“Have you had enough, asshole? Do you fuckin’ get now what it’s like to constantly have someone go after you, like you do to Maggie?” Flux smacked the man with his open palm, again and again, in a relentless set. “That’s what it feels like for her when you won’t take the fuckin’ hint. So, I’m here to serve it to you, got it? Leave her the fuck alone from now on, or this won’t end with humiliation—it’ll end with your dead fuckin’ body. Don’t think I won’t enjoy doing it either, so don’t fuckin’ tempt me.”
“Flux? What’re you doing? Oh my God!”
Maggie’s voice from behind him drew him up short, as he immediately dropped the rider’s head and staggered to stand up and face her with barely a scratch on him. He turned his back toward Chet. No threat was there anymore, and if one of the cowboy’s cronies wanted to come finish what Chet had started, his biker radar would sense them and he’d tear them apart.
Flux locked eyes with Maggie and noted her crossed arms. She chewed the corner of her bottom lip and kept dropping her eyes to Chet on the ground and circling back to Flux. He cleared his throat, wiped his hands, and stood in front of her without a damn thing to say that would make what she was looking at any better.
“I suppose he started it,” she said dryly.
Flux heard Chet’s buddies pick him up and haul him off to the on-site EMT that was always on standby for any injuries in and out of the ring.
“What the hell happened?”
“The fucker got into my business. I had a problem with Hank—the asshole left me high and dry out in the ring with a madder-than-hell bull ready to impale me. I showed Hank what I thought about what he’d done, and Chet intervened.” Flux shrugged. “It’s really pretty simple. The asshole wanted a fight, so I gave him one.”
Maggie’s mouth hung slightly open and she shook her head. “Oh, Flux. Thank God you’re okay.”
Before he could say anything, she flung herself at him. Her well-muscled arms dropped around his neck and she squeezed him tight, as if the idea of actually losing him weighed heavy on her heart. Flux blinked a few times then wrapped his arms around her waist, locking her toned body to him from shoulders to toes. He squeezed her so tightly that they almost couldn’t breathe. Maggie let out a small, content sigh.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispered, featherlight against the tip of his ear. “And that the big, bad cowboys didn’t hurt you.”
Her laughter caught in her throat as he tipped back her body and claimed her mouth with a primal noise that echoed all the way down to his soul. He took her with all the pent-up violence that still rode through his system and funneled the energy into a passion he hadn’t thought would ever exist for him again after Alicia’s murder. When their lips pulled apart, he grinned at her glazed-over eyes.
“I better talk to Charlie and explain what happened. He doesn’t like any fighting on the grounds.” Maggie rested her head against his chest.
“Yeah … I guess I didn’t think too hard about getting my ass canned when the bastard came at me.”
“What’ll happen if Charlie doesn’t listen to reason. From the way Chet looked, I don’t know if he’ll be able to ride tomorrow night.”
Flux kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry your pretty head about me. I’m not attached at the hip with this job, it just gives me money for booze, weed, and chow. I’ve worked a shitload of jobs in so many cities and towns that I can’t even remember them all.” He brushed his lips across hers. “I’m a nomad, darlin’. I go where my bike takes me.”
“I’m not ready for you to go,” she said, burying her face in his shirt.
Warmth crawled up his spine and he held her closer. “Neither am I, Duchess. I can pick up some work while the rodeo is still in the city.” A small sniffle hit his ears. “You’re not crying on me, are you, Duchess?”
A small shake of her head.
Flux ran his hands up and down her back. “That’s good ’cause I don’t ever wanna make you cry.” A smaller sniffle. “I’m fuckin’ starving.”
“Me too,” she said in a small voice.
“Pete told me about a great barbecue place downtown.”
“I like barbecue.” Her words were muffled against his shirt.
“Darlin’, I can’t believe you got your face buried in my shirt ’cause I smell like ass. I gotta go to the motel and take a shower.”
Maggie tilted her head back and looked up at him. “I’ll find Charlie before he leaves.”
