by Joy Blood
* * *
The drive is nearly sixteen hours. When I see the lights of Casper, Wyoming glowing in the distance, I let out a sigh of relief. Soon, I’ll be in a bed, only to get up and make the rest of the trip. Sam has been diligently following at a steady pace the whole drive, stopping whenever I did for gas or food. The first vacancy sign shining bright night pulls me in. There isn’t enough music on the radio to keep me going for a minute more, and with the lack of caffeine, this drive will not continue until I have a solid eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. “Get your own room. I’m not going to bunk up,” I tell Sam as I pass him still straddling his bike.
“Oh, come on. Not even for old times’ sake?” I roll my eyes and continue on to grab myself a room.
He’s still in the same position when I come back outside, room key in hand. “Just going to sit there all night?” I ask, grabbing out a change of clothes from the suitcase Ellie leaned me.
“Only if you promise not to leave without me in the morning.” He knows me all too well.
“We are going to the same place. You know where I’ll be. Shouldn’t be too hard to report back.”
“I’m not here on his orders, Ar. Premo told me to look out for you. I’m doing that.”
“He’s not even a Rider. Rico is going to be pissed to find out you escorted me to Siberia instead of bringing me back.”
“Probably, but I’m also doing this for an old friend I would feel much better escorting than just letting her go on her own.” I give him a small smile. Fucker still knows how to talk to me after all these years.
“I got two beds. Come on. But if you wake me up before eight, I can’t promise I won’t hit you over the head with the heavy ass rotary phone they have in the room.”
“I do remember how much you enjoy your sleep. Promise I won’t wake you.” He shoots me his panty dropper smirk and pulls away from his bike, grabbing out something from his saddlebags before following me into the room.
* * *
It's nightfall by the time I pull up to the Siberian’s compound, and by compound, I mean just that. The walls that surround the place give the feel of a fortress, and the buildings inside resemble a small town. I’m greeted by a prospect who gives me a smile and instructs me to pull my car through. Premo comes out right as Sam parks his bike alongside me. "Glad you're here, Ari. Thanks for watching her, College. You planning on stayin’ the night? I let the girls know you were coming," Premo says with a devious smile.
"Damn sure not going to pass up that offer. Take care, Ari." Sam gives a salute, his babysitting detail complete, and walks into the main building, leaving Premo and me alone.
"You good?" he asks, wrapping his arms around me. "Starting to show a little." His smile widens, and his hands start to drift downward to my stomach. I instantly feel guilty, like I’m betraying Rico in some way. I shift away from his hold, but keep his hand on my stomach.
"I felt it move," I admit. "Felt so weird. Like butterflies."
"That’s amazing. Wonder when I can feel him from out here," he says, moving his hand around my stomach.
"I guess not for a couple more months." There’s that pang in my chest again. Why is it even there? I owe Rico nothing. "So, where did you plan on me staying while I’m here?" I ask, changing the subject. His hand falls from me to scratch his neck.
"Listen, Ar. You are more than welcome to stay. I mean, I asked you to come here, but..." he trails off, and I back farther away from him.
"Oh. I see. Well, I can just go back in the morning with Sam..."
"No. Shit. Not what I meant. Damn it." He looks uneasy and caught in something I can’t quite figure out. Well, not until a woman comes walking outside toward us.
"Premo, you said you’d be right back." The high-pitched, nasally voice calls out. When she gets closer, she wraps her arms around his waist. "Who’s this?"
"His child's mother." My rampant hormones speaking for me makes her jaw drop. Premo chokes, then coughs to cover it up.
"Nix, sorry. I know I said you could crash for the week, but my plans changed. You're going to have to move on." He scrubs at his neck once again. I haven’t seen this side of him—the unsure, don’t-want-to-hurt-your-feelings side. It’s strange. Whenever I came here, I was the one on his lap, by his side. Now I see why. I was scheduled in. Me showing up unexpectedly put a damper on his bed rotation.
"But you promised," she pouts, going as far as to stick out her bottom lip.
"The way shit goes. Now, go inside." His voice grows that edge I’m used to. She stops her whining and walks back into the clubhouse.
