Shayla assumed it was because of her brash and intrusive personality. At least, that’s what she was experiencing at the moment.
“Do you think he’s the kind of guy who pretends he’s going for one thing and then tries to cram it into your butt at the last second? I hate guys who do that. I’m as up for anal as the next millennial girl, but lube exists for a reason.”
Shayla cringed. “I don’t know the answer to that, Meg, and I can’t say I really want to.”
Meg shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”
“Hey!” Shayla said, feeling suddenly territorial. “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to see him again. I just got a bit freaked out last night. I’ve been thinking about it a lot though.”
Meg looked chastened.
“Anyway, it’s a bit of a moot point,” Shayla said with a sigh. “Neither of us have anyway of contacting him.”
Meg shook her head and leaned in closer to Shayla, almost bending in half over her desk. “Don’t you remember? He called in. We’ll have his number saved in our records.”
Shayla’s eyebrows rose, and she tried to choke back the growing sense of possibility. “I didn’t think of that. But won’t there be some sort of privacy law or something? You know, like wouldn’t it be illegal for me to just go swipe his number for my personal use?” She frowned. “The phone lines are Mike’s responsibility, right? I doubt he’d be willing to just to give up a number for me so I could call the swoon worthy biker guy.”
A devious grin rose across Meg’s face. “I can get the phone number.” She winked. “But it’s going to cost you.”
“What would you want in return?”
Meg mulled it over. “Get me one of his hot friends or something.”
Shayla doubted that would be difficult, considering Meg was gorgeous. “Sure. I’ll do my best. How do you plan on getting Mike to bend the rules for you, though? I’m curious.”
Meg bent forward for a moment, reaching her hands into her bra to pull her boobs up to their full advantage, cleavage on full display. “I’m sure I’ll come up with something.”
Shayla laughed. Weekends were always a bit boring, so having the entertainment was nice. Though she began to fret about what she would do when she had the phone number in her possession. Would she actually use it? What if he just laughed at her? What if he said something really mean?
She would probably deserve it if he did.
Still, Shayla’s good old friend anxiety reared its ugly head, filling her with self-doubt. Maybe this feeling of being hung up on him and wanting to call him was just a temporary thing. For all Shayla knew, she could wake up in the morning and feel completely different. What if she didn’t even want him anymore? What if she made a fool out of herself today, only to feel ashamed about it in the morning?
She tracked Meg’s progress across the room, watching as she slipped down the side hallway. Not before giving Shayla a good natured thumbs up, of course. It seemed like Meg lived for this kind of thing. What an interesting girl.
While Shayla waited, she formed a plan. She would wait until the morning to call Luke. It was late already, anyway. What if she called and he was out with another girl? The jealousy she’d felt last night over the waitresses at the restaurant and the bar would be nothing compared to the kind of jealousy she’d feel after hearing some girl giggling within earshot while he told her to get stuffed.
The morning was better.
Shayla must have zoned out, because the next moment she was startled back into the real world by Amy stepping into her view. “Great work last night.”
Shayla blinked. Praise. How did one react to praise? She hadn’t had to do so in a very long time.
“Uh, thanks.”
Solid effort.
“That Luke guy was interesting,” Amy continued. “You guys had a good chemistry. I want to do a follow up.”
Shayla’s mouth went dry. “I’m not sure that will be a good idea…”
“Which is why it’s a good thing you’re not a producer, isn’t it?” Amy’s smile was all sunshine and roses, but her eyes were spears.
“Right. Of course.”
Amy walked away before Shayla had a chance to gather enough words to explain why Luke Cinders, after last night, might not want anything to do with the station anymore. It was probably best for her to wait and see if he rejected her again before she pulled out that little nugget. She doubted anyone at the station would ever commend her again if she’d lost them a story—however insignificant—by being a flailing idiot and clueless coward.
Shayla looked over to the hallway where Meg had disappeared, now more than a little desperate to get Luke’s number. She would still wait until the morning—the jealousy factor still ticked at the back of her head—but she would definitely call. If only to apologize for the way she acted, in the hopes that he would forgive her enough to do another story for the station.
It would be a special bonus if he decided to give her another shot. If that’s what she wanted in the morning, anyway.
Meg rounded the corner with a big grin on her face, waving a scrap of paper. She sauntered up to Shayla’s desk and slid it toward her. “I like them tall and tattooed, but I don’t like beards.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“If there isn’t a no-beard option, I’ll take the beard.”
Despite what Meg thought, Shayla doubted Luke’s pool of friends would be a buffet. Still, the girl had done her a solid. She would do what she could to pay her back for it.
The rest of Shayla’s shift seemed to drag by. At Amy’s behest, she drafted up a few potential interview questions for what Amy called “The Tearful Reunion.” Shayla doubted there would be a reunion, and if there was one there definitely wouldn’t be tears involved.
