by Marie Harte
Her cheeks burned. She croaked, “Sounds good.” Amazing. Incredible. Exciting.
“Yeah, good.”
Elliot cleared his throat.
Gear didn’t glance at him. He grabbed his phone from his back pocket and gave it to Sadie. “Gimme your number.” At her look, he tacked on a rumbled please.
She chuckled and gave him her contact information. “Just follow the KISS principle, and I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”
“Keep It Simple, Suckass?”
“Keep It Simple, Stupid, but yeah. I like your version better.”
“Thank my dad. He’s a real wordsmith.”
She smiled. “Call or text. And if you don’t, it’s no biggie.”
He quirked his lips. “Actually, it is a biggie. And I think you know I’m not lying.”
“Shut up.” She wanted to kiss him. Not punch, insult, or kick him to the curb. This man had that something she’d once found and lost long ago. He intrigued her. And God knew he turned her on. “Well, if you really intend to feed me, I like pizza, hot dogs, burgers, and beer. Not all together, but any of them work for me.”
He just stared at her.
“What?”
“Nothing. I’ll text you. I’d better go before your brother stares a hole through my head.”
“Elliot,” Sadie yelled. “Give me a minute. Sorry. He’s a fan of the show. I think he might have cried when rumors started about Motorcycle Madnezz ending.”
“What about you? Ever watched it?”
She hoped she wasn’t insulting him, but Sadie believed in being honest. “Hell, no. I turned it on once or twice for the hot mechanics. But to watch simply for the bikes? Custom or not, boring. Sorry.”
He chuckled. “Don’t be. See you soon.” He leaned in for a there-and-gone kiss and darted away.
“The Flash of kissing,” she complained and put fingers to her lips to keep the sense of him there.
“You fucked Gear Blackstone, didn’t you?” Elliot accused from right behind her.
She jumped and spun around. “Don’t do that.”
He stared at her, his eyes growing so wide it was almost comical. “Tell me something.”
“What?”
She waited for him to lecture her about screwing around on company time, about putting a good face forward. About her responsibilities to Sofa’s…
“What was it like?”
Her slow grin must have said enough, because Elliot followed her home and praised her up and down for being the best sister ever. An inspiration, even.
“I am Xena, Brother. Hear me roar.”
* * *
Monday night, Iris stared at her brother, not sure what to make of him. Yesterday at family coffee, the irate, pigheaded, grumbling brother she’d come to expect since he’d become part of Motorcycle Madnezz hadn’t been there. After watching that disaster of an interview at the Halloween party, she’d expected the family would need to do damage control to prevent him from ripping Brian’s arms off.
Instead, Gear had sat calmly. He listened, he laughed, and he agreed with their father on too many issues to consider his attitude normal.
She glanced from him to Thor, who shrugged. She mouthed at him, “Drugs?”
“Maybe,” he mouthed back.
“Gear, what is going on?” she asked, dying to know. “We saw that interview where they made you out to be the true villain of the piece.”
“Justified considering you had him go as the Joker.” Thor huffed. “If you’d let him flex for the cameras in his Spartac-ass costume, he’d have public opinion on his side right now. Just sayin’.”
“Quit calling it Spartac-ass,” she snapped. “Gear, seriously. What’s going on? And did you have anything to do with Sahara’s attack?”
“Alleged attack,” he said with a grin. “There were no witnesses.”
“You didn’t…?” Thor asked.
Gear’s grin vanished. “Hell no. Much as I wanted to smack her, I’d never hit a girl. And I’d never get someone else to take her out either.” At Iris’s pointed look, he sighed. “Fine. Not girl, woman. But yeah, I saw it go down. It was a sight I’ll take to my grave.” He nodded, his smile back in place. “Not only did Sahara get socked in the face, but the chick who delivered it is hot as hell and mean as shit. Like, wet-dream hot.”
“Ew.” Sometimes Iris could use a little less of Gear’s detailed descriptions.
