parked in front of even fancier houses with perfect lawns. When we’d first pulled up, I knew me and Tarquin didn’t fit in this neighborhood, let alone on this street, but it hadn’t bothered me for a single second.

  All the mattered to me was us. Me and him against the world. That’s what I wanted, and that was all I cared about. But as my man took in the property one more time, it hit me.

  I was looking at a man who’d crawled out of the swamp with nothing except the torn, muddy clothes stuck to his body as he stared at a house that was fancier than anything he’d probably ever dreamed of, and suddenly I felt real selfish for bringing him here.

  “Actually, I don’t like this place at all,” I said over the pipes.

  It wasn’t that Tarquin didn’t deserve a house like this. It was that this house, this street, this neighborhood, they didn’t fit him.

  And Tarquin Scott deserved to be somewhere that fit him.

  I hugged him tighter. “Let’s go home.”

  The house was shit, and the neighborhood was worse.

  But I didn’t know if she’d passed on it for ink, and that was fucking with me.

  I didn’t want my name on her.

  It was selfish, but I liked her exactly as I said. Pure. No markings. I didn’t want a reminder of my ink any more than I wanted a reminder of the past.

  I pulled up the driveway and cut the engine, but she didn’t get off the bike.

  I glanced at her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Let’s switch. I’ll drive.”

  Fuck no. “No.”

  Her eyebrows went up, and her attitude came out. “You sayin’ I can’t handle your Harley?”

  “I’m saying I’m not riding bitch.” And she wasn’t going anywhere without me. I’d let the past go, but it hadn’t let go of me yet. I woke every goddamn night from a shit nightmare where she’d been taken from me again. Eventually I’d get past it. Shit from downrange had faded, so I figured so would this. Until then, she was fucking stuck with me.

  “You did before,” she accused.

  One fucking shit day over seven years ago. “That was then.”

  “Well, this is now.” Her hands went to her hips. “And I wanna ride.”

  Fucking hell. Only my woman could give attitude while sitting on the back of a Hog. Taking the key out so she didn’t fuck with me, I got off the bike. Then I fished my cell out and made a call.

  “Long time no see,” Stripe answered cheerfully. “You ready to come back to the club?”

  “No.” Never. “I need a bike.” I’d buy my woman a Harley, any one she wanted. But she hadn’t mentioned it before this, and I didn’t feel like fucking with a dealership and an hours long transaction right now. Stripe had a few bikes. I picked the smallest one. “Can I borrow the Softtail?”

  “Yeah, sure. When do you need it?”

  “Now.” I glanced at my woman, and she raised an eyebrow. “Can you bring it to the house?” I asked Stripe.

  He chuckled. “You wanna borrow one of my rides, and you want me to deliver it? What am I getting out of this deal?”

  “Nothing.”

  He laughed in earnest. “You haven’t changed. Let me round up my old lady, and we’ll be there in a few.”

  “Just you two,” I warned. I didn’t need any fucking former Lone Coasters showing up.

  “Copy that. See you in fifteen.” Stripe hung up.

  My woman eyed me. “What was that about?”

  “You wanted to ride. I’m getting you a bike to ride.”

  She crossed her arms. “What if I want to ride this bike?”

  Then I’d be pissed as hell, but I’d ride the goddamn Softtail when it got here because I rarely said no to her when it was something she really wanted. “You’ll like the Softtail.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Who’d you call?”

  Knowing where it’d lead, I answered her straight. “Stripe.” She hadn’t asked, and I hadn’t volunteered shit about working for her father, but it’d have to come out eventuall
y.

  “Stripe,” she stated with disgust. “Nice street name. Sounds like a skunk. So who does he ride with?”

  Watching her expression carefully, I told her the truth. “He was a Lone Coaster.”

  “Was,” she repeated, looking down the street. “Who’s he with now?”

  She knew the LCs had imploded, I’d told her that much. “Last I spoke to him, he’d wanted to take up the reins of what few members were left and do his own deal.”

  She looked back at me. “He gonna want you to join him?”

  “Doesn’t matter if he does.” She knew my position on that.

  “So what did you do for my daddy?”

