Threat: A Blood Riders MC Novel (Book 1)

by Tia Lewis

  He sat up, disbelief on his face. “Is that what you think?”

  “It’s what I know, Max. Jesus. Have a little self-awareness, for once.”

  “You didn’t seem to mind,” he spat.

  “Sometimes my body takes over for my brain. You ought to know how that feels.”

  He stood, putting his clothes on. “I don’t need to hang around and listen to this,” he grumbled. “This is bullshit.”

  “Right. Run away, like you always do whenever things get too real.” I stared at the wall, unable to watch as he dressed. He slammed the door when he left. Only then did I let myself cry.

  19

  Max

  We didn’t talk for weeks after that. Three games went by, and I avoided her at all costs. If I had a question about something, some pain or ache I felt, I made it a point to go to one of the other therapy team members.

  I didn’t know what to say to her, so it was easier not to say anything. Even I knew I was a punk. But she didn’t come to me, either. If she had anything to say that was crucial, she would have come to me. Or so I told myself time and again when I wondered if we could ever be friends again.

  I wished I could get a read on her. Why did she want so much from me all the time? Why did she ask questions and want to know why I did what I did? Hell, even I didn’t know all the time. She couldn’t just let me be, could she? It was never enough.

  But I couldn’t stop thinking about her. That was my fault. I had to get her out of my head. Layla was actually starting to look good to me, which was pretty indicative of the desperation I felt.

  I kept my hands off Layla, though. I kept my hands off all women for days, weeks after that last night in Denver. And Abby didn’t seem to care, either. She ignored me just like I ignored her. Sometimes I thought she was just as stubborn as me.

  So we went on that way. She watched practices, sat in on team meetings, treated my teammates for the sorts of injuries we always got once the season started rolling. She was tough, too. She wouldn’t let them give her any excuses for not following her rules, and she had a mouth like a sailor. She fit in just fine. Everybody loved her.

  The funny part was, the more I watched her with them, the more I liked her—even when I hated her. I couldn’t stop thinking about the kid she used to be, but that image of her got dimmer the more I watched her with the guys and the coaches. She was self-assured. She knew her stuff. She wouldn’t let anybody intimidate her. If she thought somebody should sit out a practice or even a game, she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind.

  More than once I saw a few heads shake after she turned away—usually after she had gotten her way. I wasn’t used to seeing a bunch of hardened tough guys break down in front of a woman’s will, and they weren’t used to it, either. It was fun to watch. So I wasn’t the only person who didn’t know which end was up by the time we finished arguing. That made me feel a little better, at least.

  On Thursday we had a meeting after practice to talk about the game plan for the Chiefs, who we’d play that coming Sunday. I spent most of it checking the time since I had somewhere else to be. The practice had run a little long, so I was late. I hoped they would understand and not think I’d stood them up.

  “Any thoughts, Max?” My head snapped up to find Coach Cramer glaring at me.

  “What?”

  He smirked. “You looked a little distracted, so I thought for sure you were going over a plan in your head on how to take care of Kansas City this week.”

  “I don’t need a plan. I only need this.” I flexed my right arm, my throwing arm. A few laughed throughout the room, along with more than a few groans. I grinned, looking around. Abby wasn’t grinning. I looked away. What was her problem? I didn’t like the look in her eyes, like a disapproving parent. If that was the way she was going to act just because we had been together a few times, it was a big mistake I wouldn’t be repeating.

  It had felt like forever before Coach Cramer called an end to the meeting. I hurried out, hoping nobody was disappointed by me being so late. I thought I caught a glimpse of Abby trying to get my attention, but she would have to wait. Forever, as far as I was concerned, since I was getting pretty tired of her attitude. Maybe I was still smarting a little over the way she had acted back in Denver. I couldn’t get a feel for her. What was she really after?

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” I said to the floor administrator when I finally got to Richardson Memorial Hospital. “Practice ran late today. You’d be surprised how quick the coach is to take our phones if he thinks we’re not paying attention.

  She laughed. I’d been visiting the hospital pretty regularly for over a year, so she was used to hearing stories about the coach and the rest of the team. “No problem. The kids can’t wait to see you. They’ve been asking all day how long it will be until you get here.” We walked into the little library together, sort of a makeshift room where the kids could go to read and color and hang out when they didn’t have to be in their rooms. I grinned when their faces lit upon seeing me.

  “Max!” Sally, one of my favorites, ran over to me.

  “Hey, kid. You look great! Better every time I see you.” I picked her up and carried her to the chair I always sat in when I read to the kids. They gathered around me, all of them in hospital gowns, all of them with a reason to spend their childhood in the hospital. Some of them were new, but I was familiar with a lot of them. I never asked where the missing kids were. I didn’t want to know—it was easier to tell myself they had gone home.

  Nobody knew I did it. I tried to go once a week, especially when I was home for a game. When we were on the road, it wasn’t always so easy. Seeing their faces when I walked in, when I settled in with a book to read, reminded me why it was important to keep my commitment to them.

  “We watched your last game, Max! My mommy and daddy sat in my room, and we all watched it.” I gave Tim a high-five. He was wearing my jersey over his hospital gown.

