Hope (The Virtues #1) (6 page)

***

I tried to keep the story as short as possible. I left out everything about my parents and growing up. I told Bear that my brother owed the wrong people money, and he didn’t have a penny to his name. He listened, occasionally looking over at Trask. Bear waited until I leaned back and took a long pull from my beer before he said his piece.

“I’ll keep it short and sweet, darlin’. We ain’t a charity. Now, I know how you paid the Sarge, here, and I just don’t think you’ve got what it takes to please every Rising Son.” Bear looked me square in the eye. “What have you got that we need?”

The day had finally caught up with me. Class, the drive, and my amazing reunion with Trask had taken its toll. I ran my hands through my hair, brushing it from my face. I killed time trying to think of what I could offer a group of rugged, dangerous bikers. I didn’t have money, and I certainly wasn’t about to fuck anyone but Trask. I drew a blank.

I let out a laugh that said more than my words, “I have nothing to offer. Nothing.” I felt Trask squeeze my side. He knew as well as I did.

“Look, Bear.” Trask spoke up, “Hope and I grew up together. I've known her my whole life. She’s in med school with a mountain of debt of her own. She grew up poor. Come on, man. You gotta give this some thought.”

Bear turned his attention to Trask, then gave me a look, “I’m really sorry, darlin’. We don’t ride for free, even if you grew up with this sorry son of a bitch.” He looked past me to the man with his arm around my waist, “Sorry, Sarge, but I think you understand. No hard feelings, yeah?”

“You know my brother is dead without you? Does that bother you at all?” I could tell that Bear wasn’t the type of man that you should stand up to, but the Rising Sons were the only shot I had to keep Nick alive.

Bear’s face didn’t change. “Yeah, kid, it bothers me, but do you know how many Rising Sons I’ve lost? How many
brothers
,” he said that word with reverence, “I’ve lost at my side? You may have won over the Sarge, but you don’t impress me, darlin’. You’re just a hot piece of ass that got her hooks in the wrong guy.”

I was speechless, and before I could come up with a insult that was fitting, Trask stepped in. “Bear, I’ve known Hope for nearly twenty years, and—”

“I’ve had hard-ons that have lasted longer than that. I’m not the cops. I’m not a pro bono mercenary. You want me to put my guys—
your
guys, too, Trask—on the line for a strung out junkie? Nah, man. That’s not my idea of a good fuckin’ time.” Bear was apologetic, but the words cut me deep.

He gave me the best look of understanding a seasoned biker could. “I feel for ya, I really do. I’ve known far too many people get sucked into the hard stuff and never pull out of the spiral. We’ll do what we can for you, but I’m afraid it ain’t all that much.”

I nodded. It was a one in a million shot—I’d known that going in. I was already trying to come up with the next one in a million when Bear took his drink and left us alone. My heart ached with guilt and anger, mostly at myself.

After Bear had gone, Trask kissed the back of my neck and whispered, “Hey, don’t worry. You’ve still got one on your side.”

I spun around so quickly I almost dropped off my stool. “You mean it?” I was so excited I might have spit a little beer onto the table.

He nodded, and after a swig from his beer, he added, “I guess you’re lucky it’s the Sergeant at Arms deciding to play mercenary. Tell Nick to stay away from the trailer. When this guy sends his goons tomorrow, they’re gonna be dealing with me, instead.” He gave me a wry smile and a loving squeeze.

The sudden realization hit me that I was going to have to go back to school in a few days. It clamped down on my heart for a split second, and Trask must have seen it. He slid my stool closer to him.

“Hey, I know what you’re thinking, Hope. If you think I’m gonna let you stroll back out of my life for another ten years, you got another thing coming.” His smile was heartbreaking, and he could see that, too.

I felt his hand on my thigh. It was warm and reassuring. In high school, when Trask discovered that ticklish spot just above my knee, it became his favorite spot. When we were playing around with each other, he’d tickle me to death, and when things were serious, Trask would rest his hand there, relaxing me. He had the power to break the mood with just a squeeze, but he never would, and I always trusted him when he did that.

I was too choked up to speak. Trask’s voice was soothing, even in the middle of a crowded bar full of society’s rejects.

“Where are you staying tonight?”

I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I don’t know.”

His hand slid down to the inside of my thigh. It wasn’t sexual. It was just intimate; a touch I hadn’t felt in years. “Well, I do. You’re coming to my place. I’m guessing you could use a good night’s sleep. We’ll throw on something terrible and pass out.”

I laid my head against Trask’s shoulder. My love of reality TV had not faded, nor had his memory. We’d spent many summer nights laughing over
Big Brother
and
Fear Factor
.
 

It was like the ten-year absence never existed. Trask said the things I needed to hear, and his fingers touched me exactly how I needed them to.
 

I closed my eyes, drinking in his calming presence. For the first time since I heard Nick’s message, my heart eased its workload. Things felt like they could turn around. In retrospect, I should have been thinking the complete opposite.

The band was breaking down their equipment, but the ringing in my ears would last for a day. Besides the Rising Sons, most of the bar had emptied out. The place was still lit with low light, the only color pouring in from the neon sign outside. Sometime during the evening, Nick had texted me that he was somewhere safe.

Trask had stayed beside me most of the night, but he hadn’t said much. I was still itching to hear all about our lost decade. All I knew about it had been told to me by friends, and I was eager for the story direct from the source.

