Ride Hard

by Brook Wilder

  That’s not the reason you overslept though, a tiny voice whispered and Carla tried to silence it. But she knew it was the truth. She had spent most of the night tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep because of him: Joel. Thoughts of him had tormented her until dawn had first started to peek above the horizon and when she had finally fallen asleep, he’d been there in her dreams. Kissing her, holding her, and doing a whole hell of a lot of other things that had her wet and wanting when she’d woken up an hour after her alarm had gone off.

  She drove as quickly as she could, grateful that the farm wasn’t far and, within thirty minutes, she pulled into the long drive. Carla glanced down at the clock and gave a mental cheer. She still had five minutes to spare.

  She quickly parked, ran to clock in, and was surprised to see Maurice already standing there, tapping his foot impatiently, obviously waiting for some information from her.

  “You’re late,” he snapped, and she glanced at the clock on her phone again just to double check.

  “Actually, I’m right on time,” she said, trying to keep her voice level. If she was going to pull this off she knew she needed to keep her emotions in check.

  “Well, you’re usually here earlier than this.”

  “I know. I had some errands to take care of this morning,” she said casually, refusing to give him any more excuses, and she sure as hell was not about to tell him that she’d been running late because a certain sexy biker had haunted her dreams all night.

  “Well?” he said again, this time a question as he stared at her with those beady, lifeless eyes of his that made her skin crawl.

  “Well, what?” Carla said, trying to keep it cool as she walked to the nearby growing table, full of its precious seedlings. It made it easier when she wasn’t looking at him. When her hands were busy.

  “Don’t play games with me Carla! You won’t like the outcome. I told you to get the shipment back, or else…” he trailed off, once more hanging the ambiguous threat over her head.

  “I…I think the shipment is gone, Maurice. I tried to track it down, but…I’m pretty sure it’s already across state lines.” Her lie made heat sweep up into her pale cheeks, but she kept her head down.

  “Fuck that. I don’t believe you. You’re lying to me, Carla, and I don’t like people who lie to me.” He was suddenly so close that she could smell his fetid breath as it sawed in and out. Rage and impotence muddled his expression, twisting into something even more terrible. “You know what I think? I think you were in on it. I think you were in on the whole thing. You sold me out and I’m going to do everything I can to prove it. You’ll have a lot of fun in prison, Carla. People don’t take no for an answer in prison.”

  She jolted back in shock at his words, but it was the venomous look in his eyes that had true fear running like ice through her veins. She opened her mouth to say something, anything to defend herself, but her vocal chords were frozen.

  “You still have a chance. I’m a reasonable man, Carla, I really am. But the cops are involved now. They’re investigating the missing shipment and they’ll find it, but you still have a chance. Just get it back and all of this will go away. Do you understand?” he asked, still so close that she could see every broken capillary on the ruddy skin of his face, could see the way his pupils dilated at the fear and pain he had caused, mixing with a sick lust that made her stomach knot.

  “I’ll just…I’ll keep trying. I’ll keep trying, Maurice,” she stuttered, hating the stammer in her voice, hating that he could make her feel so out of control and ,as he nodded, moving as if to take a step closer, she ducked around him and headed straight for her truck. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t look back. Carla just got in, started the engine, and drove. It wasn’t until almost an hour later that she realized she wasn’t driving home. She was heading straight for the clubhouse.

  Chapter 12

  Joel looked up as the door opened. It was still early enough that most of the crew was passed out, sleeping off whatever copious amounts of alcohol had been consumed the night before. But not him. He had to oversee flipping the weed and he had to do it with a clear head. He cursed because that clear head seemed to flee the moment he saw Carla walk in to the clubhouse.

  “Carla?” he called out and she practically ran towards him. It was apparent that something was wrong. It was written all over her pale face, the tear-stained look in her blue eyes, the way her lips trembled as she came near. She didn’t stop and shock made him throw his arms around her as she barreled into him. He held her for a long moment as she drew in deep, shaky breaths and, despite himself, he nuzzled into her hair, feeling the silken strands tickle his face as her scent wound around him. It was unique, rich and earthy and edged with something sweet, like caramel, so much like her it made his chest ache. Finally, back under control, she pulled back and he instantly regretted the loss.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go,” she said, her voice full of unshed tears but what sparked his anger was the fear he saw lurking behind her sapphire eyes.

  “Tell me what happened,” he commanded, leading her to a chair and he could see her transform as he took control, could see the way she calmed even more, the fear receding just slightly. It was enough, for now.

  “I went to work, like we planned. I told Maurice that the shipment was lost. That we would have to send out another. He knew,” she looked up at him, her blue eyes drowning and lost, “somehow he knew I was lying. He told me…he told me that the police were investigating, and that I would go to prison. He said–”

  “Fuck.” The word shot from his mouth, interrupting her as he slammed to his feet. If the cops were looking for the shipment it would only be a matter of time before they tracked it back to the Cruiser’s. This changed everything. All their careful planning. All the preparation. It was all shit now.

