BLAMELESS: MC Biker Romance (Black Thorns, #3) (7 page)

I just hope the rest of his reputation isn’t true.

The
love ‘em and leave ‘em
one. The irresponsible, playboy one.

Because I like him. I really like him.

I’ve had a crush on him since we met up at Rox and Ax’s wedding. But I never thought anything would come of it. Zeb is way out of my league. He’s
model
hot. And his body? Holy hell. I’ve only seen the upper half, but it had me weak in the knees. He’s so cut. So incredibly hot.

More than all of that, the thing that puts him out of my league the most is sex. He’s so much more experienced than me. It’s more than a little intimidating. And I can’t live up to that. He must be used to a certain kind of woman. Women who know what they’re doing. And I am not that girl at all.

But, yet, last night happened. My crush not only returned my
affections
, he blew my mind.

“Morning,” a grunt comes from behind me.

I spin around to see Zeb walking into the kitchen, clutching his cane and scrubbing his hand over his face with his free hand. He looks really groggy. It doesn’t seem like he’s a morning person.

“Hey!” I say, brightly. “I’m glad you’re up!”

“Jesus,” he grumbles. “Inside voice, woman.”

“Sorry.”

“You got coffee?” he asks, his eyes darting to the kettle on the kitchen worktop behind me.

“Already made,” I tell him. “This way,” I say, gesturing for him to follow me. I walk through the kitchen and step out through the open back door onto the backyard patio. I point to the two-seater wooden table and the breakfast spread I’ve been preparing for the last couple of hours since I woke up.

He brushes past me and walks to the table, taking in the sight of all the food there.

“You always eat like this for breakfast?” he asks over his shoulder.

“No. I made it specially. For you.”

“Shit,” he mutters.

Well, that wasn’t the reaction I was expecting. “What? I…I mean…you’ve been coming to my diner long enough now that I…I thought I knew what you liked to eat…but if I—”

“You do,” he says, still with his back to me. “Ain’t that.”

“What is it then?” I ask, walking over to him. I touch his shoulder and he turns then.

“Sarah, listen…” he starts, pinching the bridge of his nose. “…last night…were….” He sighs, eyes the table and then looks back at me. And then he blows out a breath and waves his free hand that isn’t busy clutching his cane. “Nothing. Forget it.”

I’m about to ask what on earth all of that weird hesitation was from him and what his strange reaction was all about, but then he pulls out a chair and maneuvers himself into it. He rests his cane against it, then leans forward and starts digging in.

It’s something I suspected about Zeb from the beginning—no manners.

I laugh to myself. It’s kind of cute, really. And the sight of him going at the food so zealously now is enough to distract me from whatever was going on with him at first there. It turns my heart to mush, seeing him digging in and enjoying the food I slaved over this morning. Making a special meal is one of the ways in which I show people how I feel—a form of emotional expression for me.

I’m so used to cooking off the diner menu that for me to make something different, it’s a big deal. It’s why I made him that pot pie the other night. And it’s why I made this breakfast spread, too.

I sit down opposite him and start digging in as well.

“How come you ain’t at work yet? It’s almost noon on a Saturday,” he says between mouthfuls.

“It’s my day off.”

He nods and then continues devouring the food.

“So…uh…do you have plans today?”

“Plans?”

“Yeah. Do you have
club
things to do, or do they give you the weekend off?”

He snorts out a laugh. “Don’t really do shit that way at Thorns. Ain’t like a normal nine-to-five, Monday-to-Friday work week kinda situation.” He lifts his mug and downs some of the coffee. “Besides, I ain’t allowed to do no work there right now.”

“Why not?”

“Ax put me on
forced leave
.”

“Like…a suspension?”

“Yeah.”

I rest my elbows on the table and hold the sides of my face. “Why?”

“Cuz of that night outside your diner.”

“You mean you saving me?” I ask, incredulous. “Why would that get you suspended?”

“Torvin and his boys are known to the club.”

“
Known?
How? Like, your enemies?”

“Club business,” he mutters.

“What?”

He takes another sip of his coffee and then glares at me, his eyes hard and his words uncompromising as he says, “Means it’s
business.
Can’t talk ‘bout it.”

“You’re really not a morning person, are you?” I snap right back at him.

I’m surprised at myself. That’s not like me at all. This change in attitude in him is really getting under my skin, though.

He stares at me for a moment, clearly as caught off guard by it as I am.

And then he slumps back in his chair. “Sorry. All right? My bad, darlin’.”

“Is it the wound? It’s hurting? Making you irritable?”

He hesitates and then nods. “Yeah. Hurts worse in the morning. Ain’t much of a good time.”

“Was last night? Was it a…uh…a good time, I mean?”

His eyes darken in that dirty way that lets me know he’s in a sexual frame of mind. “Hell, yeah, darlin’. Fucking right, it were a good time.” He smirks and licks his lips. “Can still taste you in my mouth.”

I drop my fork, his words shocking me. He’s so unnervingly blunt and brazen. He keeps catching me off guard with it.

He chuckles. “You’re so damn shy, Sarah.”

I lower my gaze to my plate and mumble, “The things you say.”

“You’re blushing again,” he teases.

“Stop it.”

“So, I can feast on your pussy, but I can’t say the words?”

Oh my God. “No,” is all I manage to eke out.

I can’t look at him, but I can feel his eyes burning into me. It’s really intense…and awkward on my part. I take a quick sip from my coffee and then push back my chair and get to my feet. “I…uh…I have something for you. I’ll be right back.”