He still had that faraway look, and I didn’t want to push it. The sweet touches he would give during the night were enough to keep me calm and satisfied. I watched him interact with the other bikers as I still tried to wrap my head around his new life.

Finally, he leaned over to me and said, “All right, let’s hit the road.” I nodded and stood up. Apparently I’d had more to drink than I thought.

My legs were weak. I laughed and grabbed onto Trask’s shoulder for support. He smiled and pulled me close as we headed to the door.

Even before we were outside, I could hear the sounds of motorcycles firing up. The sound filled the desert night as they roared to life and sped into the darkness. Trask was leading me towards the row of bikes, and it hit me that he wanted me to go with him, not follow.

I stopped, “I’ve never ridden a motorcycle...” I tried to sound serious, but the alcohol was fighting against me.

“Well,” Trask said with that over-confident smile, “I guess that’ll be one more thing you can cross off your bucket list.”

I put my hands on my hips, “Maybe it’s not on my bucket list, mister.”

“Sometimes your bucket list isn’t under your control.” He swung his leg over his bike and turned back to me. “It’s three miles, I’m stone sober, and I have all the power in this relationship.” I could hear the humor in his words, but there was a bit of ice behind them, as well.

We both knew he was right. Trask had agreed to help me, but that really didn’t mean anything. I’d shown up on his turf after ten years and asked him to save my brother’s life. I had nothing to offer except my body, and I had already given that to him gladly. He could dump me at any time, and I really couldn’t fault him.

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” It was the second time I had asked him. He was still Trask Rivers, but the man who sat on a motorcycle before me was harder, darker, and irresistible.

When Trask fired up his bike, the sheer volume made me jump. I giggled, trying far too late to hide it. He pulled back on the throttle, making the engine howl in protest, longing to be set free into the night. He shook his head to let me know that I didn't really didn’t have any choice at all.

I stood there, the situation sinking in as I stared at him. As my heart pounded, I looked over at Layne’s car. It was safe, it was friendly, but it wasn’t going to keep Nick alive. He was right; I had no choice.

Stepping up to the Harley, I put my hand on Trask’s sturdy shoulder. As I swung my leg over the bike, I tried to forget absolutely everything I learned about trauma injuries from med school.

I leaned forward to speak into his ear. “Please tell me you at least have a helmet for me.” My guess was that if he did, he would have offered it already. I was right.

“Nope. I guess I’ll be taking your life in my hands.”

Before he took off, Trask turned back to me. “A lot has changed since you split for a better life, Hope.”

The ride was something I could barely describe. It was pure adrenaline, pure sex, pure fun. Our bodies shifted and bent into the turns, my hair blew back from the wind, and I knew the true meaning of freedom with my arms wrapped tightly around the man giving it to me.

The headlight barely illuminated the road in front of us, and all my instincts told me to beg for him to slow down, but the only sound that came out was a primal scream. Besides the sex that night, the motorcycle ride was more fun than I’d had in years. I’d thrown myself into school so hard, thinking that it would transform me. It was my way of cleansing the white trash upbringing I despised.

That was all gone from the second Trask let the motorcycle loose. I held on like it was a bucking bronco, only I had to last way more than eight seconds before I defeated my fears.

Just when I was getting into the rhythm of the road, he slowed down and made a sharp right. I squealed with delight, squeezing his broad chest tighter. The lights of a subdivision began to greet us. Trask slowed down to a crawl and I laid my head against his back, taking in the strong leather smell from his vest. He told me earlier that it was actually called a cut, which didn’t make sense to me, but most of what was happening didn’t.

For a second, I pictured us pulling into one of the cookie cutter houses along the street. The front doors were all painted the same color, and I could only count three different home designs. It wasn’t his style, and I breathed a sigh of relief when we left the subdivision. We were back on the highway, the bike allowed its freedom.

He was right, it was only three miles to his house, but I could have ridden behind my Sergeant at Arms until the sun chased our backs from the east. We pulled down a narrow dirt road, and the headlight shone onto something completely alien.

***

The shipping containers looked like they had been arranged by a gigantic toddler. They seemed randomly placed, yet they still flowed beautifully. To my amazement, there were windows and a door. Trask lived in this huge sculpture in the California desert.

The house was two long containers on the ground connected on top by another diagonal container. From above it must have looked like an H leaning to one side. Trask pulled up, driving slow over the dry earth. He stopped on concrete beneath the shelter of the second floor connecting piece.

He shut the engine down, and the silence matched the darkness surrounding us. The bike leaned to one side, and the sexy biker that I had rekindled a romance with stepped off.

“End of the road,” he said.

I laughed and slid off the back of the bike. I didn’t realize it, but the ride had done something to me. The danger, the adventure, and even the vibration had me hot for Trask again. I had the choice this time, and I wanted him.

I wrapped my arms around him and pulled his chiseled jaw down to my lips. He grunted and picked me up like I was nothing at all. I saw his bike shrinking behind us as he carried me toward the front door. I wanted to marvel over his magnificent house, but I was too busy with the sexy biker to care about anything but getting him naked as soon as possible.

Somehow, Trask was able to get the door open. He carried me through his dark house, still kissing and squeezing my ass hard. I let out a lover’s laugh when he laid me down on a large bed. We made love again, now in almost total darkness. He was rough, adding more tender spots to my slender body. His strength was amazing.