Whatever Ty was going to say next cut off as his body jolted. With him in her space this way, she couldn’t see the window opening, couldn’t see what Bell was doing, only knew Ty was moving. Hands flailing, trying to grip onto anything and failing. As he was drawn through the window, a knee, and then a socked foot caught her in the face as he flew past. Dazed, she cradled her throbbing cheek as she looked outside to see the two men on the ground. They rolled left, then right, coming to a halt right up against her fuel tank. Bell, she knew it was him by the hair, reared up over the top of Ty, striking him in the face once, twice, a third time to the gut before she gained enough wits around her to shout at him to stop.
He paused, bent his neck so he could look up at her, and without looking back down landed another vicious punch to Ty’s midsection. “Bell, stop it!” He stiffened when she said his name, then his chin came up, and a profound pain flashed across his face. “Please,” she pleaded, and he looked away, down, as his fist again found its target. His other hand darted to the small of his back and terror flooded her as she remembered he carried a pistol there.
Fingers working frantically to pop the locks, she pushed the door open with all her might, wanting to get between them somehow. With a loud clunk, the door’s bottom edge clipped Bell’s head, knocking him sideways. As she scrambled to get out of the truck, Ty lunged up to his knees, bringing his clenched fists around in a hammer swing at Bell’s chest. “Stop!” He paused the swing, looking up at her panic-stricken shout and then Bell twisted, taking him down again.
Not even noticing when the ragged metal edges of the boot scraper abraded the sole of her foot, Penny bent her knees and jumped the last three feet to the ground, landing beside the two struggling men. From this near the conflict, she felt the heat radiating from them, and could hear the guttural sounds as they reacted to landed blows, pummeling with one hand, the other clenched around their opponent’s head, holding tight so as not to give the other man leverage and room to do more damage.
On her knees beside them, she shouted again, no longer hopeful that her words would have an effect, these two men battling were too far gone to hear any pleas she could utter. “Stop it!” A loud groan of effort from Ty and he flung himself sideways, taking Bell with him, and in the process flattening Penny. This time, it was her head that hit the truck, clipping the fuel tank as she fell to her back. Immediately she lifted both hands, cradling her head as she curled into a ball, trying to avoid any more hits from the two men.
As if from far away, she noted the noises had stopped, then felt gentle hands on her shoulders. Tugging her sideways, her head was lifted to rest on hard thighs, and she felt the chill from a chain underneath her shoulder, knowing it was…“Bell.”
“Here, Penny.” His voice came from right above her head. “I’m here, darlin’.” Fingers probed the back of her skull, making her wince and pull away. “Shhhh, darlin’. Be still. Lemme see.” Gentler now, he traced the edges of her pain, easing and drawing it out.
“Get the hell away from her.” That was Ty, and she winced at his shout.
“So loud,” she whispered.
“I got you, darlin’.” He shifted, and she felt his arms closing around her, lifting, cradling her to his chest. Secure. Safe. In a quietly intense tone directed across the top of her head, he ordered, “Get the fuckin’ door, numbnuts. She ain’t bleedin’, but she’s already got a hell of a goose egg.” Dropping to a whisper, he added, “And be quiet. She said you’re loud.” The soft clunk of the door opening, then a hissed, “Shit. I can’t climb up holdin’ her like this. Let me pass her to you. Then you hand her up.”
Eyes squeezed shut against the pain again swelling in her head, there was jostling movement, and then different arms held her, a well-known voice whispered in her ear, “Penny, doll. Why’d you go and get hurt?” Before she could answer, she was moving again, lifted, chill air all around her before being enveloped in warmth again. More movement, then the door closing and the distinct sound of the locks engaging. From outside, thumping on the side of the truck and Ty’s shouted, “What the hell, asshole?”
“Did you just lock him outside?” It seemed her voice did work, and she asked this while being moved again, Bell cursing when his head hit the edge of the top bunk. “It’s cold.” She wasn’t complaining for herself, but that seemed to be how he took it since she felt the soft warmth of her plush blanket tucked around her within seconds. “Bell,” she started, getting a grunt in response, and then she felt him stretch out alongside her, his fingers stroking her face. Softly caressing her. His touch moving across her features as if he were committing her to memory.
