Long Ride: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Black Sparks MC) (Whiskey Bad Boys Book 1)

by Kathryn Thomas

  “I told you.” He shifted his shoulder away. “I’m not going against Tryg. He’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father. Don’t you understand—”

  “Don’t you understand?” she leaned in closer, whispering intensity. “You don’t have to. I can help you get that shipment back from the Vipers and more. Tryg won’t know what hit him.” Nick frowned. “No violence. No blood. We’ll just make it so he’ll know he can’t tell you what to do anymore.” He dodged her gaze. “Look at me, Nicholas,” she said, touching his chin to tilt his face up, using his full name in a way that seemed strangely authoritative, like a schoolteacher or a parent. Maybe it was her age, but strangely enough, it wasn’t unsexy. “It’s okay.” He blinked at her. She laughed softly. “Why are you are you so hesitant? Why can’t you relax and just,” she said, “go with it?”

  He squirmed and shoved her away, turning his back, though not fast enough to miss how her lips turned up in sultry laughter. Everything about this was foolish, he knew. She may not be overtly coming onto him, but she also hadn’t gotten to where she was by being demure. A woman in her position knew her sexuality was her most important tool—because most men were weak enough to fall for it. Nick knew he couldn’t afford to be one of these men. “I can help you. We can both finally get what we deserve – to finally be our own people, to live freely. That’s a promise. “

  He extricated himself and turned away, trying to reassert his dominance, to try to show her that she couldn’t jerk him around like a dog on a leash. “Promises are worthless,” he growled.

  “Then don’t consider it a promise,” she whispered. “Consider it a vow.” As if on cue, his phone buzzed from the pocket of his jeans. He tore away, still half in a daze, signaling to Helena as he ducked behind a stand of fir trees, under which sat a wrought-iron bench. Above him, a chickadee flitted from branch to branch. It was almost peaceful here, despite the adrenaline that had begun to course through him. “Tryg, can’t it wait? I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

  “In the middle of something, or in the middle of someone?” Nick could barely hear the club president chortling derisively over the atmospheric noise. Nick tried to laugh off Tryg’s comment, hoping the older man wouldn’t realize he was onto something. “Anyway, where were you this morning?” Tryg demanded.

  “What do you mean?” Nick crumbled a piece of peeling bark between his fingers, watching it rain down on his boots, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. Helena almost skipped down the hill after her schnauzer, pausing once to glance back at him, a tempting gaze. He glanced up at the window of the house, wondering if there was anybody else home.

  “Kirrily said you didn’t even stop by the house for breakfast.”

  “I wasn’t hungry.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t realize the sovereign lord required his serfs to pay tribute on a daily basis,” said Nick, angrier than he meant it to sound.

  Tryg didn’t even miss a beat. “I do when we have a highly useful guest living inches living inches away from you. She could be the key to unlocking this whole thing.”

  Nick wasn’t sure he believed that, but he was willing to entertain the fact that Tryg was right.

  “Well, I talked to Ted Rogers at Chillicothe, and he told me he doesn’t want you supervising the next shipment. We’re already absurdly lucky that he’s even willing to give us another chance. He’s worried about putting you in charge, Nick. He thinks you can’t be relied on after what happened. He thinks you can’t hold your own against the Vipers. I told him you’re my best man, and that I trust you with my life, but he wasn’t buying it.”

  “Tryg, what are you saying?”

  “Fixing leaky gas cans on bikes only pays so much, Nick. If we lose him as a client, it’s as good cutting out this club’s major source of income.” Nick felt a chill wind sweep around him, pricking at the hairs Helena had already made stand on end. “Martin’s going to be handling the next truck.”

  It took of all Nick’s willpower not to hurl the phone halfway across the lake. “No fucking way, Tryg. It’s my job. I can handle it.”

  “Show me.”

  “What do you think I’m doing here?” said Nick. “I told you I’d get the shipment back, and I meant that. I’m with someone now – someone who knows about it, and might be able to help us get it back,” he said cautiously, not wanting to spill too much.

  Tryg paused. “Good,” he said. “Who is it? I need to know.”

