RUSH (A Stone Kings Motorcycle Club Romance) (15 page)

Grey

The meet was at an abandoned railroad freight depot close to the edge of Aztec cartel territory. There were five Cannibals present, but more motorcycles than that, so we knew some of them were watching, armed, out of our sight. Some of our men were concealed in the hills, as well, but I brought others to station themselves within the Cannibals’ sight.

Four of the five men stood in a line behind the fifth, whose patch indicated he was the president. If that hadn’t been an indication that this was Skull, I wouldn’t have needed any more clues than his large shaved head, the angular bone structure of his face clearly the reason behind his road name.

“Our friends, the Stone Kings,” he called to us in slightly accented English. “So nice to finally meet you.”

Five of my men, including the two prospects, stayed back, weapons lowered. I approached with my officers, Trig just behind me. This was his first time out on the bike since his injury, and he walked without a limp, though I knew it was costing him pain-wise.

“Skull,” I acknowledged with a chin nod.

“And you are Grey Stone. I am happy to make your acquaintance.” He turned his head slightly, indicating the others behind him. “And so are my men.”

“As are we.” Niceties over, I got to the point. “We hear that the Cannibals are part of the Aztecs cartel now.”

“Yes, yes,” Skull acknowledged with a smooth, toothy smile. “We decided that the benefits were too great to pass up.”

“You may have heard,” I continued, eyeing him closely, “that there have been two recent attacks on the Stone Kings.”

His eyes widened as he pretended to think. “Oh, yes, I believe I had heard that.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Most unfortunate.”

I nodded. “Yes. Most.” I glanced at his men and raised an eyebrow. “The Cannibals wouldn’t happen to have had anything to do with them, would you?”

Skull’s grin widened as he shook his head. “Of course not! The Stone Kings have a truce with the cartel. We would never do anything to harm that relationship!”

“I see.” I turned my eyes back to the men standing behind him and gave them each a cold, calculating stare, one after another. They all stood straight as military, hands clasped in front of them, their faces stony. “So. We’ve established that the Cannibals weren’t involved,” I said, with just a hint of sarcasm. “Would they happen to know anything about who was?”

“I’m sure we do not,” Skull intoned solemnly. “Word of honor.”

A sharp bark of a laugh escaped me. “Word of honor,” I repeated. “Well. In that case. Thank you for your time.” I turned to go, then took a step back toward him. “Congratulations on your new position. Do tell the Aztecs hello for me. And let Lalo know we met.”

“Of course, of course,” Skull nodded, spreading his hands wide. “I look forward to continuing our friendship with the Stone Kings.”

I turned on my heel, and walked away, my men following a few steps behind me, with the exception of those who were standing guard. “What do you think?” Trigger muttered under his breath as we walked away.

“I think everything out of that fucker’s mouth is a steaming pile of shit.”

We arrived at the bikes, and I signaled to Levi to call the men concealed in the trees and tell them to cover the Cannibals until we were out of sight. I turned back toward Trig. “Skull knew about the attacks, that’s clear. I’m betting the Cannibals were behind the attacks, but we still don’t know why.”

He grunted his agreement. “That asshole sure has a fuckin’ punchable face,” he said, holding his hand out and flexing it a few times.

I laughed and clapped him on the back. “You may well get the chance, brother.”

The ride back to town was uneventful, and it gave me some time to collect my thoughts. We were playing the long game, I reminded myself. I still didn’t know what the fuck Skull was up to, but I was pretty sure whatever it was, Lalo didn’t know about it. Lalo and I had a good working relationship. As much as I could trust an outlaw who wasn’t a Stone King, I trusted him. That being the case, I was pretty sure the meet we just had would cause the Cannibals to lay low for a while. In the meantime, I made a mental note to have a face to face with Lalo very soon.