“Penny.” With just her name, he gave her everything: longing and loss, the same emotions and aching she had felt for weeks. Joy and despair, heights and depths of which she had plumbed, thinking she’d never see him again.
“I saw you.” She told him something he already knew because he sure as hell had seen her. Two weeks ago in Louisville, she’d felt the weight of his gaze and looked up to find him staring at her. “You were there.” Her instant happiness changing to tears when he'd wheeled his bike around, turning his back on her and riding away. “You left without saying good-bye.”
“Didn’t need to.” His voice came from near her head, and she cracked one eye open to peer up at him. Propped on an arm over the top of her, he was frowning down, fingers trailing across the sore spot at the back of her head, then the bruising on her cheek. “Good-bye ain’t on the radar for us, Penny. Don’t you know that by now?” He leaned in, tracing along her nose with the tip of his. “You can bunk all the pretty boys you want, but I’ll always be here,”—fingers tapped her breastbone, resonating through her heart—“and you’ll always be mine. Ain’t sayin’ good-bye, darlin’.”
“Twisted.” This came from outside along with another loud banging of a fist on the door. “Open the goddamned door.”
Bell stiffened. She could feel his reaction in every muscle and knew it had to do with Ty using what must be Bell’s club name. Reaching up, she cupped his cheek in her palm, ruffling his beard with her fingertips. Softly, with emphasis she hoped he understood, she told him, “Here—in here with me—you will always be Bell.” He took a breath, and she breathed with him, but when he opened his mouth, she covered his lips with her thumb, stopping his words. “In here, the outside doesn’t matter. We can keep it as far away as you need, Bell.”
He swallowed and nodded, then rolled his eyes with a muttered, “Shit.” She frowned her question at him, and he grinned, “Boots, darlin’. I’ll take ‘em off and let in Wrench.”
Tipping her head to one side, she questioned, “Wrench?”
“Yeah, Wrench.” He indicated the front of the truck. “Your pretty bunk boy.”
“Ty.” He nodded, and she said the name questioningly again, “Wrench?”
“Yeah, I’ll let him in. Just lemme get these boots off. Gimme a sec, Penny.” Moving, he climbed over the top of her and out of the sleeper. She heard the seat take his weight, the air suspension wheezing, then the thump of his boots. The locks clicked, and the passenger door opened immediately, letting in a blast of cold air cut off by the slamming of the door. “You stay right there, for now, Wrench.” Ty made a noise and then the truck shifted violently as a loud thump sounded. Bell’s voice was on the passenger side when he next spoke. “I said you need to stay here. Reaching for the goddamned fuckin’ bunk ain’t stayin’ here.” A muttered response, then, his voice low and dangerous, that danger sounding even in the pauses, Bell repeated himself, “Fuckin’. Stay. Here.”
The truck moved again, and she opened her eyes to see Bell standing at the entrance to the sleeper area, looking at the top bunk. His eyes roamed side-to-side, and he appeared to be shocked. Head tipping down, he transferred his gaze to her as he said, his statement not quite a question, “Wrench is sleepin’ in the top bunk.” She nodded then winced as pain shot through her head. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth for a moment. Then she saw his
teeth scraping at it as he slowly released it to say, “Ain’t sleepin’ with you.” More cautiously, she shook her head.
He lifted a hand to his neck, keeping his eyes on her as he idly ran it under his beard, then reached up and smoothed his beard back down. Thinking. He was trying to put something together in his head.
His knuckles were bruised, the skin broken in places and she wanted to— She interrupted her own thoughts with a scoff. What? Take care of him? Why? Why is he here?
She knew the moment he came to a decision because his body visibly relaxed, shoulders dropping two inches as he breathed in deeply. Angling sideways, he sat on the edge of the bunk and she shifted her hips to make room. His stare intense, he opened his mouth, then closed it, sitting for another moment in silence. Licking his lips, he swallowed and, with words that seemed forced, said, “You were right.”
