by Carmen Faye
Vance grit his teeth. He couldn’t let this happen, and he watched for an opening to knock out the leader’s other knee. He had faith that Dusty could draw his gun fast enough and get a lock on the man holding Maya, if Vance could just take down the leader.
“Hey!” came a voice from behind, followed by the distinct sound of a shotgun being cocked. Vance released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Joe had managed to get in and grab the shotgun he kept hidden as a theft deterrent, and as Vance glanced back over his shoulder, he saw Joe had it aimed at the leader’s head. “You know how far your brains will splatter if you lay another hand on any of my brothers? You’d best get the fuck out of my bar, ese.”
He saw the Scorpion weigh his options and knew the guy thought he could move faster than Joe could shoot. Vance knew better, but Maya didn’t, and he could barely keep it together as he caught the terrified look in her eyes. She was completely still, and for a moment, all Vance could think was that she was at least three inches taller than her assailant. How could anyone not know she was a model?
But he came back to reality in time to find the other Boys coming back into the bar, all with guns drawn and ready. The rest of the Scorpion crew exchanged worried glances. The six of them were now outnumbered, and with one holding Maya, that made it even worse. Vance almost smiled. What was the old saying? Don’t bring a knife to a gun fight? Morons!
With blood dripping down his face and his kidney aching badly, Vance met the overconfident leader’s eyes and said, “I would suggest you do as the bartender says, man. He’s got a shaky trigger finger and drinks a lot. And these other guys are better shots than me. Things could go very badly for you in the next two minutes, or you could choose to leave.”
Snarling, the guy pointed a finger in Vance’s face. “This ain’t over, man. We’ll find you when you don’t have your bros to count on, and then, you’re dead. Muerto!” He motioned to his gang, and the guy holding Maya reluctantly let her go, throwing her into Vance’s arms. She tripped at the rough handling, but he caught her and held her close as the leader hobbled out the door, followed by the other five Scorpions, all of whom seemed to be suffering from at least a few injuries. He was proud of Cougar and Dusty for doing some damage, and as he looked at them, he saw they weren’t really too banged up.
Four of the Mojave Boys followed the Scorpions outside to make sure they left without causing any damage to the bikes or property, and Vance shook his head. “Damn, boys, talk about a last minute rescue! Nice job.”
Cougar wiped sweat from his brow and nodded. “Tell me about it.”
“Now you have a real problem on your hands, Ice,” Joe told him, uncocking the shotgun and eyeing him with a warning. “That was supposed to be a message. They only wanted a piece of you to make a point. Next time, they come for real blood. I don’t think you should go home tonight, my friend. It’s best if you have some guards around for a while.”
Vance agreed, but he also had plans with Maya. He gazed at her and saw that her eyes were watery. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you at all?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. Not a bruise, not a scratch.” She smiled a little. “I left a mark on him though. Nails come in handy sometimes.” She gave a short, nervous laugh, and Vance saw through the hard outer shell. He was impressed by her strength and her calm exterior. Most of the women he knew would be puddles of fear and tears on the floor right now.
“That’s a girl,” he praised. Still, she looked upset. “I’m sorry about this. I didn’t want you scared. You shouldn’t have been here, involved in this mess.” He regretted ever thinking he could have a normal, decent date with a beautiful, classy woman. And it had been royally stupid to get emotionally charged and consider the possibility of anything more than a short fling.
But Maya touched his cheek, and he felt the bruising that had come from the hit to his nose. “I’m not upset about that, Vance. Come on, don’t you think I’m stronger than that? What do you take me for?” She shook her head. “Yes, it was horrifying, but it’s over, and I’m fine. I can just chalk it up to another adventure. I’m worried about you. We should get you fixed up before you end up looking like some sort of sideshow attraction.”
Vance didn’t know what to say. He had half expected Maya to tell him it had been real and fun but not real fun, run out the door, and drive off toward her photoshoot in L.A. Instead, she was offering to tend to his wounds. The woman was full of surprises, the kind that endeared her to his heart in a way no one had ever managed to do before.
“Take him back to the office,” Dusty said, speaking directly to Maya. “You’ll find a first aid kit in the cabinet, third shelf on the left. I’ll bring a couple of ice packs from the freezer.”
Vance was amused. It was rare that old ladies were ever invited into the back office of the Wheelie Bar. There was too much delicate information stored there, and the Boys were very careful about who might have the opportunity to access that knowledge. Yet, here was one of the most tight-lipped members of his crew, offering to let a virtual stranger back there, and even telling her she could get into the cabinet where all the financials were stored in order to grab the first aid kit and tend to Vance.
What was this alternate universe he was in?
“Come on, big guy,” Maya told him. “Lead the way.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Despite reassuring Vance that she was okay, Maya was quite shaken by the fight. She’d never feared for her life, and though the adrenaline flooding her system gave her a buzz, she reeled from the experience.
