by Geri Glenn
“Why?”
Surprised by the question, I cock my head slightly. “Why what?”
“Why the fuck do you want to get to know me so bad?” Sarcasm laces his tone.
The man is clueless. “Well … you’re pretty ripped.” I smirk. “And kind … sometimes, anyways. I like your gruff voice and your chuckle. You smell amazing. But most of all … you treat me like a normal person.” I shrug and cast my eyes downward, biting my lip. “You actually listen to me. Sometimes I don’t even remember that I’m blind when I’m with you.”
He groans like he’s in pain. “Fuck.”
I can’t do this anymore. I won’t. I’m tired and sore, and I need a shower. Travis pushing me away after the nightmare I lived of trying to find him after the accident has drained what’s left of my patience and my energy. I snap my fingers to call Dex over, and once he reaches my side, I grab his harness and say what I need to say.
“You want me to leave, I’ll leave. Not forever … just for now. But you have some major soul searching to do, Travis. My emotions can’t be played with like a goddamned yo-yo. Stop masking those massive fears you have with your tough guy act, and maybe, hopefully, you’ll finally be happy. I just really hope I’m the one you choose to be happy with.” I take a deep breath and finish. “So this is not goodbye … more of a see you soon. We never got to finish that ride.” Tossing a tired smile over my shoulder, I turn and walk out of the room.
I know he doesn’t mean for me to hear it when he mutters, “Fuckin’ nut.”
THE NEXT MORNING, RYKER and Mouse are there to spring me when the doctor finally gets off his ass and gives the all clear to escape the creepy hospital room. Ryker gives me a fresh set of clothes, and after I finish getting dressed, we pile into the black, unmarked van the club uses when they need to keep a low profile.
“Your bike is fucked, brother.” I knew it would be, but hearing it confirmed just about fucking kills me. I love that bike. “Jase says he can fix it. He was working on it when we left.”
I clench my jaw and nod. I know Jase can fix it – the man is a fucking genius with motorcycles. I just don’t look forward to not having my ride until he does. Looks like I’ll be driving this fucking van for a while.
“Where’s Laynie?” Ryker asks.
I side-eye him. “Gone.”
“Gone? Not for good, though, right?” Mouse pokes his head up between the two front seats. “Laynie’s the shit!”
I glare straight ahead, watching the scenery and thinking that Mouse needs to learn to mind his own fucking business.
“He’s right, ya know.” I look at Ryker. “She’s fuckin’ cool. And she likes you, which is a miracle in its-fucking-self. Hold on to that shit, brother.”
I shake my head, noticing the driveway for the clubhouse approaching. I need to get out of this vehicle and away from these nosey fucks. Ryker just chuckles and pulls into the nearest parking space. “Church in five.”
The three of us walk into the clubhouse and are greeted by Gunner. “Get your asses in the meeting room. We’re all waiting. Mouse, you better sit in on this one.”
Mouse nods and follows us in. Once we’re all seated, Gunner pounds his gavel down onto the table. “Shit’s gettin’ serious, boys. Real serious.” He motions to me. “Tease, glad you’re OK, brother.”
I receive slaps on the back and murmured agreements before he continues. “Those sons-of-bitches almost killed one of our own last night. And he had his fuckin’ old lady with him.” My heart clenches at the mention of Laynie. After the way her brother died, she must have been fucking terrified. Breaking it off with her was a shit move.
“They wanted a war? Well, they fuckin’ got one.” Fists pound the table, and the room erupts in loud voices, each one plotting the death of the Devil’s Rejects. All except one.
“How do we even know it was the Devils?” The room quiets, and all eyes turn to Tiny. “We have no proof. Tease was fuckin’ knocked out, and his bitch is fuckin’ blind.” He sneers that last word with disgust.
My eyes widen, and heated rage erupts in my gut. I pierce him with my eyes, about to lose my shit when I’m interrupted.
“You might want to watch your tone more carefully next time, Tiny,” Reaper growls. “You disrespect a brother or his old lady like that again, I’ll be next in line after Tease to shove my foot up your ass and wear you as a fuckin’ boot.”