  “Her name’s Helena Kinski.”

  “Helena Kinski, as in Mrs. Daniel Kinski? The CEO of Southern Ohio Health Systems?” Tryg sounded impressed. “Still, I’m going to have to look into it. A rich broad like that doesn’t give away information for free.”

  “Her husband doesn’t know she’s meeting with me. And we should keep it that way.” Still, Nick glanced back to where Helena stood, willowy, like a cross between a giraffe and an angel, arching her back and neck to throw the pinecone in her hand to the dog.

  She glanced back at Nick, an unreadable smile on her face. If he could help it, he wasn’t going to let Tryg know what Helena had proposed in terms of payment.

  “I’ll look into her.”

  “And as for Liana—” he paused, not knowing what he could promise. Not around Liana, anyway. “I’ll get it out of her,” said Nick.

  “Good. Because you’re having dinner with her tonight.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Racking her brain for things she could do to start earning her keep, Liana had volunteered to make dinner that night, rummaging through the freezer and taking out a package of pork chops to thaw before Kirrily could object.

  “Tryg won’t be home tonight,” she’d said. “But make enough for four.”

  Liana hadn’t liked the sound of that. She suspected something unpleasant, though, which is why Liana was one embolism short of a full-on heart attack when she’d come downstairs after her shower and seen Nick standing on the patio with Kirrily. Kizzy was seated on the floor next to him, laughing as she walked her My Little Pony up his leg of his jeans.

  “What is—”

  Nick looked up immediately, biting his lip, an almost guilty look on his face. He was seemingly as scandalized by the situation as she was. Someone had told him to come here, she realized—they’d have had to, because he honestly looked like he was sitting in a dentist’s chair waiting to have a tooth pulled. But who? Kirrily? Tryg?

  “If I’d known that—” she started, but bit her tongue, glancing in the kitchen, hoping the asparagus in the oven would spontaneously combust, anything to get her out of this situation.

  “What, that the fourth person was me?” Nick asked, still not quite looking at her. “You would have picked up some rat poison at the store?” His comment bore a slight sense of humor under its undercurrent of hostility—which was Nick’s trademark. The humor came naturally; the hostility came from the way he’d been raised.

  “Nick!” Kirrily scolded him.

  “Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” she muttered. “Maybe just some ant buttons in place of the paprika.” She didn’t add, and put on something a little nicer than leggings and a cable knit sweater. But in a way, every time Nick’s mouth showed that glimmer, every time the old Nick surfaced, glimpsed like a shadow from behind the shade, Liana felt her stomach drop, and a chill go through her. It had happened last night, briefly, though they had both tried to ignore it. There was something about that Nick that did something to her.

  As for why she was acting hostile, she hadn’t a clue. After all, he had every right to be angry with her. And, yet, memories of what he’d said yesterday—alluding to Circleville, implying she was dishonest, as if she’d forgotten, as if her life had been strewn with rose petals the second she’d gotten rid of him — still played in her mind. The idea that he thought that about her—that she was some charmed princess who’d never had to struggle or work or grieve—made her burn. Plus, the idea that Nick was going to eat her first attempt at cooki
ng real food in months was bad enough.

  “Anyway,” she said, growing shy again, glancing at the timer on the oven, “dinner’s ready.”

  Liana, after removing the pork chops from the oven and placing them on an attractive platter she’d found above the buffet, took the seat closest to the kitchen, leaving Nick the choice of whether to sit next to her or across from her.“It just feels more complete with a man at the table,” said Kirrily.

  Liana knew she was trying to lighten things up, but it wasn’t helping much. She was already dreading the moment when Kirrily would have to take the inevitable bathroom break, leaving her and Nick with nothing to do but stare each other down across the table. She suspected at least one of them would suddenly grow inordinately interested in Kizzy’s kindergarten teacher.

  Kirrily’s voice drifted back over; Liana straightened up, realizing her brain had drifted miles away—to another place, another time. She thought she saw Nick flick his eyes over at her briefly, a mix of guilt and curiosity. She wondered if his mind had wandered there, too.

