I toss and turn as I cling to the very words I dreamed from this same woman a night ago. I feel stuck in the dream.
“Diem Bella Reigns, you are my heart,” she whispers, and I ease back into slumber.
The sheets tighten around me as the dream shifts. I’m no longer in the dream, but rather, it’s like I’m watching a memory play out in my sleep.
“Diem, baby, wake up.” The woman shakes me gently. I’m three, maybe four-years-old. Like the other dreams, I’m in the bed surrounded by bears and balloons. “I need you to wake up, sunshine, so we can play a little game.”
“Momma,” I call out to her as I wake. There are strange noises and chaos somewhere else in the house. I can’t explain it, but the look on my mother’s face tells me something isn’t right. My chest tightens, and it’s hard to breathe as the fear climbs.
“Sweet girl, I need you to go to our spot. Listen to momma, you go and you shut the door. No matter what, you don’t open it until I come to get you.”
I struggle to sit up in the bed. I’m tired. I just want to sleep. She lifts me from the bed and places me gently on my feet. I hear noises. People are coming.
“Go, go,” she encourages, pushing me toward the small space. I rush to the little door built into the wall and climb inside my hideaway. I have a pillow, blankets, teddy bears, and books in here. Pulling on the string, the light illuminates the space, and I tuck my knees to my chest.
Fear.
This is real fear.
I try to listen to the noises outside, but being tucked away, I can’t figure out what is going on.
Helplessly, I sit in the cubby, hiding away from the world, wondering when my mom is coming to get me from here.
Jolting awake, I’m no longer a little girl in a hidden nook of a wall, but in my room decorated in muted grays and soft lavender shades without a single teddy bear in sight.
I look at the clock to see it’s only three in the morning. What is wrong with me that I keep having these strange dreams?
At first, I consider going downstairs for something to drink, but my dad’s instructions replay in my mind, keeping me in my room.
I wonder if my parents are going to be okay. Will their marriage survive? More than anything, I want to know what is really going on.
8
Colton
Boomerism: “Know when it’s the time to rise. Recognize when the time to fall comes upon you and act accordingly.”
“Haven’t done this shit since high school,” I remind Wesson. “You wanna get laid, brother, but damn, why do I have to go along too?”
He laughs. “Shut the fuck up, Kick. You know you wanna hang out with Diem as much as I wanna see where I can take things with Emmalee.”
Whatever. This shit feels juvenile. I’m a grown man. If I want to fuck, I find a broad to fuck. Take a woman out on a date? I haven’t done that in years. Take a woman on a date with my brother and her best friend along … that’s the shit we did as teens. Double dating sounds ridiculous at thirty years old.
“Tripp said we had to keep an eye on them until everything could get sorted out. Given the shit storm coming into town, either for Thomas Reigns or Paul Van Etten, we need to be with them as much as possible. A date is a good way to start that shit out.”
I nod because he is not wrong. Even if I don’t like the idea it will help our job from Tripp. Plus, anytime I can be around Diem, I find myself looking forward to. While that feeling is quite unusual for me, I don’t necessarily dislike it.
Diem Reigns is beautiful. From her long dark hair, to her caramel skin tone, to the curves of her body. She is the total package. Her voice is smooth and thick like honey. She smells of citrus every time she’s close. Diem’s smile is the kind that captivates. She has me warped inside like no one ever has before. Which is why I’m going on a damn double date at thirty.
In a matter of minutes, I’m in a fresh pair of jeans, a black t-shirt, my cut, boots, and a backwards baseball hat in place. Wesson wears jeans tucked under him with a blue shirt, and his hair is down like usual. Wesson drives his van, while I take my bike, on the off-chance Emmalee wants to go home with him. I’ll go crash at the compound to give them some privacy.
The ride over the high-rise bridge to Emerald Isle is short. The ocean breeze hitting my face in the chilly winter evening makes me feel alive.
