by Debra Kayn
A distant hum grew louder to a chest-thumping rumble. She looked behind her, panicked, and ran. Raul or Rain had already called the MC.
The black motorcycle, louder and closer by the second, came straight toward her without pulling into the street toward Rain's house. She pressed her hand into the stitch at her side and continued running. Unable to outrun a bike, she wanted to be moving if the rider tried to stop her.
The motorcycle rider roared past her, not even paying her any attention or slowing his speed. She slowed to a walk. Nausea and lightheadedness made the cramp in her side worse. She swallowed, drawing moisture into her dry mouth. She had to get out of town, because she couldn't stay around the MC without Raul and wouldn't allow him to put her away somewhere for a government agent to dig into her past.
How she'd managed to have a Mafia drug lord after her was beyond understanding and probably unbelievable to everyone else…if they knew.
The tip of her sneaker caught on a piece of gravel. She stumbled and caught herself before she fell. Her parents said she'd pay in hell. They were probably right, because she couldn't think of anything worse than losing Raul.
Guillermo Garcia wanted to have her as the sacrificial virgin, except she'd lost her virginity at sixteen years old. Raul wanted to nail her on the cross, and not in a pleasurable way for not trusting him. She thrust her hand through her hair, cooling her neck. Most of all, she wanted to go back to Raul, explain everything to him, and swear him to secrecy as if she was twelve, and believed that he'd never tell.
She didn't live in a world where secrets remained hidden, and someone always had her back.
She'd enjoyed the Lagsturns for a while, knowing they lived by the unwritten code that no matter what happens, brothers come first—including property owned by any member of the Lagsturns. She'd allowed herself to fantasize about what it would really mean to be Raul's woman and have the kind of protection where someone would die for her.
She'd greedily accepted everything Raul gave her, because she was desperate to put herself deep within the MC. And yet, she'd still managed to mess everything up with Raul.
Raul believed she was high maintenance. If he knew her life in the MC came about for a purpose, he'd learn that she wasn't out to play him. She wanted to hide where she could make herself half believe she succeeded on changing her life around.
Another ground quake of a rumble pushed her faster, though this time a different rider came toward her from the road ahead. She kept her gaze forward and watched the biker ride closer. As he thundered by, she turned and watched the rider roll past Rain's road, heading toward Pitnam. A weight settled on her shoulders. All these riders and they weren't even driving toward Rain's house to rally around Raul or come after her.
Tori's damn love advice was right. He'd truly let her walk away without fighting for her.
One foot in front of the other, she distanced herself until she could no longer look behind her and see any familiar terrain. She continued jogging, because the physical exertion kept her from crying. The country road seemed to wind alongside the river, bending and swaying to match the landscape.
When it hurt to breath and her legs threatened to collapse, she slowed and hiked down the embankment to the river's edge on shaky legs. She cupped water in her hands and cooled off her face, and then repeated the action for a drink of water. She wrinkled her nose, imagining silt and invisible bugs she was probably swallowing, but the coolness on her throat and tongue brought relief. She sat for five minutes, gathering her second wind, listening to the rush of the water over the rocks peppering the river before pushing herself to her feet and making her way up the bank.
She slipped on the loose gravel, and slid back a foot. Her bottom lip stung where she'd bit into the tender skin. On the verge of a major meltdown if one more thing went wrong, she grabbed at the tall thin weeds around her and heaved herself to the road. She looked up forward in the direction she needed to head, and gasped.
Raul sat on his motorcycle, his sunglasses pushed to the top of his head, and his gaze glued on her. She took in the stiffness of his shoulders, the folded arms, and the hardness in his eyes that remained from earlier.
"Get on," he said.
If she were more aware of time, she'd say it took a full minute for her to walk the six feet to Raul, throw her leg over the seat, and wrap her arms around him. In reality, she flew. In her head, she understood she was getting a second chance of better explaining herself and leaving on a better foot, with money, transportation, and a plan. Though in her heart, she held on to him simply because the back of Raul's bike was where she wanted to be.
Aware of riding, she blocked everything from her mind and held on to the fact that right this moment, this second, she was exactly where she belonged. The wind cleansed her of the past, the freedom filled her soul, and she reveled in a heart that was bursting with love.
Raul came for her.
Despite the truth he'd laid at her feet about him living a double life, asking her to protect his secret and putting his trust in her to remain true to him, and with the knowledge that she couldn't continue being with him, he ignored it all. For the first time, she understood what she'd been looking for her entire life, someone to take the decisions out of her hands and accept her for everything she was.
She was tired of surviving on her own, and he allowed her to concentrate on him rather than her troubles. No matter how she acted, he'd stood by her. Maybe, if she explained her side of things, he'd also understand why she'd made the choices she had and accept the baggage that came with her.
She laid her head on his shoulder, hugging his waist. How much of the agent remained in her biker man?
Would he turn in the information she kept secret or allow her to keep living the only way she knew how?
Raul rode through the day, only stopping to make her put on his jacket to keep from burning under the rays of the sun and to use the rest areas along Interstate 5. Neither one of them talked. Crystal appreciated him giving her space and not forcing her to defend herself. She had enough drama for the day to last a lifetime.
