Grease caught our little interaction and slapped Deke on the back of his head, breaking our eye contact. After a few more words, he broke away from the group and walked toward me.
While I stood waiting for him, I finally grasped how very bad this could potentially go for me. I was climbing on the back of a motorcycle with a man I’d never met before. The whole night had turned into some after school special, a warning for kids who disobeyed their parents and drank alcohol. My hands started to shake, so I stuffed them in the front pocket of the hoodie that was hanging down covering my shorts. If there was any question about how I could handle myself against these men, the fact that the sweatshirt I borrowed hung to the middle of my thighs gave a pretty clear answer. If any of them decided that I was easy pickings, they would be correct. I was completely defenseless.
Before I could open my mouth to tell Grease I’d just call my parents, he spoke, and my apprehension started to fade.
“You ever been on a bike before?” he asked, pulling a helmet off the back of the bike and putting it on my head.
“No. My uncle had a motorcycle when I was little, but he died before I was old enough to ride it,” I overshared, watching his face as he scowled at the helmet. Suddenly, he pulled it off my head, causing my hair to fly in all different static-filled directions.
I startled when his hands came up to both sides of my face, but stilled when he gently began pulling my hair back. He brushed it with his fingers, grabbing it in his fist before pulling a hair tie off his wrist. He tied it back and then ran his hands down my neck as I stopped breathing altogether. His eyes weren’t on my face, they were on my throat, and the look in his eyes was one I’d never seen before. I couldn’t decide if I should pull away or not, and before I could make my decision, his hands had made it to the nape of my neck and he was pulling the hood of the sweatshirt over my head.
He acted like he hadn’t been just ogling my neck—he was all business as he plopped the helmet back over my hood-covered head and buckled the strap.
I took the time while he was situating the helmet to explain where my Gram lived and asked if he needed directions, but he seemed to know the area pretty well. I wasn’t sure where he was from, but I wasn’t about to ask him if he lived in San Diego. If he did, I would have to decide whether I wanted to try and see him again, and if he didn’t, I would have to deal with the disappointment. I didn’t want to do either.
“Helmet’s still a little big, but that should help a bit,” he told me with a nod before he started messing with his bike. I just stood there like an idiot, wondering if that look he’d given me had meant something. Was he into me? It was a ridiculous question, I knew he was older than me and completely out of my league, but I couldn’t help but feel like he’d been checking me out.
He climbed on to the bike, settling in, and I just stood there staring. He had long hair. How had I missed that before? It wasn’t super long like the guy on the front of Gram’s romance novels, but it was long enough to put in a hair tie at the back of his head. Normally, I would’ve laughed at a guy with long hair, I mean, really? But he worked it. The fact that he didn’t seem to care how long it was, and the ponytail was more of a completely tangled bun than a slick ponytail… it was hot.
His back was slightly toward me, giving me a good glimpse of his broad shoulders and his jeans pulled tight across his thighs in a way that made my heart speed up. Holy shit. I’d never even noticed a guy’s thighs before. They were just a part of someone’s legs, right? No big deal, nothing particularly special about them. But for some reason, looking at this guy’s thighs made my stomach clench.
I was snapped out of my perusal by the clearing of his throat. When I cut my eyes quickly toward his face, I knew he hadn’t missed the way I’d been staring at him. Half of his mouth was pulled up in a grin and his voice was laced with humor as he spoke.
“Well? Climb on.”
Chapter 4
Callie
I made it onto the bike with little trouble, though I thought for sure I was going to wipe out. I sat with my hands wrapped around his waist and my cheek against his back for most of the ride. I could tell he loved it—the wind and the open highway—because his whole body seemed to relax once we were on the road. He made riding seem so easy, his movements fluid and graceful, and the ride would have made it to the top ten best moments of my life if not for one thing.
I was fucking freezing.
The wind cut through the sweatshirt I was wearing, and at first it didn’t bother me much, but as soon as we were on the freeway, the wind felt like little shards of glass cutting into my skin. My legs, completely uncovered in the shorts I’d thought were so risqué earlier in the night, almost felt sunburned from the cold air. It was miserable.
The first time I shivered, I didn’t think he noticed, but when my teeth began to chatter against his back I felt him tense. His shoulders only tightened for a moment before he dropped one hand off the handlebars and reached down to rub my thigh briskly, running his fingers as high up as he could reach and then back down over my knee to my shin. He did this over and over before switching hands and rubbing the other thigh the same way.
At first, it didn’t seem to matter what he was doing, my legs continued to burn and I counted the seconds until we would make it to Gram’s. But less than five minutes later, I was burning up for an entirely different reason.
When I started to squirm behind him, he paused with his hand on my knee. I was afraid he was going to stop what he was doing, but instead he reached even further back and grabbed my hip, scooting my body toward his until there was no space between us. Once he was sure I was done moving around, his hand found my thigh again, his pinky sliding under the side of my shorts before sweeping down my leg slower than he had before.
He let go of my leg as we took the exit we needed and I shuddered once before getting control of myself. I felt my face heat as I thought of the way I must have looked, practically purring as he warmed up my legs, and I was happy as hell that he couldn’t see me make a complete ass of myself when he was only trying to warm me up.
