Tracker's End

by Chantal Fernando

  Okay, I am jealous.

  I’m jealous of every woman who ever had him. I wish I wasn’t, but the man makes me lose rational thought. I am an independent woman. I’m strong, educated and have good self-esteem, but when it comes to Tracker . . .

  The word want fails in comparison to how I feel about him.

  I’m drawn to him.

  If I believed in soul mates, I would have said he was mine. The way he makes me feel is incredible, but at the end of the day, I don’t trust him. The truth is, I judge him for his past. I’m not naïve enough to think that I’ll be the woman to change Tracker. I’ve dated a few men and have noticed one recurring thing: they say and do all the right things at first. But it doesn’t take much for them to lose interest and seek amusement in other places. Men lie too easily. I have a hard time trusting, and Tracker’s history with Allie and the number of other women he’s been with doesn’t make it easier for me. Maybe Tracker truly believes I’m different and has serious feelings for me. But how long will that last? I don’t want to compete with other women and fight for his affection. I don’t want to wonder about where he is, who he’s with.

  Even though I already do that, at least right now he isn’t mine. He’s just a fantasy. A dream I can’t let become reality.

  We are two different people, and if he breaks me, I don’t know if I’m strong enough to come back from that.

  SIX

  HIS shirt is massive on me, but it covers my nipples, which is all I can ask for right now.

  “Thanks,” I say as I button it up.

  “Anytime,” he replies huskily, stepping back and taking me in from head to toe. “You look good in it.”

  When his gaze returns to mine, my eyes narrow slightly.

  I don’t miss what flashes in his blue depths.

  Possession.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I tell him, arching my brow.

  “Like what?” he asks, taking his hand in mine and walking me into the twenty-four-hour café.

  “Like I’m yours and you’re just waiting for me to realize it.”

  He opens the door for me. “That’s the truth though.”

  That’s what I’m afraid of. I roll my eyes and walk to one of the booths. He slides in next to me, his thigh pressed against mine.

  “Do you think Anna’s going to be okay in the car?” I ask, staring out the window to where I parked.

  “She’s fine,” he says, picking up a menu. “Can hear her fuckin’ snoring from here. If it stops, I’ll go out and investigate.”

  I can’t help but laugh at that. “Leave her alone. She’s sensitive about her snoring.”

  He grunts. “Proof right there that Arrow fuckin’ loves her, listening to that every night.”

  I take the menu from his hands and glance over it. “I’ll grab Anna a burger. There’s no sushi here.”

  “Be questionable if there was,” he says, grinning. “What do you want to eat?”

  I scan the menu again. “I’ll have some nachos.”

  “Good choice,” he replies, waving a waitress over. She practically runs to him, making me shake my head in both amusement and annoyance.

  “What can I get you?” she purrs. She’s leaning over the table slightly, giving us a clear view of her ample breasts.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” he tells the blonde, not looking up. “Can we have some nachos, two burgers with fries, and some chocolate cake? Oh, and some ribs.”

  I give him a sideways glance. Sweetheart? He’s such a flirt.

  He looks to me. “Drink?”

  “Water, please.”

  He nods and looks back to the waitress. “Water and a Coke.”

  “Do you want the cake with the meal or after?”

  “With,” Tracker replies. “Thanks.”

  She leaves and he returns his attention to me.

  “Hungry much?”

  He smiles slowly. “This is just a snack.”

  My mouth twitches. “Insatiable appetite?”

  “You have no idea,” he says, staring into my eyes. “But you will.”

  I swallow hard. I should know not to bait him, because he isn’t shy in the least. He will say anything, and it’s always me who ends up embarrassed.

  Tracker nudges me playfully, so I glance up at him.

  “Don’t go all quiet on me, I’m just playing,” he says, tilting his head to the side and studying me. “What were you doing up so late? Or did Anna wake you? When she told me she rang you I was pissed. She could have called one of the prospects to get her.”

  “I was up; it was no problem. What about you?” I find myself asking. “Too many drinks?”

