About three o’clock in the morning Liv stands, stretches and announces she’s going to bed. Carver and Blood immediately start pulling out sofa beds, Chaos grabs a pillow and blanket, lying it flat over a white shag throw rug nearest the hallway, which leaves me the spare room.
I sit at the edge of the bed, pullin’ off my boots and stripping off my cut, T-shirt and jeans then slide underneath the covers. I wish I could sleep, but dammit, just thinkin’ about fingering Elise earlier this evening has me rock hard and ready. She won’t get away from me again. Hell, the woman will be lucky if I don’t bend her over my bike and fuck her in front of my brothers for putting me through this.
There’s rustling in the next room, then I hear through the thin walls. “Chaos, what are you doing?”
Dammit brother, don’t be stupid.
“I’ll be good, Liv. I just want to hold you tonight.”
“But my brother—he’s right out there.”
“Said I just want to hold you. Promise I won’t try anything.”
“Heard that before. I’m not eighteen anymore, Chaos.”
“Neither am I, Liv. And when it’s just you and me, you call me Gage.”
“Why? It won’t make a difference now just like it didn’t then. I gave you your one night.”
“Maybe one night with you wasn’t enough.”
“It’s going to have to be. You of all people know why. I’m not spending my life as a club whore.”
“Have me or Blood or any of the brothers ever treated you like a piece of ass?”
“Yes, when you fucked me when I was eighteen, and I never heard from you again. And don’t even get me started on Blood.”
“Hey, Blood loves you.”
“He talks to me like our father did. His mom was old lady, mine was club whore. Half the time I wasn’t even sure why the fat fuck acknowledged me as his daughter. That man didn’t give two shits about me. I work phone sex because I’m good at it, and it pays the bills while I’m in school. But I’m not that girl, despite who my mother was. That was her, not me, and you won’t drag me down into that life.”
“Didn’t know you felt that way about the club.”
“Well, I do.”
There’s a long pause in the conversation, long enough for me to readjust and close my eyes, hoping to finally get some shuteye. Unfortunately, Chaos ain’t done.
“Best not be saying anything to scare off Elise. You have your opinions, that’s fine.”
“Yeah, when is it fine for a woman, no less a piece, to have an opinion in the club? I won’t say anything, though. My opinion on club life, that’s a fight for the two of them. She’ll see. Or maybe she won’t, she’s an old lady. She matters.”
Liv is right. She does matter.
“Night, Livvy,” Chaos says softly.
I see where she’s coming from. If I’d been raised in her shoes, as the kid of a whore and not the kid of an old lady like her brother, I guess I’d have animosity toward the brothers, too. But what’s most interesting is what she dismissed.
When it’s just the two of them, Chaos wants her to call him Gage, his given name. There’s only one reason for that. The same reason Elise is the only one to call me Beau. Got a feeling a shitstorm’s about to unleash onto the club. Looks like Chaos and me need to have a talk.
13.
Elise
I turn down my street with a plastic bag in each hand seeing as I had to walk to the grocery store since I still haven’t figured out the car situation yet.
Chili sounded good for dinner tonight. There are warm weather foods and there are cold weather foods. Chili though, chili can and should be enjoyed year round. And even if I’m the only one to enjoy it, I make a delicious chili. Hands down. Garnishes of Fritos, shredded cheddar cheese, sour cream and chopped avocado. My chili could break a mama’s heart, it’s so good.
But as I reach the neighbor’s lawn all thoughts of chili vanish what with watching the moving van in front of my brownstone and the men loading it up with furniture. Furniture they’ve hauled by trampling over my newly planted summer flowers. I spent hours painstakingly plotting colors and positions to give the most aesthetic view from the street. And now the flowerbed is ruined. All that hard work down the drain.
Then every time one of the men knocks something heavy, a credenza or dining table, against the antique brick siding, my heart breaks a little more.
Vinnie is actually moving? Vinnie, my landlord who owns the building now.
It doesn’t click with me, seeing all that’s going on around me that the sofa being loaded into the van looks like my sofa.