Thor straightened. “Tell me more.”
Iris fetched them bowls of simple spaghetti and wondered about this “hot-as-hell chick.” Gear’s taste in women had been questionable before, but dating Sahara had taken him down a dark path. Iris had never liked the gold digger, and the more she came to know of Sahara—and sadly, Brian—the more she regretted ever encouraging Gear to do that show.
“Not much to tell, really. After that awful interview, I circulated around the crowd as the Joker. It was weird. A lot of the guys didn’t seem to mind me either way, but the women hated me. Anyhow, I took Iris’s advice and changed into my devil costume. With the half mask and no beard, no one recognized me. It was great except for the drunk women groping me all over the place.”
Thor sighed. “I knew I should have gone. Any men groping?”
“No, or I’d have pounded them into tomorrow,” Gear growled.
“Too bad. Next time invite me to this Joaquin’s. Sounds like it was fun.”
Gear shrugged and stuffed his face full of noodles. After a moment, he continued. “It would have been a kick-ass party if not for the show crap. Anyway, I was looking for a place to chill and eat, and man, the food was awesome.” He wore a goofy grin that alarmed her.
“Gear?”
“Right. Anyway, killer food, killer music, and then a killer right hook.” He laughed again, sounding more carefree than he’d been in ages. “I found a place out of the way to kind of hide out and eat. Right next to this woman dressed as an Amazon. She looked good, I mean, real. Muscle on her, she was sexy, and she didn’t come on to me or anything. Maybe because I wasn’t Gear Blackstone, just the devil. But it felt good. We talked, made fun of the morons on the dance floor. Then we overheard Sahara and Brian admitting to setting me up. I have to tell you, it felt good. Finally someone else hearing the truth.”
Thor nodded. “Vindication.”
“Exactly.”
Iris was more curious about this woman than everything else he’d said. Gear seemed almost…enamored.
“So where Sadie and I were, we were hidden from the crowd by a wall of bamboo trees. When Brian and Sahara came out, I darted away. Didn’t want to deal with them, because if I had, I’d have ended Brian. I mean, ended him.”
Iris believed it. Of her two brothers, Gear had a lot more in common with Otis than Thor did. And her father put the Bad in badass.
“So what happened?” Thor asked, his dinner forgotten.
“Sahara being Sahara tried bitching out my friend. Turns out Sadie doesn’t give a shit about Madnezz or Sahara. And when she told Sahara to stick her head up her ass, Sahara cursed her out, then slapped her.”
“She hit your friend?” Iris asked, dumbfounded.
“Yep. A solid crack on her cheek. I’ll be honest. I thought it was all for show. You know Sahara’s full-on hissy mode?” At their nods, he added, “But it wasn’t. Then it was too late. Sadie clocked her. Gave her a mother of a black eye.” He sounded cheerful and consumed food like he hadn’t in months.
Thor watched him with a thoughtful expression. “So you watched sexy Wonder Woman—”
“She was dressed as Xena, though her name’s actually Sadie.”
“Xena hit Sahara. But she never knew who you were?” Thor asked.
“She didn’t until yesterday. She left her sword behind, so I returned it.” To Iris he said, “It was a piece of crap. Nothing like your s
tuff in the shop.”
She preened a little. “What happened when she realized who you are? God, Gear. If she’s found out, your name will be dragged through the mud even more. I just know people will think you put her up to it.”
He gave her a dark grin. “Put her up to what? Like I said, no witnesses. And no one but Jim saw me in the devil costume.”
“Sadie could tell. She’d get a ton of money if she went to the tabloids,” Iris said.
Gear seemed to consider that, then shook his head. “Nah. Not her. I admit I messed up with Sahara. She had a great body and skills with… Well, never mind that. But I learned my lesson. Trust me. If anything, Sadie wants out of the limelight.”
“How’s that?” Thor frowned. “She knows who you are. How can you be sure she won’t tell all or just make up stuff like Sahara and Brian did?”