Before he can get a word out, I hurry away, back into the house.

Phew. Now I can breathe again.

I reach up and open the medicine cabinet over in the corner of the kitchen. I pull out the thing that I want to give him.

That’s when I hear his footsteps behind me.

I spin around and I’m surprised to see that stony expression he’d been wearing when he’d first woken up, when he’d acted all standoffish and everything.

“I gotta go.”

“What?”

“Gotta head back.”

“I thought you were suspended?”

“Got other shit to do.”

Well, I guess that means we’re not going to hang out today then. “Okay.”

He gestures behind him and says, “Thanks for the breakfast.” He shifts his weight then and looks between me and the front door. “So, yeah…see ya.”

He starts making his way past me.

“Wait,” I blurt out, stepping into his path.

He stops abruptly, clutching his cane tightly. He eyes me in question.

I hold out the item in my hand. “Here. These will help.”

He takes the jar from me. “What is it?”

“Special bath salts. They’ll help to heal your wound.”

He scrutinizes it and I can see the skepticism all over his face.

“Trust me. They’ll help. I’ve used them myself.”

“Yeah? For what?”

“I….” I step back, caught off guard by the question.

It’s just a simple question from his point of view. But, to me, it’s a whole lot more.

“Just…for things. It doesn’t matter about the details. It was a while ago.”

He stares at me in that invasive way of his for a few seconds, before he looks away and says, “Thanks. I gotta go.”

He makes his way to the door and calls out, “I’ll call ya.”

“You don’t have my number.”

But, it’s too late. He’s out the door and shutting it behind him in the next second.

Chapter 9

~Runner~

“Fucking thing,” I grumble as I accidentally shut my cane in the door so the damn thing won’t close. I shift my weight and manage to pull it out. Cursing, I slam my free hand into the door to shut it. I put on the two deadbolts and then walk through the small lobby into the living room of my shithole one-bedroom apartment in Reirdon Falls.

I got my room at the clubhouse, too, but don’t feel like staying there right now while I’m on forced leave. All the boys would be razzing me ‘bout it and I ain’t in no mood for their bullshit. Normally, I’d take it on the chin and joke ‘bout it. But that guy they know—the easygoing joker—ain’t me right now.

I reach for the light switch on the wall, cuz it’s pitch-black inside.

“Runner.”

Jesus Christ. I flip on the light and then jerk my head to the sound of the voice that nearly gave me a heart attack.

Ax is sitting on my dark blue couch with his feet up on my worn coffee table. He’s got that look on his face. The look that tells me I’m in shit for something.

“Fuck,” I breathe, limping over to him, hating the sound of my cane scraping on the cheap hardwood floors that’ve seen better days. Lately, it seems that’s the story of my fucking life. I ease myself onto the coffee table and tell him, “Told you a thousand times not to pull that ghost-like, I’m-a-former-thief-and-can-break-into-your-home-anytime-to-freak-you-the-fuck-out shit on me.”

“You were in Brockford.”

“And?”

“You’re on leave, cuz of taking on Torvin, Runner. Tell me you fucking get that.”

“Weren’t doing nothing like that. Weren’t nowhere near him.”

“You were at that goddamn diner! Same place you fucked up his guys!”

“Damn prospects you got watching the place told you that?”

“They tell me everything. I’m their boss. Why the hell wouldn’t they?”

Maybe cuz I paid ‘em fifty bucks not to. Fuckers. “Dunno,” is all I tell him. He’s already pissed enough without me telling him that.

“You were there all night.”

“Yeah?”

He slumps back against the couch and folds his arms across his chest. “Wanna know exactly what you were doing.”

“Ain’t your business, Ax.”

“I’m club president. You’re a member of my club. Everything you do is my goddamn business, especially when you disobey my direct order to keep the hell outta that city and away from Torvin.”

“Weren’t there for him!” I bellow, gripping my cane and getting to my feet. “Were there for
her
! Okay? I were there for her!”

“To question her ‘bout Torvin, so you could try and track him.”

Damn, he knows me well. That’s exactly my M.O. in a situation like that normally. Just happens it weren’t this time.

“Told you,” I say through gritted teeth. “Weren’t there for him.
Nothing
to do with him.” I blow out a breath. “I wanted to see Sarah, okay? That’s why I were there.”

“To fuck her?”

Hearing him say that gets my back up for some reason and I end up snapping, “To
see
her.”

His eyes narrow. “You’re telling me
you
hung out with a woman all night, slept over at her place and
didn’t
fuck her? You?” He scoffs. “Gonna need a better cover story than that, Runner. Come on, brother.”

“Didn’t wanna be alone, okay? Didn’t care ‘bout fucking her. She ain’t that kinda girl anyway. Even the one thing we did do were a major deal to her.”

I’m ‘bout to go on when I realize what I’m actually saying. The look on his face says it all. He’s as stunned as I am that I’m spouting all this off.

“She’s different, right?” he says, grinning now.

I know where he’s going with this. It’s exactly what he used to tell me ‘bout Rox when he first started getting it on with her.

I shrug. “Yeah.
But
it’s done with now, so put it outta your mind.”

“Done with?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Cuz, I ain’t that kinda man, Ax.”

“Ain’t ‘bout what kinda man you
think
you are when it comes to this stuff, Runner. It’s ‘bout the kinda girl she is for
you
. ‘Bout whether she’s the
right
girl. And the right girl is the one where things just happen whether you’re this guy, or that guy. Happens, cuz together it’s just right.”

“Yeah, well. She ain’t, okay? Ain’t the right girl.”