Back at the clubhouse, Trig and I debriefed with Levi and Repo. All of us were of the same mind regarding Skull and the Cannibals. Business done for the moment, and feeling the need to decompress, we wandered out to the bar and Trig and I grabbed a bottle of whiskey to share. But the moment the fiery liquid hit the back of my throat, I found myself thinking about how its color was sort of like the color of Seton’s eyes. My mood soured instantly, and I glowered into the glass before setting it on the table with a loud bang.

Luckily, Trig didn’t seem to notice, or else he thought my sudden change of mood had to do with the Cannibals meet. “Hey,” he said conversationally, “Seems like it’s getting about time to be making some decisions about the prospects.”

“Yeah,” I nodded, trying not to think about Cal as Seton’s sister. “What’s your take?”

“I vote yes on both of them,” he said. “Frankenstein’s a good, solid guy. He’s not the most talkative, but everything I’ve seen about him points to him being a good Stone King. Fucker doesn’t seem to have a lick of fear in him.”

“What about Cal?” Cal had been assigned to drive Trig around while his leg was healing up, so they’d spent a fair amount of time together lately.

He grinned. “Couldn’t do better. Pig had a good instinct about him.” Pig was Cal’s sponsor, the one who had brought him in as a prospect. “Like the fuckin’ son I never had, that one.”

“You’d chase pussy with your son?” I ribbed him.

“Damn straight,” he grinned. “And I told you before. I don’t chase pussy. Pussy chases me.”

I laughed, and agreed with him that it was about time we put the prospects up to a vote. Trig took a shot of whiskey, then poured another and went to talk to Cal, who was across the room with Repo and Frankenstein. I watched them as Trig spoke to Cal, and then Cal’s grin as Trig slapped him on the back. Cal glanced over toward me, and I nodded once at him. Then I sat back in my chair, took a shot of my own, and got lost in my own thoughts.

A few minutes later, a throat cleared next to me. I looked up to see Cal standing beside the table. He looked nervous.

“Grey, can I talk to you for a second?”

I scowled and almost told him to go to hell.  Even though I was pretty sure he’d be patched in with no problems, he wasn’t a Stone King yet, and prospects as a rule didn’t speak until they were spoken to. Especially not to the club president. Sensing my anger, he hurriedly continued. “I know I’m not supposed to do this, but it’s not about the club. It’s about See.”

At the sound of her name, my stomach leapt into my throat.

“What about her?” I said through clenched teeth. I stood up until I was towering over him, fairly daring him to continue. As far as I knew, Cal had no idea there had been anything between Seton and me. The only reason I let him continue speaking was because I was scared something had happened to her. I loved Seton too much to let her get involved with a man like me, but I would do anything protect her. To the death, if I had to.

“Well…” Cal murmured. His eyes flicked away from mine nervously, then back again with a look of resolve. “I asked Seton the other day whether you and she… whether there was something going on between you. She said no, but that there had been.”

Goddamnit
. I did not want to be having this conversation at all, let alone with a fucking prospect. “What’s your point?” I asked, my voice a warning.

“Sir,” he began, taking a respectful step back. “I’ve seen her and you both the last couple of months. You’re both… well, excuse me for saying this, sir, but you’re both miserable.” His eyes, which had been cast downward, now met mine. “I’m sorry. I know I’m out of line. But she’s my sister, and I love her. I want her to be happy. And,” he paused. “I think she was happy with you.”

“She’s not cut out to be the old lady of a biker,” I declared flatly.

“Is that why you sent her away?” he asked.

I gave him a warning look and flinched. “That’s none of your goddamn business.”

“I know,” he acknowledged. “But… don’t you think that she gets to choose that for herself?”

He couldn’t have known that that was exactly what Seton had said on our last day together. The words sliced into me as I remembered her stricken face, and the way she had called me a hypocrite. And she hadn’t been wrong. Here was Cal, on the verge of becoming a member of the Stone Kings, and I had told her he needed to choose for himself what was right. As for Seton, I had chosen for the both of us, and Cal was right. We were both fucking miserable.