Tiny’s eyes narrow on Reaper, but he says nothing. Gunner shakes his head. “Moving on, ladies. We know it was the Devils for sure because I have a contact who fuckin’ told me so.”
I sit up straighter, ignoring the pain from my road rash. This is news to me.
“A man that goes by the name of Tip contacted me earlier this mornin’. He’s an advisor for the local chapter of the Bloods.” He looks around the room. “Seems we got a common enemy.”
“The Bloods? We’re doing business with the fuckin’ Bloods now?” Tiny shakes his head. “Fuck me.”
“Tiny!” Gunner yells his name so loud we all jump. “Shut the fuck up, or get the fuck out of my clubhouse. I’m tired of dealin’ with you and your fuckin’ mouth. Show some goddamned respect or hand in your fuckin’ patch.” Tiny’s eyes widen. “Moving the fuck on. Tip has a guy workin’ undercover with the Crips. Said the Crips and the Devils have been workin’ together on some drug trading lately. He overheard them last night laughin’ about runnin’ one of the Kings off the road.”
He leans back in his chair. “Now, Tip didn’t give me this information out of the kindness of his heart. The Bloods want the Crips taken out. They want their share of the cocaine trade here in the city, and the Crips are seriously fuckin’ with their business. There’s a drop-off tonight outside of an old warehouse near the airport. The Devils are pickin’ up a bunch of coke and takin’ it back to Toronto. We now have the location and the time. The deal is, we take out the Devils and in the process take out a few Crips along the way.”
A frown creasing his forehead, Jase sits up. “The fuck? That’s just gonna cause war with the fuckin’ Crips. Is that wise?”
Gunner sighs. “Probably not, but it’s a perfect opportunity for a hit. They won’t be expectin’ us. The Bloods are good allies to keep. We do this, they’ll have our backs when we need them.”
“I don’t like it,” Ryker states, echoing my own thoughts. “Starting a war with the Crips is just jumping from one war to another.”
“It’s decided. We’re not voting on this. As your president, this is a direct fucking order.” Gunner glares at Ryker, daring him to argue.
Ryker shakes his head, clearly not happy. “So what’s the plan?”
“We get there early and lay low. We wait ‘til they all get there, and in the middle of their exchange, we open fire.” He nods to Reaper. “Reap, you’re the best shot of all of us. You’re snipin’.”
Reaper nods.
“These stupid fucks picked the wrong goddamned club to mess with. Runnin’ our man off the road signed their death certificates.”
Ryker and I lock eyes. Doing this mission may just be us signing our own.
Travis has been out of the hospital for hours now. I know because I called, and they told me he’d been released. That was three hours ago. I’d figured after my epic monologue and dramatic exit, he’d have at least called. That’s what any one of my super sexy book boyfriends would do – especially the bikers. They are all badasses, but they take care of their old ladies. Too bad they’re all fictional. Is that what I am now? His old lady? I don’t know if we’d gotten that far yet.
I’m thankful that he’s out of the hospital, though. It means that he’s OK. I’d thought I had lost him. From the moment I’d heard that car peel away, tires squealing on the asphalt, I’d searched for him. I must have looked like a lunatic when the paramedics showed up. I was crying hysterically, on my hands and knees, searching with both hands patting the air, trying to find him. He wouldn’t answer me no matter how much I’d screamed his name. The nightmare I’d s
uffered the night I lost my vision, and my brother had returned. I was in the middle of nowhere, hurt and afraid, and utterly helpless.
Maybe walking away from that hospital room yesterday had been a mistake, but I stand by my decision. Travis doesn’t handle his emotions well, and although I’d gotten angry, I know that he was only pushing me away because he didn’t know what else to do. I won’t let him get away that easily. Travis deserves to be loved. He just doesn’t know it yet.
I’ve done what I can to keep busy since I got home yesterday. My apartment is spotless. I’ve listened to the last of my books I was to read this week. I wrote and scheduled my blog posts for the upcoming week. I paid my bills and walked my dog. I even baked my world famous, double chocolate chunk cookies, which I usually only make when Daniel begs me to. I’d also avoided my hysterical mother.
