by Lynda Bailey
He laughed. A huge laugh. A-throw-your-head-back-and-howl-at-the-moon kind of laugh. Just like his teeth and voice and shopping choices, Shasta didn’t think criminals laughed like that. She and Felix exchanged confused looks.
After what seemed like a full minute of chortling, Lynch’s hilarity finally faded. “Whooo.” He wiped his fingers over his eyes, still chuckling. “Goddamn…that’s funny shit.” He cleared his throat, but his grin remained. “Tell you what, I’ll take care of this.”
“You?” Shasta said. “What are you gonna do?”
“I’ll take the truck someplace where the cops can find it.”
“But I gotta call it in, Lynch,” Felix said.
“I know. Just gimme fifteen minutes to get to the other side of Stardust.” He picked up his groceries. “I’ll gas up when I get back and keep my milk cold, will ya?”
Felix’s mouth flattened as he reluctantly took the bag. “All right. But fifteen minutes, Lynch. No more.” The owner stalked back into his store.
Shasta stared at Lynch. “Why—”
He bent over his Harley. Seeing his faded jeans stretched tight across his butt stole her ability to speak. He hefted the machine upright like it was a bicycle instead of a motorcycle.
He looked at her. “Why what?”
She frowned with a head shake. “What?”
A furrow appeared between his eyes. “You said why. I simply asked why what.”
“Oh, right. Why help me after I supposedly busted up your bike?”
“There’s no supposedly, you did bust up my bike.”
“Then why?”
“Because I’d have given anything to see your brother’s face when he realized his truck was missing. Since I can’t do that, I can at least make sure he doesn’t know who took it.”
“But why do that?”
“Cuz it’ll eat the shit outta him.” He squatted down for a closer inspection of his Harley.
“I still don’t understand.”
His shoulders stooped on a heavy sigh. He shoved to his feet. “Look, I’m beyond tired. If you don’t want my help, just say so.” He dug the truck fob from his pocket and held it out.
She shifted her weight, torn between wanting to go to the lake and needing Lynch’s help. “If you take the truck, how will I get back?”
“I’ll drop you off at school.”
“School? I’m not going to school today. I’m meeting friends at Tahoe.” She pulled back her shoulders. “Today is Ditch Day.”
However, the appeal of Ditch Day had lost its luster. It sounded so…juvenile now. So childish. Maybe the combined drama of Cassie bailing on her, being reminded of her dad and Dell knowing his truck was gone before she managed to get out of town had soured her on the time-honored tradition. Or maybe it was the man standing before her who made her rethink her plans. She didn’t want Lynch Callan to think her juvenile…
“Okay then.” He tossed the fob at her and pushed his bike off to the side. “Go.”
Shasta barely managed to catch the key because the way his jeans rippled as he manhandled his bike distracted her. A funny zing—like electricity—hit her low in the belly, making her feel achy and restless.
She’d experienced a similar feeling a few times with some of the guys she’d dated, but nothing this strong. She had chills while sweat beaded on her forehead. She licked her suddenly dry lips.
Lynch set the kickstand and turned. “So what’s it gonna be?”
She bit the inside of her cheek. With her father, and then her brother being the sheriff, none of her boyfriends ever had the stones to do more than kiss her. No serious petting. Definitely no sex. Nothing passed a little light necking. But maybe a biker—an outlaw biker—would have the stones to do…more.
She graced Lynch with her most beguiling smile and cocked her hip. She wished she wasn’t wearing this dumb sweatshirt. While her boobs weren’t all that impressive, her bikini top made them appear bigger. “On second thought, going to the lake doesn’t seem like such a good idea anymore.” She pitched the fob back at him.
He held her gaze for a long heartbeat then shrugged. He stuffed the key in his pocket and retrieved a large wrench and screwdriver from the pack behind his seat. “Okay.” He walked to the driver’s side. And promptly smashed the window.
Ice water splashed through her belly. “What the fuck, dude? Why the hell did you do that? You have the key.”