"Sorry about that."
"Hey, no need to apologize. Hell, I don’t even know whose kid this is." I try to laugh it off.
"Got us a situation here, don’t we?"
"We do," I agree.
"What did he do?" I let out a deep breath, knowing he’s talking about Rico.
"He said some...things," I say, my eyes wandering around, not looking at him.
"Told you about my son, huh?" I nod in confirmation, and he sighs. "Listen, I understand if you want nothing to do with me, but—"
"I’m here, aren’t I? Anyway, it’s your story to tell. When you want to tell it. He had no right to say what he did." He accepts my words and gives a curt nod before extending his hand in front of me to lead the way into the clubhouse.
"Let’s go inside and grab something to eat. You want to go to my place or stay at the clubhouse tonight?" He links his fingers through mine, and my first instinct is to pull them away, but I keep them there. This is Premo. I’ve done this with him countless times, so why is it suddenly bothering me? I’m not with Rico, nor do I want to be, so he shouldn’t have any effect on how I act toward Premo. But he does.
"We can go to your place. I’ve been dreaming about that bathtub of yours since I was here last." I can’t drink, and Premo doesn’t drink at all, so really, there’s no reason why we would need to stay here instead of going to his place.
"You’ve got it. They’re just doing the usual shit tonight, so I’m not needed at all. Let’s get something to eat, then we can head out." I nod in agreement and follow him inside.
* * *
I’m floating off into oblivion. Relaxed and soaking in the bubbles. The rose scent of the soap fills my senses, and I lean my head back on the towel perched on the edge of the tub. We stayed at the compound for only an hour before leaving—long enough for me to see Nix find her bed to warm for the night. She and Sam were the first ones to leave the crowd, arm in arm, her thoughts of being with Premo obviously far from her mind.
I relax in the tub long enough for the water to start to get cold, then decide I’m pruned enough and get out. Wrapping a big, fluffy towel around me, I step out of the bathroom directly into Premo's room. He has a small two-bedroom apartment with bare furnishings, but it’s a nice place. Clean and new. "Have a good bath? I almost went in there to check on you," he says from his spot on the bed where he’s now setting down his book. Probably something by Stephen King.
"Those reading glasses look hot on you," I say with a smile.
"Do they now? That towel looks hot on you. Would look even better on the floor." He winks and stands from the bed. He has since taken off his jeans, t-shirt, and cut, and changed into a pair of plaid pajama pants. "You're all wrinkled." He brings my hand not holding my towel up to his lips and places soft kisses along my fingertips before taking one into his mouth. The pull deep in my belly swirls and my head fogs over. "I missed you," he whispers as he draws closer to bring me flush with his hard body.
He isn’t a beefed-up biker. His frame is strong and lean with numerous tattoos covering a tanned canvas. His hair is buzzed, almost bald, but his short beard is thick and rasps along my cheeks as he presses his lips to mine. I give in and kiss him back, melding myself to him. It's familiar, being in his arms, and I decide I need familiar right now. My towel drops to the floor, and I’m lifted so my legs go around his waist. We both let out a long groan from the fric
tion of my core connecting with his stiff cock. "I can feel how wet you are through my pants," he whispers, shifting just enough to pull his dick free. In one swift, practiced move, he pushes the head inside me.
That single movement is like a cold bucket of water. The act that’s become so natural to us now seems like a betrayal. "No. Stop," I say, pulling my face away from him. "I can't. Let me down please." I frantically try to get away from him, and he pulls himself from me, placing me on the carpeted floor.
"Ari? What?"
"I’m sorry. Oh god. I’m so sorry, Premo." I feel something slide down my cheek, then the other one. When I reach up, I realize I’m crying. Tears fall freely from my eyes as I shake my head. "I’m sorry. I can’t do this," I say before turning to leave.
"No, Ari," Premo demands, halting me in my retreat. "Get back here." The edge to his voice makes the hair on my neck stand up, but I turn around to face him. "Shit," he curses, then steps to his dresser to grab something. He tosses over a t-shirt for me to wear, which I quickly pull over my head. "You don’t need to be sorry, but you don’t get to run away from me without an explanation."