Gear shook his head. “Nope. I asked her out yesterday. She turned me down until I said we’d eat in.”
“You asked her out?” Are you insane? Iris wanted to shake her brother, to get him to settle down away from the press and the mess his career had become. But Gear only did what Gear wanted to do. Not even Otis could get the dunderhead to listen if he didn’t want to.
“I know what I’m doing. Besides, she doesn’t want a relationship, and neither do I. What’s wrong with me enjoying a woman’s company for no other reason than fun?”
“Not a thing,” Thor said over her spluttered protest. He shot her a look to keep quiet, so she did.
After Gear left an hour later, she turned to Thor and punched him in the arm.
“Ow. How is that enlightened behavior? That’s not very positive, Iris.”
“Shut up. How can you stand by and watch as he ruins his life all over again?”
Thor shrugged. “It’s his life. And I don’t think he’s ruining anything. Look, the show is over for him. He knows that and still has to come to grips with what that means. Public sentiment is against him. As much as Gear has never cared what people think of him, it can’t be easy to have strangers paint you as the villain all the time. If this woman makes him happy, who is she hurting?”
“Well, I don’t trust her.”
“Okay.”
“And I’m going to make sure he doesn’t get hurt again.”
Thor sighed. “And just how will you do that?”
“I have my ways.”
“Of course you do.” After helping with the dishes, Thor hugged her good-bye.
Iris took out her favorite set of tarot cards, her own design. She did a reading for her brother, nonplussed at the results. So was he going to be blessed or cursed? Right now, the future didn’t seem so certain. Change featured prominently in his future, something she already knew.
But one thing was for certain—Iris would move heaven and earth to keep her big brother’s heart safe from being crushed. And heaven help anyone who stood in her way.
Chapter 5
Wednesday night, Gear waited for Sadie to arrive, happier than he could say that she’d accepted his invitation. Astounded to find photographers outside his house in West Seattle, he’d arranged instead to meet at his parents’ place in Ballard. He couldn’t believe anyone considered him newsworthy. Even at the height of Madnezz, he’d thought people nuts for constantly commenting on what he wore to work or how long his beard had gotten. Who the hell cared? He created custom bikes for a living.
After he’d gotten used to the money from each episode, he hadn’t minded the media attention so much. Paid sponsorships for clothing lines and his personal brand on a bike? Nice. Now, the only things he would take away from his time with Madnezz, courtesy of his expensive lawyer, were his paid-for house and his shares in the garage, provided the network settled on their last compromise. The garage, his designs, the clients—they would all belong to the network. And yeah, he was an asshole for signing his rights away and not getting a lawyer to oversee the initial contract. His own fault for listening to Otis that once.
“Lawyers are scum-sucking sacks, boy. You know what you want. Why pay some rich asshole to tell you what you already know?”
“Great advice, Dad,” he mumbled. He’d put aside some money for his future, for those rainy days when his finances took a hit.
It had been raining over his head for some time. He had a feeling he’d need to use up most of his savings to start anew, and that bugged the shit out of him. Why should Sahara and Brian use the foundation he’d laid to get rich while he had to walk away from his brand, his merchandise, hell, his fucking garage?
He’d miss the mechanics, Smoke most of all. But he’d be damned if he’d beg to stay or try to convince the guys he hadn’t been lying and stealing from the show. If they didn’t know his character after years of working side by side, they never would.
His mood started to sour, so he forced himself to relax and check the place out, something to occupy his mind until Sadie arrived.
He’d changed the sheets in the spare room he normally used when he stayed over. Condoms in the drawer, a few lit candles for the mood. His mother was a fanatic about cleanliness, living with Otis. So he understood how she’d gone off the deep end. He had no worries about cleaning up the rest of the house. With Otis and Orchid visiting distant cousins in Spokane for the week, he had the place to himself.
The place…and Sadie Liberato. Man. Talk about a hot piece of ass. Amused that she’d probably consider that a compliment and not some affront to womanhood, he figured to mention that to her after he got her naked. Because, just…damn. The woman was a work of art.
