“Parole requirements?”
“Not to leave the country. Report in once a week.”
“He’s got plans, then,” Repo murmured, using his elbow to prop himself up. “You need to keep those eyes on her. I’m sure he probably has a fucking list of little girls he wants to check in on.”
The way he said those three words instantly forced a shudder straight up my spine, it visibly moved through my body and set me right on the fucking edge. Those were less than my fucking parole requirements, and I didn’t rape a little girl, knock her up, and then bury her in a shallow grave. The system was fucked.
“Before, watching out for Phee was merely a precaution,” Shotgun announced, looking directly at me. “Now, I’m starting to think things are a little more serious.”
“Same,” Shake agreed, a sharp tone to his voice. “I need you to get closer. As close as possible without freaking her the hell out or letting her know there’s something going on.”
“Why don’t you just tell her?” I questioned, shifting from one foot to the other. I’d spent time with her this week. A couple of hours here and there. Just talking. I hadn’t told her big brother that, but I was already close. Close enough that the issue of lying to her was beginning to fucking get to me.
That little prick of guilt was stabbing me in the back of my brain.
Eating at me.
But there was nothing I could do.
If he told me to keep her in the dark, I would. Because that’s his sister, not my fucking old lady, and how he chose to protect her was his choice. A choice I had to fucking respect, even though I knew one day it was going to blow up in my fucking face.
He shook his head, the movement completely confident. “Phee’s been living this life of fucking fear since Mom and Dad died. I don’t want her to have to worry about this, too.”
“We’ll get the guy before it gets that far,” Shotgun reassured him, smacking him hard on the back before climbing off the barstool. “Come on, boys. You need to rest before you make the ride home in the morning. The bar staff will do that shit tomorrow when they get in.”
“No problem, just gotta put this shit out the back so the cleaning crew can get in,” I explained, waving them off. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
“I’ll help,” Bandit agreed, taking the second crate of empties and following into the back of the bar. The door shut behind us, and Bandit placed his crate on the floor with the pile of others waiting to be picked up. “So, you gonna tell Shake you’ve got a hard-on for his little sister?”
“You’re meant to be my brother, not my keeper,” I argued, straightening my back and stretching my arms up over my head. Those fucking hours riding, then another six standing around, throwing out the occasional punk with grabby hands on the dance floor, my body was fucking feeling it.
“And you’re meant to be thinking with your head, not your dick.”
“Right now, you’re being a dick.”
His fist drove into my upper arm, and I groaned, rubbing at the place he’d hit me before spinning on my heel with a hard glare. “The club is your fucking life,” he growled before I could even comment. His voice was low, but stern and sharp, the shadows in his eyes letting me know he was taking this shit seriously. “You really want to start this new chapter by lying to your fucking vice president? She worth that?”
“Fucking maybe,” I threw back, swiping my hand through my hair, pulling the long uncontrollable strands back from my face. They desperately needed to be cut, but I was fucking lazy.
Bandit’s eyes narrowed, studying me like he wasn’t sure if I was full of shit or if I were being honest, and truth be told, I wasn’t so fucking sure myself.
“You serious?”
I let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I don’t fucking know, man,” I told him, falling back against the wall. “I’ve known the girl a fucking week. But all I know is I want to know her more. There’s something about her, I just...” I couldn’t figure out if it was my lack of vocabulary that was halting my explanation or the fact there just weren’t exactly words to explain what the hell I was feeling. It was intrigue and curiosity to know more about how she’d become this amazing young woman. But at the same time, there was more.
The room we were in suddenly felt fucking hot and clammy. I fanned myself. “How’d I get myself into this fucking shit?”
“You mean… how’d you get us into this fucking shit,” Bandit growled, letting out a deep breath.
My shoulders slumped. If there was one thing I could count on in life, it was that Bandit would always have my back. He’d let me know how much of a fucking idiot I was, but he’d have my back.
“Come on. We need to get back to Cali.”
“Thought you were gonna punch me there for a second,” I jested, patting his back hard as I followed him out. “Or at least slap me and scream ‘snap out of it!’”
He paused, looking over his shoulder at me. “I reserve the right to use it later.”
“Fuck.”
8
Phee
“What’s that sound?” Layla questioned, her forehead wrinkling as she pinched her brows together.
Kelsey looked up from her homework, tilting her head a little to the side. “Sounds like a motorcycle?” she questioned, looking over at me.
The sandwich in my hands hovered close to my mouth, my body pausing for a hot second, my breathing slowing so I could concentrate. It wasn’t the kind of deep, heavy rumble of the Harleys the boys from the club ride. They wouldn’t be caught dead on anythi—
“Shit,” I cursed, scrunching up my nose and placing my jam sandwich on the counter before jogging out into the hall and down to the front door. It was Sunday. My day off. My entire plan being to lay in bed and watch as many Netflix specials as humanly possible without having to move. But it seemed someone had a different idea.