"Rico," I blurt, and he pauses, then nods in understanding. "I don’t know why. We don’t even like each other, but I just can’t...it feels so wrong," I explain, not even understanding it myself.
"You love him," he says, and I shake my head. "You do, Ari. It’s fine. I’m not stupid enough to think you’re going to be mine. Shit, just before you got here..." He pauses. "You can stay here as long as you need. Okay?"
"Thank you for understanding."
"Yeah. Let’s go to bed." He doesn’t wait for me before sliding under his covers and getting comfortable. I do the same after picking up my discarded towel and hanging it on the hook in the bathroom.
"You know why I don’t drink?" he asks after I get myself situated on the bed. I don’t answer him. I don’t know why, I always just assumed it was a choice he made. "I’m an alcoholic. I go to AA meetings once a month and whenever I get the urge to have a drink." I’m shocked at this. He’s the president of the Siberian MC. I thought drinking was a requirement. "I had a woman, just got promoted to VP, and life was good. We had a baby boy who had just turned five that summer."
"You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to," I say into the dark, resisting the urge to slide my arms around him for comfort.
"I had it all, and a bad fucking habit," he continues. "Always had that bottle in my hand. Vodka. My drug of choice. Every now and then, I would get sober after Marissa and I would fight. I'd be good, then after a few days, maybe even a week, if I was lucky, I would reward myself with a drink.
"One day, that rewarded drink came at the price of losing my son. I backed out of the drive in my truck without looking behind me." I suck in a breath and cover my mouth, my heart pounding at his admission. "I haven’t had a drop since. If you don’t want anything to do with me from here on, I understand. I just want you to know I work at it—work at being sober every single day—and I would never put you or the baby at risk."
"I know, Premo. You're a good man. Good people sometimes do bad things, but it doesn’t make them bad. It makes them work harder at not making the same mistakes again." I scoot closer to him, aligning my body with his. "I would never want nothing to do with you," I whisper into his ear and kiss his cheek before settling my head on his shoulder, his arm holding me tight as we fall to sleep.
Chapter Fifteen
Rico
"Mr. Cabrera, I’m pleased to tell you everything went according to plan. The scar tissue was minimal, and we were able to get in there with less complication than anticipated. Depending on how well you let yourself heal, it looks like we’ll be able to get everything in just one more surgery," Doctor Lodestone explains as I sit up and eat my meal of jello and dry sandwich. Hospital food.
"Good to know, Doc. When can I go home?" I grumble, letting the glob of green stuff fall back down to my plate.
"We talked about this. I told you it was going to take some time. You agreed to that. You will need to stay put for at least a week, then we’ll go back in to finish what we started. After that, you’ll need to keep off your feet for no less than three weeks. The PT will be even longer and grueling, but I know you’ll be up for it." I knew all of this, I’m just in a sour mood.
"You can send them back in." I nod toward the door where Rock and Jake are standing on the other side. Lodestone dips his head and leaves me in the room for my brothers to come inside.
"Look like shit, Reek," Rock says, pulling up a chair to my bedside. "Got a hit on that lead. Thanks for that. I was able to get the information I needed. Turns out, I do have a baby brother. The fucked part of it all is our mother sold him." My eyes widen at his statement. He took my intel and went to have a chat with his mother, I guess.
"Fucking sold? You’ve got to be shitting me."
"Nope. The woman who shit me out told all, right before I put a bullet in her head." His admission should shock me. Might have if he hadn’t said the part about his mother selling his brother—her own flesh and blood.
"She say to who?" I try to shift a little, but don’t get much room to do so. I’m hooked to tubes everywhere, and it brings back some memories I’d rather forget. Flashes of waking up with the searing pain in my back and the dreaded thought that I possibly got Ellie killed. Not to mention the countless surgeries I had to endure only to be told my doctor fucked it all up and didn’t even catch the fact that my back had been broken.
I reach up to scratch at my overgrown stubble, pushing away the memories, and my IV tugs on my wrist. I damn near pull it out from annoyance, but decide to leave it.
