Riding the Wind: A Motorcycle Club Erotic Romance

by Laura Day

  “What’s that, sweetie?”

  “Your white coat. Chefs wear white coats.”

  “They sure do,” Sarah said, and she looked up at Danni, her eyes shining in a way that Danni hadn’t ever seen before. “And I always did look good in white.”

  Someone knocked on the door. Danni bit back a curse. Sure, she’d told Derek to come back, but she’d meant mid-morning, once everyone else was gone, not now, when she’d have to explain him to both her son and her best friend.

  “I’ll get that,” she said, wishing she’d put on a nicer tank top with her jeans, and wishing she had a minute to fix her hair. It was impossible to sternly tell someone off when you felt like you were all in disarray. “Probably just someone with flyers or something.” She unlocked the door without looking through the peephole and pulled it open just a few inches, intending to tell him to come back later.

  It wasn’t Derek at the door. By the time her brain registered Ryan’s ratty little face, and told her body to shove the door closed, he’d thrown his weight at it. She didn’t have time to brace herself, and he was prepared. He pushed hard, and she stumbled away; he was inside, the door slammed shut before she had her balance back.

  Sarah stood up and pushed Cole behind her, and Danni loved her for that. But from where she’d fallen on the couch, she could see the gun in Ryan’s pants pocket.

  “Sarah, baby,” he said, his voice sweet as taffy, “it’s time for us to have a little talk.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Derek didn’t know where to go or what to do with himself. Everything was twisting around inside of him. Danni was an amazing lady, the first person who’d made him want to stay put since his sister died--the sister he’d all but raised on his own. But how long would it last? He’d tried to settle down before, but the wind always called to him again. He always ended up back on the road, running away from what had happened, from Jessica, whom he hadn’t been able to save. It was sick, it was stupid, and he knew more than anything that Danni deserved better than a guy who made her think he could stick when he couldn’t.

  Walt was going to stay, that was sure. Even if his son died. He’d had enough, and he wanted to settle down, get a job, and maybe meet a lady. “Or two, or three, or ten,” he’d said, laughing. He’d noticed that the area didn’t have a garage that catered to motorcycles, and he was thinking to start one up. He’d offered Derek a job, if he stayed.

  He could be who he’d wanted to be, back before Jessica, back before he needed the wind in his face to forget who he’d been. And Danni.

  Danni, who had a son, a five year old boy. A boy who drew pictures for his mama that she proudly hung on the fridge. Back before, Derek had wanted kids, a mess of kids, always underfoot and causing trouble. Now, with Danni, he had a chance at that Danni, who had to be careful, all the time careful. Danni, who clenched her teeth together when she came, clawing at the blankets, at him, at whatever she could get her hands on. God, Danni.

  He’d do anything to stay with her. It wasn’t just her body, it wasn’t just how she made him feel. It was the grin in her eyes when she glanced at him, the strong rush of pleasure in his body when she smiled.

  He’d go back, once Sarah and Cole were gone, and he’d tell her all of it. What had happened to his sister, why he rode, and why he wanted to stop. And he’d see if maybe she wanted to be there with him.

  Baked goods. Guys brought baked goods for conversations like this. Donuts, or danishes, or something like that. He needed to find a bakery.

  ***

  Sarah lifted her chin, firm and proud, but her voice was shaking. “There’s nothing to talk about, Ryan. We’re through.”

  He scoffed. “You idiot bitch, I don’t care if I never see your tired boobs again, I want to know what the hell came over you that you thought you could tell my wife and get away with it.”

  From the shock on Sarah’s face, Danni was sure she hadn’t done it. And it didn’t seem like Derek’s style. Danni had fallen onto the couch when she stumbled; now, she moved slowly to right herself. Ryan’s attention was focused on Sarah; if she could get to the door, she could call for help. Her phone was in the bedroom, past Ryan.

  It made her sick to think of leaving Cole and Sarah here with him, even for just a few seconds, but they needed help. He had a gun. His eyes were wide, crazy. He was here to kill them all. Ryan was a jackass, but he was a calculated jackass. He must be scared to be here, thinking he really had nothing left to lose.

  Her feet hit the floor, and without even turning, Ryan snarled at her, his hand going to the gun and drawing it out. Across the room, Sarah made a small squeak, which he ignored. “Take one step towards that door, and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

  “Ryan, my boy is here. Let him go upstairs to my neighbor, and you and Sarah and I can talk as long as you want. Just please, don’t hurt my boy.”

  Tears were shimmering on Sarah’s cheeks, and her eyes were far, far away, flat and dead, none of the life they’d held just a few minutes before.

  Ryan shook his head. “This is what happens when you let a liar and a slut stay with you. Your son should see what happens. So he can grow up better.” He smiled, cold and dead. “I always wanted a kid.”

  In her head, she leaped at him like a tiger, clawing his face and his eyes, hurting him enough that he couldn’t hurt them. Sarah would run for the police, and Ryan would be taken away, and put somewhere where he couldn’t ever hurt anyone again.