“Vinnie?” I call out. “You’re moving?”
“No darlin’, you’re movin’ home.”
Beau.
“Oh, come on!” I say, just now noticing the cuts where mover logos should be. “You let them in my house?”
Vinnie looks at me, completely unremorseful. “When bikers show up on my lawn insisting I let them in or face bodily harm, I do it sweetheart.”
“Beau, this is insanity. You can’t break into my home.”
“This ain’t your home, darlin’. I’ve decided your home’s in Thornbriar, with me.” He emphasizes by poking his thumb to his chest. “So now I’m moving you home.”
No one is listening to me. They just keep loading my life into the back of a U-Haul.
“How’d you even find me?”
“How you think he got the name Bloodhound?” he asks smugly, pointing to one of the men moving my dresser.
I swallow, trying to calm myself when Chaos walks out of the apartment carrying a small box in one hand. In the other he flicks on—“Do you have my vibrator?”
“Kinky little thing, aren’t you? No wonder Boss wants you so badly.”
He holds that particular vibrator against his cheek. “I wouldn’t put your face against that one,” I warn him.
“Yeah, why not?”
“Because it doesn’t go in the hole you think it does.”
A couple strangled laughs come from the guys who get it right away.
Chaos cocks his head and stares blankly at me, a look to say he doesn’t follow. And then I see it, when my words click. A big smile spreads across his gorgeous face and he calls out. “Boss, I think I’m in love with your old lady.” That same wry smile lets everyone else know, too.
“Watch yourself,” Beau grumbles at the same time I protest.
“I’m not his old lady.”
“Here we go again.” Chaos sighs, shaking his head.
“I’m not kidding. I’ve been avoiding you, Beau. When will you get it through that thick head of yours? I’m not your old lady. I’m not moving. I don’t like you anymore.”
“Maybe not, but you love me.”
Love him? I never said I loved him. Even though I did love Beau years ago. But this new Beau, we had a connection. That’s all. Right? I couldn’t have been falling in love with him again, could I?
None of that matters now, anyhow. His arrogance needs to be taken down a notch. “No. That was Mark,” I say snidely.
The men stop moving furniture to stare at me.
“Elise, we’ve been over this. You got shit to say to me, you say it in private. We don’t air out our laundry in public.”
“Well Beau, since you’re too stupid to clue in that I won’t be going anywhere with you in private, public will have to do.”
“Dammit woman.” He grumbles. “You got this?” He calls to someone I don’t see because I turn to walk away. Total rookie move on my part. Never turn your back on the enemy, which in my case, happens to be six plus feet, two hundred pounds of solid muscled angry biker. Basic battle strategy. Yet I do and find myself being flung, once again, over Beau’s shoulder.
I, of course, start kicking and screaming, pounding on his back and ass. Rock hard ass. Focus, Elise. You’re being kidnapped.
He slaps my bottom. Hard. “Ouch!”
I scream even louder.
“Tried doin’ it the ea
sy way. You apparently get off on doin’ it hard, so I’ll give you all the hard you can handle.”
“Beau, put me down, now.”
To my surprise, he does. He drops me on the back of his bike. Despite bikers freaking me out most of my life, I’ve kind of always wanted to ride on a bike. Just to see what all the fuss is about.
“This is nice,” I whisper. Forgetting for the moment to be upset.
“Well, so you know, you’re the only woman to ever ride with me.”
That’s actually really sweet.
“Thing is, I take ridin’ as seriously as breathin’. Other brothers might not be the same, but for me, only my old lady rides on the back. Only my old lady. Ever. And Elise, that’s you, darlin’. Always been you.”
That’s really very sweet, too. But, “I’m not your old lady, Beau.”
“God, Elise.” He kicks back the stand while starting the engine, revving a couple of times before taking off. I have no choice but to hold on, although I hold on to the edges of his cut instead of putting my arms around his waist and try to keep my thighs from pressing against him.
Part of me begins to melt into the sensation of his powerfully strong body molded taut against me while vibrating lightly from the powerful engine beneath us. It’s too easy to melt around Beau if I let my guard down. We tend to get pretty melty around each other. And I know some would say melty is good. But some would be wrong, way wrong, and this would be why I have to fight the melty, to get my guard up fully in place.