I wonder how Wesson goes through life missing this. Then again, I know my brother misses it. I also know he fears it too. The freedom that is. Right after his accident, Boomer bought him a trike. Granted, at the time, the doctors were hopeful Wesson would walk again with the help of prosthetics. Whether he can walk or not, I don’t ask. If Wesson wants to talk about what happened, I am here. Otherwise, I let my brother be. As a man I know if I were him, I wouldn’t want anyone telling me what to do. I would want to do what I felt comfortable doing. So prosthetics are his choice. Just like riding a Harley again will be up to him. My brother doesn’t find peace with any of this. He’s still up and down inside his head about what to do next. How can he really move on when every day he has a direct reminder of what he had before and lost? Thinking about Wes and all his challenges, I tense up. I hate knowing my brother hurts and I can’t do a damn thing to help him. I close my eyes with nothing but the open road in front of me.
One little move.
One little bump.
One rock.
In the blink of an eye, I could be nothing more than a mangled man in my loved one’s memories.
I open my eyes and watch my brother’s turn signal come on in front of me. He parks in a handicapped spot while I pull in to the open spot beside him.
Climbing off my bike, I gaze around the parking lot of Surf’s Up, pleased to find it empty. The thing about our coastal town, many businesses close in the winter months. The Hellions have a business relationship with the owner of Surf’s Up, and Wesson reserved the entire place for tonight. On short notice, I wasn’t so sure they would accept the request.
I like my privacy, so this works for me.
We’re early, so I head inside.
John and Jeff, who own Surf’s Up, have outdone themselves. The entire room is emptied, except two tables and four chairs. The room is lit with wall sconces and the overhead lighting is dimmed.
Damn, if I was serious about shit with Diem, this is the way to ensure a man gets laid. I will be giving them a bonus tomorrow for sure.
Wesson stays outside for the women, while I quickly go in the kitchen to make sure dinner is on schedule.
I’m walking back into the dining space when I look to the doorway where she enters. I find myself standing in place, absolutely awestruck.
No one is more beautiful than Diem Reigns in this minute.
She has her hair cascading down her back with two small braids from her bangs going back and creating a halo around her head. Her makeup isn’t overly done, but it’s all an enhancement of her natural features, like her alluring brown eyes against the olive of her skin tone. She’s wearing a white sweater with a neck that scoops down, giving the hint of cleavage. Her ample tits are prominent, while her thin waist is accented in jeans that cling to her body. She’s wearing these sexy as fuck knee high boots with a heel that make me want to fuck her with those on.
I let out a low growl because damn, if the woman doesn’t have me getting hard without even touching her yet. Her eyes lock to mine, and there is a distance in them I don’t like.
Something is off.
The spitfire free spirit I fucked at the club is gone, and the woman in front of me seems almost … hurt.
I don’t like this shit one bit.
I approach and take her by the hand and pull her to me. Once she’s against me, I drop my lips to hers. For the briefest of moments, she resists, then in an instant, she gives in to the pull between us.
“You look fuckin’ amazing,” I tell her after I pull away.
She gives me a soft smile, but her head isn’t in this.
I look over to Wess
on and Emmalee, who are carefree together chatting like old friends.
“You wanna get out of here?” I ask Diem.
She looks to her friend then back to me. “This is fine, Colt. We’re supposed to eat dinner.”
I shake my head. “Diem, I was in the Army. When you spend any amount of time in close quarters with strangers, you learn to read people. You’re not into this. I don’t know if it’s me, the situation, or something else entirely. What I do know is you are about to sit down with me, when the crab cakes are served, you’ll push them around your plate. The salads will come, and you’ll simply pick out the tomatoes and eat just those, bypassing the onions and Jeff’s amazing house-made croutons along with a mix of romaine lettuce, spring leaves, and baby spinach. I got filet ordered, babe. Or prime rib, you pick, because John and Jeff made sure we have both ready. But really, what your eyes tell me is you wanna get lost for a bit, not eat some delicious food, or in your case, waste this amazing dinner.”
