Burning to Ride

by Michele De Winton

  “Sorry.” Cole ran a hand over his face and Briony’s fingers ached to follow its course. “What I’m trying to say, badly, is that I never expected to find someone like you in a place like this. But this is probably exactly where I should have looked. This place is more than a hotel or a bar; it’s a part of you, of what it means to build a family from scratch, out of nothing. I’m falling for you, Briony Wilde. Maybe I did the very first night we were together. Then all this,” he waved his hand, “got in the way. So in answer to your question, no let’s not start over, but let’s pick up where we should have started. With dinner. And drinks. And planning what we might have for breakfast the next morning.”

  He slid his hands down her arms till he had her hands in his. “And if it’s okay with you, we could maybe leave that ring on your finger, at least for now, and see if it fits any better after a couple of weeks. If it still feels too big, or you want to donate it to charity or something, so be it, but for now, will you give it a go?”

  If she’d tried to move her feet Briony didn’t think she’d have been able to. “You’re falling for me.”

  “Shit. Did I read everything wrong? I thought you said . . . ?”

  Briony reached up and pulled him down to her. “Stop talking and kiss me.”

  His lips on hers were cold from the wild night outside, but as their kiss deepened they warmed, along with the rest of her body. Everything that the last couple of weeks had brought seemed bundled up in the kiss. All the mess, and the noise, the shouting, and the toe-curling sex. When they finally broke for air, Briony’s body was almost shuddering, the wash of emotion surging around her bloodstream and trying to tip her off balance.

  “I think I need a drink,” she said, taking his hand, leading him to the bar, and pouring a short of whiskey for both of them.

  “I seem to recall something like this got us into this situation in the first place,” he said dryly.

  “It’s no longer a situation, though, is it, Slick? At least not for me. The Hell’s Boys have given you a seal of approval, well, all of them except Marnz, but he’ll come around. You, on the other hand,” she put a finger to his chest, “have your precious reputation to worry about.”

  “I do,” he said. “Because there’s not much that’s going to come between me carrying you upstairs and then taking you to a charity ball I’m supposed to go to later.”

  Briony bit back a grin. “Want me to wear this?” she asked, doing a spin of her leather vest, gang patch and all.

  “Maybe not the vest, but I would like it if you kept this on. What do you think?” he said, picking up her hand again to stroke the fingers around the diamonds on their pale band.

  “You really want to do this? We’re going to try?”

  He nodded. “You keep the darkness away for me like no other woman I’ve ever met. And you make me excited, crazy, too, but mostly you make me happy. And that’s enough, don’t you think?”

  She threw herself at him and pulled his face down for another kiss. That was more than enough, for now.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Now this is what I call a party!” Frank Knight looked around with a satisfied grin on his face and Cole couldn’t help but join in with his own smile.

  “Even got a nice little write-up in the paper. Quick and to the point, no gloss, perfect really,” said his brother.

  The PR company for Knight Industries had spun the union as that between a property developer and property owner, and no press had been invited today. Still, a year after walking into Wilde’s Hotel, Cole couldn’t quite believe they had managed to pull off something that should have been a PR disaster.

  “Heads-up, big man’s coming.”

  Cole followed his father’s and brother’s gaze and his breath caught short. This was why it hadn’t been a PR nightmare. He didn’t even notice Rocco approaching them, he just saw Briony Wilde as she walked between the guests atop the green roof garden of the biggest building in his community development. And she looked like a million bucks.

  His brother nudged him. “Don’t just stand there, go talk to your wife or you’ll drool all over your tux.”

  Against the spectacular backdrop of downtown L.A. and the ocean stretching its fingers far out into the distance, Briony was haloed in golden afternoon sunlight. Dressed in a pale pink gown, the Raising Hellfire flames embroidered in red thread down the back of the dress, Briony’s smile matched the summer weather.

  Rocco stopped him on his way over to her. “You done good, kid. Now don’t fuck it up.”

  “I don’t intend to.”

  “I know you don’t. You’re family now so I’ll spare you the lecture. I’m going to talk to your pa. Anything I need to know about you in case he brings it up?”

