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Authors: Emily Stone

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BOOK: One Crazy Ride
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CHAPTER FOUR

 

They hadn’t let her stay long, but had told her she could come back later in the evening if she’d like. Too upset to really talk, she’d nodded and left quietly. She’d be back as soon as visiting hours were open again at six.

 

The doctor had come in while she was there, and when she’d asked about his injuries, he’d given her a long, considering look. She’d waited for him to ask if she were family but he hadn’t. He explained that there were lots of small injuries, bruises and scrapes, some blood loss and that his knee had been dislocated—those things were easily repaired and wouldn’t take long to heal.

 

It was the concussion the doctor was most worried about. It was a severe concussion but the x-rays showed no skull fracture, which was good news. However, because Christian had already had two concussions, one as a teenager and one a couple of years ago, the possibility of long-term effects were increased. He’d called it Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy.

 

The helmet had saved his life; there was no doubt about that. If he hadn’t been wearing it, the impact with the ground would have killed him. They would be keeping him two nights for sure, possibly three depending on his symptoms.

 

When he woke up she would try to find out if he had any family she could call. She took the drive home slowly, her mind elsewhere. The club parking lot was full, the charity ride over and everyone ready to party another Saturday night away. She pulled up to her private entrance and let herself into her shop with hands that still shook slightly.

 

Her Daddy was waiting inside, standing in front of the wall of flash. “Hey, Daddy.”

 

Atticus could tell his daughter was upset and, even though he knew why, he had to play this cool. “Sandy girl, what’s wrong?” He moved closer to her and rubbed his hands up and down her arms comfortingly.

 

She didn’t want to tell him what was going on. It hurt her heart to realize that she felt that way. Christian was a sore spot with him and there would be little sympathy from her Daddy for Christian. That would piss her off, and they’d fight. It was inevitable though, because she didn’t like keeping secrets from him. “Christian was in an accident late last night. Car hit him on his way home. He laid on the side of the road all night and most of the morning. He’s in the hospital.”

 

That wasn’t what he’d expected her to say. It was hard not to let his anger show as he stood there. “Well, that’s too bad. I guess he’ll recover?”

 

As she’d expected, her Daddy was stone-faced at her news. No worry or emotion in his eyes at all. A cold chill worked its way up her spine. “Yes, he will. I know you don’t like him, Daddy, but do you know if he has any family? Someone who needs to be called?”

 

Atticus shrugged, turning away from her. “Nobody that I’d know about. It’s not like we talked about our private lives much. You should ask Mariah. She might’ve heard something.”

 

“I’ll do that.” She turned to go, then stopped and turned back to face the first man she’d ever loved. Anger rode her hard. “I get it that you don’t like him, but he’s part of this club, and your second. He deserves more respect than you’re showing right now, and I’m disappointed.”

 

His baby girl was livid. Fire sparked from her eyes, and her fists were tight balls next to her sides. When was the last time she’d been really pissed at him? He couldn’t honestly remember. “I got no respect for someone who hasn’t earned it. He may be the second, but he’s not
my
second.”

 

“I get it, Daddy. He isn’t like you, doesn’t cow-tow to you like all the others do, so that makes him less worthy of your respect. That’s pretty damn shallow. I don’t agree with you right now either, how’s my respect holding up?” She turned and walked away, slamming the door behind her, tears threatening for the second time in one day.

 

 

CHAPTER FIVE

 

“What the hell did you do?” Atticus hissed into the phone he should have gotten rid of but hadn’t. Good thing too, now that this mess had come up. “I told you to scare the little shit, not try and kill him.”

 

The man on the other end cleared his throat once, then again. “I did exactly what you asked.”

 

“You stupid son of a bitch. He’s going to talk to the cops and we’ll both end up in jail!”

 

“Ain’t nobody going to find out anything. The kid didn’t see nothing, and the car is long gone. Maybe you’re just worried that your precious little girl is going to find out what you did.” Nick said the words caustically, not liking where this conversation was going at all.

 

“If any of this gets back to Sandy—” He let his words die off, but the threat was there in his silence.

 

“Don’t worry, Atticus. You’re secret is safe with me. You paid me well for it.”

 

“You’re damn right I did.” Atticus shut the phone off and threw it back in the drawer. Anger was singing in his veins. His plan had gone all wrong. If anything, he’d just pushed his daughter closer to Christian—and away from him.

 

*****

 

Mariah stood outside of the club, tears streaming down her face. They were tears of anger and disgust and hurt. All the years she’d spent with Atticus, thinking he’d changed, that he’d softened, and instead he’d just gotten better at hiding his activities.