"Yeah. Roman Sieers," he says, and I pause, knitting my brows together. I’ve heard that name before.
"Why does that sound familiar?"
"Avil," Jake whispers, and it clicks into place. Fucking Avil.
"The fucking prostitution ring list he wanted so fucking bad. Roman was one of the leaders. Right at the fucking top. Shit. I can get into the archives and..." I try to get out of bed on instinct, but Rock stops me.
"We’ve got Wiz on it, brother. Just wanted to keep you updated. You need to rest up. Appreciate all you’ve done already, but we want you healed. Doc said shit went good and you need rest. No stress for it to continue to go well. So, that’s what you're doing. Orders form your President," Rock says with a smirk, and my teeth grind together in annoyance. I know he means well, and that I need to listen, but it doesn’t mean I fucking want to.
"Fine," I grumble, and decide I need to ask. "Ari?" Rock and Jake share a glance, then Rock shakes his head, looking back my way with a slight grimace.
"Ain't come back yet. College followed her to Siberia," he says, and my fists clench.
"The fuck?" I grit out.
"The kid got back yesterday. Said he escorted her there after your fight." The need to pummel the little bastard for not telling me anything fills me.
"I want to see the fucker."
"No stress, Reek," Rock reminds me, like he’s some goddamn nurse, fueling my anger. "College was only watching out for her. Let the shit go for now. You’ve got more important things on your plate. Ari ain’t going nowhere," he tells me "Drop it from your mind, brother. You just focus on getting healed up. We'll be by again." He claps my shoulder, and Jake does the same before they both leave me laying immobile in my bed with a glob of green jello and pissing in a bag. My fucking life.
* * *
I do my time. I get my second surgery, which goes even better than the last. After the three weeks of bed-ridden, bag-pissing fun, I’m released, but still have to do the PT. I’m glad I was doing light workouts before the surgery. Otherwise, getting into the swing of PT might have been harder. It’s been two months of this shit, and I have loved every minute of it. "Give it one more, then you can call it a day." Sunny, my PT instructor, calls out to me as I do my last squat. The burn in my lower back is welcome. It lets me know this shit is working. My back still hurts, but
it’s nearly nonexistent compared to before. I feel like I can walk on water. "Great job, Rico!" she says, clapping her hands enthusiastically. Today is my last day. From here on out, I get to do my training on my own in the comfort of my own home. Not that I’m sad about it. Sunny is easy on the eyes and every time she shows me how to do an exercise beforehand, I damn near get hard, but the woman won’t shut up with her bubbly enthusiasm.
"Now, I know today is our last day together, but you need to keep up with the PT. Promise?" She hands me a towel and a water bottle. Nodding, I swipe the towel down my dripping face, then take a long swig from the bottle. "Listen,” she says, getting quieter, “now that I’m not your instructor, I thought maybe we could go out sometime?" Shit. I knew she was going to go there.
"Maybe," I mumble noncommittedly, grabbing my shirt from the bench I tossed it onto.
"Really?"
"When were you thinking?" I pull the shirt into place over my sweaty chest.
"Maybe Friday? Around five? I can stop by your house. We could go for drinks or something." Or something. Meaning sex. I’m sure the woman isn’t looking for hearts and flowers, just a good, hard fuck from a Hell's Rider. I haven’t touched a woman since I had Ari in my bed, and I don’t feel the inkling to change that just yet. Even though I haven’t heard a word from her, or even asked about her whereabouts since the day of my first surgery, I’m still holding out hope that the stubborn ass woman will come back to me.
"I'll let you know." With a tip of my head, I walk out of the building attached to the hospital and do the regular scan for Ari's car, already knowing I won’t see it. Lying in bed with nothing to do gives a person time to think—to reflect on how big of an asshole they’ve been. And I’ve been a big one. I hacked into the hospital's computers and found that she took a leave of absence. She just straight up ran away, and she had good reason to. I was a complete dickhead, and she didn’t deserve to be talked to in the way I did. Nor did she need to hear about Premo's past from me. Complete fucking dick move.