  Knowing this would come up one day and I’d have to give her some of the details so we could move the fuck past it still didn’t make me feel like talking about it. “Ran the repair shop and kept my head down. Most of the time, I was working on a plan to take him and Stephens out. Runs, day-to-day bullshit, I tried to stay out of it. I avoided the clubhouse and most of the members.”

  Her gaze dropped to her hands, and she fidgeted. “You hang out with the club girls?”

  “We’re not having this conversation,” I warned.

  “Not askin’ for details, just…” She inhaled and looked up at me. “You’re right, forget it. I don’t want to know.”

  I wasn’t going to tell her shit anyway. A month ago, I would’ve gotten pissed as hell that she’d asked. Today, I tried to be fucking better for her.

  Stepping up to her, I grasped her chin with my right hand and curled my left arm so she was looking at my bicep. I didn’t say anything.

  I didn’t have to.

  She knew the two words inked there.

  Her gaze cut to my arm, and she murmured them anyway. “Stay true.”

  I tipped her chin so her eyes were on me. “You do not ever have to question my intent. Then or now.”

  Her eyes softened, and her submissive side surfaced. “Okay,” she whispered.

  My cock instantly hard, I leaned down to take her mouth, but the sound of pipes coming down the street stopped me in my tracks.

  The sun kissed my back, an ocean breeze filled my head and my man brought his lips to mine.

  But then he stopped short and straightened to his full height as loud pipes came roaring down the road.

  His stoic gaze locked on the street behind me, his expression unreadable, he stood perfectly still. Fierce, imposing, but nonetheless still.

  My stomach fluttered.

  This was the Tarquin Scott I knew.

  This was the man I loved to be in the presence of.

  I knew most women probably wanted a man who talked more or said I love you every second of every day or watched girlie movies with them, but I didn’t want that from Tarquin. I loved that he was lethally reserved but came unhinged when he took me. I relished every rough thrust of his hips or forceful kiss.

  Tarquin Scott didn’t use words.

  He used actions.

  And I ate up every one of them like a starved woman.

  Taking a step forward, his deep voice came out just loud enough for only me to hear. “Stay.”

  Goose bumps raced up the back of my neck and spread across my skin because that’s what his quiet commands did to me. What they’d always done to me. If anyone else told me what to do, my hackles went up and I did the opposite, just because I could.

  But when Tarquin issued me a command, I wanted to drop to my knees.

  My thoughts wayward, my pussy pulsing with hungry need, I watched a biker pull into the driveway on a Harley like Tarquin’s, followed by a woman on a Softtail.

  A smile on his face, the man got off his bike and slapped Tarquin on the shoulder. “Candle, good to see you.”

  “Tarquin,” my man corrected.

  The biker frowned but quickly hid it and gave me a smile. “I’m Stripe. Didn’t know Tarq had an old lady.”

  The woman got off her bike and came up next to Stripe, putting her arm around his waist. “Ignore his prying.” Her smile as cheerful as her man’s, she nodded at me. “I’m Tawny.”

  “Shaila. Nice to meet you.”

  “Keys,” Tarquin demanded, interrupting.

  “Of course.” Tawny handed the Softtail’s keys to Tarquin.

  Ignoring my man’s rudeness, I smiled back at Tawny. “Thanks for loaning me your bike.”

  She laughed. “Oh, that one’s not mine.” She winked conspiratorially. “I got a Fat Boy.”

  I laughed. She was the same height as me, but I could see her on a bike that was all attitude. “Nice choice.”

  “I think so,” she said proudly. “So, you two busy? We got some time before we have to be back to the babysitter. How about some lunch?”

  Tarquin’s sharp gaze cut to Stripe. “Babysitter?”

  Stripe smiled wide. “Yep, for our two girls.”

  “You never mentioned that,” Tarquin accused.

  Stripe shrugged. “No one’s business.”

  “So lunch?” Tawny asked, interrupting the testosterone fest.

  “No,” Tarquin answered before I could even get my mouth open. “I’ll bring the bike back tomorrow.”

  “No rush. Keep it as long as you like.” Stripe slapped Tarquin on the shoulder then gave him a look. “Let me know if you ever want to ride with me and the boys. It’s different now.”

  “Not interested,” Tarquin clipped.

  “Understood.” Stripe didn’t seem offended. “Offer still stands.” He glanced at me. “Nice meeting you, Shaila. Glad Tarq finally has a woman.” He grinned. “It was about time.”