  He shrugs his broad shoulders. “I had a few. I’m not drunk, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “I didn’t mind Anna calling me,” I say. “If you can’t call your best friend in the middle of the night when you’re drunk, then who can you call?”

  “A taxi service?” he supplies, chuckling at his own joke. “A fuckin’ prospect is who she should’ve called.”

  “Is that what they’re there for?” I ask, arching a brow.

  “Among other things.”

  I want to ask more about the MC lifestyle, but our drinks arrive, and Tracker slides me my water bottle before grabbing his soda, taking a deep drink. I watch his throat work, my gaze dropping down his neck to the expanse of his chest visible behind his undershirt. “This isn’t how I expected our first date to go, but I’ll take it,” he says.

  I smile, shaking my head. “This isn’t a date. If it is, you have to up your game, Tracker.”

  He lifts his head back and laughs. “You know, I think you’re right. You’re not what I’m used to, and before you start throwing sass around, I meant that in a good way.”

  We stare into each other’s eyes for a few seconds.

  “You’re serious about this,” I finally say.

  He presses his thigh closer to mine. “Wouldn’t mess around with something like this, Lana. I want you. It’s that fuckin’ simple to me.”

  If only it were the same to me.

  “You thought you wanted Allie,” I point out. “What if you think you want me, but then you realize that you were wrong again?”

  Where would that leave me? Like Allie? Begging for any attention from him? Ruined for other men? Yeah, no thanks. I’d like to keep my dignity. No man is worth that kind of drama.

  He takes my hand in his, then brings it to his mouth and peppers kisses all over my knuckles. The sweet move has my breath hitching.

  “You’re not Allie. Nothing about this is the same. Nothing. You don’t have to overthink it, Lana, just let it happen.”

  I think that over, doing what he just told me not to do.

  “You’re overthinking it, aren’t you?” His eyes sparkle with amusement. “Sometimes you need to just let things unfold, Lana. Don’t have any regrets.”

  “You don’t have any regrets?” I ask, studying him attentively.

  “I never regret things I’ve done, only things I haven’t done,” he states. “Life is too short for that. No one is perfect, sometimes shit happens, but you need to get back on that motorcycle and ride the hell out of it.”

  I smile at that. “Not all of us are that easygoing.”

  He grins wolfishly. “Maybe we can balance each other out then. You rein me in a little, while I can set you free.”

  Our eyes stay connected, something passing between us.

  “Christ, you’re beautiful,” he says softly. “I don’t think you know just how much. The things I’d do to you . . .”

  Our food arrives, thankfully shattering the moment. It’s too much for me.

  Too intense.

  Too tempting.

  Tracker eats some of my nachos and offers me some of his burger. As I take a huge bite, I realize that anyone looking at us would think we are a couple. The way Tracker’s attention didn’t waiver when I spoke, the laughter, sexual tension, and casual touching of hands. I can’t deny that I
like it. Little do they know we certainly are not in a relationship, argue more than most, and he’s a member of a ruthless MC. We also aren’t having sex, but I suppose they don’t know that. Or would that make us a married couple? I giggle at my own joke, getting me an adorably confused expression from the big biker next to me.

  “Wanna explain that cute little giggle?”

  “I made a joke. In my head.”

  His eyebrows rise. “Wanna share?”

  “Not really,” I reply, stealing a fry and shoving it in my mouth.

  “You know,” he says, dipping his fry in ketchup. “One day you’re going to trust me enough to share every one of those little thoughts and jokes of yours. One day, you’re going to get out of your head, and you’re going to let me in.”

  “Is that so?”

  He nods, chewing thoughtfully. “Yep.”

  “And one day, Tracker,” I tell him. “I’m going to ruin you for all other women.”

  My comment was meant to get a reaction out of him, to scare him.

  But all he says is, “I believe that too.”

  Shit.

  * * *

  I drive Tracker and Anna back to the clubhouse, and Tracker doesn’t take no for an answer when I tell him I don’t want to stay.