He bent his head down and kissed her gently. “You don’t have to do that for me.”
“I know, but I want to. I’ll come to your room in a half hour.”
“Sounds good.”
Maggie untangled her arms from around him and smoothed down her tight-fitting Western shirt. “I’ll see you soon.” She started to walk toward Charlie’s office.
“Duchess?”
She turned around. “Yeah?”
“What’re you doing tomorrow after practice?”
“Nothing much. I thought I might go shopping at the Tucson Mall with Larissa and Sarah. Why?”
“I wanna take you for a ride on my bike, but we can do it another time.”
A wide grin spread across her face and her eyes sparkled. “No way, big guy. I wouldn’t pass up a ride on your Harley for anything. I’m in.” She spun back around.
Flux’s jeans grew tight while he watched that familiar sway of her hips and the jiggle of her rounded ass as she walked away. Arousal crashed through him and he growled.
Once Maggie had disappeared from sight, Flux made his way to the parking lot, knowing a cold shower awaited him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Maggie
“We’re almost there, Duchess,” Flux shouted from in front of her as his Harley chopped through the hot, dry air the next day.
Riding on the back of the motorcycle, every noise was amplified and drowned out at the exact same time. The wind whipped tears into Maggie’s eyes, and her hair tangled against her face as the desert landscape blurred past. She clung to Flux’s hard, gorgeous body beneath his token black T-shirt, and every bump sent her hands scrambling, loosening them a fraction. Her heart jumped into her throat, and more than a few times she’d groped for a makeshift handhold and had found her palm tightening around his dick through the rock-hard bulge in his jeans.
Maggie loved the feeling of Flux’s body tensing beneath her fingers whenever he moved to maneuver the bike, or when her hands wandered over his shaft. It was almost as if he and the bike were one and the same. If someone had asked her, Maggie wouldn’t have thought she was missing out on anything by not riding a motorcycle, but as her body molded to Flux’s and the scent of sage and sweet earthiness wrapped around her, she knew she would’ve been wrong. The most intense nature hike of her life, the closeness to Flux, the speed of the bike … all of it was more exhilarating than she could’ve ever imagined.
Every one of her senses was on overdrive. It was a more intimate experience than anything she had ever done—pretty similar to flying on the back of a galloping horse, only faster and with twice the adrenaline. Maggie held her breath and clung to him as they took a hairpin turn, and it seemed like his wheels had left the road. Her laughter erupted out of nowhere, and the wind ate it as soon as the sound came out.
No wonder Flux lived for the ride. She understood him better now than if he’d ever tried to describe his love of riding with words. It was similar to the way Maggie would get lost in her horse, ducking and weaving, executing each small movement with a precision that made everything else in the world disappear, yet she was still aware of her surroundings.
At that moment, the feeling of flying was insanely amazing and something she would never forget, and she was thrilled they were sharing it together.
Her mouth went to his ear and her teeth toyed with his earlobe before her tongue licked the slightly salty skin of his neck. Flux threw a sharp look at her over his shoulder, and the heat in his eyes made her shiver and giggle. Maggie rested
her head against his back and, once again, watched the world fall away into a smear of colors and shades: red, pink, brown, and green. Her heartbeat echoed through every inch of her body, and her thoughts were lost to everything but the moment.
“Are you ready?” Flux shouted, his voice falling away as soon as he spoke. “Hold on tight, Duchess.”
Her hands clamped tighter around his waist until her fingers ached, and then Flux did something that made the bike roar and shoot forward like a bullet. The sudden increase in speed made her cry out as her stomach dropped, and it felt like she was a kid again on one of the free-falling rides at an amusement park. A million tiny pinpricks of fear rushed through her body, and Maggie was acutely aware of her mortality and testing fate; nonetheless, she felt free.
When the motorcycle took another sharp corner, Maggie’s fingers scrambled again, but that time they dropped down onto Flux’s hard bulge. She smiled and squeezed—three quick teases and he squirmed against her touch.
