BAD BOY ROMANCE: DIESEL: Contemporary Bad Boy Biker MC Romance (Box Set) (New Adult Sports Romance Short Stories Boxset)

by Parker, Kylee

  “Taylor?” Namir held his breath as he waited for her to respond. When she didn’t he tried to door, surprised to find it unlocked. He stuck his head in the room and saw her sitting in her desk chair by the window. Her knees were pulled into her chest, and she absently scratched Lancelot’s head. The dog looked back at Namir and whined softly. Even he felt Taylor’s pain. She was like a planet and all else simply orbited around her.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Don’t care.”

  Namir felt her indifference like a knife. Don’t care. God, please make her care. He came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, massaging lightly. Taylor lifted her head and looked at him.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  She lowered her head. “I didn’t want you in the room last night.”

  Namir shrugged, hoping she wouldn’t detect the pain he still felt, the fear he that nearly suffocated him. “I knew you needed space.”

  “I really hate all of this.” Her voice was small and distant, like she was far off trying to reach him.

  “You had quite a few shocks yesterday.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are we…” Namir stopped to clear his throat. “Are we good?”

  Taylor put her feet on the floor and turned in the chair. She rubbed Lancelot’s head before looking up at him. “We’re fine, Namir. You weren’t the problem.”

  He couldn’t help but smile. “I thought…”

  “You thought because you had to tell me that you’re a werewolf that it would change things?”

  “After hearing…all the other stuff on top of it, yeah, I was worried.”

  Taylor stood and put her arms around his neck. She brushed his chin lightly with her lips. “It’s fine. Really.”

  “Greta went to the grocery store. I think she’ll try to do your birthday tonight.”

  Taylor let go of him. “I don’t care about my birthday.” She turned and grinned. “Well, I care about the money. I think we’ll visit Mr. Breslow and get the funds taken care of.”

  “Ok.” Namir was still unsteady. He looked at Taylor wandering her room, randomly touching things like she was undecided and lost. He needed something concrete to help her. He needed something concrete to help himself.

  Namir walked to her and pulled her against him. He buried his head in her messy tangled hair. “Marry me.”

  Taylor’s laugh was like wind chimes, soft and whimsical. “I already told you yes.” She pulled away and held her left hand in front of his face. “See, I have the ring to prove it.”

  Namir’s face was dark and earnest. “No, I mean now. Let’s not wait.”

  Taylor’s smile faded, her pale gray eyes growing large. “What?”

  “I’m serious, Taylor. I don’t want to wait.” He felt excitement building in him. “I want it to be real…right now. I want you to be Taylor Stone. I want our life together to start.” He took her hand and pulled her to him, moving his hips so that they were fit together perfectly. His dark eyes stared into hers. “I want you in my bed.”

  Taylor smile spread and she laughed out loud. “What are we going to do? Run off to Vegas?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “What if I want to get married here?”

  “Then we’ll get a license, get a preacher, and do it here.”

  Taylor laughed again.

  “Please say yes.” The burn in Namir’s chest was threatening to devour him.

  Taylor stepped back and looked at him with scrutiny. She had seen Namir intense (Namir was intense as a general rule) but that was different. Right then she saw hunger. She saw need. She saw love.

  “You can’t just go to Vegas!” Greta complained as she put celery and carrots in the refrigerator.

  “Sure we can!” Namir laughed and out his arms around Taylor from behind.

  Greta pouted. “But I wanted a wedding.”

  Taylor shook Namir’s arms free, and came to Greta, taking both of her hands in hers. Greta had been more of a mother than Constantine had. She had served them faithfully since her father had died.

  “Then we’ll have a wedding.”

  “Really?” Greta grinned.

  “Yes. But small. Just you, Jason, Constantine, and Namir’s mother.”

  Namir’s grin vanished. “My mother?”

  “Yes. I’ll pay for the plane ticket, don’t worry.”

  Namir felt like an ass. He hadn’t even told his mother he was engaged. He hadn’t spoken to his mother in a year.