  “Did I ever tell you two about the time when Tryg was in Australia, trying to woo my father into letting me come back to America with him? I was kind of suspicious of him at first. I wasn’t sure whether he wanted me for me or because he needed an alliance with the president of the Brisbane charter of the Black Sparks. Anyway, I got my dad to agree to let him take me out.”

  “Tryg actually asked you on a date?” asked Nick amused. “I figured your courtship was more like, clubbing you and dragging you by your hair back to his cave.”

  Kirrily giggled. “He tried. But my dad wouldn’t stand for it. He wanted me to be with a gentleman. So Tryg decided to give it a try. He took me to the hotel bar and told me he’d buy me whatever I drink I wanted. So I asked them to make me a White Russian.”

  “The most expensive drink in the place,” chimed in Liana.

  “Of course,” said Kirrily with an evil grin. “Then two more. By the third one, Tryg was freaking out, because he only had twenty bucks in cash in his pocket, and he had to ask the bartender if he could run to the ATM to get more. I hadn’t done much drinking at that point in my life, and I was kind of a lightweight, but I kept going. By the end I was so wasted he had to drape me across the back of his Harley to get me home. Little did he know that my dad knew the hotel manager, and they’d already agreed that he’d pay the tab for whatever I ordered.”

  “You could have told him,” said Liana, rolling her eyes.

  “I could have. But that wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun.”

  “I would have paid to see that,” Nick said, taking a swig of his glass of merlot, then holding it out for Kirrily to pour more.

  Liana almost held up her glass, too, noting the small splash that was left. But if she’d drank that much already, that meant she wasn’t paying attention to her intake.

  “What happened when you got home?” he asked, a bit slyly. Kirrily whacked Nick on the arm. But Nick held up his hands. “I’m just curious from a historical standpoint. I’m thinking of making a family album for your guys’ next anniversary.”

  “Liar. If you must know,” Kirrily said, cracking up herself now, “he made it to first base before I threw up all over his brand-new boots.”

  Nick laughed. “And I’m sure he was thinking, ‘this right here, folks, is the girl I’m going to marry.”

  Liana choked on the glass of wine she held to her lips, glancing over at Nick, who was bent over, laughing into his plate.

  “Bread?” asked Nick, and it Liana a second to realize he was actually addressing her. He held out the basket.

  She grabbed it hastily. She didn’t want him to think that the mere act of accepting bread from him meant she thought everything was okay between them.

  His golden-green eyes fluttered to meet hers briefly, but just as soon looked away, schooling his face into a more serious one. Her heart fluttered to see that, so much like his carefree expressions he’d had as a teenager, when he’d been more innocent, before the hardness of the world had begun to weigh on him. Back when they’d been teenagers eating across the table from each other at Noel’s house, worried that their hearts were beating so loud they could be heard over the clink of forks and Noel’s endless, monotone lecturing on topics of moral behavior and how illegal immigrants ought to be rounded up and deported while Nick mouthed insults and made faces behind his glass. She watched him swallow and look away. She knew the memory couldn’t have been lost on him.

  “Liana actually made those rolls,” said Kirrily proudly.

  Liana waved her off. “Yeah, from a dough I bought in the supermarket freezer case.”

  “Still,” said Kirrily. “It’s more effort than I’ve ever put in to make bread.”

  “Thanks,” she said, grabbing a roll and dropping it on her plate hastily.

  “I bet Liana had all kinds of guys buying her expensive drinks in New York,” Nick said casually, spinning the stem of his glass. He looked up, his expression now quite different. He had just enough to drink to be dangerous.

  Kirrily, sensing a change, grabbed another bottle of wine, popped the cork offered to pour—as if that would do anything but makes things worse.

  Liana felt her face redden as she looked down at her plate. “It wasn’t as easy as you might think to find a gentleman. New York guys may be sophisticated, but it doesn’t mean they know how to treat a woman right. They’re after the same thing as every other guy,” she murmured.