“What?” The question jumped out of her before she realized it. Then she froze when his lips lifted in a smile. A smile she’d seen on his face before, in the dim light of the bunk, four weeks ago.
“You were right, Penny. It wasn’t a lie. Not here. Not with you. None of it was a lie. What we had…have…matters.” His hand lifted, fingertips trailing down her arm to her hand where he twined his fingers through hers, holding on tightly. “I don’t understand what this is, but it matters. You already knew that. You had it right. You’re in…” He trailed off, eyes closing in what looked like pain. “Out there, all the things that are out there, none of them matter when I’m with you.”
Ty made a noise and Bell’s eyes opened. Bell made a face, saying, “Open the curtain, Wrench. Go ahead and join in the convo, why doncha?" He turned loose of her hand and moved to the other end of the bunk, leaning his back against the outside wall, and gesturing to her with one hand, the other gripping her ankle and giving a sharp tug. “Come down here, darlin’.” She went there, crawling to him on hands and knees, letting him guide her to lay with her back to the rear of the bunk, resting her head on his thigh. Any self-conscious reserve she might have felt fell away as his hand stroked through her hair. I bet he woulda liked my hair long, she thought, lifting her eyes to see Ty glaring at her.
“Wrench?” she asked, trying to knock a little of the anger out of him, but it backfired, and she cringed when his face darkened. “Ty, how do you know Bell?”
“Oh, no, Penny. That isn’t the right question.” He shook his head once, turning to look out the front windshield. Lifting a hand, he rubbed his already bruising cheekbone. Then without looking at her, Ty asked, “Question is, do you know who you have in your bunk?”
***
Twisted
Fuck, Twisted thought, lowering his chin and frowning at the man seated in the passenger seat of the truck. He’d known Wrench for years, knew of him long before they met at a rally and the rumors hadn’t held a candle to what the man really was. He knew if he didn’t have the element of surprise by pulling Wrench through the window and letting him drop the eight feet to the ground, they would have been evenly matched.
If he’d known who was in Penny’s truck, he might not have hauled his ass up here. Wouldn’t have pounded on her door, but what Chip told him had fucked with his head. Twisted held it together for two days. Two days, and the whole time he’d been crawling up the walls, ready to chew off his own hands trying to keep them from reaching for the door. The phrase “unless it’s bunk time” had burrowed inside him, leaving a sour taste all along its path, traveling a trail of destruction inside him that still burned. Even more than the first day after he’d left her, she was on his mind. Worse than seeing her and not having her was the thought of someone else taking what was his. What she’d given to him.
Halfway through the trip up here he’d texted Po’Boy his destination and gotten back a five-letter question: Moron? His response had drawn a lol from Po’Boy, because for once in his life, he admitted a mistake, telling him, Yeah. 4 wks ago I was.
Pulling up at the truck stop had been nerve-wracking because he didn’t know if she’d still be here. Didn’t know if he’d have to chase her down the interstate like an idiot. But she was, and he knew it from the truck number. No mistakes this time, no miscues, no knocking on the door of someone not her. Then, seeing her climb into the seat, nearly close enough to touch, he’d forgotten the reason for the trip. Forgotten she had a passenger, an unwelcome rider, a man who, as far as he was concerned, would be turned out on his ass in a heartbeat; duffle and clothes thrown in a tangle after him. Takin’ out the trash, he’d thought more than once; even that thought flying from his head as her eyes stared at him.
No matter that Wrench got a few of his own licks in. It had been a satisfying scuffle, bleeding off some of the rage that had built from before he even left the clubhouse. Each mile bringing him closer to her, but also bringing him closer to whoever was in her bunk. She’d somehow gotten caught up in their fight, and it had taken the sound of her head hitting the truck to pull him out of the dark red fog he’d been in. It seemed to be the same for Wrench because it had been a toss-up to see who’d get to her first.