  Cole smiled. “I wouldn’t worry about it. I was just a kid back then, and they didn’t really need that extra car.”

  Rocco’s eyebrows went up. “All this time and you don’t share that you coulda been the driver for that last job?’

  Cole put up his hands. Briony had started mentioning something about a bank job, but he’d cut her off. He could accept that she and the Hell’s Boys were family, but he didn’t want to know any more. She’d promised him that she kept well out of it, but still, the less he had to do with it the better.

  “He’s yanking your chain,” said Martinez, coming up behind Rocco. “It’s all about internet crime now. Well that, and building sites,” he added, looking around him appreciatively. Cole wondered how much of the chat was true and how much was reality. They’d had a spate of thefts on-site over the last couple of months.

  “Am I interrupting men’s business?” Briony slipped her hand into his and his feelings of concern lifted and were taken by the warm breeze stirring the guests. “But if I am, it’s too bad. This guy is mine and you two can go pick on someone who’s not so busy.” She let go of his hand and snaked an arm around his waist, pulling him to the glass balustrade and pushing him against it.

  “You got something to say, Mrs. Knight?”

  “Nope,” she said.

  He bent down and tipped her chin up with one finger. “How do you like the view?”

  “I’ve always loved this view,” she said and pulled him down into a kiss. He’d never get over how touching her stirred such a riot of feelings in him. The deep, dark warmth started in his stomach then flowed downward, till his body was tight with wanting her.

  “Come with me.” He took her hand, and not caring who was watching, he led her to the elevator, pressing her up against the wall with a kiss so fierce he thought he might burst with wanting her. With loving her.

  The door pinged twice before he came up for air and then, hand in hand, they strolled across the boulevard that was already starting to green up with the plantings the landscape company had been busy bedding down these past weeks.

  “It’s going to look beautiful when those cherry trees blossom,” Briony said and he looked at her, wondering how anything could look as beautiful as her in that gown, with his ring on her finger.

  “I can’t believe I almost let you get away,” he said, nibbling at her ear.

  “Well you are a bit of a stubborn ass,” she said and he smacked her on the butt.

  “Says you.

  “Can you believe it’s done?” he said as he pushed through the doors into Wilde’s. The bar was empty, closed for the day until the reception upstairs finished and the party descended.

  Briony ran her hand along the bar, its glossy finish even better than he could have hoped for. They walked through the double doors out into the hotel reception area. The walls with their bright red and orange paint were amazing. Modern and clean, bright and vibrant, she’d gotten the colors just right so that they clashed in a hiss of life, rather than looking gaudy. The whole room felt like something was about to happen. Something big.

  “I seem to recall we started out somewhere around here,” she said, and undoing the knot with swift ease, pulled his gray silk tie from his neck.

&nbs
p; Cole’s pants felt suddenly tight as she paused and put her hand on the doorknob to the lockup, just as she had the night they’d first met.

  “Shall I take you for a ride, Mr. Knight?”

  He chuckled and scooped her up. “I think you’ve already done that. My turn. The Harley is next to yours.”

  “I’m so glad you traded up,” she said with a straight face, but he saw the mirth in her eyes. “That Ducati was a piece of junk compared to the new bike. She’s beautiful.”

  “Not as beautiful as what is going to be riding her. I’m looking forward to you hitching that dress up.”

  “I bet you are,” she said and pulled the side of her dress up to reveal red leather cowboy boots and a long expanse of naked thigh before kicking through into the lockup where both their bikes sat side by side. “Let’s get going. A bike and a man between my thighs, it’s the perfect wedding gift.”

  Read on for an excerpt from

  * * *

  RIDE ME RIGHT

  * * *

  The next in the Raising Hellfire MC series

  * * *

  Coming August 2017 from SMP Swerve!

  1.

  Lucy Black took another slug from the flask of bourbon and stuffed the bottle into her pocket as she kept sorting her tools. One, two, three, four, five . . . she was missing a wrench. “Who’s borrowed my six inch?” She stood up, large wrench in hand, and cast an eye around the workshop. No one met her eye. “Seriously? You’re gonna to be like that?”