  “I’m sorry, I…I’m sorry, I didn’t know what else to do. He threatened me, he said if I found it first he would just forget everything, he would call the police off. I’m so sorry.” She bit her lower lip hard to keep them from trembling and her eyes were squeezed tight against the onslaught of tears that threatened when Joel turned back to her. He was by her side in an instant, kneeling down until his face was even with hers.

  “Open your eyes,” he ordered, but she shook her head. “Open them. Now, Carla.” Finally, she did as he commanded and he felt her tear-stained look shatter through him.

  “This is not your fault. I’m pissed that the cops are involved, it complicates things, but I’m not angry at you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “But I told you that I could do it. That I could handle it, and I couldn’t. I failed.”

  “No, you didn’t,” he said, forcing himself to soften his tone, and wondered for the hundredth, for the thousandth, time why her feelings mattered so much to him. “You did everything right. It just didn’t work out. Shit happens. We’ll just have to adjust.”

  “But, I–.”

  He stopped her words with a finger against her lips.

  “Stop,” he said, his tone shifted, growing harder, firmer, more dominant and not brooking any arguments. Her eyes widened over where his finger was, but she remained silent and he felt that familiar thrill flash through him. “Listen to me, and listen good because I’m not going to say it again, and I don’t want to hear another word of it come out of that sweet mouth of yours. It’s not your fault. Shit just got fucked up. And now, we’ll deal with it.”

  Joel stared into her eyes, refusing to let go, refusing to drop her gaze, keeping it trapped in his. Slowly, he slid his finger away, unable to resist the small caress as it passed her bottom lip, slightly swollen from her teeth marks.

  “Now, repeat what I just said.”

  “It’s not my fault,” Carla said, tentatively, and, with a deep breath, continued, “Shit just got fucked up. And now, we’ll deal with it. Together.”

  He had just gotten over the instant heat that flashed through his body when she’d said the
word ‘fucked’ but as her last, extra word registered, that heat changed and spread through him with a warmth that wrapped around his chest and squeezed.

  He gave her a piercing look, fighting to get his body under control, but finally he nodded. “Together.”

  Chapter 13

  “Wait, what do you mean we have to change the plan? Everything is set!”

  “No, we can’t. We don’t have enough time. It’s too late.”

  “What the fuck happened? What are we going to do?”

  Joel listened to the tirade with as much patience as he could muster. Tucker, Hot Wheels, Viper, and Honey all stood in a unified line of disbelief and anger, and he couldn’t blame them. He spared a brief moment wishing that the Cruiser’s president, Carrigan, was back and could deal with this shit but he was halfway across the country dealing with his own, and so it fell to him.

  “Enough!” Joel said, not loudly, but hard and sharp enough that it cut through the others’ words and they fell away like wisps of cobwebs. “Enough,” he repeated, a little softer. A little. He spared a glance at Carla who was still sitting where he’d left her, her arms crossed in front of her chest in a protective gesture, her face still white, but at least there was a little more fight in her blue eyes, and little less fear.

  “Carla just tipped me off. The police are investigating the missing shipment.” He could see the sudden relief in her face and his anger tightened as he realized she’d still been worried he would put the blame on her and call her out for failing. He gave a mental shake of his head. She would learn soon enough, but now wasn’t the time. They had to hustle if they were going to have any chance to save this operation.

  “We need to flip the shipment. Now.” There was an instant reaction at his words.

  “What? That’s impossible–”

  “There’s no way, boss–”

  “You’re fucking crazy, man. That’s not gonna happen–”

  Once again, he let it wash over him. They knew the stakes just as well as him and he let them vent for another moment before reigning it back in.

  “Listen, we need a new plan. I know it’s not ideal, but it’s what we’ve got to work with. You should be thanking Carla for tipping us off. Without her we would still be flying blind.” He’d thrown the last in at the end, just to see her eyes widen in shock on him but he couldn’t let it affect him. He was serious. They were out of time, and they needed to move now.

  “Any ideas?” he said, and the members looked at him solemnly but silently and the minutes ticked by intolerably. “Fuck, anyone?” He finally snapped, the frustration of the situation getting to him and he immediately regretted it as he saw Carla flinch in the side of his vision.

  “Well, it’s a stretch, and we’d still have to get it across state lines, but I know some people that could buy. It might not go for as much as we hoped but at least we would make a profit and get it off our hands. I’ll reach out to my contact,” Hot Wheels suggested and everyone nodded eagerly at her plan.