  “Taylor…things with my mother aren’t exactly right.”

  Taylor put her arm around Greta’s shoulder. “So? This will be a perfect opportunity to make it right.”

  Constantine cleared her throat. No one had noticed her standing in the kitchen doorway. She tried to smile. Taylor noticed her garish red lipstick was gone, and her hair was brushed straight and held neatly at the nap of her neck.

  “I couldn’t help but overhear…and” She struggled with her words. “I would like to help if that’s alright.”

  Namir’s mouth fell open, and he was happy to see Jason’s was too. Taylor, on the other hand, was more graceful.

  “Ok. That would be nice of you.”

  Constantine visibly relaxed. “I’d like to have some time to talk with you, Taylor, if you’re not busy.”

  Taylor glanced at Namir, and he gave her a nearly unperceivable nod.

  “Sure. Let’s walk in the back yard.”

  Taylor and Constantine left through the back door. Jason, looked at Namir and Greta with an odd face. “Wow. If she keeps this behavior up, Constantine will be the new Mrs. Jason Jones.” He smiled wanly. “After the current Mrs. Jason Jones finishes divorcing me, of course.”

  Namir watched Taylor and Constantine from the glass patio doors. He hated spying, but he was still Taylor’s body guard, fiancé or not. They had been out there, meandering to and fro through the back yard for almost an hour, with Lancelot running back and forth around them. A few times Taylor had thrown her hands up in the air, and he could see her mouth working rapidly. At those moments Constantine looked like she wanted to be her usual self, but had reigned it in, giving Taylor a penitent look instead.

  Namir saw them stop, and Taylor wrapped her arms around Constantine’s neck. He turned his head and saw that Jason was still sitting at the kitchen table.

  “You know what I don’t get?”

  “What’s that, Namir?”

  “How has the stalker gotten her new cell number every time you changed it?”

  Jason lifted his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve wondered that very thing all along.”

  Namir turned his head back to the women and saw that they were returning to the house. He was sure they had seen him watching, but he moved away from the doors anyway.

  “Whenever you changed it, who received the number?”

  Jason thought for a moment. “Well, let’s see…myself obviously, Constantine, Greta, and Breslow.”

  “No one else?”

  “Umm…no. Not that I know of.”

  Namir’s eyes darkened. He tried to wipe the look away as the two women walked happily through the door. Taylor looked at him oddly.

  “Are you ok?”

  “Just fine.” Namir said tightly, and put his arm around her waist.

  “Well, I have news.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Mother is staying. She’s giving us the suite of rooms and taking my old room.”

  “Or she could stay in the pool house.” Jason wriggled his eyebrows.

  Constantine rolled her eyes, and turned her attention to Namir. “I hope this is alright with you, Namir.”

  Namir kept his face straight. “Whatever Taylor wants to do is fine with me.”

  “I knew he was a keeper.” Constantine said and winked at Taylor. “Let’s go up and start dismantling my room.”

  “Wait!” Taylor held up her hands. “We haven’t de
cided when the ceremony is happening!”

  Greta walked in with a load of laundry in her arms, heading for the adjacent laundry room. She stopped and stared at them.

  “What?”

  “Taylor was just saying how we need a date for the ceremony.”

  Greta smiled. “I need three days only, but if you want a real wedding cake, you best call a bakery right now!”

  “What does she need three days for?” Jason asked with a yawn.

  “Food.”

  Jason frowned. “It’s only us and a preacher, right?”

  Namir looked at Taylor with a concerned expression. “You think the suite will be ready in three days?”

  “You can do it.” She smiled and patted his chest.

  Jason stood and grabbed Namir by the arm. “Come on, lover boy, we better get to some stores and you both need to get the license.”

  Harrison answered his phone on the third ring, glaring at his mother for sitting idly by and letting it ring.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Taylor.”

  Harrison paused from running a towel over his hair and blinked. “Hi.”

  “I want to talk to you and Odessa.”