She’d put up a strong front, not letting her emotions show through. Surrounded by bikers—and especially by the men who looked up to Vance and had certain expectations for him—she wasn’t going to embarrass herself or Vance. But she was more than shaken, and she had to marvel at how she’d managed to get through the situation without freaking out. She’d gone into survival mode, and now, she was coming back to reality.
Still, she wanted to help Vance clean up and make sure he didn’t need stitches or have his nose set. It didn’t look broken, only swollen, and once they got an ice pack on it, Maya thought he’d be fine.
The office was much nicer than the bar itself, though it was a bit small and cramped. There was a large oak desk that looked to be around the same age as her Gramps, a brand new ergonomic office chair, a loveseat that had probably been retired from elsewhere but looked usable, three filing cabinets, a cot she assumed was used when one of the bikers had too much to drink, and the shelving cabinet she assumed Vance’s friend had referenced.
She pointed to the love seat. “Sit,” she instructed and opened the cabinet. She saw the first aid kit immediately, though to call it a kit was a misnomer. The huge bag looked more like it belonged to a paramedic than a standard kit for emergency purposes. But that was fine. It meant she’d have whatever supplies she needed. She grabbed it and closed the door, placing the bag at Vance’s feet so she could roll the chair over in front of him.
“I can take care of it myself,” he groused.
Maya gave him a warning look. “I’m sure you can, but you’re going to cooperate. Okay?” This was for her sanity. It would keep her busy and distracted while she swallowed the idea that she’d come within inches of death. It changed her perspective on everything—on life, on her own path, and on the way her relationship with Vance was turning out. She seriously had to think about the dangers involved in his life before she let her emotions run away.
He didn’t struggle or turn away as she took alcohol swabs and cleaned the blood from his face. He winced once or twice, and as she cleaned up the mess, it looked like the guy who hit him had been wearing rings. Most of the damage was from a couple of small but gruesome gashes, one on his upper lip and the other at the corner of his nose. Very little blood actually trickled out of his nostril. She had been too caught up in her own circumstances to notice the assailant’s hands.
“It looks worse than it is,” she told Vance. “You were luc
ky.” She didn’t add that she felt like luck had been on her side, too.
“I’m fine, really.” But as he shifted his position, he winced, and Maya frowned.
“Where else are you hurt?”
He chuckled sarcastically. “I took a kidney shot. Trust me, there’s nothing you can do to fix that one.”
She didn’t buy that for a minute. There had to be some way to help him, and she scavenged through the bag as the guy came in with the ice packs. “Here you go, Ice. One for your nose and the other for anything else that’s bothering you.” The smirk on his face amused Maya. He was obviously referring to the unsatisfied sexual tension that Maya felt as heavily as she knew Vance did.
Her date rolled his eyes and said, “Take off, Dusty. And don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.” When he was gone, Vance looked up at her with the prettiest puppy dog eyes she’d ever seen. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Maya nodded, holding up a bottle of acetaminophen and a packet of aspirin powder. “We’re going to coat the area with this, you’re going to swallow two of these, and then we’re going to put an ice pack on it. Got it?”
His expression showed his reluctance, but he nodded. “There’s a sink around the corner to the left.”
Maya didn’t hesitate. She grabbed an empty cup from the desk and carried it to the sink, rinsing it and putting enough water in it to make a good paste. When she came back, she told Vance, “Take off your shirt.”
He removed the ice pack from his face to show a salacious grin. “Are you trying to take advantage of me, young lady?”
She rolled her eyes but grinned. “That comes later. Right now, let’s see the nasty wound.” And as he lifted the hem of his shirt, it was pretty nasty. The bruise was already coming to the surface, creating black and red and purple splotches over an area at least five inches tall and six or seven inches wide. “That’s a good one,” she said, making a face as she blended the powder into the water with her finger.
With a gingerly touch, Maya began to smooth the paste over the bruised area, dabbing it lightly and then rubbing it in with very little pressure. Vance sighed. “You have a nice touch. And you’re pretty handy at first aid.”
“I took a course in emergency medical training in college. I’m also still a licensed lifeguard,” she replied, trying not to think about the compliment. “My mother had heavy hands with wounds, and I’ve always tried to be better than that.”
“You’ve succeeded,” he told her in a matter-of-fact tone. “Why did you take those courses? Did you want to be a doctor or something?”
Maya didn’t talk about her aspirations in life before becoming a model. This opportunity had fallen into her lap and took off, putting her on a very different course in life than she’d planned. She was groomed now to be behind the camera, directing photoshoots when she couldn’t star in them anymore. She’d even worked with Tyra Banks a couple of times to get the feel for using the camera and directing models, preparing herself for the inevitable aging process.
Now, she shrugged as she worked, refusing to meet Vance’s inquiring gaze. “I thought I was going to be a pediatric nurse, work at a children’s hospital, maybe in the cancer ward or something. I’m good with kids. That’s part of why I enjoyed being a lifeguard. It wasn’t about wearing a bathing suit or being at the pool all day, and I didn’t care about the boys.” She got enough of that everywhere she went as a teenager.