“Are you stalking me?” I yelled from the front door, shaking my head when he didn’t even flinch or turn to look at me. “Stupid men… think they can just do what they want,” I grumbled, jogging down the staircase and along the path to the curb. He still didn’t turn, so I shoved his shoulder hard, forcing him off balance for a brief second before he caught himself.
I leaped back, forcing my hand over my mouth. “Sorry!”
He wiggled the full-face helmet off, placing it between his legs before he twisted the key, the motor instantly dying off.
“You stalking me?” I questioned again, searching for that way his eyes pinched when he smiled.
He grinned, but it wasn’t the same. Maybe nervous?
There was this different air swirling around him, and it unsettled my stomach a little.
He shrugged. “I was in the neighborhood.”
“Doing what?”
“Looking for you.” The smirk that curled the corner of his mouth was everything. It swept me back in, and I couldn’t help but take an extra step forward. My eyes traced the lines of the baby blue and chrome Yamaha street bike that I hadn’t got the chance to really admire last time I threw myself on the back. It was pretty, cute maybe, but I couldn’t help but compare it to the rides Ham and his brothers owned.
They were something otherworldly, something I found stealing my breath for a moment when they roared by. Where a Harley’s shape curved and rolled in these smooth lines I’d become a lover of, the street bike’s edges were sharp and straight with hard angles swept back.
They were firm, rigid, and nothing like I’d imagined a guy so relaxed as Asher would be interested in.
“You know, my brother would call this a crotch rocket,” I taunted with a grin as I studied the powerful machine.
“Your brother sounds mean,” Asher threw back casually. “Thankfully, he’s not here to hurt my feelings.”
I didn’t even bother to try and hide my gentle laughter. “What are you doing here?”
“Feel like going for a ride?”
It wasn’t the answer I was expecting, my eyes suddenly fli
cking back up to find his gaze focused in on me like he had been watching me the whole time. This warmth began in my stomach, seeping outward like it was moving through my veins and up my neck, my cheeks suddenly feeling hot and flushed.
I couldn’t control the way my body reacted to him.
It was unexpected, but I couldn’t say it didn’t feel good.
Asher was different.
Maybe it was because he was older. There was no showing off like I found guys my age doing, having to flash or flaunt something to get people’s attention. He seemed to cruise, taking the world at his own pace, occasionally inviting you along for the ride.
And today, I knew I wanted to take it.
* * *
Asher/Rein
It was hard as hell to breathe in these heavy masks, especially with your heart pounding so intensely.
My paintball gun only had a few pellets left inside, and we were even with the games at two each. The girl was fucking quick on a trigger, and her aim was on fucking point. I couldn’t help but be a little surprised even though I knew I shouldn’t be.
Phee was something else.
There were times I could see that broken young girl in her eyes. Just flashes, like a rush of pain hitting her like a sudden gust of wind and forcing her to stumble a little before she could catch herself again.
But she always did.
I think she underestimated just how strong she was. How powerful she was.
But I was determined to fucking show her.
Whether it would be the death of me or not—but most likely it would be.
“We could call a truce,” I called, slipping around a purposely built wall that was permanently decorated with circular-shaped paint splatters in every color you could possibly imagine. “Just leave it as a tie and both walk away winners.”
I had no fucking idea where she was, but I needed to hear her voice.
I’d grown up hunting, so it would take one movement or whisper, and I knew I’d be able to find her. The course was like a fucking maze—walls, barricades, barrels, and other shit placed around a small arena. I’d paid the guys outside to let us have this one in particular to ourselves.
“Are you scared, Asher?” she called back with a soft laugh.
My back straightened, and I pulled back toward my right side. She was over toward the corner. I stuck my foot out to cross a tiny opening and was instantly attacked with a barrage of pink paintballs. I leaped back, looking down to check if any had managed to connect, but I was still good.
“Cheap shot,” I called, curling my finger around the trigger of my gun and sucking in a deep breath before popping my gun around the edge of the wall. Pulling hard on the trigger and letting it spray aimlessly before quickly using the fire cover to rush past the opening.
The adrenaline was addictive.
The way it fueled you, excited you, forced you to take these risks you may not if you didn’t have that chemical in your brain urging you forward.
Creeping forward, I looked down. “Fuck,” I cursed to myself, shaking the tube that was attached to my gun. Three fucking paintballs left.
Inching ahead, I peeked around the corner, a grin lighting up my face as I spotted the corner of her vest up ahead. I lifted my gun to my shoulder, making sure my aim was perfect before I fired off those last three bullets, each one connecting with unwavering precision.
Laughter bubbled up, and I dumped my gun on the ground, tearing off the hot, sweaty protective mask and throwing it down too. “Winner, winner—”
Pop. Pop. Pop.
A sudden stinging on my back had me bracing my hands against the walls, gritting my teeth, because these bitches fucking hurt.
“Chicken dinner…” Phee laughed from fucking behind me.