  That was how it would happen in a movie. But this was real life. Even if she did manage to get to him before he put a bullet in her -- possibly -- and she managed to get the gun away from him, who were the police going to believe? A couple of waitresses who’d sent a biker to threaten the guy, or the upstanding lawyer who was having his name dragged through the mud? And in the more likely event that she couldn’t get the gun away, he would kill her, and Sarah, and Cole. Or worse, take Cole. The cops would catch up with him eventually, sure, but what would be the point by then? Everything special about him would be shattered and broken, and she wouldn’t be there to help him heal anymore.

  “Okay,” she said, sure she was doing the wrong thing, even though she couldn’t think of anything better. “Okay. What do we need to talk about?”

  “You need to shut up,” he said. “Sarah and I are going to have a conversation. You’re here to make sure she’s listening. Very carefully.”

  Danni stared at her friend, silently pleading with her to say something, anything. To say she’d only talk if he let Cole go. Hell, to show some backbone and tell him to get out. If they rushed him together...but Sarah was totally shut down, lost inside herself, and staring through Ryan. Danni felt something inside of her start to crush down into a tight, compact core. She didn’t have to survive this. Sarah -- it would break her heart for her best friend to get hurt, but the only person who mattered right now was Cole.

  “Sit down,” he told Sarah. “The boy, too. On the couch, next to your friend. So I can keep an eye on all three of you.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  In the bakery, Derek was completely stymied. He wasn’t sure the last time he’d been inside a store entirely devoted to baked goods. He’d envisioned picking between cinnamon rolls and some sort of fruity thing, but the case was full of confections with French names he didn’t know how to pronounce. Everything seemed to have fruit and glaze and cheese, and he had no idea what Danni would like. Was she allergic to something? Everyone was allergic to something these days, wheat or strawberries or peanuts. Was he bringing her something that would say “I want you to die,” instead of “I might be thinking of falling for you”? How could he be thinking of sticking in town for a woman when he’d never even seen her eat a meal?

  “Little overwhelmed?” The girl behind the counter was thin and pretty and blonde, with teeth whiter than God had ever made.

  “Just a little bit,” Derek said, smiling. Some corner of his mind noticed the difference in his reaction. A week ago, he’d have been thin
king about how to find out when this girl got off her shift so he could take her for a ride on his bike and then a different sort of ride. Now, he found himself smiling at her sincerely, with no ulterior motive. She was nice enough to look at, but she didn’t have a lightly upholstered body, or a determination in her eyes that promised to put him in his place if he got out of line, or neat little teeth that nibbled at her lip as she was about to explode around him.

  Okay, maybe she’d have that last bit. But he hoped some other guy -- or girl -- knew about it. Instead of him.

  “Buying for breakfast, or for dessert?”

  “Breakfast,” he said, and then, for the first time since he was just a kid, he added, “with my new girlfriend. And I’m not really sure what she’d like.”

  The girl grinned. “How about I put together a sample box for you, with some of our most popular items? There’s bound tobe something that she likes then.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” he said, and settled back to wait while she got the box together.

  ***

  Sarah didn’t move; Danni didn’t even see a sign that she’d heard. Ryan growled her name, and she still didn’t move. He crossed the floor in two quick steps and slapped her hard. Her hand went to her cheek, and her eyes woke up just a touch. “You hit me,” she said, astonishment in her voice as Cole started to cry behind her. She blinked twice, her eyes slowly waking up. There was something there, something that Danni’d never seen on Sarah’s face before. “You hit me in front of my friends. In front of a child.”

  Ryan looked shocked that she was even speaking. “You surprised? You never complained before.” The boasting gloat in his voice turned Danni’s stomach, but she saw Sarah’s chin firm up again, and she looked straight into Ryan’s eyes.

  “So the part where I screamed for you to stop? That was confusing for you?” And then things happened so quickly. Sarah’s hands tightened into fists, and Danni was almost sure that she was going to try and hit Ryan. Instead, she went for the gun hand, pulling wildly, trying to pry his fingers off it. Danni screamed for Cole, but he was frozen in place, eyes saucer wide, and there was a spreading wet spot on the front of his pajama pants.

  Ryan shoved Sarah off easily enough, but the force of pushing her off sent him stumbling back, and his hand slammed into the corner of the kitchen counter. He shouted in pain, clutching at his hand, the gun tumbling to the floor. Sarah scrambled for it, but Ryan shoved her away; he didn’t go for the weapon himself, just shoved her down onto the floor and hit her, hard, his fist closed and his eyes dead.

  Danni vaulted over the couch and grabbed Cole, picking him up and thrusting him toward her room. “Get Mommy’s phone,” she said. “Dial 9-1-1, just like you learned in school.”

  He tried to cling to her, and she kissed him fiercely on top of his head. Behind her, Sarah was screaming, and Ryan was silent other than animal grunts and the sounds of his fists on her flesh. “Go,” she whispered to him. “Be brave.”