The woman has called non-stop, but I just can’t deal with her right now. I have my own issues to deal with, and none of them involve playing the role of her poor, defenseless, little blind girl. If Mom found out about my accident, she would drive me crazy begging me to come back home. I’d never do it, though. I love my independence. I love the city. Most of all, I love the freedom.
Deciding that Travis isn’t coming tonight after all, I change into my pajamas – a tiny little silk tank with matching booty shorts. I’m just crawling into bed when my phone rings again. It’s my mother. Why? Why can’t she just leave me the hell alone?
Pulling the blankets up over my head, I think about Travis and wonder if I’m going to have to track him down. Did he mean what he said when he told me we couldn’t do this? Did my speech about him being afraid make him crawl even further into his shell? Thinking about the way he held me all night makes my eyes fill with tears. I know he feels something for me; I just hope he doesn’t forget that while he’s trying to sort his head out.
WE’VE BEEN CROUCHING ON top of these abandoned shipping containers for two hours now. The containers are perfect for this. Ten of them surround the parking area of the abandoned warehouse. My body is killing me, and I’m beginning to wonder if this was just a distraction when the motorcycles pull into the parking lot. There are six of them.
It’s not all of the Devils, but every one of them is a patched member, and every one of them is going to die tonight. Adrenaline causes the blood to pound through my aching head while we wait for the Crips to show up. I don’t like this plan. Starting a war with the Crips is not a smart move, but we don’t really have a fucking choice in the matter.
Shortly after, a big black Cadillac drives in, entering the circle of shipping containers. We watch as five men climb from the car. Each one wears a blue shirt and baggy jeans. The Crips have arrived. Ryker looks to Reap and nods. Gritting his teeth, Reaper puts his eye back to the scope and makes some small changes to his position. The silencer on the gun makes the shot quieter, and the men on the ground don’t even get a chance to respond before one of the members of the Devils is on the ground, blood pouring from a hole in his head.
After that, everything happens in a blur. As one, each man whips out their guns, ducking and scanning the area for shooters, but we have them surrounded. Taking aim, I fire my shots, praying that I get the son-of-a-bitch that drove into the side of my ride. Gunshots ring through the air followed by shouts and curses as one by one we take out each man on the ground.
They shoot back wildly, unable to get a clear shot. Each shot they do take goes right through the shipping container, riddling it with holes. When the last man is on the ground, I look to each container, ensuring that my brothers are OK. There are only nine of us standing on our containers, looking down into the carnage below.
“Reap! I need a fuckin’ medic!” Jase hollers.
Reaper rushes down the side of his container, hurrying toward Jase. “What happened?” he yells as he runs across the lot.
“The fuckers shot me!”
Each of us turns and hurry to the ground focused on Jase, so it takes us all by complete surprise when one of the Crips jumps up and runs to the car he’d arrived in. We all raise our guns, firing shots wildly at the departing car as it peels out of the parking lot and fishtails down the street.
“Fuck!” Ryker yells. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
That guy getting away is not fucking good. He saw us. Now the Crips are going to know exactly who ambushed their fucking coke deal, and they aren’t going to like it. Remembering Jase, we all turn to where Reaper already has him sitting on the ground against the container, looking him over.
“You fuckin’ pussy,” he growls. “They didn’t fuckin’ shoot you. They grazed you.”
“Grazed my fuckin’ ear! My ear! I can’t have a fucked up ear! Ladies don’t want some dumb fuck with a fucked-up ear!” Jase cries. “Fuckin’ fix it!”
“For fuck’s sake.” Reaper stalks off toward the bikes. “Get your ass back to the clubhouse and I’ll put a damned Band-Aid on it.”
Shaking my head, I turn and head for the van, glad that I’m not a fucking prospect anymore. Mouse and our newest prospect have their work cut out for them. There are ten bodies here that need to be disposed of, and it needs to be done fast. The Crips will be back, and soon.
I have my own mess to clean up. I need to go to Laynie and apologize.
The pounding on the door yanks me from my sleep. Who the hell is at my door in the middle of the night? Throwing back the covers, I run my hands along the wall and hurry to get it before it wakes up the entire neighborhood.