He doesn’t want me, he wants his revenge, and I’ll be damned if I’m just going to turn over, or in this case, melt, and give it to him. And with this last thought in my head, I realize the opportune moment I’ve been given when we slow for a traffic light, and I click that guard back up and lock it down.
“You’re a liar, Beau.” I leap from the back, pretty much surprising the both of us, and take off running in a full-blown sprint toward an escape. Checking every-so-often over my shoulder to gauge how far away I’ve run.
My feet beat hard against the pavement, and I wish I had worn better shoes because I feel every step in my shins.
Soon I’ve lost sight of him completely and turn down another busy street. Cars speed and weave past me with horns honking in warning, as I try not to end up roadkill. Another opportunity presents itself. There’s a random pickup truck sitting at a stoplight. I jump into the cab right as it begins to pull away from the red light just turned green.
“Please go.” Panting heavy, I cry at the driver, slapping his dashboard with several rapid open handed slaps in the universal gesture for hurry. “I was kidnapped.”
But he doesn’t go. Well he does, but only so far as to pull off into a McDonald’s parking lot, locking the doors and leans forward to fish his phone from the center console.
“She’s here,” he says to someone on the other end.
What have I gotten myself into now?
“No, she just jumped into my truck…Will do.”
He hangs up and not a minute later the rumble of a Harley engine echoes behind us. I look out the side of the truck to see Beau dismounting his bike and walking up.
That’s when I turn back to the driver, for the first time it clicking what’s in front of me. The cut, he’s wearing a cut. Big patch across the back says: PROSPECT.
Worst. Luck. Ever.
“What can I do to get you not to open that door?” I beg, bringing out the big puppy dog eyes, trembling lip and hands curled into a prayer position at my chest.
Apparently the man has no heart, as he says nothing but cranes his neck to blast me with a Beau-esque glare that says: Ridiculous woman. If that look is a prerequisite to join a motorcycle club, or what everyone shortens to MC, then he’s well on his way to getting patched in. And maybe I am a ridiculous woman. Because he clearly wants nothing from me despite me offering money, sex, even home cooked meals for a year.
With that last one he asks, “And how would I collect on that?”
Okay, so he might have a point. But aren’t bikers supposed to be morally dubious? Couldn’t he take me up on one of my other offers? I mean, he’s not exactly hard on the eyes, he could probably show a girl a good time—what am I saying? I don’t want to sleep with this guy, I just really don’t want him unlocking the door for an even more pissed off looking Beau.
So what does the prospect do? Unlocks the door for an even more pissed off looking Beau.
“Traitor.” I sneer while being lifted out of the front seat and flung, yet again, over Beau’s shoulder. Caveman.
“My patience has officially run out.” He growls, dropping me hard on the back of his bike. “Try that stunt again, Elise, see what you get. You understand me?” When I don’t answer he tilts my chin up. “I asked you a question. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He kisses me then. And it’s powerful, filled with a million different feelings and sensations, the kind which gets me melty, though I don’t mean to. So unfair.
When he pulls back the kiss, he shoves a helmet down over my head and climbs on the bike in front of me. But before we take off, he slides me forward so all of me is pressed up against all of him, and pulls my arms to wrap around his waist to hold on tight.
Frantically, I turn my head to the left and right, hoping to find an escape. That’s when I spy him, a man on a bike. Dark sunglasses covering the top half of his face, and a black bandana printed with the bottom half of a skull, covering up the bottom. I’ve seen him before, at Lady’s. The black leather cut means he’s a biker.
He’s probably a Lord. But I don’t like the way he watches us. It’s unnerving.
“Beau.” I tap his shoulder. “Who’s that guy?”
“Not now, Elise. I’m pissed.”
That doesn’t stop me. I keep tapping until he looks. “What guy?” he asks.
No guy, now. He’s gone. Poof! Gone.
“I’m not kidding. There was a guy on a bike.”
