Nowhere But Here (Thunder Road #1) (11 page)

Emily

OLIVIA WAS ASLEEP
when we left and I guess that’s good, even though a heavy weight sloshes in my stomach. I had no idea what to say to her and I probably wouldn’t have wanted to know what she had to say to me.

I gather my hair in a ponytail at the base of my neck, but, thanks to the wind ripping through the rolled-down window, wayward strands break loose. Eli’s in the driver’s side of what turns out is his truck. He props his arm on the open window and lightly grips the roof. His other hand steers.

Sweat forms along my hairline and I stick to the pleather seat. We’ve been riding along back roads, blowing past cornfields and forests, for an hour. There are two motorcycles in front of us and three behind. Passing cars reduce their speed so they can gawk at the procession.

“Did you go to junior prom?” Question number fifty-four from Eli’s endless reserve.

“Yep.” My eyes flicker to the passenger-side mirror. Oz is on one of the bikes trailing us. As the group of men was getting ready to leave this afternoon, I caught Oz watching me a few times, but each time my gaze fell on him, he glanced away.

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit a thrill would run through me when I noticed him staring, which is moronic because he doesn’t like me. At all. And stupid me can’t stop stupid thinking of stupid him. The latest Oz train of thought: Did he go to his junior prom?

“Who did you go with?” Eli asks.

“Some friends. The guys rented a limo so it was cool.”

Eli switches his hands on the wheel. “Are you still in the advanced program at school?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Oz weaves so that he reappears in the passenger mirror. He wears a folded black bandanna and his hair blows in the wind. He doesn’t wear a helmet. Real smart. A car smashing into him would mean brain damage.

“Was one of those friends you mentioned your prom date?”

That question trips me up and I peer over at the walking, talking gene bank. Junior prom then advanced program and then back to junior prom. “Why the subject shift? Are you concerned a girl who’s smart can’t have a date to prom? Like all I do is stare at the walls in my room when I’m not scanning Wikipedia for mistakes? If so, you’ve been watching too many teen movies. Our generation believes in being well-rounded.”

A smile plays on his lips while he shakes his head. “Just answer. Did you have a date?”

Yes, and I went to his senior prom. At the end of that night he tried to kiss me and it was comparable to kissing Lars the dog sans the handkerchief. “There was a large group of us. Guys were a part of the group. We had fun.”

I didn’t directly answer and the way his smile reverses into a frown lets on that he’s aware. This is why I hate my annual visits with Eli. He’s nice to me and he does what he’s doing now: asks a million questions with this hopeful gleam in his eye that I’ll answer.

Because I hate hurting people, I’ll reply, but only so much because in the end there’s this deep, dark voice that whispers,
Why does he care and what right does he have to ask?

“You don’t have your driver’s license.” Eli returns to one of his previous and safer topics. “How is that possible?”

“Where are we going?” I ask, not even bothering hiding the exasperation.

“Somewhere,” he answers. “Why don’t you have your license?”

“I don’t know how to drive. That’s how it’s possible.”

“Do you want to learn?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I hedge, then nibble on my bottom lip. Dad attempted to teach me this past fall, but I accidently pushed the gas when I should have chosen the brake. I creamed a row of bushes in our front yard and totaled the front of Dad’s Mercedes. Since then, neither Dad nor I have been eager to resume my lessons. “This past year has been busy. You know, school and stuff.”

“Stuff,” Eli says, as if he’s trying the word for the first time.

“Stuff,” I repeat.

His frown deepens and his fingers tap the steering wheel. The cords of muscles in his arms work with the motion and the tattooed stars move. Hmm. Never noticed before that not all the stars are shaded in.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Eli doesn’t look at me like he has with the two million other questions since we left Olivia’s.

“Yes,” I answer. “We’ve been together for a month. He’s the captain of the football team and he expected sex on our first date. Initially, I said no, but then he was a little grabby and I figured everyone my age is doing it, so I thought why not? I went home and told Mom and she put me on birth control so she’s cool when we do it in my bedroom now.”

Eli slams on the brakes and my body whips forward against the seat belt then rams back into the seat. The two bikes in front of us U-turn and there’s a loud grumble as the three behind us fly to catch up.

Completely red-faced, Eli glares at me with black, soulless eyes. “What did you say?”