Raul—she clenched the ends of his T-shirt in her hands—for whatever reason kept his thoughts to himself.
Several hours after their last pit stop, Raul pulled into the lot behind the Lagsturns club and parked his bike. She climbed off and waited for him to stand.
Despite coming back to uncertain conditions with where exactly Raul stood within the club, her worries seemed less, the weight on her shoulders lighter, and she wanted to go upstairs and climb into bed. She wasn't ready to have her hands off Raul or have him leave to meet with the men.
He must've sensed her need, because he gathered her hand up in his and blocked her from the view of the backdoor. "Not a word until we're up in the room. Not about me, or why we're back two days early. Understand?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Of course."
The backlash if she confided in anyone wasn't lost on her. She'd never betray him.
He remained in front of her. His gaze flickered from her to over her shoulder in the distance. She waited; thinking he had more to say, but he spoke no more on the subject. When he escorted her into the club, barked out commands to his men, and led her upstairs, she followed without a word.
In the bedroom, he let go of her and stripped out of his vest, his shirt, raking his hands through his hair, while searching the room. Finally, he rifled through his dresser drawers, flinging T-shirts, jeans, boxers, socks and making a mess. She stepped back when he rushed past her to continue his mad scramble.
The nightstand drawer fell to the floor. Raul ran his hand underneath the empty spot, then pulled the nightstand away from the wall and looked behind the piece of furniture. Crystal sank down into the chair in the corner, staying out of his way. Going from his mood to the urgency in his movements, she knew better than to question what he was doing.
Finally, Raul ran out of places to tear apart and stood in the middle of the room, fists at his side, and stared at
her. She shrank back on the chair. His anger seemed directed at her, and she had every ounce of it coming to her. She'd created more disarray in his life.
In her heart, she was loyal and true. However, she could also understand his view, and what he'd stewed over all day into the evening. She'd screwed up. She couldn't have love and secrets, and expect him not to be hurt and angry.
Raul stalked across the room, flung open the door, and left. The breath she wanted to exhale never came. In fact, she wondered if she'd ever be able to breathe, guilt free, again.
He returned and slammed the door. A cigarette stuck between his lips, he moved straight to the dresser and snatched up a lighter. She watched him light the cigarette, inhale deeply and quickly do it again, until he exhaled a long, steady, stream of smoke in the room.
She bit her tongue to keep from lecturing him about his unhealthy habit. After what she'd put him through, the man deserved something to make him feel better. She only wished she had something to numb the turmoil inside of her.
Another hit from the cigarette and Raul turned in her direction, daring her to say anything. She lifted her chin, her heart breaking. At one time, she'd seduced him every time he reached for his pocket for his nicotine fix or grew edgy when he was trying to break the habit for her. She no longer had that right.
"The room is clean…no bugs, we can talk without anyone hearing if we keep our voices down." He blew out the smoke. "I need to know if you're working for anyone at Lagsturns or the Mafia."
"God. No." She scooted to the edge of the chair. "Why would you even ask me that?"
He stared her down. "I bring you closer into the club, into me, tell you the truth, and the first chance I get to close my eyes after putting my life on the line, you hightail your ass out in the open without any regard to your safety. So, if you're getting an attitude about my questions, you can stop that shit now, because I will protect what I've worked for the last eighteen God damn years for. Including dealing with you if you so much as think about turning me in. I have no guilt over slamming your ass in a safe house until this is over."
She stood and walked to the window, drawing the curtain to the side with her hand, and looking out. Blind to the outside world, she tried to slow her racing heart and breathe. Never, not once, had she thought about turning her back on Raul and the job he had to do. Many things about his position within the club confused her, but she knew he rode and honored club rules. The way he doubted her, deeply hurt and she couldn't find a reason to be upset with him. It was her fault again.
Yet his goal was to take down the Mafia who supplied drugs to addicts, virtually killing innocent people tied to a habit they had no control over was a good and honorable job. He wanted to put a stop to innocent women dragged into slavery over the border into Mexico. He wanted to stop Guillermo Garcia from taking her.
He'd kill to protect her, and admitted it was hard for him to recognize the good in him after all his time spent within the club. She saw the good side of him every second she was with him. He was good. There was only one side of him, not a bad and good.
She turned around, letting the curtain fall in place. "Sit down."
He tilted his head and remained standing.
The strength went out of her spine and she accepted her decision to tell him everything. "Please. Sit. What I have to say isn't easy for me. When I'm done, I'll leave. You'll need to let me go, but I want you to know the truth first."
Only when he'd stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray on the dresser, sat on the edge of the bed without saying a word, did she sit beside him. She gathered his hand in hers and laid their conjoined hands in her lap. Sixteen years she'd kept her life bottled up inside of her, and all she ever wanted was one living soul to share her burden with and put her sins behind her.
Chapter Sixteen
Crystal's hand shook and her face lost all color. Raul no longer could handle sitting back and letting her take control of their talk. He pulled her hands over to his lap, and kissed the end of her nose. Nothing he did seemed to ease the turmoil rolling off her body.