Unless Luke made someone cry. That was more likely than anyone or anything making him cry. She mused that the day she saw Luke cry would undoubtedly signify the end of days. Fire and brimstone would rain down from the heavens. The seas would flood the Earth. Nicholas Cage would turn down a movie role.
Still, Shayla was a good little media drone. She did her work without complaints or talking back. And, when she got home that night, she stuck the piece of paper with Luke’s number on it to the fridge and stared at it.
She stared at it for way too long. An embarrassing amount of time.
Shayla finally hauled herself up from her kitchen table when her eyelids began to droop, staggering toward her bedroom with tired eyes but a buzzing brain. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to sleep. Too much excitement. She hadn’t been this nervous since she’d approached the platform of her bungee jump.
All that was left was to fall.
Chapter Ten
Considering Luke had never had a girl ditch him on a date before, he wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to go after her or not. He’d been tempted to. His cock had begged him to. But the idea of cruising around the neighborhood, looking for Shayla like she was a lost dog, was too creepy and demeaning for Luke to get on board with.
So he stuck her blazer in his saddlebag and sped home, letting the wind cool him down. He might not have been able to get her off his mind, but at least the cold air got his cock to get with the program. He wasn’t getting laid tonight. More importantly, he’d lost Shayla.
And he fucking hated that.
If it had been any other girl, he would have just stayed at the bar and picked up a new one. No one girl was special enough that he wouldn’t be able to replace her. That’s what he’d thought before meeting Shayla, anyway. And now the thought of cheaply indulging in another brand left a bad taste in his mouth.
He wanted her. In every goddamn way. And he would get her.
But not tonight.
That didn’t mean Luke didn’t jerk off to the thought of her plump lips gliding down his cock once he got home though. And fuck, even that had been good. He couldn’t imagine what the real thing would be like—but he was determined to find out soon.
***
&
nbsp; The morning light streamed through Luke’s window, and he closed the blinds to block it out. He wasn’t feeling in a very sunny mood. He’d woken to a voicemail from KTMA TV’s number, and had eagerly listened to it, thinking it would be Shayla.
It was just that producer lady, wanting to know if he’d contact her regarding doing a follow up story on Achilles. Did that woman never goddamn sleep? How was she already at the station? Did she live there or something?
Luke deleted it, though he did stop for a moment and wonder if he’d be able to use his participation in the story as a bargaining chip to get Shayla’s number. He didn’t though, because he wanted to keep their little evening between them, and he knew he had other ways.
Knowing Sparky wouldn’t be up for at least another couple of hours, Luke made some coffee and hunkered down on the couch, trying not to anxiously watch the clock. Sparky hadn’t gotten his name for being particularly full of energy, as many people thought. He was extraordinarily good with electronics, and liked to fix computers in his spare time. He was also a great hacker. There weren’t many bikers who also knew how to hack an employee database, but damn had that skill come in handy for Luke and the other Trojan members over the years.
Too bad the guy was a night owl to the extreme.
Luke flicked through the channels, finding nothing particularly enjoyable. Daytime TV sucked. He wasn’t sure why he expected any different. He was too wired to take a nap, though. It was the same reason he’d woken up so early. Luke was always an early riser, but that seemed to go twofold when he had unfinished business.
And man, was his business with Shayla ever unfinished.
Luke turned the TV off and groaned, heading to his bookshelves. He had already read everything there several times. It was time to go back to the library. Why had he put it off so long? He was now reaping the reward of his procrastination, and it made him want to scream.
Then he remembered the copy of The Aeneid in his jeans from yesterday, and hunted them down in his room. He slumped back onto the sofa moments later, nose deep in verse. It was the kind of reading that deserved more attention, so he would probably have to reread the sections he was reading now, when he was less distracted, but it would still help keep his mind off things for the moment.
He decided he would call Sparky no later than noon. If the guy didn’t answer the first time, he’d keep calling. Or go over to the hole that Sparky called home. But, come hell or high water, by one he’d have Shayla’s phone number, and he was finishing their goddamn business.
***
At ten forty-five, well before he expected Sparky to even be awake, much less aware, his phone rang and Sparky’s number blazed on the screen. Luke hit the accept button and put the phone to his ear.
“I’ve been waiting to call you. I thought you would be asleep,” Luke said.
“I wish I was, man.” Sparky’s voice was agitated. “We’ve got trouble.”
Luke bolted upright in his seat, letting the book slide out of his lap and onto the floor. “What kind of trouble?”
“I need you to come over here and talk to someone. I’d put her on the phone, but I think you’ll want to speak to her in person.”
That had Luke’s attention. “I’ll be there in five.”