  “It’s easier,” he says. “I don’t want you driving back alone in the middle of the night.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I argue. “I drove to Rift alone.”

  “And I didn’t like that either.”

  “Are you serious right now?” I grumble. “You’re used to getting your way, aren’t you?”

  He smiles what I’m sure is his most charming smile. “With women, yes.”

  I grit my teeth. “Maybe that’s your problem. You need to be taken down a notch. Brought back to reality.”

  He leans closer to me almost pressed up against my body. “You going to be the one to do that?”

  “No,” I reply. “But I’m sure many others will try.”

  “Don’t want them; want you.”

  “You can’t always get what you want,” I throw back at him.

  “Please,” he says, eyes pleading with me. “I’ll be on my best behavior. Stop being fuckin’ stubborn and just stay the night. Christ. I’m being a gentleman here, wanting you safe and not driving around alone when it’s pitch-black out there.”

  I sigh. I can’t deny that I want to stay with him as much as he wants me to. Maybe even more. “Fine.”

  He wins graciously, not rubbing it in. Instead, he gets out of the car and carries a sleeping Anna into his arms. I exit the car and follow him into her and Arrow’s room. He lays her on the bed, while I try to make her more comfortable. I remove her makeup for her with a wet wipe I find in her bathroom. She stirs but doesn’t wake up, so I tuck her into bed before roaming into the kitchen in search of Tracker. When I see Rake there instead, eating a burger, my mouth drops open.

  “Please tell me you aren’t eating your sister’s burger right now,” I say, grabbing a stool and taking a seat. “She’s going to kill you.”

  Rake grins, his mouth full of food. “Was this hers? I’m hungry. If she cared so much, she should have eaten it.”

  “She’s asleep,” I point out.

  “You snooze, you lose.”

  I place my elbows on the countertop. “Mature.”

  He smirks. “What you doing here anyway, Lana? Haven’t seen you around here after the sun goes down. You’re like a vampire.” He pauses. “But opposite.”

  “Rake, you worry me,” I tell him honestly, blinking slowly.

  Green eyes identical to Anna’s smile down at me. “I drank. I fucked. Now I’m eating. Night doesn’t get better than this.”

  “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

  “Anytime, Lana Bear,” he says, using my childhood nickname.

  I wonder if my readers will like a male character like Rake. From my point of view, he isn’t very appealing, although he is good-looking—very good-looking. Blond hair that curls around his face, a straight nose, and sparkling, usually amused green eyes framed in dark lashes. He also has a lip ring and eyebrow ring that suit him well. I just can’t take him seriously though. Maybe it’s because I knew him when we were younger. He was always yelling at Anna for doing something or other, but not in a mean way, just in a way that you knew he loved her more than anything and wanted to protect her.

  “Until morning, when Anna smothers you in your sleep and embarrasses your bed partner.”

  “Bed partner?” he asks, chuckling. “You’re so fuckin’ proper, Lana.”

  “What do you want me to say?” I ask, shifting on my seat. “Your fuckin’ bed partner?”

  His chuckles turn into a deep laughter. “Much better. Fuck buddy will do fine though.”

  “What’s so funny?” Tracker asks as he steps into the kitchen, freshly showered. Bare-chested, he’s wearing a pair of black pajama pants slung low on his hips. “Fuck buddy?”

  His eyes dart between Rake and me.

  I keep my expression blank, wondering what he’s thinking. He comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my chest and pulling me back into him. “Don’t think she needs to hear about your fuck sessions, brother.”

  Anna told me Rake was into bondage and stuff like that. As an author, I am extremely curious. How I’d love to pick his brain. But I don’t think he’d appreciate that. He’s pretty discreet when it comes to his sexual fetishes. Well, as discreet as he can be, considering he lives in a massive house filled with people who come and go at all hours.

  Rake throws the burger wrapper in the bin, then turns to the two of us. “You with him, Lana? If he’s giving you shit, call me and I’ll kick his ass.”