  “Stripe,” Tawny scolded. “Mind your business.”

  “It’s all good, babe.” Stripe tipped his chin at Tarquin. “See you around.”

  “Enjoy the Softtail.” Tawny smiled at me before following her man to his bike and getting on back.

  Tarquin silently watched them leave, then he glanced down at me. “I want to take you somewhere.”

  “Okay.” I was itching to get on that Sofftail.

  “It will take a few hours,” he warned.

  “All right.” Hesitating, I glanced toward the garage and the covered sixty-nine Camaro he had inside. I’d been in it exactly once. It’d been raining, and we’d needed to make a run to the grocery store. It was a gorgeous muscle car. I’d pried it out of him that he’d restored it himself, but that was all he’d said. It was a great ride, but I didn’t want to spend a few hours in a car.

  “Not in the SS,” he assured.

  I let out a breath on a half laugh. “Good.” I waved my hand toward the Harleys. “Because we got two perfectly good bikes just waitin’ to be opened up.”

  His stare measured, he studied me a second. “You sure you’re up for the ride?”

  I smiled. Wide. “Oh yeah.”

  She rode like she’d been locked up for seven years. Too fast, too careless and with a smile on her face.

  I didn’t bother trying to hold her back, but thank fuck I’d made her put on a helmet before we left.

  The further south we drove, the more I wondered if I was making a mistake. She’d been looking at houses for weeks on her phone, most near Ormond or north. A few we’d gone in person to look at. Every one of them was a fucking joke. I wasn’t going to live in a gated community any more than I was going to put a fucking suit on and work behind a desk.

  If we were going to move, we needed more than an ocean view. We needed space.

  Which was why I was bringing her down here.

  I’d found a place a few days ago and contacted the owner. I hadn’t decided if we should go look at it, but seeing the shit she brought me to this morning solidified my decision.

  Turning off the state road we’d been on, I cut east. When we stopped at a light and she pulled up next to me, I glanced at her. “You doing okay?”

  Her smile relaxed, her hair blowing free under her shorty, she nodded. “I’m great.” She patted her gas tank. “The Softtail’s a good girl.”

  Seein
g her on a bike made me want to fuck her. “Few more miles.”

  “Okay. Where’re we goin’?” She glanced around us. “Not much around here.”

  Exactly how I liked it. “You’ll see. Follow me.”

  Her smile went wide. “Always.”

  The corner of my mouth twitched, and the light turned.

  She laughed before yelling out, “I saw that!”

  I revved the engine and took off.

  Fifteen minutes later, we were pulling up at the place I’d found online.

  My woman parked next to me and cut the engine as a tentative smile spread across her face. “Tarquin Scott, what are you up to?”

  Hanging my helmet on my handlebars, I took my phone out and checked the lockbox code I’d gotten earlier from the out-of-state owner. “Showing you something.” I put my phone away and got off my Hog. “Come on.”

  I waited for her to get off her bike and fuck with her hair, then I took her hand.

  She squeezed my fingers. “Must be serious.”

  I glanced down at her. “What?”

  She held our joined hands up. “You never take my hand.”

  “Yes, I do.” When I was fucking her.

  She laughed. “Only in the bedroom.”

  Frowning, I walked up the front steps and let go of her to open the lockbox.

  “I’m just teasin’ you,” she said playfully, nudging my arm with her shoulder. “I ain’t tryin’ to change you. I know you’ve never been the PDA type.”

  What the fuck? “PDA?” I undid the lock, and the key fell into my hand.

  “Public display of affection,” she explained. “Definitely not your thing.”

  Unlocking the front door, I held it open. “I’m not fucking you in public.” I still felt guilty about taking her in the garage that morning over a month ago, even though the idea of a repeat made my dick hard.

  “Affection, Tarquin. Hand holdin’, kissin’, not screwin’.” She shook her head while smiling then patted my chest. “But don’t worry, I ain’t askin’.” Her voice turned husky. “I like what I got, exactly how I got it, thank you very much.”

  Christ. “Get inside before I bend you over the porch railing.”

  Her laugh—the submissive, shy one—bubbled up. “Who’d even notice? Nearest house is half a mile down the road.”