I told Cal he’d said his piece, and that the conversation was over. He didn’t argue, and went back to do more shots with the other men. But his words had had their effect. That night, as I sat outside on my back deck, staring out into the darkness, I made my decision.

I would go see her. I would.

But not yet.

I’d give her time to get over me. To move on with her life. So she could really choose.

Then, after that, if she still wanted me…

I’d never let her go again.

Seton

Three months of working at The Mockingbird had flown by as swiftly as the namesake of the restaurant. Jillian was a genuinely nice person, but she was a strict task-master and took her role as my mentor seriously. As I hadn’t had any formal training, much of my day was spent doing food prep, such as peeling potatoes, cutting up vegetables, cleaning and disinfecting work stations, and the like. It was boring, repetitive, and sometimes even backbreaking work, and to a lot of people it probably sounded like torture, but I loved practically every minute of it. I loved being in the kitchen. I loved the noise, I loved the speed and the gruff camaraderie among the kitchen staff.  Most of all, I loved the learning, both from Jillian’s direct instruction but also through osmosis.  It was amazing just being there to watch how she ran her kitchen, how she guided and pushed her staff to make the restaurant the best it could be.

And I was usually so busy at work that I barely had time to think about Grey while I was there.

In many ways, The Mockingbird had become my refuge. I came home from the restaurant exhausted most nights, threw myself into bed, and slept a mercifully dreamless sleep. There was something cleansing about the physical exhaustion, so much easier to assuage than the emotional exhaustion I was trying to flee. I knew that at least from the outside I seemed to be doing better, because Andi and Carly didn’t look at me with the same sharp, probing gaze of concern. They were watchful still, but seemed more or less reassured that I was on my way to recovery. I was careful to smile and laugh around them, to make casual conversation, and to do the things that we had always done together. But if they didn’t know it wasn’t the same, I did. The pain in my heart and soul had lessened, but it was still there, throbbing and thrumming like a deep wound trying to heal itself.

Cal had been patched in as a member of the Stone Kings, and though he texted and called me on a regular basis, I didn’t see him all that much. In the past, that might have bothered me, but I sensed that he was staying away because he didn’t want to remind me of what he knew I was trying to forget.

One evening in late September, just as the weather was beginning to turn cooler at night, I came home after an afternoon shift that had gone on longer than anticipated. As usual, I was fairly tired, and looking forward to a quiet evening sitting on the couch, maybe enjoying a glass of wine and a movie with Carly. I blame the fatigue for the fact that I didn’t notice the low-slung motorcycle parked across the street from our duplex, which I drove right by as I swung into the driveway.

The front door was open, so that the air of one of the last temperate nights could pass through. I swung the screen door open and stepped through, gratefully unloading my duffel bag on the floor. I smiled at Carly, who was sitting on the couch staring at the television screen.

“Hey,” I greeted her. “Glad you’re home. Wanna open a bottle of wine and watch crappy TV?”

She looked up at me then, and I noticed her expression was off. Arms crossed, her brows knit into a frown, she definitely seemed unhappy about something.

“You have a visitor,” she said.

Her words didn’t quite register. “Huh?” I asked, putting my hands to my back and stretching.

“You have a visitor. In your room.”

For some weird reason, my first thought was that she had gotten me a kitten or something, but obviously she wouldn’t be looking like she wanted to slap someone if that was the case. I opened my mouth to ask her to explain, but as I did, an awful realization hit me.

My face drained of color. “Grey?” I whispered.

“You should know that I told him to fuck off and die, but he begged me to hear him out.” Her frown deepened into a glower. “I don’t know if I did the right thing. I’m still sitting here kind of pissed at myself. But,” she paused, “I think maybe you should go listen to what he has to say.”

My first reaction was to flee.
If I ran out the door right now and drove away
, I thought irrationally,
I don’t have to do this
. It had been too long, I had fought too hard to forget him. I wasn’t sure I’d survive having to do it a second time. My stomach churned, and for a moment, I thought I might be sick.