  “We’re playing Kansas City this week. Who do you think’s gonna win?

  The kids answered almost all at once. “You are!” I wished I could always have their enthusiasm. I picked up a Dr. Seuss book and started to read, making it a point to show them the pictures and the whole nine yards. I remembered how weird it had felt when I first started coming with the rest of the team—I wasn’t used to kids, being an only child. No nieces or nephews. But I couldn’t help but warm up to them. They were all so open, so cheerful even when it didn’t look like they much to be cheerful about.

  When I finished the second book, I looked around at the kids. They all smiled and clapped, already asking for another book. I told them I’d read one more, and everybody had a request. Their voices overlapped as they called out their favorites. I didn’t usually feel that kind of pressure even on the field.

  I was still laughing as my eyes caught hers. I didn’t know when she had walked in, or even how she knew I was there. I only knew Abby stood there by the door, a tear rolling down her cheek. I held her stare for a few seconds, then turned my attention back to the kids. There was no ignoring them.

  She left just as quietly as she had shown up. By the time I finished the last book, she was gone.

  20

  Abby

  I waited for him outside the hospital, unable to understand the two sides of him to make sense in my head. Was he the cocky asshole or the caring, sweet person I’d always seen inside him?

  It made me think of when we were young when we’d sit together on my front porch late at night. Dad wouldn’t let him come in after eight o’clock, which I’d thought was ridiculous. Like anything was going to happen between us except talking.

  But Max had always respected Dad’s rules. We would sit and talk for hours, usually about Max and his life and the things that worried him. He didn’t like being one of the popular kids—at the time I’d never understood what the problem was. All I’d ever wanted was for the popular crew to like me, to let me be part of their lives. He used to insist that he wasn’t as gr
eat as it looked from the outside. One wrong move, he’d tell me, and it was all over. He was always being watched, never able to make a mistake. And never, ever allowed to do anything but dominate on the football field.

  I saw the depth of his soul back then, though I’d told myself over the years that I’d tricked myself into thinking there was more to him. It was always easy to see the people we loved as being special, better than everybody else. I’d convinced myself that he was actually as shallow as he’d appeared, that he’d used me because I had adored him. Was that entirely true? Maybe there had been more, after all.

  It had taken another half hour before he exited through the lobby doors, and I could tell from the way he looked around that he expected me to be waiting for him. He knew I wouldn’t leave without knowing more. I got out of my car, walking the short distance to where he waited for me.

  “That was nice to see,” I murmured, smiling.

  “How did you find me?”

  “I followed you.” It wasn’t easy to admit. “I wanted to talk to you after practice.”

  “About what?”

  “I noticed you were favoring your throwing arm a little. You looked tentative. I knew you wouldn’t come to me with any concerns, so I decided to go to you.”

  “Oh. I’m fine, just a little tight today. No big deal.”

  “How long have you been doing this?” I asked, nodding toward the hospital lobby. “Does anybody else do it, too?”

  He shook his head. “We started an outreach thing last season for PR. You know how it goes. Photo ops. But I kinda liked it. The kids obviously looked forward to it, and they would be so happy when we’d show up. Once the program ended, nobody else cared. So I kept coming back to read to the kids. No big deal.”

  “No big deal,” I repeated, shaking my head. “Maybe not to you. But you know it’s a big deal to them. It’s really sweet of you.”

  “Whatever.” He shrugged. Why couldn’t he just show what was in his heart, just once? If he did, if he had the courage to be the man I knew he was …

  We fell silent. There was so much between us, I could almost touch it. That tension was back, but it was more than that. A whole ocean worth of unspoken words, things we were both afraid to say. I couldn’t blame him for hiding what was inside him since I’d made a career of hiding was what inside me.

  “Can I ask you a favor?” My voice was weak with nerves. If he said no, I wouldn’t be able to face myself.

  “Okay.” He sounded tentative. Of course, he was—I’d hardly spoken a word to him in weeks.

  “Come back to my apartment with me. Now. Please.” I needed him. Just standing that close to him, having an innocent conversation, was almost too much. I wanted to attack him then and there, especially after seeing him with those kids. The way his face lit up when he laughed at something silly they said. The way he hugged them with a broad smile. The way he made them so happy.

  “Nah, I don’t think so.” He shook his head with a sad smile. I couldn’t breathe—it felt like something was sitting on my chest, harder and harder. Maybe even jumping up and down. I’d humiliated myself.

  Then, he continued. “Not your place. My place.” He reached out, the backs of his fingers gently stroking my cheek where a tear had escaped my eye and rolled down as I watched him with the kids. It felt like the sun breaking through thick, dark clouds after a storm. Everything was flooded with light, happiness. I could only nod in reply before we went to our cars. I knew the way to his house. I knew it by heart.

  “You know what I was thinking about earlier?” I asked, sitting on his bed. We’d only just arrived, and he opened the windows to let the fresh sea air into the room. I watched the thin curtains billow as the breeze came in.

  “What?” He joined me on the bed, stretching out on his back. I rolled onto my side, facing him.