  The way Rake says it, I have no idea if he’s joking or not.

  “You can try,” Tracker replies with no heat, nuzzling the top of my head.

  Rake groans. “You fuckers are dropping like flies. First Sin and Faye, then Arrow and Anna. Now you two? Fuck me, I need another drink. And some new pussy.”

  Charming.

  He leaves the kitchen, and Tracker carries on like Rake was never there. “You must be tired. Let’s go to bed.”

  “I’m sleeping with Anna,” I say, turning around to look at him.

  “In Arrow’s bed? The fuck you are,” he growls, then sweetens the tone of his voice. “Come on, we’re just gonna sleep. I’ll even spoon you.”

  “Tracker—”

  “I’m so glad you’re such an agreeable woman,” he says cheerfully, taking my hand in his and pulling me toward his room.

  I open my mouth, then close it, allowing him to bring me into his room and close the door. He turns on the light, while I try to calm my nerves. His room is a large space, with a massive white bed in the middle. Looking around, I realize everything is white, with splashes of black here and there. There are a few clothes on the floor, but for the most part the room is tidy. Tracker opens the door to his bathroom and disappears inside, while I walk to his monstrosity of a bed and sit down on the very end of it. He walks out a second later and climbs into bed, pulling me backward by my waist and settling me so I’m in the middle of the mattress.

  “Much better,” he says, yawning. “Sleep, Lana. You’re safe here. When I do touch you, you’ll be the one begging me for it.”

  I decide to ignore that.

  Slowly lying back on the thick feather pillows, I get comfortable and close my eyes.

  Surrounded by his scent, I fall asleep instantly.

  * * *

  “Lana,” he groans, touching me intimately. “You feel so good.”

  I open my eyes sleepily, smiling at Tracker as he slides a finger inside me.

  “I want to be inside you,” he whispers.

  “Do it,” I demand. “I want you to.”

  “Fuck yeah,” he growls, spreading my thighs and sliding into me like he’s been there a million times before.

  Pinning my hands up against the headboard, he slams into me over and over, the bed
shaking with his ferocity.

  “Yes,” I moan. “So good!”

  Suddenly my eyes open.

  I glance around the dark room.

  Shit.

  It was a dream.

  Tracker is next to me, our bodies touching. His eyes are closed and his lips are parted. His hair is loose, tickling the edges of his face. I resist the urge to kiss him.

  I consider waking him up but then decide not to. He looks so peaceful. Almost childlike.

  I guess I’ll have to finish the scene on my laptop instead of in reality. Luckily my imagination is running wild, fuel for my writing.

  SEVEN

  I WAKE up feeling warm and content. Tracker is pressed against my back, his strong arms around my waist and his face in my hair.

  My eyes widening comically, I sit up and look down at a sleeping Tracker.

  He cuddles.

  Like a fucking champ.

  Opening one eye, he grins at me lazily. “It’s still early, go back to sleep.”

  “How do you even know what time it is?”

  “I just know,” he replies, his voice thick with sleep. “Come back to me.”

  The man can be so sweet.

  Slipping back between his arms, I sigh, wondering how I ended up here. When I’m almost back in a deep sleep, I hear the room door open, and a loud gasp belonging to my best friend.

  I sit up.

  Anna points at me. “You . . . you . . .”

  She was speechless, that’s a first.

  “We just slept,” I tell her, sliding out of Tracker’s embrace and getting out of bed. I point to the door, and the two of us leave the room. She waits until we hit the kitchen before she starts with the questions.

  “What the hell happened last night?” she yells, then groans, touching her head and wincing. Her hair is a matted nest, and I cringe thinking about her having to brush it out, glad it’s not me. Makeup is still smudged around her eyes—apparently I didn’t do a good enough job taking it off last night—yet she still manages to look gorgeous in a grunge-chic kind of way. “Okay, no loud noises.”

  I laugh. “I picked you up from Rift. You were drunk and fell asleep in the car.”

  She groans again. “Fuck, I’m sorry I woke you.”