by C. M. Marin
Won’t say I’m some Prince Charming, because I’m closer to the fairy tale’s villain, but I’m not a heartless son of a bitch either. No need to be a therapist to deduce what her mind has just been assaulted with.
Guilt.
But that put aside, she didn’t lie. Kissing someone she just met isn’t what she does on a daily basis. Hell, climbing on a bike with someone she just met isn’t like her either. She only did because she trusts Dona, I know that. But whatever the reason was, I’m glad she did. Because I got to see her give in to the lust that obviously sparked in her when I kissed her. For a moment, there was no restraint in her actions. She took the leap despite her doubts. And the tiny flecks of gold I now see sparkling in the gray of her eyes tell me how affected she still is by that kiss. However short it was, she liked it. I even bet that it’s because she liked it that she stopped it.
Why do I care? No answer to that one. Let’s face the truth, that unforeseen kiss has lost her for good reasons, but hell if I’m not as lost. I have no idea what I’m doing. Last thing I should be doing is kiss a girl like her. She’s got not a damn thing to do with a guy like me. A guy who could only taint her.
Trying to cut through the unease written all over her delicate features, I say, “I’d gladly stay some more time here until you’ve skipped a couple of stones, but there’s little chance it’ll happen before the night falls, and the guys are going to hate me if I keep taking time off.”
The weird atmosphere is already a memory when she tips her head to the side, pinning me with a scolding look―one that her kids must also be used to―before smiling.
“I’ll let this one slide, but only because you’re probably right,” she says honestly.
Taking my chances, I grasp her hand just the way I did on our way down here. I’m not sure she won’t refuse the gesture this time, but for some weird reason, I don’t want her to think I’m mad at her for breaking our kiss. Thankfully, she accepts my hand, and we walk back to my bike in silence.
There’s no logic to the whirlwind of sensations this girl stirs in me, but I already know that even if I should put some distance between us before I mess further with her head―and mine―, I won’t be able to.
* * *
My brothers’ bikes are all lined up in front of the club when I cross the gate, but when I push through the front door, silence reigns inside the clubhouse except for clicking sounds and quiet music coming from the kitchen. I don’t rush my pace but walk straight to the meeting room.
Most of my brothers are sitting around the long, large table, except for Ben, who’s lying on it as he plays with a ball that he throws in the air before catching it again.
“All good?” Blane asks me as I take the seat at the end of the table.
“Yeah, sorry I’m late.”
“Started to think you had words with Spiders.”
“You ran into Spiders?” Liam barges in.
“Yeah, but no. No problem. They were prospects, waiting in front of the diner, but they were nowhere to be seen when I left. And I don’t think they were there for Cam in the end. No idea why they were, though.”
“Cam?” Jayce repeats.
“Yeah, Camryn. She’s a friend of Dona’s. I’ve seen a couple of times at the diner,” I explain evasively. “Thought the Spiders were tailing her at first. Must have been wrong.”
Hopefully, I was.
“Look at our boy using a nickname for a chick and getting all worried,” Ben muses like a ten-year-old patently proud of his comment.
Here’s why I kept my explanation evasive. Knew he’d be too happy to give his two cents about it.
“Shut it, dickhead.” I glare at him as he drops into a chair, his ball forgotten on the table.
“Yes, prez,” he feigns respect in his tone but still grins like a damn kid.
Moving on, I turn to Blane. “Any word on the last shipment yet?”
Blane’s in charge of the communication part of our business, dealing with our clients. He’s also kind of the geek out of us all and knows his way around a computer like any other.
“Got a call from Karl. Client got the shipment three hours ago. Karl is on his way back.”
Karl is an older member who’s been taking care of getting the shipments where they need to be since he patched in in his twenties. The club has never gotten intermediaries involved. When Isaac founded the club, they weren’t even dealing with any illegal business at first. None of them wanted to be mixed up with drugs or guns, so they kept clear of playing on the other side of the law altogether until Isaac met a guy involved in street racing. The club found something it felt safe to handle, so they did. Things are even safer for us now, since new technologies and Blane’s skills allow us to run a deep check on people interested in doing business with us. At any shady sign, we pass. Though bikes with modified engines isn’t the kind of business that’s the feds’ first priority, you can never be too careful. As for the deliveries, we have a transporter based in Dallas on our payroll. Karl is registered there as an employee and uses one of their trucks, which makes it easier to fly under the radar.
“Good.”
“And I got a message about next Friday’s shipment. Client asked for one more bike,” Blane says.
“Send me the details,” Cody tells him.
Cody’s also one of the older members, though slightly younger than Karl. He’s in his forties and now mostly manages the repair shops―our legal businesses. Since he’s the one keeping a close eye on stock management, he’s also the one providing our lucrative side business with the parts needed.
Blane nods at him before adding, “We also have a potential client who apparently heard about us from Lockhart, our client in Seattle.”
“Check him out,” I tell him.
A sharp nod is his only answer.
“Anything else?”
“Nothing,” Ben retorts. “Which isn’t necessarily a good thing. Spiders have been lying too low for my liking.”
