by Marie James
“It’s the best one I can come up with.”
“You need to reconsider that plan,” she urges. “You’ll only get—”
She stops abruptly when Lawson, smile on his handsome face, comes walking back up.
“Ready to go?” He points to a silver truck parked directly in front of the building. “Four doors so you don’t have to straddle my stick.”
The innuendo is plain as day, the words frighteningly similar to something he would’ve said two years ago. My faith in my ‘love him and leave him’ plan begins to slip. I know exactly what Ivy is getting at. She’s well aware that there’s no way I can play with his fire and not get burned. I reason with the voice in my head telling me to run far and fast. I figure if I can be the one to turn the tables on him this time, I can walk away with my pride intact.
I walk away from him and toward the truck without a word.
“Icy, Princess,” he mutters walking close enough to my back that I feel the heat coming off of his skin. “Good thing I like it.”
I shake my head, but a grin he can’t see lights up my face.
“You don’t stand a chance. Might as well get over it and move on.”
“Nice truck,” Ivy praises as she climbs into the back passenger side.
“Selling drugs?” I ask and immediately hate the inference to some of the things he admitted to being forced to do when he was younger to help support his family.
“Nope,” he answers, schooling his face back to the gorgeous smile that’s been there since he got out of the wrecker in the parking lot. “I just work a lot.”
“An honest living?” I continue despite the bile rising in my throat at the mean words. “What a change of pace.”
Ivy hisses in the background, and I cringe, ashamed, as my behavior reminds me of Gigi.
“Sorry,” I mutter, turning my eyes to look at him as he drives down the road.
“Lots of things have changed,” he says softly but refuses to look at me.
Ivy reaches between my seat and the window, pinching my arm in chastisement. Jerking my arm out of her reach, I don’t bother to say anything to her. I deserve worse for what I just said.
“Turn right up here,” Ivy instructs.
“I know where your apartment is,” he tells her with a quick wink in the rearview mirror.
“You’ve been this close to me for two years, and I’m just now running into you?”
Now he looks at me. The red light we’re waiting at giving him the opportunity.
“If you wanted to see me sooner, you could’ve asked your dad where I was,” he challenges.
“I didn’t care to know where you were.” Even as I say the words, I know, deep down, that it’s a lie.
“And that’s exactly why we haven’t seen each other before today.”
“I’m glad you’re close,” my traitorous best friend adds from the backseat. “I feel safer knowing family is nearby.”
“We’re not family,” Lawson and I say at the same time.
At least we can agree on something.
“Not yet,” he says with so much conviction, I almost believe him.
“What do you do at the shop?” Ivy just won’t give it a rest.
Tension still thick in the cab of the truck, Lawson grins at her over his shoulder.
“Mostly motorcycles, but we get the occasional car. I’m apprenticing with Joel, the old man you saw back at the shop.”
“And when you’re fully trained?” Ivy speaks for me. I both love her and hate her for it. I’m hungry for the knowledge, but we all know I’ll never ask the questions myself. Vocal curiosity about what his life has been like the last two years gives him power I’m not willing to relinquish.
“Joel is retiring. The shop will be mine by the time I turn twenty-five.”
Unwanted pride swells in my chest.
“That’s amazing,” Ivy says, once again speaking my words out loud.
“Jaxon has helped me a ton. I couldn’t have done anything without him and Rob.”
Dad and Pop never mentioned anything of the sort. Why would they? Dad tried to talk to me about Lawson and Drew when I got home two years ago, but I shut him down and asked him to never mention them again. He respected my wishes, but it doesn’t surprise me that they would’ve stayed involved in Lawson’s life. Moving across the country doesn’t mean giving up on your son. I respect them immensely for any help they may have provided.
“You planning to keep everything the same when Joel retires?”
“Ivy,” I chide. “What is this twenty questions?”
“I don’t mind,” Lawson says with a quick chuckle. “I plan to re-image. Joel isn’t exactly happy with his life work changing, but I have to do something to bring the business into this century.”
They continue on, talking and asking each other questions all the way to the apartment. He’s spoken more, revealed more in the twenty minutes it takes to get home than he did in the weeks that he was in New Mexico.
“Oh look, there’s Cindy.” Ivy pushes open her door the second the truck is in park. “Thanks for the ride, Lawson. Hope to see you again soon.”
I scowl at her back as she darts across the parking lot to talk to her friend, effectively leaving me alone in the truck surrounded by Lawson’s cologne and soft leather.
“I’ve missed you,” he confesses, turning slightly, so his upper body is angled in my direction. “I can’t take back how I treated you, but I want you to know that I’m sor—”
I’m out of the truck and walking toward my apartment before he can even finish his apology. I don’t regret leaving him sitting in his truck, but him driving off without coming and trying to talk to me stings more than it should’ve.
Chapter 28
Lawson
Watching her walk away was harder than I could’ve ever imagined, but she’s not ready to hear what I have to say. Hell, I’ve been practicing it all in my head since I moved here. Leave it to the gorgeous Delilah Donovan to throw a wrench into my perfectly constructed plans with her snarky attitude.