 

When Sandy had come to her, so upset and angry with Atticus and worried about Christian, she’d gone up to his office to talk to him. The conversation she’d overheard had turned her blood to ice.

 

Atticus had been behind Christian’s accident.

 

*****

 

Mariah hadn’t known anything much more than Atticus about Christian’s family, so Sandy had gone home to shower and calm down after her fight with her Daddy. Upset, she’d done her crying under the spray of hot water and then let it all go down the drain. No point dwelling on it. Things were going to have to change, and she was the only one who could change them. Until she got out and proved she could make it on her own, these control issues with her Daddy weren’t going to get any better. Right now, she needed to focus on Christian.

 

The smell of antiseptic and other less pleasant odors hit her the minute she walked through the doors. Hospitals didn’t bother her, except for the way they smelled—they reminded her of all the hurt and death that lingered on somehow.

 

Christian was talking to a man in a bad sport coat when she got to his room. She was about to quietly back away when the man spotted her and drew Christian’s attention to the door. “Hi. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. I can come back—”

 

Christian sat up a little, jaw tight against the pain and dizziness the motion caused. “Get in here, Sandy.” He waited until she was by his bed before gesturing at the man. “This is Detective Mann. He came to ask me about the accident.”

 

Sandy held out her hand for him to shake. She smiled at him, trying to diffuse the sudden tension in the room. “Great name, Detective.”

 

“Thank you. I would assume you to be Sandy Rivers? The one who led the officer to Mr. Belz?” He flipped back a page on his little notebook. “I’d like to ask you a couple of questions too, if you don’t mind?”

 

‘Not at all.” She sat down in the chair next to Christian’s hospital bed and took his hand in hers. Something this man had said was upsetting Christian, and while she couldn’t do anything to change that she could at least offer her support.

 

“Mr. Belz says he dropped you off around three AM at your shop. Did you happen to notice anyone following you on the way home, or see someone pull out behind Mr. Belz when he left?”

 

“No, I didn’t, but honestly, I was so sleepy that I wouldn’t have noticed much of anything.” She watched him make a note in his book, then it hit her. “Wait, why would you ask that? I thought it was an accident?”

 

The Detective and Christian shared a look. “I’m not so sure. There were a few things that didn’t look right to the responding officer, and I agree with his assessment. It looks like someone hit Mr. Belz on purpose.”

 

Sandy felt all the blood drain from her face. She looked at Christian, who was staring stonily at the wall behind the Detective’s head. “Someone tried to kill him? Why?”

 

“That’s what I’m going to find out. Even if Mr. Belz doesn’t like the idea.” Detective Mann closed his little notebook. “I’ll keep in touch.”

 

Sandy waited until the man was out of earshot, then turned and blurted out, “Is it possible, Christian?”

 

Sighing, Christian leaned his head back against the pillows and closed his eyes. His head was a mess of dizziness. “I don’t see how, Sandy. I really don’t. I don’t have any real enemies here.”

 

She let the subject drop because it was obvious he was hurting. “Do you feel any better at all?”

 

“Some. That might be all the pain meds talking, though.” Christian looked at her, which took a moment because he was having trouble focusing. “Hey, you look worried. Don’t be. I’m going to be fine.”

 

“I know, I spoke with your doctor earlier, although I’m sure he wasn’t supposed to do that.” She smiled but it was weak and halfhearted. “It was scary, finding you like that and not being able to do anything.”

 

He pulled the hand he was holding up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. It was unusual for him to do something so—soft. She needed reassurance though, and he wasn’t going to ignore that. “I wish that it hadn’t been necessary, but I was a little scrambled at the time.”

 

Even with him flat on his back, that sweet kiss stirred her. “Do you have some family you want me to call?”

 

“There’s no one left. That’s why I left Alabama to find out what Texas was like.” Christian said the words matter-of-factly, as if it didn’t bother him that he was alone in the world.

 

It might not bother him, but it bothered her that he had no one to depend on. No one to call when he was upset or hurt or angry. She had her Daddy and Mariah. Who did he turn to when things were bad? “I’m sorry. It can’t be easy, being alone.”

 

He could see that there were tears in her eyes. For him. For the fact that he was alone in the world. “Sandy, sometimes it’s better to be alone than to be with people who don’t care if you live or die. My story, it isn’t pretty.”

 

“Tell me.”