“Darlin’, there’s guys on bikes all over.”
***
Why does Beau have to have such good genes? Handsome. Sexy. Imposing. Confidant.
We hit the highway almost immediately, meaning he really doesn’t want to risk me hopping off again.
The man doesn’t talk to me. Doesn’t even attempt to talk, and we drive for a while, drive ‘til my hands cramp from holding on so tightly. We’re somewhere in Indiana when I can’t hold on any longer.
“Beau,” I finally shout as loudly as I can with the wind whipping all around us. “Beau, I’m so cold and hungry.”
He points to a highway sign which shows a food and lodging exit. We’ve been on the road for a few hours now, both of us using the opportunity to calm down. It shouldn’t feel so good to be pressed against him, not after the way he betrayed me. Yet it does. Our connection constantly humming beneath my skin. I compare old Beau to new Beau. How the years have changed him. Maybe I should quit fighting this, fighting him. Because I know now that he’s never going to let me go. And truth be told, I’ve missed him. Dammit, I hate myself for admitting defeat. But as he rolls into the parking lot of a hotel—a nice one—and dismounts, I realize that’s it. He’s won. I’ve officially been defeated.
Big changes are in store for my future, and I’m not sure what to think about said changes. As I stand next to his bike trying to figure out what the hell I’m going to do, Beau brushes his knuckles gently over my cheek. Seems new Beau can still read me as well as old Beau used to.
“Come on, darlin’.”
When I pull the helmet off my head, I know my hair must look awful, but Beau slides his arms around me, holding me, hugging me like he thinks I’m the most beautiful woman in the world.
Is it possible he didn’t betray me? That maybe I overreacted. I mean, could a man radiate so much love for a woman, when all he wants is revenge? Because all I feel from him, if I’m honest, all I’ve ever felt from the man holding me, is love.
Shoot.
But
he did lie to me. Can I forgive him for that indiscretion? The sight of Beau’s lips descending breaks through my thoughts. As his lips press against mine, there’s no room for consternation. Only sensation. His tongue. Stroking, caressing my own.
Beau breaks out melt-worthy Beau. I can’t go against melt-worthy Beau, there is no going against melt-worthy Beau. Dammit again.
I sigh. He hears my sigh, feels it and smiles through the kiss, moving one of his hands to squeeze my butt cheek. He probably thinks I’m swooning. It’s not that, but because I’ve come to a conclusion. That conclusion being I’m more of an idiot than I ever gave myself credit for.
So giving in to this conclusion about myself, giving in to the reality, a reality in which this man really cares for me, I give in to, well, everything. And because the hits just keep on coming, it’s now that the hours of having my lady bits rubbing up against him catch up. Hunger completely forgotten, there’s only one thing I’m hungry for now. Two words. Sounds like smelt-sworthy. Like that, he has me so worked up I’ve already talked myself from a simmer to rolling boil. And we haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet.
Well, I mean, it’s always good with Beau, but still…Ugh.
So much for my life in Chicago. Because I give him me with one word. “Beau.” Yep, just his name. Of course it left my mouth on a resigned whisper. “Beau…”
“Right here, darlin’.” He chuckles out his response. Really, chuckles.
How dare he? One doesn’t chuckle after unleashing the melty. Look at the state he’s left me in. I’m a rolling boil standing in a parking lot with other cars filled with passengers of the adult and child variety. That pisses me off more. Kids shouldn’t witness his melty and my returning rolling boil.
Folding my arms under my breasts, I clench my jaw and glare hard. “Take me to bed or lose the ability.”
Chuckle gone, the bastard outright laughs. He has a beautifully rich laugh. Similar to the one he had when we were teens, but more mature sounding. A lot of life experience held in that laugh. He drops his hold from my butt to take my hand.
Beau tugs me along behind him, through two sets of glass double doors, inside the hotel coming to a stop in the spacious, brightly lit lobby. Slate gray walls, slate gray and white striped sofas, and a modern, sleek metal and glass chandelier hangs from the ceiling in front of reception.
Lady Sings the Blues Page 12