I stood for a few moments, my body feeling paralyzed. Then, almost without knowing that my brain had sent any signals to my legs, I was moving toward the bedroom as if someone else was controlling them.

When I got to the door, Grey was sitting on my bed, elbows on his knees, his head hanging, looking at the floor. I cleared my throat and he looked up. His cool blue eyes met mine, and a sob almost escaped my throat. Everything I’d tried so hard to forget, all the emotions I had fought to leave behind me — all of it came surging back like a tidal wave. I stood rooted to the spot, afraid that the slightest movement would be all it would take for me to be carried away by it.

“Seton.” His rich baritone voice, which I remembered so well, was saying my name
. How I used to love it when he said my name
. He stood, but seemed to sense that he shouldn’t move forward.

“Why are you here?” I choked out. “Why?”

“Seton,” he said again. “I’ve missed you.”

Tears sprang to my eyes.
No
, I told myself sternly.
I am not going to cry. He doesn’t deserve it
. I had cried over this man more than anything else in my life except my father.

“You don’t get to say that,” I seethed at him. “You don’t get to say that, like you’re not the reason for it.”
You, who abandoned me in the end, just when I was starting to believe you wouldn’t
.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply. “Seton, I’m so sorry.” He glanced away, and when he looked back to me, I was shocked to notice that his eyes were bright with unshed tears.

“I thought I was doing what was right for you,” he said then. “Hell, part of me still thinks that. But…” he took a deep breath and let it out with a small chuckle. “A very bright former prospect told me that I wasn’t being fair to you by not letting you make your own decisions about what you wanted.”

Anger flooded through me. “No,
I
told you that,” I accused. “But you wouldn’t listen.”

He nodded. “I know. I know. You were right, Seton. I was a hypocrite. But somehow, coming from Cal… it kind of brought it home to me. I’d spent so much time bitching at you about how you weren’t letting him grow up. And here I was, treating you like a little girl. But shit, Seton.” He shook his head, his shoulders sinking into a defeated slump. “This life… the MC life. It’s not good enough for you. You deserve more than some outlaw biker. You have a future.” He looked up at me. “Hell, you’re gonna be a chef someday!” I opened my mouth to ask how he knew, but he interrupted me. “Cal told me. Plus, I’d know that dent in your fucking car anywhere. I’ve seen it outside the restaurant. I’ve driven by it a thousand times by now, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.”

He took a few slow steps and stopped about two feet away from me, but kept his arms at his sides as if he could sense I didn’t want him to come any closer. “Seton,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry. About everything. Especially not telling you about my uncle and your father.  It’s just… That day. The day your dad was killed. Your eyes have haunted me ever since. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about you over the years. And then, when I met you, and realized who you were… it was like I had a second chance to protect that girl. I just couldn’t let her risk being hurt by the club again.”

Listening to him, my heart began to pound like it was going to leap right out of my chest. Emotions raced through me faster than I could even register what they were: anger, hope, love, fear… “Greyson,” I countered, stunned at what I was hearing. “But you told me to let Cal join.”

“No. I didn’t tell you to let Cal join,” he corrected. “I told you to let him make his own choices. And yes, I realize now that I wasn’t being consistent. I believe you called me a ‘fucking hypocrite,’ to be exact.” A slight smile came to my lips, and he grinned. “I think I might have also been being a sexist asshole, assuming he could make his own choices but you couldn’t.”

I resisted the urge to agree with him, and let him continue.

“Seton, sweetheart,” he murmured, drawing closer. He raised his hand and softly brushed my cheek with his thumb. “I’ll say I’m sorry a million times if you want me to. I was wrong. I know that. But I wasn’t wrong about the life you’d be choosing if you were with me.” His eyes grew dark, concerned. “There is danger. I’m careful, and the club doesn’t take risks unless absolutely necessary, but I’m not a dentist. The club will always be there.