We’ve been suspecting the Spiders of running a human trafficking ring around here for about six months, but besides the suspicious disappearances that have been piling up, tipping us off, we haven’t found any proof to back up our suspicions. We just know that Rod handed a bunch of the clients he was running drugs for to their charter in Phoenix, which means he got another way to bring in cash.
Not that what they do are any of our business, but that sort of activity would be the bane of our existence if it brought bigger organizations like Cartels sniffing around us. Besides, we may not be saints, but there’s no way we could let women be snatched and sent away to be raped by sick fucks without lifting a finger. If they’re really involved in such shady shit that can get seriously lucrative, they’ll eventually want more, and we have members’ old ladies and daughters we need to think about.
“They must be up to something,” Liam agrees. “Could have been at the diner for a meeting in neutral territory. You sure you weren’t the reason?” he tries to guess the reason of the Spiders’ presence at Dona’s.
“Doubtful. As for the meeting, I don’t know. No inner circle’s member in sight. Like I said, they were prospects, and they barely spared me a glance when I parked. They didn’t react like they knew who I was. And they were gone twenty minutes later. I’ll keep an eye open, but there’s not much to do besides that. Anything else?” I ask no one in particular.
A string of no’s echoes, and I stand up. Don’t want to think about Spiders anymore. There’s only one face I want in my mind. That kiss fucked with my head. The memory doesn’t want to go the fuck away, shooting a jolt of need to my cock every time it replays in my mind.
Jayce, my best friend and VP, is by my side as I stroll out of the room.
“What’s the deal with the girl?”
“No deal. Spiders had their eyes on her, and I wanted to check her background because Dona seems to care about her. But Blane found no ties.”
“If you decide to keep going there, keep an eye open and be
careful.”
“As usual,” I remind him, clapping his shoulder.
Waiting for lunch to be ready, the guys drop in different spots on the couches, most of them opening a beer as Jayce joins them. The conversations are lost to me as I race up the stairs to get to my room and enter my bathroom, my mind filling with images and sensations involving a beautiful brunette I haven’t been able to get out of my head all week. And after tasting the sweetness of her lips, I doubt I’ll now even be able to only try to get her out of it. All I want is to kiss her again. And if she’d let me, I’d do so much more to awaken that body I practically heard yelling at me to touch it.
Chapter 5
Camryn
“Is everything okay?” I ask Nate when he glances out the window for the fourth time in the span of five minutes.
We had barely finished breakfast when his attention kept drifting away from me regularly.
His gaze darts back to me, and for the longest moment, his mouth stays only slightly open as I can decipher his inner turmoil through his eyes.
When he doesn’t show any sign that he’s planning on talking anytime soon, a reflex makes me squint out the window myself, and I quickly find what I think has kept tearing his attention away from the diner.
“Who is he? Is there something wrong, Nate?”
Straddling his motorcycle, arms crossed over his leather jacket, the guy across the street is more of a beast of a man. Then again, even though slightly leaner, Nate has nothing to be jealous of when it comes to muscles. A second motorcycle is lined with his, though no one is sitting on it.
Just as I begin to think Nate lost his voice altogether, he speaks slowly, as though weighing every word he allows to come out.
“Look, I don’t want to scare you,” he starts with words that precisely have a ball of worry forming in my stomach. “But something might be wrong, yes. That guy across the street, and the one who went God knows where…” He pauses mid-sentence, curtly tilting his head toward the man. “They were also here yesterday when I arrived.”
“Okay,” I utter, not understanding where it is he wants to go with this.
“I think they’re following you, Cam.”
Astounded and confused by that statement planting more worry into my stomach, I look out the window again. The guy’s friend has joined him, both bikers talking about whatever, their attention away from the diner.
That’s when my first jittery reaction morphs into one of relief.
Though I don’t burst out laughing like a lunatic, Nate’s expression drifts to a puzzled one at my rather subtle laughter.
“Not the reaction I expected,” he admits very seriously, frowning as he speaks.
“I’m sorry, but I think you’re being paranoid again,” I accuse him with a smile. “That’s just two friends meeting, maybe waiting for some other friends to go on a ride,” I tell him like he should have already deduced that by himself.
He doesn’t smile back, and my own falters at Dona’s voice. “You know what this is about?” she asks Nate as she now stands by the table, her posture stiff and features tense.
The ball of worry is back and distinctly growing in my stomach.
“I don’t, but I think it has something to do with Camryn.”
Dona’s eyes widen, and she looks at me with something I can’t name swirling in her gaze. Concern is clear, yes, but there’s also something else.
There’s no time for me to attempt an analysis of her incomprehensible behavior, because she goes on. “They were here yesterday as well, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”
The certainty in her voice provokes a shudder that skitters across my skin, and I keep staring at her as more words seem to want to leave her but never do. Then I take in Nate’s face, darkened with an extreme wariness. His demeanor doesn’t wear a hint of his usual casualness, and his body looks so tense I’m sure it’ll require hours of massages to get his muscles to relax again.