“Fuck.”
Maggie felt, rather than heard, the rumble in his chest.
“Watch it, Duchess. I’ve got to concentrate and you’re making it fuckin’ hard.”
Maggie smiled and leaned in closer to his ear. “That’s not the only thing I want hard.”
Flux threw her a heated stare then slowed the speed down a few notches. They were climbing, and soon pine trees replaced the desert’s rock formations, and the hot air morphed into clear coolness. Flux turned down a small road, and fifty yards later, the bike stopped and he killed the engine. The quick shutdown left a void of sound in her head. For a few seconds, all she heard was ringing in her ears when Flux dismounted and offered his hand. Their fingers interlaced and his simple touch drew desire tight in Maggie’s belly and clouded her head with a lust that nearly made her clench her thighs together. Her eyelids fluttered and she licked her lips, feeling out of place to have both her feet back on solid ground.
A lush forest of trees surrounded them, and in the distance, hundreds of saguaro cacti looked like miniatures in a Southwestern diorama. A flush of pleasure and a heady rush of excitement made Maggie squeeze Flux again in a tight hug from behind.
“You like it?” he asked gruffly and opened one of the containers behind the seat.
“It’s beautiful.” She pointed at the compartment. “Is that the trunk?”
Flux chuckled and took out a blanket. “Yeah, but it’s called a saddle bag. I fuckin’ love it up here, and I wanted to share it with you.”
When he moved around her, she scooted to get out of his way, and they ended up doing a small dance as they both went in the same direction. Laughing, Flux took her shoulders and gently planted her in a spot opposite from him. Maggie’s cheeks warmed and she looked away. Since they’d hooked up, everything was hot and heavy and so good between them, but it seemed right to her that they still had their little awkward moments: the small blips across the radar so it didn’t exactly feel like a perfect romance novel. If it was too good, Maggie would second guess herself into screwing it up. She smiled as she watched him close the compartment. Even when things aren’t perfect, they’re so much better than I could ever imagine with anyone else.
Flux held out his hand and she tucked hers into it, following him to a grassy patch with a scenic overlook. He unfurled the blanket and shook it out before he walked over to a shaded spot under the trees and spread it. She stared at it, admiring the burgundy and rust-colored Navajo designs.
“Are you coming or what?” he asked with a wink.
“You’re such a romantic.” Maggie rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner, then chuckled when Flux threw her a hard expression. She ambled toward him, and he caught her arm and yanked her flat against his body. “I was just playing around, big guy. No need to get bent out of shape.” Maggie suppressed a giggled.
“Uh-huh.” His hands wandered from her hips to her ass, where he squeezed gently then slapped her right cheek hard enough for her to jump. “Looks like I’m gonna have to teach you a lesson on manners.”
Tingles ran down Maggie’s spine and she kissed the side of his neck. When her lips found his pulse, she ran her teeth over the skin, admiring how his heart rate skittered and then skipped before raging forward again. She loved the effect she had on him. It was proof that she was beginning to break down the many walls he’d constructed around his emotions.
Still gripping her ass, Flux sat down and Maggie toppled along until she straddled him to regain her balance. The thrumming vibrations from the motorcycle still pulsed through her muscles, and her flesh felt like a live wire beneath his touch as he gently brushed back a rogue bit of hair on her cheek.
“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, Duchess.” His intense stare bored into her.
Maggie looked down and hid her face as a telltale blush crept up her neck and into her face. The way Flux complimented her was so real … so matter of fact, and none of that kiss ass, want-to-get-in-your-pants crap she’d heard from most guys. Maybe it was because Flux was so sincere that embarrassment swept over her more times than it ever had with any other man.
Maggie leaned toward him for a light kiss, barely a brushing of lips as her fingers traced down between his pecs.