Then, in the truck, when he caught sight of the evidence of their sleeping arrangement, he hadn’t believed his eyes. Hadn’t believed until she confirmed his understanding. What she’d given him was still his to have. Still mine to take. Twisted's fingers slipped through her hair, the pads of his fingertips finding tiny tangles and easing them out. Her touch on his face, her hand in his, every movement of her body called to him, told him she was right where he’d left her. Right where she’d been since the first time he touched her. Where she was now, curled up next to him, his cuddle puppy. Her fingers draped over the top of his knee, top of her head in his lap. Firmly in the headspace bordered by his name. Mine.
“Do you?” Wrench’s voice ripped away the curtain of thought, and he looked into the man’s eyes. Together they’d done some shit but separately, they’d done a hell of a lot more. Twisted knew all the skeletons, so this man wasn’t safe behind a wall of innocence.
“Castin’ stones, man?” If he could shut Wrench up, Twisted would have a chance to talk to Penny, have time to try to understand why she had the man with her. Knowing him wasn’t a surprise; Wrench had been a nomad for the CoBos for years, easing his way into and out of various clubs’ territory, scouting out profitable joint ventures. Wrench’s old man and Penny’s uncle had been friends, nearly as tight as Papaw and Whitewall, coming from the same era, their unrest and disillusionment with the America they returned to after the war creating an unbreakable bond. Something he’d seen in recent years with men returning from the sand wars. He’d never served but had been raised on stories of their brotherhood forged under fire, in strange lands.
“If you have stones to throw my way, by all means let’s see them.” Wrench held his head high, staring into Twisted’s eyes, trying to intimidate, or maybe communicate. Before answering, Twisted held that gaze for a moment, deciding they needed to talk before either said much more in front of Penny. Wouldn’t do to stumble into club business unaware.
“Just sayin’, I might not be lily white, but neither are you.” Giving a little, he waited to see if this was where they needed to go, his efforts validated with Wrench’s next words.
“True, but you’ve dipped a bit farther into the inkwell than I.” A shift in his lap and he glanced down to see Penny staring up at him.
“You know each other?” She lifted a hand, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and then unconsciously, trailed her fingers across the knot on the back of her head. Penny squinted when she found the sore spot, knuckles flexing as she pushed, then retreated, leaving the pain to settle on its own. “How do you know each other?”
“Met at a rally several years ago.” This was true, and so was the next thing he would say. “My grandfather knew his daddy.” He watched as the little wrinkle that had appeared between her brows smoothed out as she accepted his answer. He gave her a bit more truth, reminding her at the same time of how it had felt when they lay
together the last time. “You said you knew what I was, Penny. I found out after I got home that I knew your uncle, too. Met him once. Seemed a nice man.” At that, her face lightened, pleasure suffusing her features that he had cared enough to dig and find a connection between them.
Wrench spoke up from the front seat. “Penny,” his voice softened as he continued, “sorry about the head.” From this angle, when she turned to look at Wrench, Twisted could only see part of her face, but the expression she gave the man was nothing short of loving, and that worm inside him bent, working back on itself, burrowing a little deeper. Wrench rolled his shoulders, settling into the seat and propping his feet on the driver seat. “Turnabout’s fair play.” He paused, his gaze flicking up to meet Twisted’s. He then looked intently back at Penny. “How did you two meet?”
The smile that curled her lips lifted her cheeks, and he took in the look on her face when she shifted in his lap to look up at him. “It was kinda a mistake,” she started, and then a full grin parted her lips. “A good kinda mistake, but still a booboo.” Her eyes sank closed when he threaded his fingers through her hair, giving herself to the sensation of his hands on her. When his touch slowed, her lashes fluttered and opened until she was looking up at him again.
“Was looking for my brother’s truck—” he began, and she cut in.
“But he knocked on my door instead.”
Grinning down at her, he picked up their story. “She rolled down the window, chatted me up a little.”
A blush gave her cheeks color as she delicately picked around the boundaries of what was truth with her next statement. “We talked for what seemed forever. Talked and laughed. I could have spent all night just doing that.”
Neither This Nor That Box Set 1 Page 17