Gear didn’t have a type when it came to women. Or maybe he did, because the last few he’d dated, even before Sahara, had wanted a man to take care of them. He’d liked being the big, strong type. Until all the neediness had worn thin. But Sadie didn’t seem to have a needy or meek bone in her body.
Shit. They’d fucked at a party where anyone could have come upon them. She hadn’t been ashamed, sorry, or weird about it afterward. She guzzled beer, didn’t sugarcoat her opinions, and openly admitted to a fondness for pizza and burgers.
He was half in love with her already, and that wasn’t counting their intense physical connection. Because, day-um, just thinking about how hard she made him, how powerfully she could kiss, or how hot and tight her pussy had been had him ready to go right now.
He groaned and tried to relax, wishing he hadn’t worn jeans because he could feel his zipper making an impression on his dick. He’d been in lust countless times in his life. He liked to fuck. But he didn’t turn into walking wood from one encounter with a chick. Because every time he thought about Sadie, he first remembered her dark-green eyes looking mean. Then he recalled her snug fit around him, those long, muscular legs and tight biceps. The woman had tone, and he loved it.
Swearing under his breath, he tried to ease his jeans from his cock and wondered if he had time to jerk off before she arrived. So at least he’d look like less of a desperate fool with a constant hard-on.
The doorbell rang.
He counted to ten, thought about his mother, his father, Thor’s foray into bisexuality. Then he thought about Sahara and Brian going at it in his own damn bed. And he lost his hard-on.
He answered the door. “Yo.” Real smooth, Gear.
She frowned at him, and his erection returned full force. He swallowed a groan.
“I’ve been waiting here for like ten minutes.”
“Try ten seconds.”
“Yeah, well, let me in.”
Charm was not her middle name. And he liked her all the more for it. He stepped back, and she walked past him. He caught a whiff of sugar and cherries.
“You smell good.”
“I smell like bear claws, but yeah, I agree. I smell good.” She grinned.
She’d kept her hair down long, the brown so dark it looked black. She’d worn little to no makeup, and her fresh
look only enhanced her blatant sexuality. Sadie Liberato wasn’t pretty, to tell the truth. But she was fascinating, intriguing, and more than attractive. Harsh yet soft, with a full mouth made for kissing. And with any luck, sucking.
He groaned.
“You okay?”
“Dirty thoughts, but they’ll keep.” He took her jacket, a bright-pink outdoors coat. “Pink?”
He caught her glancing at his crotch and saw her smirk. Not offended by his arousal—good.
“I like pink. I like brown and green too. And guess what else? I’m hungry. Where’s the food? Or was that just an excuse to bend me over the couch and do me?”
He choked, not having expected that image to knock him for a loop, but why she should surprise him, he didn’t know. Sadie was unlike most women he’d dated. Blunt and raw, she didn’t seem to play games. Then again, Sahara hadn’t seemed like such a deceitful witch at first either…
“You okay?” She sighed. “I’m being too me, aren’t I?”
“Nope. Not yet, anyway.” He smiled and took her by the arm, dragging her to the kitchen.
“Nice place.”
He laughed. “That’s kind of you. But it’s not mine. The incense, altar, and Buddha statues belong to my mother. And you can put all the manly biker art and animal sculptures and paintings on my dad’s shoulders. I’m a simple guy. My parents like clutter. It’s clean, but it’s busy.”
“Ah, yeah, it is. But it’s charming.” She smiled, and he liked that she meant it.
“What would you like to drink?”
“I’ll have water, actually.”
“No beer?” He took one for himself after filling her glass.
She swallowed down half, then said, “It was hot in the kitchen today. Heater problem. We’re calling in the furnace guys tomorrow. In the meantime, I got seriously dehydrated.”
“You okay?” He frowned.
“Oh yeah. I try to make sure I get eight glasses a day. Otherwise I get burned out faster at the gym.”