“You’re an anomaly, Flux. What makes you tick deep down inside?” Maggie figured Flux would squirm with that question. Since they’d gotten together, he’d dodged a lot of the things she’d asked him, but she vowed to herself that he wouldn’t pull that off today. The night that Hank had left Flux high and dry in the ring brought home the reality of the dangerousness of his job. She could’ve lost him that night, and the thought scared the hell out of her. At that moment, it’d never been more important that she understood the man who’d made his way into her bed and was quickly becoming the center focus of her heart.
Flux remained silent, pressing his forehead against her own with his eyes closed, as if even thinking about the question pained him. She squeezed her lips together and gently stroked the back of his head. Whatever it was, it was hard for him—that much was clear. Maggie moved her head away only to lay a small kiss on his brow before returning to their intimate embrace.
She wrapped one arm around his shoulders and stroked the side of his neck. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. It’s okay,” she reassured him, hoping he didn’t sense any pressure in her words.
Flux didn’t answer, he just stared over her shoulder at the expanse of desert.
“I want to get to know all of you,” she whispered.
When he didn’t answer, pricks of anxiety nipped her spine, and Maggie feared she may have overstepped her bounds. I won’t push him.
Resting her head against his shoulder, she listened to his strained breathing.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Flux
Maggie’s question died in his ears, her voice still ringing through his skull as Flux tried to sort through the millions of thoughts running through his brain. As soon as he’d found them, he’d shut down, not talking to anyone about it, not even his brothers. A sharp wince made his muscles shake and tense, but even though Maggie must’ve sensed the shift in him, she didn’t back down. Instead, she ran her hands over his, trying her best to soothe him like he was some sort of spooked horse or something.
Though Flux couldn’t deny the ghosts from his past were spooking him—they always did. He didn’t revel in the idea of bringing all that shit up right now, especially when things were so new between Maggie and him. But she was fucking right; she’d asked more than a few times about his story. Who was he to bury his cock in her all night, protect her from assholes like Chet, take her out on his bike, yet deny her such a large part of himself.
Flux let out a long, ragged sigh. The sound seemed to come up from deep within, an endless well of pain that had gnawed on his insides until he numbed himself out with anything and everything. Grief licked at his core and he inhaled a shaky breath, his palms flat against his thighs.
It’s fuckin’ show time. The moment seemed as good as any to show M
aggie his damn scars and hope to hell she wouldn’t run for cover once she realized that his fate was all his own goddamn fault.
“Flux, are you still here with me?” Her voice cut through the muck clouding his mind.
“Yeah, Duchess,” he croaked through the lump in his throat. “Fuck, I don’t even know where to start anymore …”
Words stuck in his throat and Flux groaned in frustration, gnashing his teeth together as Maggie gently shushed him and continued stroking the top of his hands.
The kitchen. Blood splattered from wall to wall.
Alicia. Naked in a pool of blood. Stab wounds crisscrossing her body like a checkerboard.
Emily. Fuck … Emily. Face down. Lifeless. Covered in angry, deep slashes.
Like snapshots against a flashbulb, Flux saw every single graphic picture in his mind, in full-fucking-3D color with all the trimmings. His stomach rolled and he nearly gagged as Maggie pulled back and tilted his head up until he looked into her eyes.
“It’s okay, Flux. I won’t leave you. Talk to me,” she said softly.
The steadiness in her eyes reminded him that he was in Tucson, on Mt. Lemmon, surrounded by pine trees and not in his home on Redwood Drive. Flux nodded, wordless, while he groped for the beginning of his story.
“I met Alicia when I’d just turned twenty. It was right after I got my full patch with the Insurgents.” Flux swallowed, the words thick in his throat, but he refused to close his eyes so Maggie wouldn’t see his pain. He needed to maintain their connection while he broke down all his walls. “She was the best.” A small smile ghosted across his lips as the image of Alicia eating watermelon on the seat of his bike flitted through his mind. I was so pissed that she was gonna make the seat all sticky, but she just winked at me and laughed, and then we made love—right there on the bike.
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