  “My dad and you. How he wouldn’t let you come in after eight o’clock, since he was always reading in his room by that time. He didn’t trust us alone.” I snorted.

  He grinned. “Yeah. He was strict. How is he?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “Okay, I guess. We don’t talk much anymore. It’s always been too awkward. He never knew how to tell me he loved me, so he always held me at arm’s length. Remember?”

  “Yeah. He looked like his arms would break when he tried to hug you. He was military. They don’t teach you to let your feelings out,” Max reasoned. He stroked my back. “It didn’t mean he didn’t love you.”

  “I know. But after enough years of not knowing what to say to each other, it gets easier not to try.” I shrugged, having gotten over it a long time before that. Then I giggled. “I always thought you were afraid of him.”

  “I was,” he admitted with a chuckle. “Probably the only man in the world I’ve ever been afraid of. He’s a tough guy.” Max rolled over until he was nearly on top of me and I was on my back. We got down to the business of why we were there, slowly undressing each other. There was no discussion over whether we would do it or not, or whether it was right. It felt good, and that was all that mattered.

  “He did one thing right,” Max murmured, kissing my throat as he unbuttoned my blouse.

  “What?” And why were we still talking about my father?

  “He raised you. He did a good job.” He lifted his head, looking at me. “A very good job.”

  “You think so?” I chuckled, running my fingers through his hair.

  “Yeah. He raised a special person.” I frowned, and he noticed. “Don’t you think you’re special?”

  “I can’t say I ever thought about it,” I admitted. No, there was nothing special about me. Just another person who worked her ass off to get where she was, and always felt that she came up short.

  “Believe me. You are.” He went back to work without telling me what made me so special, but it was all right. He didn’t need to. He showed me what he thought with the way he kissed me, the way he touched me with so much gentleness. The rough urgency of our last time together wasn’t there. It was more like we explored each other, taking our time, even having fun.

  It was almost a dream come true, a man like him on top of me, telling me I was special. Because I believed him—other men had tried to tell me the same thing, especially the players on the teams I’d worked for. The ones who had tried to bed me, the way they bedded so many other women. I couldn’t believe it because I didn’t trust them. I trusted him. I believed he meant it.

  When he kissed me, something special happened. I couldn’t name it if I tried—I only knew that it wasn’t just hot, or sexual. There was a deep sensuality to it, and I sighed as I kissed him back. He had what I’d been missing. I could trust him. I could hold him close to me and touch him and let him touch me and taste me, and I didn’t have to hold back. We could take our time. I could laugh one second and cry out in ecstasy the next.

  We had fun, rolling back and forth, wrapped up in each other, kissing and touching. Exploring. He liked it when I stroked the area just over his tailbone, gasping and gritting his teeth when I did. I loved when he licked the back of my neck, which I had never known I enjoyed. We even wrestled a little, with him pinning me down and daring me to get up. I couldn’t move for laughing so hard, and soon he was laughing, too. Our laughter evolved into kisses, and more kisses, and his well endowed cock pressing against my inner thigh.

  Even then there was no urgency. He took his time building me up, kissing every inch of me. I watched him, the great care he took in being gentle and sensual. His tongue swept over my inner ankle, the insides of my knees. I couldn’t believe how such simple touches could set me on fire the way they did.

  When he finally entered me, making me feel complete like only he could, it was the sweetest sensation. So good, so powerful. Power moving back and forth from him to me and me to him as he moved and I moved, and we created something beyond the two of us.

  I wrapped my legs around his waist, holding him closer, wanting to feel all of him at once. I kissed his neck, h
is shoulder. His warm breath on my skin, his tongue licking me until I shivered as he plunged inside my pussy over and over. I raked my nails over his shoulders, his back, crying out softly as the pressure built. I couldn’t stand it. I had to release the tension inside, and when I did, I convulsed around him, pulsing, trembling. He sighed, grunting with each deep thrust that seemed to fill more than just my body.

  He pushed himself up until we were face to face, brushing his lips over mine. I tasted saltiness there—our mingled sweat. I licked it off, and he trembled.

  My hands found his, and I linked our fingers as his thrusts sped up, grew sharper and deeper. We built together, slowly climbing. I watched his face changing as the pleasure overtook him, and we came together. Something happened then, too. I felt closer to him than I ever had. Than I ever had to anybody, really.

  He fell on top of me, knocking the wind from me for just a second before I settled into bearing his weight. I stroked his back as his breath slowed. Our hearts shared a rapid rhythm, our chests pressed together. It was all so perfect, right down to the salty sea breeze coming in through the open windows.

  My heart swelled and throbbed with joy. I could never pretend I didn’t love him, not ever. I only wished it could always be like that—just the two of us and nothing else, no one else.

  21

  Abby

  The following Sunday was a home game, and I stood on the sidelines watching the team warm up. It was unusual for me to stand out there, watching, but I was concerned about Max.

  I watched him toss the ball to Trey, who was looking better than he had all season. He’d been a good boy and followed my orders, exercising his knee when I wanted him to and staying off it when I advised. Patrice had made sure he listened, giving me updates almost every day. Between the two of us, there had been no choice. He grinned after completing a quick run, waving at me. I gave him a thumbs up.