Gram lived only a couple blocks off the exit in a small trailer park that I knew would have been silent at four o’clock in the morning if it weren’t for the roar of his motorcycle. Thankfully, the people who lived there were closer to my Gram’s age than mine, so the possibility of waking them up sans hearing aids was pretty slim.
I let go with one arm as we neared my Gram’s trailer, digging the fingers of my other hand into his stomach even though we were going less than fifteen miles per hour. I’d made it the entire half an hour trip, I didn’t want to fall off the bike when I was so close to making it home in one piece. I used my free hand to point him in the right direction, but as we glided closer I realized that he would’ve known where to go anyway. It was the only trailer in the park that was entirely lit up and Gram was standing on the front porch waiting for us as we pulled to a stop.
I hopped off the bike as soon as we were stopped, wobbling and tripping like an idiot as I got my feet back under me. Gram was backlit by lights so I couldn’t see her face, but all of a sudden, whatever bravado I’d had on the ride over was completely gone, and I was anxious to get in the house before she laid into me for being out so late. I was fumbling and pulling at the strap of the helmet, trying like hell to pull it off when I realized Grease was climbing off the back of the bike.
I felt my eyes go wide, the universal ‘stop what you’re doing’ look, but he completely ignored me and took a few steps forward. Gently pushing my hands away from the helmet, he slowly unlatched the buckle as if my Gram wasn’t giving us the evil eye from the porch.
“I programmed my number into your phone back at the hotel, Sugar,” he rumbled quietly. “None of this shit should blow back on you, but you need me for anything, you call.”
I stood there staring at him, not sure what my reply should be, until Gram’s voice broke through the quiet night.
“Well? You two coming in?
” she asked, causing my head to jerk around in surprise.
“I better get going, ma’am,” Grease called out quietly.
“Bullshit. You just brought my girl home. You’re probably hungry. Come on in and eat, I’ve got breakfast ready.”
“Gram—” I tried to reason with her, but she cut me off.
“Callie, get your butt in this house. Bring your friend with you,” she told me, turning back to walk in the door.
I spun around to Grease to tell him he didn’t have to stay, but he was already at my side. He placed his hand on my lower back to lead me inside, and I sputtered as I walked toward the porch steps.
“Sugar, your grandmother asked me inside. I’d be an asshole if I just took off. I’ll eat and I’ll leave. No problem,” he assured me as we reached the porch.
When we got to the front door and could see Gram’s kitchen table covered with food, I heard Grease chuckle in my ear. He leaned close until I could feel his breath at the side of my neck.
“Your grandma always cook full meals in the middle of the night?” he whispered, a smile in his voice.
I snorted and answered him, “More times than you could possibly imagine.”
We sat down at the table as Gram moved around the kitchen, washing dishes and putting things away. She was wearing a nightgown that covered her from neck to toes and an apron wrapped around her waist. I watched for a few moments as her nightgown billowed out behind her legs as she walked, wishing I hadn’t gotten her out of bed to deal with my mess. She’d never complain; to her it was just what family did. If someone needed you, no matter what time it was or why, you stepped up and did what you could.
I handed Grease one of the plates that was stacked in front of me and started to dish up when Gram came and stood behind me.
“Thanks for bringing my girl home. Not sure what she got herself into, or how you’re a part of that… but thanks for getting her home. I’m Rose,” she told Grease as she squeezed my shoulders. I felt tears hit the back of my eyes as the ramifications of her words set in.
She wasn’t going to ask. It didn’t matter where I’d been or how I’d gotten there. I was home safe, and that was enough for her.
Grease’s eyes looked back and forth between Gram and me as he finished chewing, and he took his time wiping his mouth with a paper towel before he replied.
“Asa,” he said quietly, half of his mouth tipping up as he noticed the look of surprise on my face. “And it was no problem, ma’am.”
“Well, you two fill up. I might as well go get dressed.”
I was staring at Asa, trying to get my bearings, when Gram stepped away from me. Before I could ask her to stay, Asa was standing and moving around the table. My body tensed as I watched him, but I relaxed into my chair as he gently grabbed Gram’s elbow and guided her back to the table, speaking quietly in her ear.
“You got up and made us this huge breakfast. I’d feel a whole lot better if you’d sit down and eat with us before it got cold.”
“Well, I guess I can do that. Where are you from, Asa?” she asked him as she grabbed a plate off the table and began to fill it.
“I’m from Oregon.”
“Oh yeah? I’ve got a sister up there. I try to get out to see her at least once a year, but it’s getting harder and harder to do. Got a sister down here, too; much easier to see that one. These old bones don’t take to flying very well anymore.”
They talked for an hour, occasionally pulling me into the conversation, but mostly leaving me to chime in when I felt like it. The past eight hours were really catching up with me and I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone, watching the big biker speak to my Gram as if she was The Queen of England. He never once swore, though my grandma did, and his table manners were impeccable. Who was this guy? I’d thought I’d had him pegged by the time we’d left the hotel room, but he wasn’t acting the way I’d expected him to.
