VENDETTA: A Bad Boy, Motorcycle Club Romance (9 page)

But we had to leave, and when I climbed on behind him, it felt like coming home. Something about the scent of his hair or the strength of his back against my breasts was perfect in a way I’d never known. Tommy had jumpstarted my heart when I was a young girl without anyone else to love me, but it had never felt as right as this, like Flash was the last piece in a puzzle I’d been unable to finish for years.

And he would leave me in California and I would never see him again.

But now, in Sonora, he was sleeping next to me and I could study him without fear of showing too much. He was younger than I had thought the first time I saw him through terror and swirling sands. Maybe approaching 30, but not quite there yet. His strong jaw and cheekbones cut under his skin, while his sensual mouth pouted as he dreamed. The muscles that made me feel safe were relaxed, all the tension drained out of him.

Standing carefully—I’d learned to be quiet and unobtrusive at a young age—I took off the clothes I’d fallen asleep in and stepped into the shower. The hot spray helped melt away the rest of the aches in my body, and the fresh soap cleared my head of the cobwebs left behind by my deep sleep. It smelled like white lilies and frothed over my skin as I washed again and again. When I was done, I wrapped myself in one of the complimentary robes and brushed out my hair, working my fingers through the wet locks.

The wide mirror over the marble counter gave me a chance to study myself. After what had happened between Flash and me, I felt new. Different. For the first time, I cared about the body reflected back at me in the mirror. What kind of woman did Flash actually prefer? If he liked pale women with big breasts and blonde hair, I was out of luck.

It didn’t matter, though. I could only be me.

Even the fear of giving into a man who was stronger by far than Dale didn’t keep me from wondering what it would be like to be Flash’s woman. But he wasn’t looking to keep me. He’d saved me and that would have to be enough. For his rescue, I’d be grateful for the rest of my life.

Once I was dry, I dug through the backpack and pulled out my skirt, a white tank top, fresh panties and a bra. Sliding into them, I pulled back my hair, grabbed a drink and walked out onto the balcony. Never in my adult life had I been on a beach vacation before this summer, even though I lived right next to it, thanks to the dirty money Dale and I made. But to be here with nothing to do and no one to answer to was pure bliss.

I wanted my entire life to stretch out in that perfect moment, full of cold drinks and sunshine and a man I wanted desperately only steps away.

But nothing like that lasts.

Long moments passed while I sat on the lounge and let the sun warm my skin. I think I dozed off at one point, focused on the puffy white clouds blowing past. Then I heard Flash’s voice, tinged with panic.

“Emmy?”

“I’m here,” I called, pulling myself into a sitting position. “On the balcony.”

A second later, he appeared in the doorway and sat next to me on the lounge. “I thought you were gone.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I promised, leaning against him. His body was still warm from sleep. His hard thigh against my leg felt good. Felt right.

“You smell nice,” he said, turning his face into my hair.

“Showers,” I laughed. “I take one daily, if I can.”

“Smart ass.”

“Better than being a dumb ass.” I’d wanted to see him smile, but when he did it was like the sun got brighter. I stuck out my tongue, grinning, and then he kissed me.

Kissed me.

It was soft and tender, the slide of his lips over mine. My tongue darted into his mouth, and when I would have withdrawn it, he sucked on it just a bit and I felt my brain melt. Easing us both down onto the lounge, he deepened the kiss. Hot lightning arched between us, better than the last time because now we were free, alone, and safe.

My mind shot into overdrive, reminding myself not to mistake passion for care. A lack of love in my life had contributed to my relationship with Tommy, and I didn’t want that again. Thinking a man loves you and finding out that you’re a convenience is something more bitter than aspirin left too long in the mouth. But Flash’s hands on my back, molding my body to his, cleared out all the muddled thoughts and left me with nothing more than sensation and need.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were hot. His hands slid down my arms until he reached my hands, linking our fingers together.

“I just wanted to make that clear,” he said.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“That I want you,” Flash said. “But I don’t want your gratitude.”

“What do you mean?” It was ludicrous for him to think I wasn’t grateful for what he’d done—and even more ridiculous that he’d think I’d prostitute myself to thank him.

“When you’re in my bed, I want you there because you want what I do to your body. Because you want my cock so deep inside you that it drives all those racing thoughts out of your head. Not because you’re thankful.”

“Flash…”

“I can’t wait to fuck you, Emmy, but that’s not what this is about.”

“What’s it about then?”

“I want you. All of you.”

Time stopped and my limbs grew heavy. Shock? Desire? I wasn’t sure. “You barely know me.”

“I know you’re brave. Strong. That you saved me as much as I saved you.” The reminder that I’d killed a man was unwelcome, but easier than it would have been a day ago. “I know you make me laugh and that I want to see you every day. That’s enough for me.”

“What do you want?”

“To be with you. To take care of you. I want to know about your life before me and why you don’t talk about the people you’re going home to. I want you to be mine.”