  “Do it,” Joel said, “Tuck, you make sure everything is in order to get across the state line.” Tucker gave a two finger salute and walked stolidly away after Hot Wheels. “Viper, I need you to check the shipment. You know where it’s being held. Make sure everything is ready, we’re gonna need to move as soon as we can.”

  Viper grinned with sudden excitement and ran out next as he turned to the last man in the room. “Honey, I need you to keep things quiet. Make sure none of this gets out and if it does, spin it. Say we hit the jackpot and the plan is moving ahead early. Say whatever you need to keep the peace. Got it?”

  “I got it, boss,” Honey said, as he turned away as well. He was the bartender at the clubhouse, but he was also a lot more than that. Informant, spy--he had the ear of everyone in the gang and he could use it turn them whichever way Joel needed.

  Finally, with a new plan at least set in motion he felt like he could breathe easy for the first time since Carla had burst into the club house to announce that the police were involved and that their original plan was suddenly shot to shit.

  The thought of her had him turning, she was still sitting there, her hands still trembling from the aftermath of her confrontation with Maurice.

  “Hey, why don’t I give you a ride home,” he suggested suddenly. It was obvious she was in no shape to drive.

  “But, my truck?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I can have someone drop it off later.” He reached out a hand and reacted fiercely when she slid her palm against his with no hesitation, trusting him completely. He grinned suddenly. “Have you ever ridden on a bike?”

  Her eyes widened and she shook her head, “No. No, I haven’t.”

  “Come on. You’re gonna love it.” She hesitated for a moment. “Trust me.” At his words, her expression cleared, calmed, and she nodded her ascent as he led her outside. She gave him the address of her house and he nodded, pulling his bike over so she could get on.

  “Hold on a minute,” Carla said, running to her truck, swinging the passenger door open, and returning a moment later to hand him the keys and something else. It was his leather jacket, folded into the neatest square. He shook his head and a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he shook it out and held it out to Carla, once more offering it to her. She gave him a questioning look and he shrugged, for the first time that he could remember in his entire life, feeling self-conscious.

  “It’s for protection, on the bike. Come on, just put it on.” He shook it at her again and, with a small smile, slid one arm in the too-big sleeve, and then the other. He stared at her, fighting the unfamiliar sensation of nerves and he hid it by putting the spare helmet on her head and buckling the strap. All the while she stood there, proud and excited and so beautiful it was hard for him to look at her.

  Hastily, he threw on his own helmet and straddled the bike before showing her how to get on, where to put her feet. He groaned silently as her arms slid around his waist and he could feel the lush, firm globes of her breasts pressed against his back and he instantly regretted his decision. But at the same time, he reveled in the delicious contact. It just wasn’t enough, not nearly enough.

  “Are you ready?” Joel yelled out behind him as he revved the engine to life.

  “What?” Carla yelled back, trying to understand him over the noise.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yeah!” the word was lost in a squeal of laughter as he pushed the throttle and pulled out of the lot, a part of him knew it was petty, but he was unable to keep the smile off his face at the sound of her delighted scream. And the feel of her holding on even tighter didn’t hurt, either.

  The drive was almost an hour, made longer by the less direct route Joel took, trying to stretch each second into eternity, but all too soon they pulled in front of her house. It wasn’t in the best neighborhood, to say the least. and there was something about the tiny, dilapidated house that reminded him of his past. A past that was always with him no matter how hard he tried to forget, to leave it behind.

  He slowed the bike to a stop in the cracked driveway, and threw down the kickstand before helping her off the motorcycle. His hands on her hips tightened of their own accord and he held her closer, unwilling or just unable to let her go. At least, not without a taste. Before he even realized what he was doing, his lips dropped to hers. He groaned when she leaned eagerly into him, slanting her mouth across his as they danced together, drugging him.

  He slid his tongue along the seam of her lips, begging for entrance and she opened for him without hesitation. She was so sweet--unbearably sweet--and so addicting he didn’t want to stop. He wanted more. So much more. Carla’s movements against him drove him wild and he pushed her harder against the bike to keep her still with one hand while the other slid up from her hip, across her rib cage, and curled around her shoulder to spear into her hair to hold her head still for his onslaught.

  Lust like a monsoon, more powerful than he’d ever experienced before threatened to d
rown him at her sweet, willing response and he knew if he didn’t stop soon he would take her then and there.

  It took every ounce of willpower he had to pull away from her and they were both panting as if they’d run for miles. He rested his forehead against hers, fighting against his body’s instincts, until finally he stood and released her.

  “Bye, Carla,” he forced out the words, barely able to speak past the desire running rampant through his system. She gave him a shy wave, her fingers touching her kiss-swollen lips and he almost took them again. With a growl he forced himself to turn away and swing his legs once more over the waiting bike. He had to adjust himself and gave up, resigned to the uncomfortable ride ahead of him. He was about to take off when her voice stopped him.