Lynch opened the door. “Yeah, but how would a thief have gotten it?” He climbed inside and took the screwdriver to the steering column, splintering it open. “It has to look like the truck was broken into and stolen, right?”
She blew out a breath. Damn, she never thought of that.
He pulled out some wires and tapped them together. The engine roared to life. “C’mon. If you’re not going to school, I’ll take you home.”
She hoisted herself into the passenger seat. “Oh…I think we can come up with a better plan than that.” She placed her palm on his forearm. Her chest fluttered at the sinewy feel of his muscles. “Don’t you?”
He stared at her hand like it was an alien creature before lifting his gaze to hers. The blue of his eyes seemed brighter. More intense. He grasped her hand, bringing it to his mouth where he brushed a chaste kiss to her knuckles. The whiskery sensation of his stubble erupted a geyser in her belly. He squeezed her fingers and released her. Wordlessly, he put the gearshift into drive and maneuver the truck back onto the road.
Shasta settled into the seat, her hands clasped together to hide their shaking. She fought to calm her unsettled stomach.
Oh God…was this really going to happen? Was she really prepared to let it happen?
Her unsettled stomach turned riotous as excitement warred with caution. What would it feel like to be kissed by Lynch Callan? Bet he was a great kisser. Not like her wimpy boyfriends who were too afraid to even French her.
And how would Lynch’s callused palms feel on her skin? A shiver danced along her spine. Then cold fingers closed around her heart.
What if she changed her mind? Would he allow that or would he…she swallowed hard…make her?
She inhaled a breath and looked out her window. There was only one way to find out…
6
Lynch drove the dirt roads which skirted the perimeter of Stardust. He kept his gaze straight ahead, but remained acutely aware of every move the sheriff’s sister made beside him.
Shit. He did not need this right now. He was too worn out to think clearly. Having just finished a grueling thirty-six hour run, escorting three separate shipments of primo weed for distribution to the Bay Area, he’d gone into the Grab-n-Go for something easy to eat before crashing. That’s all. He never expected to play savior, especially to such a damn fine damsel.
He knew who Shasta was before she dropped the bomb about Albright being her brother. But the Shasta he remembered had been all gangly legs and lanky arms. Not the curvaceous creature with burnished brunette hair and root beer eyes who seemed to suck the oxygen out of the cab interior.
Despite the bulky sweatshirt, which covered a good portion of her body, his imagination worked overtime imagining how pert her breasts would be and how her sleek, sexy legs would feel wrapped around his waist…
He wrestled his thoughts away from that temptation. Fucking with a man’s truck was one thing. Fucking his sister—his underage, kid sister—was a whole different kettle of fish, as his mom would say. And having that sister be related to the sheriff…
He sighed. As much as he reveled in being a rebel, that didn’t make him suicidal.
Still, the way Shasta kept rubbing her thighs together made his cock twitch. There was little doubt she been flirting with him earlier. But no way could she be truly aware of who she was messing with. She probably thought it was just harmless teasing. Right. Harmless. Until the rubber was forced to meet the road.
But nothing was going to happen. Lynch prided himself on not being a complete hound dog. He wouldn’t take advantage
of an innocent girl.
He knew the instant Shasta realized where he was taking her. She sat upright, her head swiveling around to stare at him. He eased the truck to a stop behind a small stand of elm trees on the backside of Albright property.
“Why are we here? I don’t need anything from my house.”
Without putting the F350 into park, he reached across her lap and opened the passenger door. “But I need to sleep.”
She undid her seatbelt and curled toward him, her fingers tripping down his arm to where his hand gripped the steering wheel. Tightly.
“Sounds perfect,” she purred.
“Sleep alone.”
She straightened, her eyebrows furrowing. “Alone?”
“Yup. Like I said, I’m tired.”
“I’m sure we can think of…something that’ll keep you awake.”
He squinted out the windshield. “Sorry. Not interested.”
She snatched her hand away. “Why?”
“Guess you’re not my type.”
“Bullshit. It’s because my brother’s the sheriff, isn’t it?” She sniffed. “I woulda thought a biker would have bigger balls than that.”