She looks at me with a shocked and wild face, almost bewildered.
I cup her chin to hold her face in place. “Hear me, Diem. Kind of man I am, I know what I want. I know that I’ve never given any woman a second thought until you. I know that I want to taste every inch of your body over and over. But more than that, I want to be the man in your life that when you need to shut up and escape, I give you that out. See, spitfire, my mom, she had a bad man when she had my sperm donor. Then, she got herself a good man. A man who raised her sons to feel a certain kind of way about women. That being, I want you safe. I want you smilin’, and baby, I don’t want you spending any amount of time with me lost in your head, unless that time in your head is thinking about the next orgasm I’m gonna give you.”
She blinks. “Colton Vaughn, you’re one of a kind. I don’t know if I want to go home and never speak to you again, or kiss you right now.”
I laugh. “Kiss me, spitfire, I promise not to bite this time.”
And with that, she rolls up on her toes and presses her lips to mine. I don’t deepen the kiss, but I do break away to study her. “You wanna eat, or you wanna have some time to clear your head?”
“It’s not you—” she starts, trying to explain herself, but I press a finger to her lips to silence her.
“I know it’s not me, baby. You don’t know me well enough to see that I’m an asshole yet.”
She actually steps back a little at my honesty.
“Keepin’ shit real is the only way I can be. I think you’re hot, Diem. There is something about you that is pulling me in. I don’t date. I fuck. But, right now, I sincerely want to give you what you need.”
“How do you know what I need?” she says barely over a whisper.
“You wanna run. You need a place where no one can find you, where no one knows your name. You need time to think because something has rocked your world. I don’t know what that somethin’ is, but I can see you got something eatin’ at you. Now, question is, are you gonna take a chance on me and let me give you what you need?”
“How do I know you won’t kidnap me, kill me?”
I laugh. “Baby, I’m more than twice your size. If I wanted to kidnap you, I’d have done that before I sank my cock inside you, or when you showed up at my work with your car. I’ve got means, and I’ve had opportunities.”
She sighs, “What is it about you?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I think we’re two people who are often misunderstood based on assumptions from others. But without a word, spitfire, me and you, there’s something that just says we’re alike. When shit hits the fan, I like solitude. I like forgetting who I am and simply breathing. Let me show you how to breathe, Diem. Be bold and take a chance on me.”
She bites her bottom lip before giving me a nod.
Thank fuck.
Wesson will be fine with Emmalee. They’ve already taken their spots at the table and began talking. They won’t even miss us.
Just like I said for her to be bold and take a chance on me. I’ve made a decision right here, right now. I’m boldly going to go after what I can make of this spark with Diem. She better watch out because I’m not going to kidnap her, but she is most certainly all mine.
Now to have one on one time with Diem and the open road.
Yes, fucking please!
9
Diem
Life lessons with Diem: If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, quacks like a duck … it’s certainly not a goose. If you think you’re up shit’s creek, you probably are!
This is insanity. My life is full of enough drama without adding a hot biker to the mix. Only, every single moment he’s in proximity, my entire body comes alive like never before.
He doesn’t say much in the way of holding conversations with me. Where his brother texts Emmalee all the time, I never hear from Colt. The intensity in the way he looks at me, though, that is everything.
Taking me by the hand, he leads me outside to his motorcycle. For a moment, I contemplate offering to take a ride in my car. I don’t because he asked me to be bold. I don’t know why, but that sentence sticks with me. People always say be brave and face your fears, or be confident. To be bold is to be fearless and confident and maybe even a little insane. Riding on a motorcycle with a man I don’t really know but I find myself pulled too … well that is a bold choice to make. So I decide I only have one life to live and I’ll be bold in choosing him. I watch in avid fascination as he goes to his saddle bag and pulls out a leather jacket.
“Put this on. Your sweater won’t be enough.”