  Odessa uncrossed her legs and sat forward on her chair. Harrison glanced at her. “Ok. Should we come there?”

  “No. Meet me at The Oaklands.”

  “The marina?”

  “Yes. I’ll be there at two.”

  “Ok, sure.” Harrison said and ended the call.

  “Well?”

  “She wants to meet us at The Oaklands restaurant at two.”

  Odessa sat back with a satisfied smile on her face. “Children always come home.”

  Harrison stared into space. “We aren’t her family, though.”

  Odessa stood, and glided past him. “We’re her blood. That’s always what matters.”

  “I don’t like this, Taylor.”

  Taylor chewed on her bottom lip. She didn’t like it either, but she couldn’t leave a string this large hanging out of her life.

  The Oaklands Restaurant was a gray and white wonder sitting on a pier directly over the water, and the inside was medium browns with white accents. The nautical feel and slight décor in the same manner was stunning. Namir was getting used to the finery of the rich, but this place was classy without pomp.

  Taylor chose a table for four in the center of the wall of windows. They would be hard to miss. Neither of them spoke as they waited.

  At precisely two, Odessa and Harrison walked onto the compass inlaid in the floor and made their way to the table. Namir stood and held the chair out for Odessa.

  “Thank you.”

  Harrison nodded to Namir awkwardly and barely spoke to Taylor. He looked pale and miserable.

  “I’m shocked you wanted to see me.” Odessa purred.

  “I have questions.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “For starters, what are you?”

  Namir looked at her sharply. She couldn’t possibly know!

  “You mean my race?”

  “Yes.”

  Odessa smiled and smoothed her slender hands over the dark green fabric of her dress. She paused as the waiter took their drink orders before continuing. “I’m French and Haitian mostly, but the Haitian is only a quarter.”

  “So that makes me part Haitian too.” Taylor seemed to be thoughtfully pondering it. “I don’t look much like it.”

  “No.” Odessa replied dryly. “You and Harrison look like Tony. Especially the eyes.”

  Harrison met Taylor’s gaze. He spoke softly. “Can you tell me something about my father?”

  Taylor smiled sadly. “He was a gentleman. He almost always wore linen suits in the summer, and heavier ones in the winter.” She paused, looking into Harrison’s earnest face. “He was a good father.” Her next statement was startling honest. “I wish you could have known him.”

  “Yes. So do I.” Odessa’s face was a mask of contempt.

  Taylor narrowed her eyes, just as the waiter returned with their drinks. “You’re a fine one to talk!”

  The waiter raised his eyebrows and quickly dispersed the beverages. “I’ll just give you all a little more time.”

  Taylor resumed her sentence. “You could have forced my father’s hand!”

  “He made the decision!”

  Taylor shook her head coldly. “No, he made you an offer. I knew my father. He would have never refused to know Harrison. He would have sucked up the consequences with Constantine and just moved on!”

  “Oh you think so?”

  “Yes! I do!” Realization spread across Taylor’s face. “You black mailed him.” She nearly whispered. “You chose the money…you…” The possible scenario was coming to her rapidly. “You thought up the whole thing! The orphanage scam for me was all your idea! You wanted a bargaining chip, so you kept one child for good measure! Right? Right?”

  Odessa clapped her hands lightly. “My goodness, but you are bright.”

  Harrison’s form was becoming smaller and smaller. His forehead broke out in a sweat. “Mom, please tell me this isn’t true.” His voice was broken and distant, although he sat at the same table. Taylor felt pity for him.

  “Shut up, Harrison, this doesn’t concern you.”

  Harrison sucked in a shaky breath. “The hell it doesn’t.”

  Odessa languidly moved her dark eyes to him. “What?”

  “You fed me lies my whole life! You told me my father didn’t want me…that he chose Taylor over me!”

  The waiter returned and looked helplessly at them. Namir stood and forced a bill in his hand. “We won’t be eating.” He whispered. The waiter nodded and looked at the hundred dollar bill.