  “No one’s being like nothing,” said Gav, the head of the bike shop Lucy had called home for the last four months. “If you’ve lost a wrench you’ve lost a wrench. It happens. Deal with it.”

  Through gritted teeth she forced the words out. “I had it yesterday. Last time I looked it hadn’t grown legs and taken itself out for a beer.”

  Someone snickered.

  “Knock it off,” Gav shot behind him. “If someone has taken it, they can put it on my desk while Luce packs up the rest of her shit. No harm done.”

  Lucy nodded. Would have been easier if it hadn’t been stolen in the first place, but she’d take getting it back over losing face in front of this bunch of idiots. She couldn’t afford to replace the tool, not now she didn’t have a job or anywhere to live.

  She’d known her final day on the tools was coming, but she’d kept hoping Gav would change his mind, or something would come up. Nope: this job was toast, just like the last one. And with no way to pay her rent, her landlord gave zero fucks that she had nowhere to go.

  Gav took a step forward and held out his hand. “No hard feelings. It’s just not working with the rest of the boys here. I can’t keep bailing you out.”

  “Don’t expect you to.” Lucy jutted out her chin, and damn it if a long piece of hair didn’t fall into her face. Watching his eyes follow her hair, she couldn’t decide if blowing it out of the way would make it more or less obvious that she was the only one in this bike shop wearing a ponytail. Hardly looking, she threw the last of her sad collection of tools into her bag, then took his hand in a firm shake. Screw them if they thought she was going to crawl out of here with her tail between her legs.

  Out on the street, though, her six inch still missing, Lucy’s confidence curled up its toes and pretty much turned to stone. She had no job, no apartment or money for rent, and a promise that she’d find some money for her kid sister, Katie’s, glasses by the end of the week. She was not going to let a fifteen-year-old miss being able to see properly because her whackjob mom thought the power of her transcendental thoughts could heal all ills.

  “Shit.”

  “Yep. Pretty much sums it up.” A young woman walking past pointed at Lucy’s foot. The foot that was currently standing in the middle of a large, fresh dog turd.

  “It’s okay to laugh,” Lucy said. “I probably would.”

  “Nah. Looks like you’ve had plenty of that already today.” The woman gave her a smile. “Hope it gets better.”

  Just then one of the young mechanics came out and gave the woman an up-and-down look before he noticed Lucy standing there. “Thought you left already. Or you decided to come back and work the phones?”

  The curse was almost out of her mouth, but she saw her recent colleague tense his jaw ready to take her on. “Best of luck,” she said instead. “I know you think you can fix an engine. But it’s always best to start work on your own machine, and yours needs a lot of work. If you wanna date girls who like bikes, better be sure you’ve got something big and hot for them to ride.” His jaw dropped open and he said nothing. The smirk felt great on her face, and she slammed her helmet on before the chauvinistic pig had a chance to respond. Waving to the passing woman who gave her a wink, Lucy revved her Norton and left rubber on the road as she tore out of the parking lot. Really? Wasting rubber on that pack of monkeys? It was stupid. She couldn’t afford new tires anytime soon, but it felt damn good to make an exit with a little noise rather than letting them see how close to the edge she was.

  Now what? Lucy drove, letting the thrill of the wind spilling over her calm her thoughts. Buildings flicked past. Trees, then a big expanse of construction sites. This was good. She was good. All she needed was her bike. Drive, be, and remind herself that she was free.

  Free of Utah, free of her mom’s raving lectures, free of being a “constant disappointment.” She might not be the boy her dad wanted, but she sure as hell wasn’t the placid doormat her now-single mom wanted, either. Can’t please everyone. Or anyone, in her case. Whatever, you had to make it in the world on your own terms; that was the only way. She revved the bike. The past was the past, and it was going to stay behind her, like everything else today.