The coat is heavy as I lift it. Colt steps over to his brother’s van. Sliding the jacket on, I wonder what he’s looking for when he returns to me with a hair-tie. Without a word, he shifts me to have my back to him where he pulls my hair back off my shoulders. I purposed did two small braids to keep my bangs that are growing out and past my chin out of the way but the rest of my hair I kept down. His hands work to braid my hair delicately, and I close my eyes to the feel.
I’ve always loved when anyone plays with my hair, now is no different, except I’m simply surprised by the action.
“Let me take care of you tonight,” he says with this scratch in his voice that makes me wonder what all does ‘take care of me’ entail, really.
He reaches in his saddlebag a second time, pulling out a small helmet. It doesn’t cover my face, and I feel like it barely covers my head as he puts it on me and begins to adjust the chin strap. I stand in place as he gets his own helmet on and mounts the bike.
“Hop on,” he orders like this should be second nature.
I look to my shoes and decide heels were a bad idea. As I lift my head to look back at him, I see the passion and amusement in his gaze. What I wouldn’t give to be in his head right now. He extends a hand to me, and I put my hand in his.
“Swing your leg over, slide your ass on the seat, then prop your feet on the back pegs. I got you, I won’t let you fall.” His eyes lock fiercely to mine. “I’ll never let you fall, Diem.”
What the hell? Just him saying it makes me fall … fall for him.
I hesitate briefly before I finally swallow my nerves. Ungracefully, I manage to climb on and settle behind him.
Before we move, he takes my hands and pulls them forward. The momentum pushes my body against him. With my front pressed to his back and my inner thighs firmly to his legs, he lays my hands on his stomach, wrapping me around him in a way I find comfort in.
He cranks the bike and twists the throttle, sending this vibration straight through my body. I jolt in surprise and reaches down and gives my thigh a squeeze. Rolling us backward, he puts the bike in motion, leaving me with only one thing to do …
Hold on and enjoy the ride.
Every twist of the throttle sends a vibration right to my core. With the way the last few days have unfolded, I want nothing more than to forget who I am, where I am, and what is going on. So, as he makes the right onto the highway, taking us to Salter Path and Atlantic Beach, I just l
ean into him and inhale the salt in the air.
Even with the winter chill, I relish the feel of everything around me. The hard body in front of me, the connection to the man and the machine moves us gracefully down the road.
I have never felt so free before in my life.
Closing my eyes, I take in every sensation. I could get used to this. We don’t speak. I don’t know that he could hear me unless I yelled. Plus, what is there to say? I’m pretty sure my parents are going to get a divorce. I keep having these crazy dreams that stick with me like never before. I have feelings for a biker I slept with in a club, even though he’s not my type.
When his left hand drops to hold my leg, I squeeze him a little tighter. This is the most intimate thing I have ever experienced in my life. It’s intense, but in a way that feels right. Time keeps going as the miles pass under us and he takes us through the beaches and back into Haywood’s Landing. We ride, and I swear my legs feel like jelly before he pulls off Highway Fifty-eight to a small house in front of an abandoned church.
He stops the bike behind the house, and I wonder whose it is. He pats my leg twice before holding his hand out. “Hop off, I wanna share something with you.”
Excitement fills me.
With my hand in his, I put my left leg on the ground and begin the process of trying to swing my right leg over. Only, as I make the movement, I knee Colt in the back. Thankfully, he doesn’t say a word as the embarrassment fills me.
Once I’m off the bike and on solid ground, I take a minute to compose myself. My entire body feels liquid. I don’t dislike the experience, I’m just unsure of myself as I take in the entirety of it. Everything I couldn’t shut off in my mind ceased to exist while riding with Colt. No wonder he chooses to ride a motorcycle even when it’s forty degrees outside.
He climbs off, removing his helmet and hanging it on the handlebar before reaching out to me and undoing my chin strap. After pulling the helmet off, he cups my chin and uses his thumbs to massage where the strap just came from.
Bold from It: Hellions Motorcycle Club (Hellions Ride On Book 5) Page 7