 

 

CHAPTER SIX

 

“My Momma was a good woman once, or so I was told. By the time I was old enough to know good from bad, there was nothing much left for me or my sister that was good. My real Dad died when I was two. I don’t remember him at all. Momma was pregnant with my sister when he passed. He was on the side of the road, trying to fix a flat on the car when another car swerved too close and hit him. He died instantly.”

 

“After that, Momma went from man to man. I remember a constant stream of ‘Uncles’ that would stay a couple of months then move on. Then she met Rick and he decided to stay. Rick liked his whiskey and he liked to beat on my Momma when he was in the bottle. I hated him as much as a little boy can hate anything.”

 

“Rick had another love—little girls. He started molesting my baby sister when she was just four. One day he got carried away and killed her. My Momma called the police and they came for him. When he tried to run, they shot him dead. I was glad.”

 

“After that, my Momma had a breakdown of some sort. She tried to kill herself a couple of times. They put her in a mental hospital to try and fix her, but it didn’t work. She got hold of a steak knife and slit her wrists. I was thirteen and had been living with a cousin of my Momma’s.”

 

“When they told us she passed, I guess I lost it too. I got stupid, made a lot of mistakes, got in some trouble with the law. Nothing serious, but enough to get me labelled a ‘bad kid’. I got tossed in foster care when the cousin decided she’d had enough. I bounced around the system until I ran away for good at seventeen.”

 

He couldn’t look at her. He’d never told his story to a living soul. Not one. As far as anyone knew, he was just a drifter who’d found a home in Pecan, Texas. There was no reason for him to tell the dirty details. No reason, until her.

 

Sandy couldn’t stop the tears that streamed down her cheeks. It explained so much about him, the way he treated women, how he never got too close. It also explained why he had been so determined to prove himself here. To prove himself to her Daddy. It hadn’t just been about earning his respect; Christian was looking for approval.

 

*****

 

The next couple of days went by in blur. Her job, checking on Christian, and dealing with whatever was going on between her Daddy and Mariah had Sandy exhausted. Exhausted and completely frustrated, because Mariah wouldn’t tell her what was wrong and her Daddy claimed to have no clue.

 

Mariah worried her the most. Christian was on the mend and going home in a few hours. Mariah seemed even more fragile this morning than she had when she’d found her bawling in the kitchen the morning after Christian’s accident. She’d dropped two glasses this afternoon already, and was muttering to herself constantly. People were starting to talk.

 

She’d promised Christian she’d pick him up from the hospital that afternoon, but she worried about leaving Mariah alone. She felt like she was being pulled in too many directions and it was affecting her work.

 

She stopped by the club to check on Mariah one more time and got shooed away. Honestly, she was glad to get away. She was anxious to see Christian out of that hospital bed.

 

Leave it to Christian to be sitting outside when she got there, wearing a funky hat with the hospital’s logo on it. She shook her head at him. “You just have to ruin all my fun, don’t you?”

 

He feigned innocence. “I have no clue what you’re talking about, darlin’.”

 

“Don’t you play angel with me. You
know
I was looking forward to pushing you outta that place in that wheelchair.” She watched him hobble on his crutches to the door, then get in and buckle the seatbelt of her old truck securely around his waist. She knew he was balking at the necessity of normal transportation, but they couldn’t take any chances for a while.

 

“Pretty girl, I never feel like an angel when you’re around.”

 

“Good thing you’re disabled, or I’d think you were trying to get in my pants.” She put the truck in gear and headed toward his place. “I got the guys at your shop to gather up all the pieces of your bike and store it in your garage. I figure with you being down for the count with that knee you might want something to tinker with.”

 

The surprise on his face was genuine. Of all the things that she had done, this had to be the most awesome. “Do you know how hard you rock?”

 

“Duh. Stuff of legends.” She shot him a pretty good mockery of his cocky smile.

 

Once they got to his house, he went to shower and change while she got things in order. Spoiled food from the fridge went out with the rancid trash from the can, and the new food she’d gotten him was put away. He came out in just a pair of old gym shorts, his nearly bald head bruised and the wound across the crown swollen. He came up close behind her and brushed the hair off her neck.

 

“You forgot to remind me to thank you.” He kissed the soft spot at the base of her neck.

 

“Because you’re in no condition to be thanking me right now.” Her voice was husky, those simple touches heating her blood.

 

“Mmm, that’s where you’re wrong. My head feels much better. The knee we can work around.” He walked her forward until her belly hit the counter. “I need you, Sandy.”

