Force: Blacktop Sinners MC (14 page)

Chapter Twenty Three

“We have to talk,” Tess said, sitting down on her brother’s bed. The comforter was curled in a ball on the floor and Dorito crumbs scattered over his sheets. God, you’d think at nineteen, he’d be more responsible. Of course, with Mom around to be the live-in maid, Jason was never going to learn responsibility. “I saw that monster parked out in the front of the driveway. The hell?”

“The ‘monster,’” he said, his tone clipped as he turned away from his desk and the small dig-a-fossil toy she’d given him. “Is called Bertha.”

“Are you serious?”

“She’s large and in charge,” he quipped, hazel eyes twinkling back at her. She knew that look. It was his DefCon 1 of plotting. It was how he’d convinced her to shave the dog back in middle school. “Besides, why are you going to lecture me? Just because you’re in a nursing program…”

“I’ve volunteered at clinics by now. I’ve seen people come in after an accident and end up as donors because they
didn’t
come back. I’ve gone to rehab centers and watched men and women both relearn to feed themselves or button their shirts. You don’t want that.”

He stood up and slammed his chair into his desk. Then he started to pace. “You assume I’m that bad at shit.”

“I don’t. It doesn’t matter how good you are at riding that hunk of garbage. If it’s a slick pavement or a car doesn’t see you in the blind spot, then you’re in pieces.”

“I’m telling you that I can handle it.”

“You shouldn’t be taking risks like this.”

He glared back at her, eyes blazing like sapphires. “You’re not Mom.”

She blinked. “I didn’t say I was.”

“But you always treat me like some dumb kid. I’m tired of it. I know we’ve been through everything, but can’t you just be a normal big sister like Sarah? She said it was awesome and would be a chick magnet.”

“I am a normal big sister, and Sarah’s nuts for encouraging this.”

“You don’t have to guard me like a little kid. I’m not and just be happy for me for once.”

She sighed and shook her head. “Please, you have to explain to me why this is okay, why you have to do this so much.”

“Because she’s mine. I saved up for three years for her, bought her, and I love the way it makes me feel. Don’t you ever want to just be able to be anywhere?”

“That’s what cars are for.”

“It’s not the same. I love it here, and I love our fam, but I love having something that’s mine after so much bad shit too. Just can’t you try and see it my way, just once?”

“I’m not that stubborn.”

“You’re always stubborn, sis, and you never bend. I wish you would.”

***

Tess swiped at her eyes and forced the threatening tears back. She’d cried too much yesterday over Derek and now she needed to figure out what everything meant, who next to turn to. The memory of her brother had come up unbidden, and she pushed that back too because she needed to focus. Chief Johnson would be watching her and was working for the Sinners, that Smitty creep would be back soon, and even Derek might track down her family in Asheville and figure out where she’d hidden the switchblade.

But that conversation haunted her, almost as much as the amazing night under the stars where she thought she and Derek had shared something deep and moving. And that’s where she was, all of it circling around in her head. She was at odds with his violence and his real identity, but the tender man she’d felt and shared so much with was real. Everything in her soul and in her bones told her that part of him was far from an act. She should have kept her foot down long ago with Jason, but he wasn’t wrong.

He was no more wrong than her mother now or Lizzy.

She’d always been too uptight, too unwilling to bend or extend herself. She’d always judged first and then never changed her mind. She’d been right once upon a time about motorcycles, but she’d still underestimated her brother. It was a stupid decision, but he’d had the right at nineteen to make it. The more that memory raced through her mind, as well, the more she realized she hadn’t changed
after
the accident. No. A large part of her had always just existed, followed the rules. The accident made her close off even harder, but she’d always isolated herself, played the role she thought others needed her to play.

Made up her mind and never changed it as if it were etched in granite.

Maybe she needed to be more flexible about Derek. He was how she’d gotten into this mess, and he might be the only way she could get out of it. He’d saved her from Smitty, and he’d tried to explain. Maybe she owed him the chance to finish. Hell, she needed to try something different because her back was against the wall, and she was beyond terrified. But if she were going to the roadhouse to seek him out, she needed a serious makeover. Rushing to her closet, Tess was sure there were old Halloween costumes and gag gifts (thank you, Lizzy) that she could reuse.

After all, she was a woman on a mission.

Chapter Twenty Four

Every eye was on her.

Women with even less on than she had---and where the hell had they found skirts that tiny---were staring daggers at her. Their hair was teased, and it looked like the lot of them were groupies from a hair band concert in the heyday of the 1980s. The guys were all huge, not quite as tall or as imposing as Derek. Her former lover was like a tree. Still, they loomed over her in a mix of imposing denim and scuffed leathers. The air reeked of sex, stale beer, and cigar smoke, and she coughed a bit; it was such a contrast to the more antiseptic setting of the hospital.

She swallowed and stood up taller. It was something she could do marginally better in her four inch heels. Jutting out her chin, she was about to demand that they show her where Derek was when he showed up. Instantly, and despite everything, her body reacted. Her stomach flared with warmth and already she could feel herself grow wet, her panties more damp. It didn’t matter that he was a killer or that he ran with the toughest gang in town to her traitorous senses. He felt like home pressed up against her, and his scent, a mix of his own musk and cheap aftershave and leather, paradoxically made her feel safe and cared for.

“Let’s go to a private corner,” he said, his voice gruff and husky. “Hell, it won’t be hard since I seem to be quite the pariah around here.”