  “Like who?” Nick asked, resting his elbow on the table, a charade of mocking curiosity. “Who are these guys who fail to meet your high standards? Are we talking your average Wall Street investment banker, or an everyday run-of-the-mill hipster tech guru? Or maybe a Sicilian mobster? Seriously, I really want to know.”

  Liana watched Kirrily wrinkle her brow, looking from Nick to Liana as if she feared she was slowly losing control of the situation. “There’s more asparagus if anyone’s interested,” she said brightly. “It’s not half so good the next day.”

  The questions he was asking weren’t out of mere curiosity. It wasn’t like Nick to be so abrasive and it occurred to her that he hadn’t agreed to have dinner at the Ryan’s because he was hungry, even though he probably was, or out of some social obligation, even though he enjoyed spending time with Kirrily. Tryg had sent him there deliberately.“Tryg sent you to spy on me, didn’t he?” Liana demanded, pushing back her chair and getting up from the table.

  Kirrily practically smacked her forehead.

  Nick rolled his eyes. “If I am, obviously it’s not working, because you’re still being as dishonest as you were yesterday when I asked you why you came back.”

  “Dishonest? You think I’m lying to you?”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time you fucked someone over.”

  Liana’s jaw dropped. “I honestly can’t believe you could be this childish, Nick. You, of all people.”

  “If anyone’s a child here, it isn’t me. There’s nothing like getting thrown in prison to make you grow up fast.”

  “Oh and what do you think I’ve doing for the past six years? Sitting around playing My Little Pony?”

  “How would I even know, Liana? I haven’t heard a word from since I last saw you. And I had a great view from the back of the police car.” He shoved his chair back up from the table. But when he saw the judgmental expression on Kirrily’s face, he seemed to grow abashed. Kizzy looked even worse, staring down at her asparagus, confused and glum. “Look, I didn’t mean for this dinner to turn out like this. Maybe I should leave.”

  “No, I’ll leave,” Liana said quickly. “Obviously I’m not wanted here, and—”

  “Sit down, both of you,” Kirrily barked. Both their heads snapped toward their hostess. They sat, almost simultaneously. “I thought having a nice friendly dinner with the four of us would be enough to get you two on speaking terms again, but apparently I was wrong. Do I have to lock you two up together somewhere until you can agree to be civ
il with each other, or can you talk this out like adults without me having to mediate?”

  “This was your idea?” asked Liana.

  “I thought it was Tryg’s,” said Nick, apparently as confused as she was.

  Kirrily clarified. “It was both of ours.”

  Nick, shook his hair out of his face, an unconscious gesture that reminded Liana very much of his demeanor as a petulant teen. She supposed she was no better.

  Kizzy looked from her mother to her cousin to Nick, her lower lip quivering. Liana reached over. “Hey, Kizzy, it’s okay,” she said. “See?” she said, pasting a smile on her face that was as fake as the emotion it represented. Kizzy wasn’t buying it.

  Kirrily beckoned to her daughter. “All finished, sweetie? Come with me. We’ll go out to the garage and feed the kitty.”

  Unable to resist such a tempting offer, Kizzy screwed up her face into an expression of excitement and hopped down off her chair. “I’ll get the bowl!” she exclaimed, racing out of the room, her bare feet smacking against the wood floor.

  Kirrily stood with her hands on her hips. Nick and Liana squirmed, the room so silent the humming refrigerator and the buzzing lamp beside Liana seemed deafening. She averted her eyes from the man across from her at the table, even as she heard her aunt shut the door and knew they were alone.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Liana turned her back on Nick and went into to the living room. He didn’t blame her, figuring she knew that at least there, she could collapse on the sofa and be comfortable and not feel like she was sitting in an interrogation room, waiting to be accused.

  He tried to avert his eyes, to not follow her, to not hungrily memorize the way she moved in the gentle incandescent light from the overhead dimmer light Kirrily had left on.

  But, to his surprise, she stopped directly in front of his chair. He wondered what she was seeing, or what she thought she saw—the gangly, broad-shouldered boy who had made her smile, then made her cry. At times he’d been convinced he’d never see her again. He hadn’t been convinced that the moment in the garage yesterday hadn’t been delirium, a hallucination caused by his injury.