 

Her fingers dug into the counter. How was she supposed to argue that he was too hurt when her entire body was begging for him? She turned, seeing the same fire in his eyes that she was sure was in her own.

 

The smile on her face was downright evil, and he was harder than steel in half a second. Her hands were around his waist working his shorts down before he realized her intentions. She knelt down, sitting back on her heels to work the shorts over the huge knee brace and then from around his ankles. With gentle pressure on his hips, she turned him until his back was to the counter so he could lean against it.

 

When he was exactly where she wanted, she lifted her face, running the softness of her cheek up the entire length of his cock. Her hands trailed up his sides, running over the ink she’d put in his skin, then back down to the sensitive spots above each thigh. His one good knee tried to give out, and he braced his hands on the counter behind him.

 

Her tongue followed the same path her cheek had taken before swirling around the tip. His eyes closed but hers never left his face. His jaw was clenched tight, as tight as the fingers holding the counter. The devil on her shoulder smiled greedily.

 

She took him into her mouth as far as she could, pulling back with a gently sucking motion combined with a lazy back and forth with her tongue. He took a sharp breath, one hand coming down to play with the hair over her ear.

 

He didn’t thrust at her, even though he was dying to. He let her have the control. That little trick with her tongue was making him crazy. Her fingers were alternating between stroking his thighs and scratching them. It wouldn’t take long until he lost control.

 

She could feel the way his muscles tensed and knew he was close. Backing off, she changed the rhythm slightly, holding him in her mouth longer and keeping her tongue still. When he relaxed slightly she switched tactics again and took him deep into her throat, stroking on and off him until he lost control and shouted out her name.

 

He was still semi-hard when she released him, only to be yanked up under her arms, turned and lifted up onto the counter. His face was flushed and his chest rose and fell quickly. There was barely time to register the determined look in his eyes before he yanked her jeans down and off her legs.

 

Pulling her to the edge, he spread her thighs wide, put her calves on his shoulders and ignored the little yelping noise she made. He had his mouth on her, licking and sucking at the barely hooded bud nestled between her dark pink lips, before she could think.

 

Lost as she was, Sandy remembered to keep her hands off his head. To try and tame temptation, she rose up on her elbows to watch him take her with his mouth. He slid a finger inside her, then another, pressing up and hitting a spot that made her growl low in her chest and close her eyes.

 

So close, her whole body trembled. He flicked his tongue faster and her eyes shot open, looking right into his. Knowing he was watching her react to what he was doing to her set her off. Her inner muscles clamped down around his fingers, and she cried out when he pulled them out.

 

He gave her no time to react. Somehow, despite the fact that her knees were like jelly, he got her off the counter and turned, her upper body sprawled across the cool granite, her body lined up perfectly to his. He slid into her slickness easily, moaning when the contractions from her orgasm gripped and released his cock.

 

He was out of his mind. He couldn’t get enough. Couldn’t get deep enough. The sound of his stomach smacking against her behind with each thrust was intoxicating.

 

Reaching her hand back, she took hold of one of his from her hip and wove their fingers together. She didn’t think too hard about why she’d done it, she’d just needed a connection with him that went deeper than the sex itself. As if he needed that connection as well, he gripped her fingers tightly and slowed his pounding thrusts slightly. She raised up on her toes, changing the angle of his thrusts, and they both gasped.

 

It was no longer a race. His strokes were long and deep. Her heart was pounding so hard, but not in a way it ever had before. When she reached back with her other hand, he immediately took it in his, leaning down to kiss the backs of them gently.

 

The moment itself seemed to build with the pressure in their bodies. She could sense the change in his breathing, a change that matched her own. Her grip on his hands increased. He changed the angle of his thrusts once more, stroking right against the sensitive and engorged bud throbbing between her thighs.

 

It was the way he began to whisper her name over and over that sent her over that edge, taking him along with her. Her body held him tightly inside while he came, his body shuddering against hers, hands still holding tightly to each other.

 

*****

 

Mariah knew what she had to do. She couldn’t let him get away with hurting an innocent man. She needed to tell Christian what Atticus had done. Maybe there would be a way to fix everything.

 

Well, not everything. Her relationship with Atticus was done. She couldn’t live with someone who could so easily try to destroy another person the way he had tried with Christian.

 

She hated that what she had to say would probably destroy Atticus’ relationship with Sandy. She hated that what she had to say might tear Christian and Sandy apart. She hated this entire mess, but she couldn’t protect the two of them without telling them the truth.

 

BOOK: One Crazy Ride
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