I imagined her running into my arms the second she saw me, telling me how much she missed me, and how she’s happy we can finally be together. I knew it would never happen, but daydreams and fantasies aren’t ever rational.
At the first red light I catch, I use the truck’s Bluetooth to call Jaxon.
“Hey, son,” he answers after the second ring.
“Dad,” I return.
“How’s our girl?”
I love that he extends the possession to include us both, but even more, I love that he no longer sighs happily when I call him Dad rather than Jaxon. I can still remember the day it changed. He and Rob came to my house after getting Delilah settled into her freshman dorm. It wasn’t the first time they’d flown across the country to visit, but something shifted. He gave me partial responsibility for his daughter, grateful I was here in case she needed me, so I gave him something in return.
“She’s safe. Just dropped her off at her apartment.”
“That’s great. Did she give you any trouble?” Laughter is barely masked in his tone, but I’m still flying high from seeing her after so long, I don’t complain about him sending me into the lion’s den today. Rather, I’m indebted to him once again for the opportunity.
“She hasn’t changed a bit.”
“Are you purposely lying to yourself, or just saying shit so I feel better about my daughter on the other side of the country?”
“I’m not sure. Do you want to fill me in on what you’re talking about? Would make it easier for me to make informed observations.”
She’s a spitfire, just like always, but she acted that way when we were alone back in New Mexico. She behaved differently in front of Jaxon and Rob.
A sad chuckle echoes in my ears. “I’m not spilling any secrets, but just let me say, I’m glad I was able to send you her way. Maybe things will calm down now.”
I wait for him to elaborate, but he never does, so I ch
ange the subject. “I’ll make sure she gets a rental car first thing in the morning. I think she tolerated me as long as she could today.”
“Use the credit card I gave you for emergencies,” he instructs.
“Find her a new car,” Rob says in the background.
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Use the card, Law.”
“I will.”
“Liar. You never do.”
“A rental car isn’t an emergency,” I mutter, having pulled up in front of the mechanic shop. Three cars I don’t recognize are now parked there. Joel is speaking with one man about a mid-sized SUV. The driver of a black BMW is nowhere to be seen, but a woman stands, leaning against the driver’s door of her red Camaro. I already know she’s trouble by the smirk she gives me as I pull my truck in and put it in park.
“Dad, I have to go. Got three customers waiting at the shop.”
“Sure thing. Let me know how tomorrow goes.”
“Will do.”
“Love you, son.”
“Have a good day.”
I hang up. I may call him Dad, but the ‘I love yous’ haven’t happened yet. I have no time to feel like an asshole this time as I climb out of my truck. My focus is on the driver I can see when a paunchy bald man walks out of the front office. I frown in his direction, irritated that no matter how many times I’ve told Joel we need to keep that door locked when we’re not in there, he still just leaves it open for everyone. He can’t get it through his head that we aren’t living in the damn fifties anymore, and the trust you had in people back then can’t be given to assholes of this day and age.
“About fucking time someone else showed up,” he hisses as he closes the distance between us.
I just stare at him.
“There’s some sort of rattling noise,” he says pointing to his car.
“Give me just a minute,” I tell the woman standing outside of her car.
“I’ll wait all day for you,” she purrs.
I chuckle. She has to be in her late fifties, but it’s clear she’s taken very good care of herself.
“Quit fucking flirting,” the bald guy hisses when I finally make it over to him. “I’ve been waiting twenty minutes, and that geezer over there doesn’t seem to be in any hurry.”
“We don’t do imports.” I cross my arms over my chest, legs spread shoulder-width apart.
“Bullshit,” he sneers. “You got a fucking Toyota up on the rack.”
I don’t bother looking over my shoulder. I’m well aware that Delilah’s car is in the first bay of the shop.
“Family car,” I appease. “My insurance wouldn’t cover me if I fuck up your pretty little car. It’s newer and should still be under warranty, take it back to the dealership.”
He’s cursing me and muttering about it getting repoed since he hasn’t made the last three months payments, but I ignore him. If I had to guess, I’d bet he got fired from his job because of that nasty ass attitude he’s sporting. Tires squeal when he pulls out, but I just continue my trek across the lot to the last waiting customer. I swear I’m going to lose my shit if she asks for blinker fluid, which, oddly enough, we get on average twice a week. Always from women dressed to the nines with a coo in their voices like either Joel or I would be interested.
“How can I help you?” I ask, keeping a respectful distance between us.
“I need a full body inspection.” I cock an eyebrow at her. “I mean the emissions thing or whatever.”
“I hate to turn you away, but we ran out of stickers two days ago.”
We do more inspections than anything else. Mostly on cars that pass with flying colors, by owners who wear tons of makeup and jewelry. It’s serious craziness, especially for a shop that specializes in motorcycles and ATVs.
“Surely you can help me out.”
I grin when her pink lip juts out in a pout.
“I can’t do anything for you without a sticker, ma’am.”
A devious smirk lights her face. “Oh, I’m sure there’s plenty you can do for me.”
Ignoring her, I point down the street. “I’m pretty sure Mack’s just down the block still has some.”