Her churlish tone clenched his jaw. He turned and drilled her with his glare, holding her gaze, allowing the silence to grow. Expand. A blush made a slow creep up her neck to her face.
Leaning over, he seized her chin between his finger and thumb in a firm, but not painful grip. “Do you honestly think you’re ready for something like this?” He dropped his voice to a sinister whisper. “Ready for me?”
Her pupils dilated as her delicate throat muscles labored to swallow. To her credit she didn’t avert her eyes. In fact, she narrowed them slightly. “I’ll never know unless I try.”
A humorless chuckle gusted past his lips. Damn, talk about balls. This girl had a pair.
His hand fell away. He didn’t have the mental strength to tangle with her. Hell…tangle with anyone. He rubbed his neck and sighed. “Why are you doing this? Does it have anything to do with me being a 5th Streeter? What am I to you? A thrill ride? Just another way to poke at your brother, like taking his truck?”
The rosy stain on her cheeks turned crimson and she lowered her gaze. “None of the guys I’ve dated ever did more than kiss me.” She hitched her shoulder. “It’s kinda sad being the only seventeen-year-old in town who’s still a virgin.”
He again captured her chin, but this time his hold was gentle. The angst in her caramel brown eyes pinched his heart. When was the last time he cared about something so simple as teenaged peer pressure? “Don’t be in such a hurry to grow up. It ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.” He released her. “And you’re too young to start gathering regrets.”
“Do you have regrets?”
He quirked a grin. “Only a million or two.”
Her expression became one of amazement. “Really?”
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
“I guess because you’re a…” Her shoulder did another hitch as she stared at her hands.
“Gang member?”
She looked up. “Yeah. Is being in a gang something you regret?”
He shook his head. “Nah.” But that was a lie. If it weren’t for his mom being old lady of the Streeters VP, he doubted he’d be in the MC at all. Doubted he would’ve dropped out of school when he was a year younger than Shasta. Doubted he would’ve been the youngest member to be patched into the Streeters. Doubted a lot of things…
“What do you regret?”
Her quiet voice brought him back. She looked so earnest, as though she truly wanted to know, he had a hard time ignoring her question. He draped his hand over the steering wheel and sighed. “For one, not staying in school.”
Her face scrunched up like one of them just cut the cheese.
He laughed. Her reaction was so typical of a teenager. Funny…he wasn’t really that much older than her, maybe eight years. It felt like eighty. “Hey—you asked.”
“You sound like Dell.”
“As much as I hate agreeing with your brother, in this case, he’s right. School’s important. I know you think it’s lame, but if I could have one do-over, it’d be to take school more seriously and not drop out.” He sighed again, switching his gaze out the windshield. “I sometimes wonder what my life would’ve been like…”
Lost in thought, several moments passed…
The tips of his ears heated and he cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’m sure you’re gonna do whatever you want.” He glanced over. “Right?”
A shy smile touched her lips, “Probably.”
Lynch felt sucker-punched in the gut. He’d always thought her pretty, but right now she looked way more than simply pretty. She was beautiful. No. Not just beautiful either. Exquisite. Perfect. Like a rare gem.
Something shifted in his chest. Tightened, then released. His head swam with sudden dizziness. When he realized he was staring, he looked away with a rough cough.
She turned to exit the cab, then pivoted back onto the seat. “You like cookies, don’t you?”
He tilted his head. “’Scuse me?”
“Cookies. I saw you buy some at Felix’s.”
“Yeah…so?”
“I bake a mean chocolate chip. I have a secret ingredient my mom showed me when I was a kid. It’s cinnamon. It gives the cookies an extra little zip.”
“And?”
“And would you like me to bake you some? Cookies,” she added when he didn’t answer.
“Why would you do that?”
“As a thank you for…you know…helping me with the truck.”
“You don’t have to—”
“But I want to. You really saved my ass. And I appreciate that you didn’t lecture me…you know…about school.”
He shrugged. “I never found lectures to be very useful.”