“Okay, now you’re both starting to scare me,” I urge, doing my best to keep a steady voice.
“Dona, the seven and ten are ready!” Hank, her husband and cook, shouts from the kitchen.
For long seconds, strong hesitation marks her features and keeps her still, but then she’s gone with a last curious look at Nate and a short line begging us to be careful.
“What was that all about?” I demand with the same firmness I put in my voice every time I have to admonish a kid at school.
“Listen, I’m aware we barely know each other, but I’m asking you to trust me on this.”
Another glance outside later, sharp dread works hard on forcing the subtle worry out of me, sinking deeper into my stomach with every second Nate stays silent. The two bikers are still on the sidewalk across the street, their respective bike still between their thighs, but still not showing any sign of departure. A minute ago, these men were just harmless bikers hanging out. Now… Now, I’m freaking out.
“Answer my question, please.”
“Not here. I want you to come with me somewhere.”
“Where?”
“My place.”
“Why?”
There’s frustration packed into the single sigh he blows before answering my last question.
“Because right now, I don’t know what’s exactly going on, and I can’t focus on trying to figure this shit out while those two Spiders are out there just like yesterday.”
“Two what? Nate, in case it isn’t obvious, I’m starting to freak out here.”
In a heartbeat, my hand is cradled into his. “That wasn’t my intention, but I really think we should go so I can explain and you can understand.”
“But understand what?”
“Why I know there must be something going on with these guys,” he answers through his perceptibly growing inner agitation.
Frustration climbs up my scale of tolerance as well, because that conversation has some sort of cryptic vibe to it that keeps failing to make anything clearer in my mind. It’s quite the opposite, actually. I’m lost. But as surreal as it sounds even to me, I also feel safe. For reasons I couldn’t begin to explain, I trust Nate, and even if I’m still paddling hard as to what this is all about, my instincts tell me to follow him.
“Okay, then. Okay, let’s go,” I accept.
In a blur, Nate is standing, waiting for me to grab my purse, and clasping my hand into his until we’ve reached my car. He doesn’t even glance at the still unmoving bikers, and I sure don’t dare do that either.
“You drive ahead, and I’ll overtake you quickly,” he tells me. “If any bike gets too close to you, honk the horn, alright? I’d take you on my bike, but you’ll be safer inside your car.”
That has me swallowing loudly around the lump of dread trying to settle in my throat.
“Hey, don’t worry. I’m just overly cautious, but that’s in my nature. You’ll understand when you get to my place.”
A chuckle slips between my lips, but it’s a nervous, tight sound that couldn’t be further from resembling a laugh. “For the worrying part, you’re five minutes too late. And if your goal is to calm me, I suggest you stop talking.” I flash him a smile, though it feels so unnatural that I’m sure it must look creepy.
“Shutting up now,” he jokes even though he still looks edgy, his hand well on its way to break a few bones of mine.
I’m about to let him know just that when he releases it, rather reluctantly.
“You go ahead, I’ll be right behind you.”
Once I’m inside my car, I wait for him to have hopped on his bike to go into reverse and drive away.
Like he told me, he passes me, and I drive behind him, shooting glances into the rearview mirror every five seconds. I’m deeply relieved every time I see nothing but a deserted road behind me. And soon enough, I realize we’ve reached our destination as I follow him through a large gate and up a driveway leading to a square-shaped building that looks like a modern warehouse.
The first thing I notice
is the lack of windows on the dark blue façade. Not a single one. Not on the front, at least. The building itself has a cold feel to it, but the well-maintained green yard helps giving a welcoming feel to the place.
The second thing that grabs my attention just as I park beside Nate is that his bike completes a long line of others, all looking shiny. There’s no doubt I’m seeing more bikes right now than I have in my entire life. Which is what must get realization to wash over me.
“Is this a motorcycle club? You’re in a motorcycle club?”
Of course, I’ve heard of them, but as weird as it sounds, I never thought of them as a real thing. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t know they weren’t like tales or something, but oddly, when you don’t see things first hand, you just don’t give them too much thought.
But what I think I do know about bikers is their tendency of being outlaws.
And when Nate stiffens next to his bike, my thoughts go wild.
“The guys at the diner, they’re part of a motorcycle club, too,” I understand. “But not yours,” I add, logic bringing me to deduce that, at least. “But you’ve never worn a jacket like they were wearing,” I carry on, the fact they had the same jacket on only now hitting me.
That, I also know about motorcycle clubs. Their members all wear the same jacket adorned with a badge or whatever it’s called.
“Dona would rather not have me wearing my cut―it’s our jacket―inside the diner. I only respect what she wants.”
He respects what she wants. That’s a good thing, right?
“You could have mentioned you’re in a motorcycle club, though, don’t you think?”
That came out like an accusation, and harsher than I meant for it to leave my mouth. So, I’m even more lost when a broad smile grows on his lips.
“You’re not scared,” he says, leaving me in the dark as to whether that was supposed to be a question or a statement.
Finding out that detail isn’t the priority, however, because either way, the words have me freezing for a split second.