  He ran into the room. He’d call or he wouldn’t, but he was out of the way, and that was what mattered most. She wanted to follow him, hide with him. She turned back, back towards the screams, and ran towards them. The gun was between her and Ryan; she kicked it under the couch. He’d take it away from her in a heartbeat if she tried to hold him with it, and she had no idea how to use it anyway. She launched herself at his back, wrapping her legs around him and clawing at his face with her fingernails. He roared in pain and threw himself backwards, his hands prying her fingers free. His weight slammed into her, knocking the air out of her lungs, and sparking pain all along the back of her body. Her head cracked against the floor, and her vision tunneled as she tried to focus on being awake. Everything was far away and distant, and she stared as an avenging angel descended, scrawny and focused, slamming a...frying pan?...into Derek’s head. He fell backwards, and the angel was leaning over Danni, staring into her eyes for a moment, then turning to Sarah.

  Danni’s vision cleared slowly, and the angel -- Mrs. Clark from upstairs -- was helping Sarah sit up. Ryan was out cold, stretched out on the floor with a trail of blood leaking from his temple. “Mrs. Clark--?”

  “Ginny, dear,” she said. “Has someone called the police?”

  Danni pushed herself up off the floor, ignoring the ringing in her ears, and balanced herself on the walls as she made her way back towards her bedroom. Cole sat on the floor, holding her phone in his hands. She heard the 911 operator, and took the phone from him. “Please, send help,” she said.

  ***

  Derek saw the cruisers as he rode up to the apartment. His heart started to pound in his ears, and it was everything he could do to park his bike and take the keys with him, instead of just stalling it and dumping it. There were plenty of apartments in the building; this didn’t mean that Danni wasn’t safe. Still, he took the stairs two at a time. There was a uniform in Danni’s doorway, who blocked it as soon as he saw Derek coming up the stairs. Derek knew how he looked, leathers and ink, and he spread his arms out, hands visible, and slowed his pace. “I’m a friend,” he said. “A friend of Danni’s. Is she okay? Are she and Sarah okay?”

  He heard Danni call from inside, “It’s okay. I know him, it’s okay.” The uniform looked to someone else, and then nodded, stepped back. Derek forced himself to stay calm as he walked through the door, and not run to Danni and sweep her up and away. The Mahoney dirtbag was cuffed on the floor, and the cops were working on bringing him around. There was a bruise starting to show on the side of his face. It looked like someone had taken a frying pan to him. An older woman sat on the couch with Sarah’s hand clutched tight in hers, and a woman in a suit was speaking to them both. Danni was sitting on a kitchen stool, an EMT checking out her eyes, and a little boy that Derek assumed was Cole was glued to her.

  The EMT was satisfied with whatever she saw, and drew back. Danni’s eyes looked up at Derek, and he saw such exhaustion in them that he wanted to wrap her up and keep her safe for the rest of her life.

  “Busy morning,” she said, and tears started to slide down her face, completely silent. He touched her shoulder, and she leaned into his hand, seeking comfort like a kitten. He let his thumb trace over her cheek, and just tried his very best to take away the pain.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Sarah decided to enter a program that the women’s shelter offered. Half therapy and half residential, they’d get her out of the apartment Ryan had paid for, and help her find a new place, a new job, and anything else she needed. She looked tired, but resolved.

  Mrs. Clark completely ignored every attempt they made to thank her. She’d heard Sarah’s screams from upstairs and had put them together with building gossip to realize that she and her frying pan were needed.

  Derek went back down to his bike for the pastries he’d bought. They were sort of smashed, but once the officers cleared out and Ryan was gone, the three of them devoured the hodgepodge of tastes and textures. Danni called Cole out of school. He would have gone, but she wasn’t sure she could stand to have him out of her sight today. When she said that to Derek, he nodded. Which made her heart melt all over again.

  “Do you have leathers?” he asked, once she had Cole settled in front of a puzzle, along with his favorite snuggly. She glanced at him, her brain not connecting quite yet. Everything felt a little foggy, a little far away. “You know, chaps, a jacket, gloves?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I haven’t worn them in years, though.”

  “Do they still fit?”

  She considered. “The jacket should. The pants, no way in hell.”

  “Can I see it?”

  “Sure.” She pulled it out of the depths of the closet she’d buried it in after Mickey left, and watched as Derek sat down on the couch, a respectful distance from Cole, and began to brush and clean her jacket. The smell of leather cleaner should have made her nervous, it always had before, but this time, it reminded her of the good days, when things had been easier, calmer. Derek worked with a quiet focus, an
d his hands were just the right balance of firm and gentle. Of course, that was no surprise.

  “Walt’s staying,” he said, after a while.

  “How’s his son?”

  “Don’t know yet. Doctors still say it’s too close to call. But he says whichever way it goes, he’s staying. Says he’s had enough of the road. He says he’s going to open up a motorcycle repair shop.” There was a long pause, and she made herself wait through it. He spent a long time buffing out a particularly stubborn spot on her jacket--she couldn’t see anything wrong with it, but he was paying it a ferocious amount of attention--and then he took a breath so deep that it seemed to suck the air out of the room. “I’m not saying I’ll stay for you. I don’t think you’d trust that even if I said it. And I don’t know--a lot happened that put me on the road in the first place. But walking up those stairs, thinking you might have been hurt…” He turned his face up to her, and there were tears tracing down his cheeks. “I just want to know if you think it’s worth trying. Trying, and seeing what happens.”