She glared up at him as he led her to a couch that looked like it needed to be scotch guarded STAT. No, cancel that. Based on the stains and white blotches, it probably just needed to be fire bombed. He sat, and she shook her head. She was in healthcare, no need for her to get extra exposure to bacteria.

“We need to talk.”

He arched an eyebrow at her, his demeanor cool and collected. “You say that now, but I tried to talk to you yesterday, and you blew me off. I don’t think you’re here to make demands.”

“I know where the switchblade is,” she said, whispering it in his ear. Part of the streetwalker look was to make people think she was a new groupie hopeful. If they knew she was the nurse, recognized her, she’d be sliced and diced by men this ruthless. Of course, with the looks most of the club was giving her ass, maybe the women would do the honor first. “So you’ll want to talk to me.”

“Maybe, but maybe I want something else first.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“The pole, blondie. It’s been awful lonely this afternoon.”

She blinked back at him and then eyed the pole. It sat atop a five by five stage of painted wood that was maybe two feet high. It was also painted with a purple leopard print for extra class. She wondered if the groupies coordinated their outfits with it. They probably did, not like they had anything else going on in their lives.

“Are you kidding me?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “If you want to talk, then you give me something out of the deal. So hop up.”

The stereo over head was already blaring something that made her teeth ache and her head pound, something from Def Lepard or Quiet Riot or some band she’d never given a shit about but that VH1 seemed to lionize.

More hair metal bullshit.

“I---”

He slouched down in his seat and watched her. “Your call, but if it’s that urgent, a little lap dance action shouldn’t hurt. Now hop on the pole, blondie, or get out.”

Hesitating for just a moment, she slipped off her heels, and walked over to the box. If doing a stupid dance was going to help her case, then so be it. She’d come too far for this to be the pressing road block in her life. The stage felt oddly sticky beneath her feet, and she had to hope whatever was there was gum or spilled Coke. She put her hand on the pole and spun once, feeling awkward. It was like she were eight and leaning on the tether bar pole. She made a full rotation and stopped in front of him with her hands held up.

“See, are you happy?”

“That was pathetic. I said a dance.”

Tess gritted her teeth and thought of Lizzy and of her family. She needed a solution to this problem, so she just had to go with it. Closing her eyes for a moment, she pushed the sounds of the bar away---the men shouting, the mugs of beer clanking, and the strike of cigarettes and chink of Zippo lighters. Instead, she focused only on the music. Providence or perhaps some horrible joke arranged by Derek himself had led to “She’s My Cherry Pie” being on the speakers. It was a booming bass that she could find herself working toward, her hips moving with the rhythm at first.

Opening her eyes, she focused solely on Derek. This was all for him, and he was the only one she wanted watching her. She started to really feel the music, to sashay her hips. Reaching down, she pulled off her t-shirt. Underneath was just a thin pink cami. She’d been so stressed that she hadn’t felt like she had time to find a bra. She’d used that instead.

Now as her anxiety flowed through her and, frankly, arousal, her nipples were pebbling. Running her fingers over her breasts, she twisted her hips further, everything a serpentine motion that she used to beckon Derek closer. He was leaning in now and licking his lips fervently.

Tess grinned, encouraged and with adrenaline flowing through her. She stepped back to the pole and lifted her right leg, wrapping her leg around it. Arching her back, she ground a little against it, even as she ran her right arm up and down the pole’s length. The music boomed, and she shook her head down and then up, her hair falling in a riot of gold over her face. Reaching higher, she climbed the pole a bit, finally finding purchase, and raising high enough to spin.

Her left leg was held out under her and perpendicular to the pole as her right clung to it for all she was worth. The denim caught some, but she made do, sliding down to the floor and holding her hands out like a cheerleader landing the perfect move.

Standing up, she sauntered to him, licking her own lips back at him and blinking her long lashes at him. Leaning over, she ran her nails over his dark black t-shirt. Underneath, his muscles quivered and he felt hard like stone.

“Is that all you wanted? Do I pass the pole test, Derek?”

He swallowed, and she loved the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he did it. “I think I’m still wanting, Tess. You need to have that time to talk to me, then I need a little bit more in the equation.”

She huffed, but she knew that a part of that was for show, for the role she was playing for him here on this stage. Her clit was already throbbing, and her nerve ending were on fire. She was so worked up that it seemed natural next to straddle him, leaning in close and let her lips almost touch his. He tried to lean the rest of the way in and kiss her.

Tess turned her head to the side at the last minute and grinned to him when his lips only graced her left cheek.

“Not fast enough, Derek.”

“I haven’t been quick on the draw at all this week. It’s costing me everything,” he said.

She sat down on him and started to grind her hips, enjoying the friction of her core riding up against the rock hard bulge in his jeans. As her pace intensified, her hips thrusting up against his lap, she felt her clitoris swell and pulse with the rhythm. He reached up and cupped both her breasts through the thin fabric of her cami, and she moaned at the strong, flat thumbs working over her areolas, making them seem to shiver under his touch.

He leaned up and kissed her throat. “You’re so damn sexy, Tess, but let’s take this in back. I need a minute, or we’re going to have a problem.”

She smirked and ground harder against his crotch. “Getting excited there, what was it Smitty said? Grinder, was it?”

“Yeah.”

“I can grind some things,” she purred.

His cock jerked beneath her, and she had to laugh at his reaction, at how easily she was able to get to him. “I don’t want a floor show for probies and sweet butt anyway. Come with me to one of the little used offices, blondie. We can finally talk.”

She smirked. Victory was hers after all.

Hopping up, she stood and had to smirk again at his groan. “Turnabout is fair play. You’ve been driving me nuts for a while, so let’s march.”