“No,” I tell him calmly. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Eli blinks and directs his attention to the steering wheel.

One of the bikes pulls up beside us. The name Hook is sewn on the front of his vest. “We okay?”

Eli nods then presses the gas. “Are you shitting me on the boyfriend or on the no boyfriend?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” I don’t know why I ran my mouth, but it’s annoying how Eli thinks he has the right to ask me absolutely anything he wants and how he expects a response. Year after year he visits Florida and year after year I try my best to play along, but why he craves an inside scoop on my life and why I owe it to him, I don’t understand.

He deserted us—me and Mom. In the end, he abandoned me.

Eli flexes his fingers on the wheel. “Don’t let any guy treat you like shit, do you hear me, Emily? No one. Any guy pushes you too far or hurts you, you tell me.”

I sweep my bangs away from my forehead and when I readjust, my skin audibly peels off the seat. Eli watches me for a reaction and his eyes only glance away to confirm he’s still on the road. “Did you hear me?”

I really, really wish Eli would drop this conversation.

“Emily?” he demands.

“Where was this gallantry when Mom cried to you that she was pregnant with me?”

A muscle in his jaw ticks and he visibly tenses. I have a friend whose parents divorced when she was younger. Her dad bowed out for a couple of years and now that he’s back in her life, she keeps a tally of how many digs she can get in during their visits. I’m not like that. I don’t want to be like that. I’m not proud of hurting Eli, but he doesn’t get to act as if he’s a good dad in this scenario.

The two motorcycles ahead of us veer right and Eli’s posture straightens as we make the same turn. “We’re here.”

Here would be a warehouse. Literally. Gray metal walls. Brown roof. An entire row of motorcycles parked near the front. More men in black vests stand around except the bottom part of their patch states Lanesville instead of Snowflake. Each man studies the truck as Eli parks.

“There’s no end to you guys, is there?” I ask.

“We’re in forty states, ten countries and still growing.”

“Hmm.” Because what else do you say to that?

Eli shuts off the engine. “Your Mom and Jeff will be here soon. I have a few things I need to take care of in the meantime. Hang with Oz and don’t stray from him.”

In other words, Oz is my chosen “escort” for the afternoon. “Okay.”

I crack open my door and Eli stops me. “Hey, Emily.”

“Yeah?”

Eli focuses on the keys in his hand and he’s completely still. “Follow me and then stick close to Oz.” And he leaves the truck, closing the door behind him.

I sigh because, to be honest, a sorry for bailing when Mom and I needed him the most would have been nice.

Oz

I SWING OFF
my bike, shove my keys into my pocket and head over to the only guy I’d be willing to call a best friend other than Chevy. The ultra-white three-piece Reign of Terror patch on Razor’s cut is what makes him stick out among everyone else. The darker and dirtier the patch, the more honor there is. It means years of wear and tear within the club. Razor patched in a few weeks ago.

Razor’s father, Hook, had no stupid rules about him graduating before entering the club. Razor’s the same age as me, but because he was held back a grade in elementary school, he just finished his junior year. He’s a senior in high school and was voted in before me. It’s like salt on a bleeding wound.

Razor hangs back because that’s the way the son of a bitch is. He’s smart as hell, cunning and is one of those quiet guys that people warn you about.

“What’s going on?” I greet him.

Most brothers I walk up to in the club, I’d pat on the arm and avoid the cut, but I refrain from touching Razor. Done it before and I’ve been decked both times with his mean cross. He feels sorry as shit after it happens, but he’s an unpinned grenade.

He’s one of those guys that lives in his own damned head and will watch the internal demons that torment him more than he participates in the living world.

Razor glances over at me with those piercing blue eyes and his lips lift in that sadistic way of his. Girls flock to him with that golden hair and angelic look and now that he’s wearing a three-piece patch, they constantly surround him, but underneath that angel facade is the devil lying in wait. “Heard you fell asleep on the job last night.”

“Heard you were kicked out of school on the last day for shoving a guy’s head into a locker,” I retort.

He shrugs. It’s not the first time he’s been suspended from school. “I saw the guy harassing Stone at lunch. Decided to do some harassing back.”

My spine straightens. “Who?”

“Chad Douglas. I don’t think he’ll mess with Stone again, but we should probably give him a good reminder before school starts that Stone’s one of ours.”