  “Will you need refills?”

  Namir shook his head. “I doubt it.”

  Harrison ran both hands through his hair, causing the ends to stick out in odd angles. “You had me convinced that Taylor was a spoiled brat!” He held a hand towards her. “Look at her! She’s poised and graceful!”

  “I was a brat, Harrison, after Dad died, but I’m over that now.”

  “Whatever!” He pinned his nonplussed mother again with desperate eyes. “You forced me to live a lie! What did you do with all the money?”

  “We lived off of it!”

  “Oh I get it. The money’s gone, and you want more, right?”

  “There’s your trust fund.”

  Harrison turned up his glass and drained it. “That’s my money, from my father. You can’t have it.” He stood abruptly and Taylor paused only briefly before following him.

  Namir looked at Odessa with his head cocked to the side. “Does he even know what he is?”

  “Of course he does! I wouldn’t keep that gift from him!”

  Namir shook his head. “Taylor needs to understand what she is!” He hissed.

  Odessa leaned in. “Does she even know what you are?”

  Namir leaned towards her too, his eyes bulging. “Yes!”

  Odessa straightened her body. “Impressive. She must have as much Fey as Harrison to accept it so willingly.”

  Namir stood with disgust. “You’re a sick woman, Odessa Badon.”

  A smirk was her only reply.

  Taylor caught Harrison by the sleeve of his jacket and turned him towards her. “Harrison, wait!”

  Tears streamed from his eyes and fell from his chin in fat droplets. “My whole life has been a lie!”

  “Mine too.” Taylor replied quietly, and pulled a tissue from her purse. “Here.”

  “I’m not going home with her!”

  “Harrison, I need to ask you an important question.”

  “Ok.”

  “Have you ever intended to hurt me? Have you ever sent me threatening letters or text messages?”

  Namir appeared behind Taylor, watching Harrison’s face carefully.

  Harrison’s eyes looked angry. “No!”

  “Did she?”

  “Look, at this point I would say anything is pos
sible.”

  “You’re telling the truth.” Namir said decidedly.

  Harrison looked at him incredulously. “Well, thank you, wolf man!” He couldn’t keep the bitter sarcasm from his voice, and regretted it. “Sorry.”

  “I’ll let it pass this time.”

  “Get your stuff from wherever you’re staying and come to my house.”

  Namir and Harrison both looked at her like she were mad.

  “I rented a house for a little while.”

  Taylor took Namir’s hand. “Is it paid up?”

  Harrison nodded.

  “Fine. Let the wicked witch stay there. I would like a chance to meet my brother.” Taylor began walking and called over her shoulder. “You know how to get there. I’ll have Greta prepare a room.”

  Namir didn’t agree with what she was doing, but he was awed again by how amazing she really was.

  “You can’t be serious!” Odessa screamed, as Harrison began taking his bags out to the car.

  “The house is yours until the little temporary lease is up.”

  “What about our plan?” She stomped after him, uncharacteristic of her normal composure.

  Harrison dropped his bags beside his car. “It was always you’re plan, Mom. I just wanted to know my sister, and now I can.”

  Harrison got in the car and brought the engine to life. His last look at her through the rearview mirror confirmed the bitter angry woman that she was. It showed just how dangerous he suspected her to be.

  Greta moved about the second guest room nervously. “No more strays! The house is full!”

  “Greta.” Taylor began patiently. “I haven’t taken in any strays. You can’t count Namir certainly, and Jason might as well be my uncle.”

  Greta sighed and gave the room one last once over. “I hope he likes pale blue.”

  “I don’t think he’ll care.”

  “What about the bathroom? He doesn’t have one of his own.”

  “It’s right there in the hallway. He’ll be fine. Besides, this is bound to be a temporary thing.”

  Greta snorted. “We thought Jason was a temporary thing, now the pool house is full of his things and have you heard him blaring his precious record collection at two in the morning?” She threw her hands up. “I thought I was back in 1980 the other night!”