"Mi vida," he whispered.
She nodded, smiling sadly. "Thank you for always calling me your life. You have no idea how much I love that."
He shook his head, unable to understand what she was saying. She'd never said anything about his endearment before. He called her that because no other woman completed him. She made him smile by a mere whisper or creating the drama that she was prone to cause.
Always vivacious and outgoing, she never shrank away from going head to head with him or anyone else. She was strong, determined, and demanding in what she wanted. This side of her confused him. He was worried, because he wanted her back, strong and unbeatable.
"When I was fourteen I decided I wasn't going to aim myself toward college, much to my parents' disappointment. I was impatient and had the idea of being a movie star." She laughed self-consciously. "I know. It was another stupid idea in my continual lack of good judgment I've displayed up to now. I was young, and like most girls that age, I thought a few people telling me I was pretty meant all I had to do is get noticed by someone big, and I'd have instant success."
He relaxed, and leaned his shoulder against hers. She'd never shared her past with him. It wasn't required to make him happy. The less he knew, the easier it was to keep his own secrets to himself. Though when she talked, he found himself paying attention, because he liked hearing about the young Crystal.
"It's a really long story, but when I was sixteen I got mixed up with a man—this is important, because I didn't say boy— who promised me everything I ever dreamed about. Money, fame, and a life that included mingling with movie stars and attending parties." She glanced at him. "He wasn't a nice guy."
"You don't have to—"
"Yeah, I need to tell you everything, starting from the beginning, for you to understand who I am. It's time, and you deserve to know. I don't want you to hate me." She moistened her lips. "I'm just not sure where to start."
"Crystal…" He kissed the side of her forehead. "You're killing me. I'm not going to like what you have to say, and the idea of some guy hurting you isn't sitting too well with me."
She nodded. "I know, baby, but the guy didn't do anything I didn't give him willingly. I went with him, filled with hope, but it was a nightmare. His movie studio was really a garage, and it wasn't a regular movie I was starring in, but a private collection. I was too immature to figure out I was too malleable and played right into his hands. I stayed with him for over a year, matured enough to find the strength to leave him, and went home."
"Everyone makes mistakes," he whispered.
"Yes. I believe that." She cleared her throat and inhaled deeply. "But things fell apart when I went home. My parents—she lifted her hands and shrugged helplessly— couldn't accept my behavior, and forbid me back into their world. They wouldn't even let me in the door, to their home, my home."
"What?" he asked.
"They're not your typical parents." She caught a sob before it could escape fully and the sound wounded him. "I left and got back into my beat up car, and I've been on my own ever since."
"Mi vida, you've grown. I'm sure your parents would—"
"No." She shook her head. "Impossible."
"People say things they don't mean when they're hurt," he said.
"You don't understand." She pulled on her arm, but Raul wouldn't let her retreat. "I can't go back."
Several minutes went by. He remained quiet, holding her hand, not pushing her. A quiver rolled over her. He squeezed her fingers, hating how useless he was to stop her tormenting herself.
"I've never told anyone my real name since I drove away that night." Her voice quivered and she took her free hand and rubbed her forehead. "I'm still not sure about telling you, because the results of me sharing a part of myself could destroy what I've built for myself. It's not much, you know, but it's mine. It would also bring attention to you, which you can't have, if anyone finds out about me."
"What about you?" He shifted, taking in the pinched brow and how she worked her lips in worry. "Will you be in danger?"
Crystal tilted her head to the side and studied the floor. "Possibly."
"Jesus Madre." He stopped from squeezing too hard on her hand, and let her go to stand up. He wanted to know what the problem was, so he could take care of it, stamp it out, so she could get the shit off her back.
"My parents' reputation and livelihood depends on how they conduct themselves in public." She grimaced. "I'm…I was held to the same level of pureness and because of the choices I made, they had to banish me from their lives."
He jerked his gaze to her. "Are you kidding me? You were a kid."
"I know." She blew out her cheeks and exhaled slowly. "It was necessary."
Raul shook his head in denial. "Not in my world, mi vida. Parents love their children, no matter what they do."
"I didn't grow up in the biker life—"
"Bikers, citizens, the damn president of the United States. It doesn't matter. You have a child of your own, whether that kid came from your body or not, you're responsible to love that child unconditionally." Anger kept him going. "Your parents turned their back on you when you needed them the most. They don't deserve to have you in their life."
Crystal's chin dropped to her chest and she averted her eyes. He waited for her to look at him. When she remained in that position, he ran his hands through his hair and softened his voice. "What the hell did they do to you, mi vida?"
She shook her head. "It was my fault."
The small voice that came out of Crystal was foreign to him. He sank down on his knee in front of her, forcing her to see him. Her eyes, stark and sad, twisted his insides.
"Talk to me," he said. "What makes you fear your parents?"
"Have you ever heard of Keith Donaldson?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No."
"Pastor Keith Donaldson out of Nevada?" She challenged him with her gaze, begging him to make a connection.