“Tell that to my brother. All he does is lecture.”
“Yeah, well, he’s just looking out for you.”
“Yeah…maybe…” She swiped her hand over the seat cover. “So what about the cookies?”
“I won’t turn down homemade cookies.”
She beamed a huge smile. “Great! I’ll make them this Friday after school.” She lowered her gaze, but her smile remained. “I don’t suppose you’d let me bring them to your place on Saturday.” She peeked up at him. “Will you?”
He smothered his grin. “No.”
Her nose wrinkled slightly. “That’s kinda what I figured. Okay if I drop them off at your mom’s salon?”
“Sure.”
After opening the door, she jumped to the ground.
“Hey…” He pulled the truck fob from his pocket. “Here.”
“Oh…right.” She stepped onto the running board and took the offering, gracing him with another smile. “Thanks.”
“And what about your stuff in back?”
“Keep it. I wouldn’t be able to explain the beer anyway.” She hopped down again then paused. She shifted and licked her lips. “Guess I’ll see you around.”
He stared at her mouth for a moment then met her gaze. “Yeah. See ya.”
She heaved the door shut and headed for the underbrush surrounding the elms. He tracked her movement. Fuck she had fine legs. Probably a fine ass too. But he couldn’t be sorry he’d turned her down. She was just a kid, and a confused kid at that. She needed to be protected from making some very bad decisions.
She looked over her shoulder with a smile and a wave. His lips kicked up as he lifted his hand from the steering wheel in farewell. Then she disappeared…
Chapter Two
Present day…
LYNCH CALLAN SPLASHED cold water on his face and chest, welcoming the biting slap in the hope it would clear his mind.
He dreamed of her last night.
Fuck.
He gripped the sink’s stainless steel edge and braced his arms, his head bowed. He allowed the memory of caramel eyes that sparkled like a freshly opened bottle of root beer and apple-cheeke
d innocence to wash over him. Of a time and place when he had hope for something more.
Something better.
But that hope died long ago. A lifetime ago in Stardust—a quaint town nestled against the Sierra Mountains just thirty miles south of Reno, Nevada. Once the judge’s gavel came down, the life Lynch always feared became his reality…in the state penitentiary, guilty of attempted murder.
A frustrated growl rumbled in his chest. He snatched up the nearby towel and dried his face.
Shit.
No use dwelling on things he couldn’t change. He lived this life now. And his cellmate, Oscar, waited for him in the yard. And when Oscar wanted him somewhere, he went.
A small, bitter grin twisted Lynch’s month. Oscar. El Jefe. Spanish for boss. Sounded like a character from a bad television cop show. But no one could dispute Oscar ran this cellblock. Nothing happened without his knowledge—or permission.
Lynch draped the towel over the sink, pulled his state issued t-shirt over his head then stuck his arms in the sleeves of the state issued chambray shirt. Buttoning it, he turned. A shadow filled his open cell door.
“You Oscar?”
The new inmate, his hands in his front jean pockets, didn’t seem all that intimidating, but Lynch noted the ugly, irregular prison ink marring his forearms and the even uglier gleam in his dark eyes. A lifer.
Lynch reached back and grasped his discarded towel with a blasé shrug. “Nah. He’s in the yard.”
The guy eyed Lynch like a cat would a wounded mouse. “Name’s Beck. Just transferred in and heard Oscar was the main guy on this block. Wanted to stop by and…make his acquaintance.”
Bullshit. This meathead didn’t want to make anyone’s acquaintance. He wanted to establish his dominance by challenging El Jefe. Well he could try.
Lynch tightened his grasp on the terrycloth. “Like I said, he’s in the yard.”
A slow, nasty grin lifted the corners of Beck’s mouth. “You his guppy? Maybe I’ll make your acquaintance first. As a warm-up.”
Lynch permitted his own lips to quirk up. “Have at. Fucktard.”
Beck’s smile disappeared and he pulled his hands from his pockets. A short, but no doubt deadly shank glinted menacingly in his right fist.