“But,” she begins, but I turn away from her.
“Have a great day,” I say over my shoulder and walk toward Joel and the customer he’s been chatting with.
When I round the corner, I take in the scene. The man stands, not stiff, but also not relaxed in this environment. His MC cut stands out like a waving flag.
“Hey, Law,” Joel says when I walk up. “This is Eric Quintal. President of the Ravens Ruin MC.”
I offer my hand while he eyes me up and down, until his scarred-knuckled hand clasps mine.
“The old man here tells me you’re the best in town at keeping bikes running.” I nod because it’s the truth. “How are you with modifications?”
“Get better with each one I do.”
I take in the grime on his cut, ‘Lynch’ in bold print just above his ‘President’ patch, the old scar running down his left bicep. I’d wager that he didn’t earn the damage to his body doing recon and rescue like Cerberus.
I’m not sure I want business from this man, so I don’t elaborate.
“He’s great at paint, exhaust mods, bodywork. You name it, this kid can do it.”
I can hear the pride in his voice, but now is not the time for it. His emphatic trust in all people isn’t helping in this situation.
“I’m more interested in the body mods,” Lynch says with narrowed eyes.
“We’re booked up,” I lie.
Thankfully Joel keeps his mouth shut. We never turn business away without scheduling them on the books to ensure a greater chance of them returning.
“Check back in a couple weeks, and we may be able to get something lined up.”
“I’ll be back.” Simple words that still feel like a threat.
I don’t turn to face Joel until he’s on his bike and halfway down the block. Three other bikes pull out further down the block. Assuming they’re the vice president, sergeant at arms, and possibly the road captain, they get into formation and drive away.
“How long has he been harassing you?” I ask Joel once the sounds fade out in the distance.
“Since about ten minutes after you left.” I follow him to the stool on the far wall of the building, surprised he’s been able to stand as long as he has.
Apprenticing is what I called it when speaking with Delilah and Ivy earlier, but it’s more like point and yell. He sits on the stool and tells me shit like he’s right beside me. His knowledge is unparalleled, and his instruction is the same if he’s sitting beside me or fifteen feet across the room.
I wait for him to get settled in before speaking. “Any clue what he wanted?”
“Of course, child. I’m not an idiot.”
“So you’re well aware it’s probably illegal?”
He shakes his head as if I’m an idiot, but I can see the smile playing on his wrinkled lips.
“If you consider built-in hidden compartments for their wallets and jewelry store purchases illegal.”
He eyes me, toying with me, waiting for me to respond.
“Jewelry, right.”
He’s chuckling as I walk away. I close the door between the garage and the office and settle down in the chair. My phone is out a second later. What does any young man do when faced with potential danger? I call my dad.
Chapter 29
Delilah
A headache, more from the banging on the door than the over imbibed wine from last night, taps away in my skull.
“Ivy,” I yell from in front of my bathroom mirror. “Can you get the door?”
She doesn’t respond, and the banging continues.
“Dammit,” I mutter and toss my eyeliner on the vanity.
Passing by Ivy’s room, I notice that she’s gone, bed made just like she does every morning.
“I don’t eat cookies,” I mumble loud enough for the visitor to hear
as I turn the deadbolt on the door. “And I already found Jesus.”
“Tell me, Princess. Just how many times do you cry ‘Oh, God!’ each week?”
Lawson.
“More times than I can count,” I lie. “Depends on how good he is with his mouth.”
I watch his throat fight down an angry swallow. Not the response he thought he’d get apparently.
“Don’t give me that kicked puppy look.” I turn away from him, leaving him standing in the doorway and walk to the kitchen.
The front door clicks closed, but I know he isn’t gone. He has a force that surrounds him. It literally affects the hair on my arms whether I can see him or not.
“I’m sure you have tons of stories to tell, a line of women fighting over the opportunity to choke on your cock,” I continue.
“Not even touching that one.” He pulls a chair out from the table and sits down, uninvited yet undeterred by my glare.
I rise up on my toes to get a cup out of the very top cabinet even though there are clean mugs in the dishwasher. I love torturing him, and I know how well it’s working when I look over my shoulder and find his eyes on the backs of my legs. The short skirt wasn’t something I did on purpose for him, but the everyday wardrobe choice is helping me right now.
“Like what you see?” I taunt as I make a cup of coffee, rudely not offering any to him.
“More than I could ever describe,” he whispers.
Keeping my back to him does nothing to abate the shiver running over my body.
“Why are you here?”
I lean my hip against the counter, refusing to join him at the tiny table. There are only two chairs, and he’s larger than life, so there’s no way I could sit without part of my body brushing against part of his. My fingers already tremble against my warm coffee cup. I’m certain if we just barely brush against each other, I’ll pounce on him.
“I’m here for you.” In my mind, it sounds like a seductive whisper, but from the look on his face, he said it like any normal person would.
“How very Denny and Izzie of you.”
“Huh?”
Seriously? Can you trust a man who doesn’t watch Grey’s Anatomy?
“The rental car?” he says with a tilt of his head like it’s supposed to remind me of something.