“Once everything Cal and you said had sunk in, I realized I had been so worried about protecting you that I hadn’t given you a chance to choose what you wanted,” he acknowledged. “But, once I saw what I had done, I couldn’t let you choose before you were able to make your decision based on the right things. Not on just how you felt about me. I wanted you to move on with your life, have a shot at something else. Something you wanted, so you could really make your choice.  Now, you do.

“So now.” He took a step back, his expression solemn. “Now that you have two real choices. Now that I’m not in your life to fuck things up and confuse you. If you still want me…” he spread his hands wide. “If you still want
this
, I’m yours, Seton. I think I always have been.”

I stared at him in silence for a moment. What he was saying, it was so big. It felt like the tidal wave again. What Greyson was saying right now, it was exactly what I had wanted to hear all those months ago. It felt surreal to be hearing them now, like I was dreaming the whole thing.

“Greyson,” I said quietly. “I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

A stricken look crossed his face, but then his features rearranged themselves, and suddenly he looked like he could have been discussing how to do an oil change. “I understand,” he responded. “I don’t want to push you. This is your choice. Your choice alone, this time.”

“It’s not my choice alone,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s your choice, too. It’s
our
choice. That’s the point. That’s always been my point.”

He looked into my eyes, a soft expression on his face. “Baby, I made my choice a long time ago. I love you, Seton. Always have, always will. But I want you to be happy. I fucked that up once, but I’m not going to do that again. If you’re happy without me, so be it. I can love you from far away, too.”

“Greyson,” I cried, my voice cracking. I threw myself into his arms, the tidal wave breaking over the sea wall. “I choose you,” I whispered.

His arms went around me, strong and warm, and he kissed the top of my head, then my forehead, then my tear-wet eyes, then my cheeks, and finally, my lips.

He pulled me to him, kissing me hard at first, and I opened my mouth to his hungrily, as though I had been starving for months and he was feeding me. I reached up and slid my fingers through his hair, and I felt a trickle down my cheek and realized I was crying. Grey must have felt it too, because he pulled away from me for a second and gazed down at me with a serious expression.

“I’ll never make you cry again,” he whispered, brushing my tears away with his thumbs.

Then he was kissing me again, his mouth persistent, needy. “I missed you so much,” he murmured. “Seton.”

“I missed you too,” I whispered back.

His kisses softened then, making me dizzy with desire. He went slowly, giving me time, and soon I couldn’t help myself any more, I tightened my grip on his hair and drew him closer, deeper. His tongue licked against mine, and I answered him eagerly, whimpering softly as heat traveled down my body, growing stronger every second.

He pressed me to him, until I could feel the hardness of his need between us. I bit his bottom lip and smiled to myself as he gasped in response. In a second, somehow we were on the bed, and he was pulling off my black pants and pushing my shirt up over my head. Where a moment ago he was fighting to be patient, now his hands moved quickly to free my breasts from my bra. I lifted myself up on my elbows so he could pull it away, and he let out a loud groan as he looked at me.

“Jesus Christ,” he murmured, lowering himself to me. “I’ve missed this so much.”

He took one nipple in his mouth and sucked it gently between his lips, using his tongue to flick and caress. I cried out before I could stop myself, and then giggled, embarrassed at the idea that Carly might have heard me.

From the living room, a voice called, “Okay, then, I’m going out for a while.” A second later the door slammed, and both Grey and I collapsed into helpless laughter.

“Shit,” he wheezed, “That girl is going to hate me for the rest of her life.”

He shook his head, and still smiling, he lowered his mouth to my breasts again. He kissed a path from one to the other, licking the second one in turn. “Gotta give them equal time,” he said huskily. I arched my back, pressing my nipple eagerly into his mouth, needing the feel of his expert tongue. My core began to throb, and I could hear myself begin to make low, breathy sounds as I moved under him. I desperately needed him to touch me below, to relieve the ache that had started inside me, which he knew how to soothe so well. I reached down and grabbed the waistband of his jeans, angling my hips against him and spreading my legs wide so that his erection was pressing against my throbbing center. He groaned against my skin as I moved back and forth against him, desperately trying to calm my needful body.