  A sign for a mechanic’s shop flashed past, and her mood dipped with the thought of her empty future. Just because she’d invoiced some parts too cheap a couple times . . . okay, more than a couple times. But they were overpriced. She knew it, Gav knew it, and the guy she’d given a discount to needed to get his bike back to earn a living. But it didn’t matter that she was trying to do a regular customer a favor, oh no. Gav reckoned the boys didn’t like the way she worked, thought she was a distraction. Got them all hot and bothered, more like, ’cause she wouldn’t put out. And her not billing every screw and twist of her wrench was enough to tip the scales against her. Three strikes and that was it. She was out.

  She was a great mechanic. Better than half the guys in that shop. And still . . . the panic started rising up her throat and threatening to clasp its clammy hands around her windpipe.

  Okay, she wasn’t doing so well anymore. Pulling off the road, she realized she’d headed toward Wilde’s Hotel without registering it. Good one, genius. You head to the one place guaranteed to be full of men? “At least someone might give me a beer here,” she muttered, and after pulling off her helmet, fumbled her hipflask from her bag. The last dregs of her whiskey burned down her throat and made her head stop spinning long enough for her to take a breath.

  Wilde’s was a glamorous institution with big links to Hollywood. In the eighties. Then the bikers moved in and, well, it became a place where glamour went to die. For a while it had looked like it might just take the hint and kill itself in a puddle of debt and general apathy, but the new owner, Briony Wilde, took the reins and didn’t let go. She and the resident biker gang, the Raising Hellfire MC, even blackmailed a rich developer with a sex tape to make sure she got the hotel going again.

  Lucy blew air through her teeth and allowed herself a smile. The sex tape was a brilliant, balls-out move. If only she had a rich developer to blackmail . . . She sighed. Nope.

  She’d been riding with the Hell’s Boys since she got to LA, when she’d met a couple of the boys in a shitty bike shop she’d been trying to get a job at. She lost out on the job but gained a great weekend, and in Briony she’d found a kindred spirit of sorts. Still, she hadn’t gotten to the trust-’em-don’t-bust-’em stage with the Hell’s Boys like Briony had. Briony and the Hellfire boys were family.
Lucy and the Hell’s Boys were . . . complicated.

  She’d screwed a few of them, ’cause why not, but word got around she was a good lay, and she wasn’t that girl so she’d zipped her pants and kept them that way. Lucy smoothed down a flyaway hair as she thought about the last time she’d had sex. She missed it, it was her de-stressing mechanism, but not with any Hell’s Boys. What she wanted was the gig fixing the Hell’s Boys’ bikes. Permanently. Then she’d be sorted: work on her own terms, not have to answer to a boss whose priority was making sure everyone thought he had the biggest dick, and have enough regular income that she could make sure her little sister, Katie, was okay. Lucy wanted to fix bikes the way she knew they wanted to be fixed: ride ’em right all night long. She knew the Hellfire MC was looking to hire a mechanic for the gang; she just couldn’t get them to hand the job over already. Apart from Briony, Hellfire was still a boys’ club, and all she got from Rocco, the head of the gang, was a wait-and-see message on repeat.

  “Men are dicks.”

  A bike flashed past her, and Hade Corban, the second in command of Hellfire, gave her a salute and bright smile. Okay, not all men sucked road dust, but Rocco, the guys in her bike shop, and her mom’s whacko cult leader . . .

  Her folks had tried for years for a boy, and then, after countless miscarriages and stillbirths, they’d had her. Perhaps her pop shared his beer with her when she was on the bottle, or perhaps it was her way of trying to get his approval, but she was a tomboy through and through from the get-go. Trouble was, when her pop left them anyway and her mom found her transcendental healing cult, Lucy being anything other than an obedient princess didn’t go down well.

  Lucy eyed up Wilde’s. She couldn’t afford to drink in a bar. Hell, she couldn’t afford anything at the moment, let alone the glasses she’d been promising Katie since her mom quit her job, lost their health insurance, and then decided she could cure everything anyway.

  Whiskey might make it better. Unlikely. Company might though. And Briony was the only friend she could rely on not to roll her eyes at the news that Lucy had lost another job. Someone might even need some work on their bike for cash given there still wasn’t an official Hellfire mechanic yet. Lucy tried to coax another mouthful out of her hipflask and found it empty.