“Yours?”

“I’ll protect you from everything, Emily, if you’ll trust me.”

I looked at him and the truth was there in his eyes, written across his face. But I couldn’t accept that—too often love came with a price I couldn’t afford to pay. So I looked away, pulled a hand free and brushed my hair out of my eyes.

“I think maybe we should get out for a few hours,” I said, taking the coward’s path. “What do you think?”

Flash’s face was stoic, but I could see a grin lurking near his lips. The man understood me already, and it was both heady and nerve-wracking. “That’s fine. A few hours might be just what we need.”

While he showered and put on clothes, I thought about what he’d promised. What he wanted.

And part of me yearned.

Flash

Emily was nervous and that was just fine. I liked her nervous.

Maybe it was because nerves meant she wasn’t indifferent to me. Scared I could handle. Indifferent might just kill me at this point.

When I was 15, Dad took me to get my first bike. I’d been waiting years for a rat bike I could fix up and learn to ride, so when he came through the door and hollered for me to get ready, anticipation crackled over my skin like static electricity. We’d gone to a scrapyard—because no one respects a biker whose first bike is all shiny new chrome and metal, especially when that biker’s still a kid—and looked for hours, passing over bikes that were smashed and twisted up, all the metal dumped without a care.

Then I saw it. Black and rusted and falling apart, it looked like a nightmare. But I could see the bones under the rot and knew right then it was mine. Dad was dubious, but nodded and we got a great deal on it.

I’ve had other bikes since then, but that one still sits in my parents’ garage. I poured my sweat and blood in it for a year while I waited to get my motorcycle license. Can’t count the nights Mom would come out to the garage with dinner on a plate and leave it on the stool beside where I crouched, trying to fix some part of the damn bike.

I was right, too. I never loved a bike more than that first one.

Felt the same way the first time I really looked at Emily after we left the villa. Like she was more than just some girl. Like she was a necessity.

Shrugged it off, of course, because high tension has a way of warping things so that they appear to be more than they are. But then she shot a man for me and clung tight to me and tried to make me laugh even when I knew Emily was bleeding inside. Raw. She still put on a smile and told a joke, then really grinned when I laughed.

And that was it.

If one of my brothers had fallen as hard, I’d have mocked the man and insisted that it was all a trick. Illusions playing against a lonely mind. But I was anything but lonely. I had my family and The Fallen. That was all I’d ever needed.

Now I needed her, too, even if needing her made me weak.

We asked the concierge for a place where we could buy some food and she directed us to a street festival a few blocks over. Bright music flew over the colorful awnings and Emily reached for my hand, pulling me along from one booth to the next. I went willingly, happy to see her relaxed. She wound through the crowd and my hackles rose, aware an attack could come from anyone. But a quick perusal of the gathered people helped loosen me up. No one was watching us. We were anonymous.

Opening up to her about my desires might have been rushed, but I refused to believe it was a mistake. She wanted me as much as I wanted her. When I’d woken halfway through the night, she’d been curled against me again. Her body searched for me in sleep, even if her mind refused to acknowledge our connection.

“Look at this, Flash,” she said, pointing to a street performer who was juggling knives. Her enthusiasm was contagious, even though knives are for self-defense, not to throw around like some kind of psychopath. After she’d tired of that, I bought her a fruity iced drink that was served in a coconut and she grinned at me in a way that lit up her whole face.

Sipping drinks, we poked through the wares. When my hunger got the better of me, I dragged her to the food trucks and stalls, where we bought sticks of lamb and plates of rice and beans. Once I’d found her a place to sit, I went back for fruit and empanadas. Then I grabbed a blanket I spotted for sale and came back to her, arranging the blanket on the ground so that she had a nicer place to sit.

“This is so wonderful,” she said, scooping up another mouthful of rice and following it with a bite of spiced lamb. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Street fairs are pretty common in California,” I pointed out. “Why don’t you go to one when you’re home?”

“I work a lot.”

“What do you do?”

“Sales, mostly. My uncle runs a business and I work for him. Hey do you think that we could go swim in the ocean before we leave tomorrow?” I knew she was deflecting, but I let her. There was plenty of time for her to open up to me.

“Is that something else you haven’t done before?”

She laughed and my body tightened. “Of course I have. My parents used to take me out to the beach. We’d get those foam boards and try to catch waves together.”

“What happened to them?”

“Car accident,” she said, her smile dimming. “They were good parents, though.”

“You went to live with your uncle after they died?”

“Yes,” Emily said, reaching for an empanada. “He took me in. I was lucky. We didn’t have any relatives and I know the California foster system is overloaded.”

“Was he a good parent too?”

She shrugged. The simple motion made it clear that not only had he been a crap parent, but that it wasn’t something she’d talk about. Wanting to restore the mood to what it was before I fucked it up with such a piss-poor question, I reached out and snagged the last bite of empanada from her hands, chewing it with relish when she protested.