Pressing my face close to it, I call out, “Hello?”
From the other side of the door, I hear, “It’s Travis.”
Hurrying to unlock the deadbolt, I call out, “How’d you get in here?”
I swing the door open, and his voice is clearer when he answers. “The douche across the hall let me in.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say. Awkwardness fills the space between us.
“Hi.”
He sounds so unsure. I can’t help but smile. “Hi,” I say softly.
More silence. I can hear the creak of leather and the whisper of his hair as he runs his fingers through it. “So?” I put my hand on my hip, leaning against the open door. “What can I do for you, Travis?”
I know that him showing up here is his way of apologizing, and I know that words aren’t easy to express for him, but he hurt me – again. He needs to know that he can talk to me, but he also needs to apologize and stop pulling that crap with me.
He groans loudly. “Fuck.”
Not saying a word, I wait patiently for him to say what I need him to say.
“I hate this shit.” He presses his body up against mine, hands resting on my hips. “You were right.”
My heart swells and a small knowing smile grows on my face. “I always am.”
He chuckles as he puts a hand to my belly, guiding me backward so he can close the door. “Don’t push it.” Taking a seat on the couch, he pulls me down onto his lap. “You were right when you said I was pushin’ you away out of fear. I knew I was gonna fuck this up with you. I fuckin’ knew it. I’m sorry, Laynie.” His hand wraps around the back of my head, and he pulls my face to his. “You walkin’ out of that hospital yesterday fuckin’ gutted me. That’s not gonna happen again. You’re mine, and I’m not gonna do anything else to fuck that up.”
A single tear slides down my cheek as I smile, feeling his breath fan across my face. “I thought you weren’t coming.” Sitting up slightly, I give him a light smack on the chest. “What took you so freakin’ long?”
He spins me around, my knees resting on either side of him. “I had some shit to take care of. Now that’s done, and I ain’t fuckin’ going anywhere.”
A small smile tugs at my lips, but I fight it back. “So I’m stuck with you?”
He growls and moves again, flipping me to my back and pinning me to the couch with his massive body. “You got a problem with that?”
I manage to keep a straight face and nod. “I do.”
He
pulls back slightly. “Tough.” A giggle jumps from my throat and is cut short when he sucks in a breath. “Fuck me, babe. What’ve you got on?”
I blink. “Um … jammies?”
He groans. “Jesus.” He puts a hand on my knee and runs it slowly up to my hip leaving a trail of fire where he touched me. “I ain’t a virgin.”
Biting my lip, I nod. “I know.” I swallow, forcing down the lump in my throat. “I am.”
“Shit.” He buries his face in my neck. “You have no idea how fuckin’ hot that makes me, knowin’ I’ll be the only one to ever be inside you.” His hips grind down on mine, and I can feel his hardness pressing into me. My heart pounds in my chest. “I ain’t a virgin, but I never let any one of those bitches I’ve fucked touch me.”
He grabs my hand, lifting it to his scarred cheek and pressing it tightly against his face. “I fuckin’ need you to touch me, Laynie.”
God. This man. Sliding my hand down his face, I run it down his chest and belly until I reach the waist of his jeans. Shoving my hand up and under his shirt, my fingers explore his smooth hardness, and I whisper, “I need to touch you too.”
He groans, his chest rumbling beneath my fingers, just as his lips graze my own. Electricity shoots through my body, the blood rushing behind my ears as our lips slide together gently. Tasting. Sipping. Savoring one another. I’m surrounded by his delicious scent as my fingers go from touching to grasping. I need him. I need him closer. I need him now.
My heart aches from the sweetness of his kiss. I find it hard to believe that I’m the first woman ever to feel this man’s tenderness. He has so much to offer any woman, and I feel special that it’s me he chose to share that part of himself with.
Wanting to make him feel as special as I do, I run my palm back down his chest and slowly reach down, cupping him through his jeans. Oh my God. He is freaking huge. The heat from his hardness radiates up my arm and right down to my clit making it pulse with excitement. Growling deep in his chest, he pushes himself against my palm.