He darted off the couch and grabbed his jacket, slamming his front door behind him as he went. If Sparky was calling him about trouble, and if he had to go somewhere and talk to someone in person, then there was fucking trouble. Sparky was his right hand man. He could deal with most problems by himself without having to get the MC president involved.
The last time Sparky had called him and said he needed to talk, Luke’s life had changed—and it hadn’t been for the better.
Luke hopped astride his bike and peeled off, causing a racket that would have normally thrilled him. But not today. Not when there was something serious happening. His mind raced. Could the woman there be Shayla? Would she have somehow found Sparky if she needed to talk to him but didn’t have a way to? It was all too much. He should have just fucking asked what the girl's’ name was before getting himself all worked up.
Luckily, Sparky’s place was close by. Luke slotted his bike in the driveway next to Sparky's and bounded up the steps, bursting through the door without so much as a knock or a holler.
“In here,” Sparky called from the living room.
Luke’s boots pounded against the laminate, his hands clenched in fists at his sides. He prepared for the worst. He could hear quiet sobs. A woman. He prepared to see Shayla bloodied and broken, crying and ruing the day she ever met him.
But the woman crying on Sparky’s couch wasn’t a woman at all. She was a girl, no more than sixteen years old. Her hair was inky black, but the blonde roots showed through at her scalp. Her clothes were tight and black, with rips and tears that looked like they’d been put there for fashion, not through use. She had been wearing heavy eyeliner and mascara, but her tears had smeared her makeup down her pink cheeks.
He was ashamed at how much relief flooded through them.
“Who is this?” he asked Sparky, allowing his face to soften into something a little less likely to frighten the girl.
Sparky was seated next to her, rubbing her back with one hand but looking very uncomfortable about it. “This is Rose.” He gave her back a pat. “Rose, just tell him what you told me.”
Luke walked over to the coffee table and dragged it back a bit so that he could sit on it without being right in her face. He looked at her expectantly, and watched as she took a couple of steadying breaths.
“My best friend Holly and I were at a party yesterday, and we were both pretty drunk.” Her voice was strained and cracked, like she’d used up all of it on her sobs. “This guy came up to us and asked if we were looking to score. Neither of us had done ecstasy before, but he told us it was the most amazing high. He was cute and Holly thought he was into her, but when we said we’d think about it he just kinda like...I don’t know...moved onto the next girls.”
Rose sniffled, wiping her nose on her arm. Luke didn’t like where this story was going. He didn’t know how it had anything to do with his crew, but the thought of some guy pressuring teenage girls into doing drugs already had his back up.
“So anyway, Holly starts saying she’s going to do it. That she really wants this guy to like her and whatever. But I didn’t want to do it, and I wanted to make sure that he didn’t drug her and rape her or something, so we bought some, but I only pretended to take mine.”
Smart girl. Luke liked her.
She broke down even further, and he knew that whatever came next was going to break his heart, and he’d probably end up breaking someone’s face.
“And then...Oh god... She just fucking passed out. Like starting seizing, right in the middle of the fucking party. I thought he’d fucking poisoned her, but I was too busy calling an ambulance to confront him. Then when they came and got her I couldn’t see him anywhere.” She put her face in her hands. “The doctors said it was cut with something, but like she would have been fine except whatever it was, she was allergic to it.”
Luke swore under his breath. “Did she....”
The girl looked up at him with big, sad eyes. “She’s not dead.” She screwed her eyes shut and shook her head. “But she’s in a coma. They don’t know if she’ll come back. And it’s all my fault! I should have never let her do it!”
Sobs wracked her shoulders again and Sparky continued his awkward comforting.
The story pissed him off, but he still didn’t understand why it had anything to do with him. How had she come to Sparky? Why has Luke been called in to deal with it? He looked at Sparky, his eyes full of those questions, and Sparky tilted his head down to the girl. “Rose, this is not your fault. She made the decision, and you did the responsible thing by taking care of her. I’m going to go talk to Luke and explain the rest of it, okay? You’ve done everything you could. We’ll make sure it’s taken care of from here.”
She nodde
d, her face still in her hands, and Sparky gave her one more pat and stood up. He grabbed a blanket from the other end of the couch and draped it over the girl. “You can stay here and rest as long as you like, Rose. No one can hurt you here. We’ll take care of you.”
She nodded again and slumped down sideways, bringing her knees to her chest and clutching the blanket tightly. Sparky ushered Luke into the other room.
When they were out of earshot, Sparky’s face grew grim. “She lives just down the street from me. That’s why she knew how to find me.”
Luke furrowed his brow. “But why did she come to you? It wouldn’t be one of our guys, and we can’t control what shithead teenage dealers are doing these days. I want to help, but I don’t see how we can.”
Devil's Claim: Apaches MC Page 29