She played me, and I’d taken the fucking bait.
I turned around, the pain starting to fade just slightly as I caught sight of the beauty standing a few feet behind me, her paintball gun propped proudly against her hip. She tugged her mask off, dropping it to the grass, her eyes bright and wide, and the edges curling up with her smile. “I think I won.”
“You cheated,” I accused, unable to keep from smiling as I took a step toward her, closing the space and inching her back against the wall behind her.
“Now, now…… don’t be sad. Maybe next time I’ll let you win,” she teased, lifting her chin as I got closer. She was covered in orange paint from our past four rounds, smears across her face, her neck, and matted through her hair.
And I swear I’d never seen anything so fucking sexy.
I reached out, using my thumb to swipe a large blob of paint from her jaw, while my other hand pressed hard against the wall behind her, boxing her in.
The way her breathing picked up and she leaned into my touch had my heart fucking racing. I was cautious, moving slowly, my fingers tracing her jawline until my hand cradled her face, and I used it to pull her lips to mine.
The distance between us was gone instantly, my mouth brushing against her, seeking permission, waiting for her to tell me what she wanted.
What she needed.
Before I lost my fucking mind.
She sucked in a sudden sharp breath and crashed her lips to mine. It was all I fucking needed. I pressed forward, taking her face in both my hands and swallowing every soft fucking moan and sigh that left her lips. She grabbed the sides of the vest I had on, pulling me even closer, so she was practically pinned to the wooden planked wall at her back.
There was no fucking going back now.
I knew I was falling for her.
I knew Shake was going to have my fucking balls for it.
But I’d take it.
Over and fucking over again if it meant having her.
9
Phee
There were times where words were never going to be enough to explain the emotions that were surging through you. Some feelings, they didn’t need words. Some just didn’t have words. And then there were times like this with Asher, where no matter how I described the way my body was tingling or my heart was racing or any of that crap, it was just never going to do the moment justice.
I couldn’t breathe, and I didn’t care.
He held me tight, our mouths moving in unison, the kisses urgent like I was drowning and he was my air. And every moment we were together made me more and more alive.
I’d been throwing my bricks at people for so many years, hoping to keep them away, scared to be broken down again and scared that maybe I wouldn’t be able to fight my way back a second time.
Asher had dodged every brick I threw.
The small ones and the big ones.
He risked collecting one to the face, so he could get a little closer.
And I was so fucking glad he did.
The butterflies in my stomach felt like a tornado, swirling and scary, but so fucking amazing. His hand curved around my neck, holding it tight, with this kind of assertiveness I thought would scare me. But when it came from him, it gave me an edge of comfort.
I wanted him to take control because I felt like I could trust him to lead.
I trusted him to take it slow, to move with me, and to stop if things got too much because he’d already proved he would.
Tracing the bottom of the protective vest he was still wearing, I found the zipper, dragging it down and pulling it open. The way he completely consumed me was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. And even though our bodies were pressed tightly against each other, I just wanted to be closer. Every inch of me felt like I’d suddenly been struck by an electrical current, and it was making my heart race and my legs weak.
But it was actually all Asher.
“Phee,” he murmured, pulling back just enough for us both to catch our breath. “There are people watching.”
My back straightened instantly, and I twisted my hands in his t-shirt, pressing my face into his neck. I swear I could feel him smirking as he pressed his lips to my head while I could feel my cheeks begin to burn
.
“Come on,” he urged, his arms coming around my waist and his lips falling to my ear. “Let’s get out of here before they get a free show.”
We grabbed our things and rushed out of the small arena, Asher chuckling when I ducked my head to avoid making eye contact with the guy behind the desk. I kept my life very private in all aspects, and with this part of it new and different, I wasn’t all that interested in exploring where it was going in front of an audience.
We both changed out of our clothes and left the rented tactical gear at the desk.
Asher intertwined his fingers with mine as we strolled out the front doors, the Los Angeles heat hitting me like a slap in the face and making me cringe. “You feel like going to my place for a swim?” Asher asked as we headed for his bike parked across the lot.
“Hell, ye—” My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I groaned loudly, digging for a few seconds before I managed to get it out and see my boss’ name on the screen. Pulling Asher to a sudden stop, I hit answer. “Hey, Mitch.”
“Hey, Phee, sorry to catch you on your day off. I’ve had a call from someone at the stables. They said Camomile was not looking well, and I’m out of town,” he explained quickly. “Can you run in and see if her owners need to be called?”
We weren’t far from the stables where I worked.
Maybe twenty minutes.
And the idea of losing one of my horses was already churning my stomach.
“Yeah, I’ll run by and let them know, and then leave it up to them to get in contact with the vet.”
“Thanks, Phee.”
I hung up and looked at Asher with an apologetic smile.
He laughed, shaking his head. “I take it we need to make a stop on the way.”
“It won’t take long.”
We took off like a bat out of hell.
Twisted Steel: An MC Romance Anthology Page 6