“Agreed.” I roll my neck. I hate Chad Douglas and the rest of his circle. Fucking J.Crew-wearing assholes. They see anyone associated with the Reign of Terror and think thug. Yet they’re the ones picking on the weaker links.

“With you graduating and me kicked out half the damned time, we’re going to have to send a message over the summer for people to steer clear from Violet and Stone,” he says. “Otherwise Chevy and I are going to have a load on our hands.”

“Name the time and place and I’ll be there. Pure balls to the wall, brother.”

The doors to Eli’s truck slam shut and Emily stands in the June heat holding her elbows like she’s cold. She’s statue still as she studies the mass of men swapping handshakes and hugs. Eli ignores everyone as he lops an arm around Emily’s shoulder and ushers her inside. As he opens the door for her, he shoots me a glare that screams that I should have already asked how high to jump.

“Shit,” I mumble.

Razor slaps his hand hard onto my back. “Have fun babysitting.”

I flip him off as I move to follow Eli and what I don’t expect is the barricade of black leather cuts slipping in front of me.

“Is there a problem?” I ask.

The sergeant-at-arms for the Lanesville chapter offers an apologetic tilt of his head. He knows me. I know him. His name is Dragon and he’s been drunk at my house and Olivia’s several times in my life. “Members only inside until this shit is cleared up.”

It’s like being offered a plate of food and being shoved into a high chair at the kids’ table. I could run my mouth, but rules are rules regardless of who I am by blood. Blood doesn’t mean shit. Being a member of the brotherhood is what matters and I’m not in. Thanks to Emily, I may never be a part of the greater whole.

Pigpen saunters up beside me. He’s in his midtwenties and a wall of solid muscle. Most men wet themselves when he looks in their direction. “Eli wants him in.”

Dragon nods and extends his hand to me, palm up. “I need your weapons.” I swear under my breath and Dragon continues, “Club rules. You’re not a member so you don’t carry.”

Silence falls and the stare of the twenty-plus men beats down on me as I relinquish the knife secured to my back. I then lean down, lift the cuff of my jean and unstrap the knife from my leg. Regardless that I surrendered without a fight, they still pat me down. Anger pulses within me. I’m a second-class citizen and will remain one until I get myself into this club.

Pity rolls around in Dragon’s eyes as he gestures for me to go in. That rips through me worse than any knife or fist that’s been thrown at me over the years.

I step inside the dimly lit building and the entrance T’s off into a hallway. I check right, then left and Eli rounds a corner in dangerous mode. “Did you stop and smell some roses while you were out there bullshitting?”

“I’m a hang-around to them.”

“And you’re going to remain one if you fuck this up. Emily’s in the office and she’s to remain there even if she hears her parents. I need to talk to them without her. Do you read me?”

Loud and clear. “Which door is the office?”

“Second one on the left. I don’t need to mention that if Emily’s unhappy, I’m unhappy.”

Perfect. “I don’t have a weapon.”

“If you don’t leave the office then that won’t be a problem. If you want to be a part of this club, then I suggest spending the next few minutes keeping my daughter safe and happy.” Eli turns his back to me and disappears around the bend.

Just a few more hours and I’ll get my life back on track. Take care of Emily. Keep her in the office. Tell her a few jokes. I round the corner and stop dead. Every single time I see Emily she knocks the breath out of my body and that tank top of Violet’s she’s wearing sure as hell doesn’t help. Spaghetti-strapped that cuts into a V-shape.

Whether Emily is aware of it or not, the trim of her white lace bra peeks out and so does a hint of her cleavage. I scrub a hand over my face to prevent myself from ogling, but the image is already burned in my mind.

God, she’s beautiful. Tanned skin. Gorgeous legs. Everything about her perfectly shaped and the memory of how warm and soft her skin felt under my touch last night still haunts me.

She’s Eli’s daughter, Olivia and Cyrus’s granddaughter and her continued presence is ruining my future, but damn if my body doesn’t react to her being near. Emily stares up at me with those dark brown eyes and while they are as naive as a doe’s there’s absolutely no innocence in the smile that spreads across her lips.

“Your life,” Emily whispers in this slow, seductive slide, “is about to suck.”

She’s a little late with that threat because it already does, but a sinking sensation suggests that she’s going to make things even worse.