My head began to ache, but I was too enthralled to leave the table, so I just laid my head down on my arms and let their voices wash over me. After a while, I found myself in that place between wakefulness and sleep where I could hear everything going on but I wasn’t quite conscious. I felt the table move a little under me, and seconds later I felt Gram’s gnarled hands sifting through my hair.
“She’s had a rough night. There anything I need to know about?” she asked quietly.
“No. She should be fine after a couple hours of sleep.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t act like nothing happened. I’ve buried two sons. I’ve watched three of my children go off the deep end, and I’ve stitched their wounds myself after bar fights and car accidents. My granddaughter walked in here looking shell shocked and scared and I want to know what happened,” she told him shortly, her voice leaving no room for argument.
“Far as I could tell, she went to a party with a friend and got left there. Not sure what happened to the friend, but she was alone when I saw her. Looked like she’d been drugged—not sure with what. She passed out, but woke up about two hours after I’d gotten her out of the house,” he replied, sighing loudly at the end.
“You were at the party? Why’d you need to take her out of there? Why didn’t you take her to a hospital?”
“I wasn’t at the party. I had… business with one of the men there. She looked like she could use the help, so I took her with me.”
There was a long pause before Gram spoke, like she was sifting through his words in order to decide whether to believe him or not.
“She… they didn’t?” she whispered, her fingers tightening slightly in my hair.
“No ma’am. She was downstairs and fully dressed when I found her. Even had her purse draped across her chest.”
I heard a small gasp above me, almost a sob, as Gram’s hand came down heavy on my shoulder. My head was beginning to lose that dreamlike quality that I’d been enjoying and I started to move, but I froze when I heard the way Gram’s breathing grew ragged before she brought it under control.
“Thank you,” she told him strongly, her voice once again at a normal level. “You’ll always have a place at my table. You’re in town, I expect you to come see me, you hear?”
When Asa rose from the table, his chair scraping across the linoleum, I raised my head to watch him with bleary eyes. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stay awake, but I didn’t want to miss saying goodbye to him. Gram started bustling around the kitchen again. It was the way she coped with too much emotion, but I knew she was also trying to give us some semblance of privacy though she wasn’t ready to let me out of her sight.
“Thanks for bringing me home,” I rasped at him, my voice scratchy with sleep as I stood up from my seat. Once I was standing, the world tilted a little, so I braced the flat of my hand on the tabletop to get my balance. It didn’t seem to help, though, and I was swaying like a drunken sailor when Asa called out to Gram and reached for me, lifting me up like a baby into his arms.
He carried me in and laid me in Gram’s bed, kissing my forehead gently before walking out. I waited, listening to the sound of his motorcycle start up and drive away. The last thing I was aware of was Gram climbing into bed behind me and wrapping her arms tightly around my waist.
Chapter 5
Grease
I’d had an entirely fucked up night.
I was in California trying to hash out a distribution disagreement that my club was having with a gang in San Diego. I hadn’t been a member of the Aces Motorcycle Club for that long—only a couple of years—but my pop had been a member my entire life, and that gave me a little more clout than the other brothers who had gotten their cuts around the same time as me. I was happy to do what I could, but the whole fiasco had irritated the fuck out of me since I rolled into San Diego three days before.
The men I’d met up with were big fish in a small pond and they’d been pissed from the very beginning that Slider, my President, hadn’t at least sent the VP to deal with them. The entire thing had turned into a goddamn pissing
match that they had no chance of winning, but that hadn’t stopped them from trying to piss the farthest and the longest. It was a fucking joke. The Aces controlled the gun trade over pretty much the entire western coast of the United States, and these jokers covered about a quarter of San Diego county. Comparing the two wasn’t even like comparing apples and oranges—it was more like apples and fucking maize.
Fuck, I have absolutely no problem with Mexicans. I don’t. I’ve met a lot of different Hispanic people that I liked a fuck of a lot. My half-brother is even a part of the Jimenez gang, which is part of the reason Slider sent me down there in the first place. Dear old Dad spent some time in California about twenty years ago, and when he came back he left a pretty little Mexican girl brokenhearted and knocked up. He took care of her until he died, and he took me down to see my brother Deke whenever he had the chance. We didn’t grow up close, but he was my brother—it was as simple as that. I had his back and he had mine.
So when we started having some payment issues with the Jimenez gang, Slider thought it would ease some minds if I went down to collect the payment. It wouldn’t look like we were trying to strong-arm them, even if that was our intention. It was a friendly reminder from the brother of one of their members; a warning to get us what we wanted.
Everything had gone down relatively well if I didn’t count the president of the gang beating his chest and trying to exert his dominance whenever I was in the room. The man was like five-seven and had to weigh less than a buck-sixty. I could’ve snapped him in two, but instead, I was fucking diplomatic and did my job. I wasn’t going to get pulled into some bullshit fight when my entire club was a good eighteen-hour ride away.
I had Tommy Gun and Dragon with me as back up, but Dragon was a fucking prospect and I’d known Tommy since birth and he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. I trusted them to have my back, but I wasn’t about to put them in a situation where they would need to—it was the first meet I was in charge of, and I wasn’t going to fuck it up.