“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who had such a selfless goal.” Vance sounded inspired, as if in awe of her wishes, and as she finally glanced up at him, she saw an incredible amount of respect staring back at her. It boosted her ego a little, even if she had given into the draw of fame and fortune in the end. “Why did you give it up?”
Maya pursed her lips. This was a difficult subject for her, and she vowed that if she divulged this information to Vance, he was going to give her something in return. “One of my friends convinced me to come with her to an audition, and the recruiter begged me to sign on. There was a $5,000 signing bonus, and I wanted the money to finish paying for school. It was only supposed to be a six-month contract. It turned into a very lucrative career.”
Vance shook his head. “Just how famous are you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know how to quantify that. The requests keep coming, and so does the money. When I’m too wrinkled or washed up, I have options. I can choose my projects, move around whenever I want, and turn down jobs at will. It gives me a lot of freedom.” It sounded peachy on the surface, but it wasn’t particularly fulfilling in her eyes.
She finished administering the paste and excused herself to wash her hands before they went numb from the medicine on them. She took that time to reset, not wanting the lost dreams to bring her down. She already had enough worries right now and didn’t need to dwell on past disappointments. It was difficult enough to think about how much the thought of Vance being injured bothered her. Her feelings were twisted into a mess, and she needed to work out the knots. If she was stuck in the past, she sure as hell couldn’t figure out the present or the future.
Back in the office, Vance lounged shirtless on the loveseat, looking delectable, despite the cuts on his face and the bruised upper lip. His nose was almost back to normal already and wouldn’t be a problem. He wouldn’t even have a shiner from the punch. His side looked a little worse for the wear, but it didn’t take away from the beauty of his hard muscle.
He reached out to her with one arm, and she took his hand, letting him guide her down to sit with him. She was pressed tighter against his side than was probably advisable, considering the way her heart started to pound, but she certainly didn’t want to move away from the warmth of his body. It went a long way in soothing her nerves. But in the silence, she found herself wanting to fill the silence and asked, “What about you? Did you grow up planning to join a motorcycle club, or did you aspire to some other passion?”
He seemed to consider the question as he casually draped his arm around her shoulders, assuring she wouldn’t pull away from him. “As a kid, I thought like all kids. I wanted to be a fireman or an astronaut or a football player. When I had a grasp on reality, I considered being a pilot or maybe a high school coach.” He shook his head, his gaze focused far away on some memory. “I gave those ideas up before I turned fifteen. I didn’t have the resources or the support to pull it off, so I knew I’d have to try something else. Something a little less professional.”
She nodded. The story he’d told earlier had blank spots, but she filled them in. His mother had either been on drugs or selling them. And whether for that or something else, she’d gone to jail. He’d probably done something stupid out of anger that landed him with the Mojave Boys, and he considered them to be his saviors, having rescued him from a bad situation. She didn’t say any of this and didn’t ask any other questions about it. She didn’t want to embarrass or upset him.
Instead, she reached up to comb her fingers through his hair, liking the way his soft locks felt and curled around her hand. She took in the small lines around the corners of his eyes, noting that some were obvious laugh lines while others were worry lines caused by stress and loss. The same was true around his savory lips, with a few curves from a smile but mostly crinkles from frowning and being overly serious. The line above his nose was deep from scowling and spending too much time deep in thought.
She felt his hand curl around her shoulder an instant before he pulled her in for the kiss that had been so rudely and frighteningly interrupted earlier. She didn’t allow the kiss to be tender, needing to dive into it and devour him. Things could have turned out very differently, and they might never have finished it. She turned her whole body into him, and without thought or care for control, she straddled his lap, her only caution for the bruised side.
Vance fisted his hands in her hair and tilted her head, his tongue tangling with hers as he drank more deeply of her. Maya moaned into his mouth and didn’t hesitate when he reached to draw her sh
irt off. His hands fell on her breasts, and she sighed, desperate with need for him. As he squeezed and molded them, tweaking her nipples and rolling them between his fingers, Maya threw her head back and reveled in the sensation. She let her body control the situation rather than her mind, not wanting any concerns to take this pleasure away from her.
She rode him sensually, coaxing the erection in his pants to grow longer, harder, and more insistent while her hands traced his body, carefully avoiding the bruise on his side. Instead, she focused on his chest, the lines of his abs that rippled as his breathing grew faster and more labored with his arousal. She kissed his neck and nibbled up the side to his ear, noting a slight bruise just below his earlobe as she suckled at it. He had taken a blow there, one she’d apparently missed, and she was tender as she licked and sucked.
Vance moaned, and he reached around, cupping her ass and shoving her harder against his groin. His shaft so intimately pressed to her center made her purr, her core molten and ready for him, begging to feel him inside. She wanted to coat him in her moisture, and she pulled back, unsnapping his fly. She reached in and drew him out, admiring how firm and smooth he was.