“Sorry, Emmy. You snooze, you lose.”

“I wasn’t snoozing! It was in my hand.”

“Ah, but you didn’t eat it.” She reached out and tickled my ribs and I laughed, choking on the bite I’d stolen. “Stop, stop.”

“Well, I don’t want to give you the death penalty over some fried food,” she said. “But you’re lucky that it wasn’t chorri pollo you swiped.” The pain on her face was gone.

Once we’d cleared off the food, I folded the blanket and we dove back into the crowd. It had thickened since we stopped to eat, a writhing mass of bodies that we had to push through to get anywhere. My eyes stayed sharp for anyone who seemed too focused on us, but no threats presented themselves.

While I grabbed a few things for my brothers, Emily poured over woven bracelets. Watching her from the corner of my eye, I saw her pick one up and run her fingers down it. It was dyed shades of deep purple and blue, with just a hint of a deep, rosy red in the middle. She draped it over her wrist and admired it, then nodded to the vendor and put it back down.

Coming up to me, she laid a hand on my shoulder. “What did you get?”

I held up my bag. “Some things for my brothers. A few shot glasses, some t-shirts. Just shit from the soujourn down here.”

“Aren’t they going to be angry at you about what happened?” More than anything, I wanted her to let go of the guilt she was carrying over The Fallen.

“That’s what the gifts are for. I’ll soften them up.” She smiled and I felt happiness invade my body. As good as my life had been, it was a new feeling. Something deeper. Something primal.

“Want to go look at some of the performers?” she asked, threading her arm through mine. I liked the way she touched me more and more as she became used to me.

“Actually, could you go ask the vendor whether he has more of the t-shirts in an extra-large? I’d ask again, but I bargained him down so low that he was glad to see the back of me.” Emily’s head tilted, but she smiled, nodded and headed over to the booth.

Moving fast, I went to the booth that she’d been at before I’d come over. Grabbing the bracelet she admired, I shoved a fistful of cash at the woman, who smiled and offered me a bag. Shaking my head no, I pushed the bracelet into the pocket of my jacket, then turned and walked to Emily, who was speaking to the vendor.

“There are three more,” she said.

I didn’t need three more shirts, but I bought them anyway.

That night, we went to dinner at a restaurant that overlooked the bay. I don’t usually go in for candles and linen tablecloths, but I wanted to treat her to something nice. When her eyes scanned the large, open room in pleased appreciation, I smiled.

I drank beer from a sweating bottle and watched her sip her wine, her lips turning red as it washed over them and into her mouth. Wanting to lean over the table and lick them clean, I reached for another spoonful of the dessert we shared instead.

“This is the nicest day I’ve ever had,” Emily said in a tone that made me want to give her a whole string of days like this. “I don’t know how I’m going to go back to my old life now.”

“You’re not,” I said, filling her wine glass from the bottle. “You can have as many days like this as you want.”

“Life doesn’t really work like that,” she said.

“Why can’t it?”

“I have a life, Flash. Don’t you have obligations?” She frowned, a line appearing between her brows as she contemplated a life she obviously didn’t enjoy.

“Sure, I do.” I thought of The Fallen and our business. “But that’s not my whole life. You have to have something outside of your obligations. Besides, Emmy, you choose your own obligations, the same way I chose the club. The same way I want to choose you.”

She blushed, then looked at me straight on. My girl wasn’t demure. “I don’t know if you could handle me.”

“Believe me, sweetheart, I’m more than willing to handle you all you want.” Her blush burned brighter and I smirked. It was going to be fun to try to cure her blushing—though I had to admit, it was kind of sexy to look up and see her cheeks go pink when I licked her pussy.

Yeah, I needed this woman bad.

“When I was little, I used to dream of going out to sea,” she said, taking another sip and staring out at a ship that was leaving the bay to enter open waters. “I’d dream of stowing away.”

“Where would you go?” I smiled, imagining a little girl with brown braids and big green eyes, looking at big ships dwarfed in the enormity of the ocean.

“Anywhere. It wasn’t the destination, really. It was freedom. Pure freedom to do whatever I wanted. The captain would find me and agree to let me stay if I worked. So I’d get a wool cap and go out on deck in the morning and help clean the fish and get them ready for sale.”

“But you didn’t care where the boat was going?”

“No, I just wanted to be elsewhere,” she said, propping her head on her hand and looking at me with a soft smile. “What did you dream about when you were little?”

“Riding,” I said. “I wanted to be like my old man. He rode, so I was going to ride.”

“Seems like it worked out for you.”

“Yeah. I guess it did. What about you? Ever make it onto the boat?”

She sighed and shook her head. “It wasn’t in the cards.”

“Still could be. You’re young.”

“I feel old.” The weariness in her voice wounded me. My woman shouldn’t sound exhausted and frayed at the edges. Every instinct I had screamed for me to pick her up and carry her back to our room, to wrap her up in bed and protect her from everything that might make her sound like that.