WRECKED: CHOSEN FEW MC - BOOK TWO: OUTLAW BIKER/ALPHA ROMANCE (13 page)

Greg’s work shirt was open at the collar, and as they talked she noticed scars near his clavicle. He saw where she was looking and opened the next button on his shirt so that she could see the livid streaks.

“That must’ve hurt.”

He nodded. For a moment she thought he’d clam up. The memory upset him. “It did.” She waited without asking. Finally he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “It reminds me that it doesn’t pay to have disagreements with prison inmates who have big friends. I wasn’t being smart.”

“And you went to prison because you killed a man.”

“You’ve done your homework. Yes, I did.”

“What happened?”

“He was hurting someone who was a friend. It was a one-sided, unfair contest so I stepped in. I didn’t intend to kill him, but I did intend to hurt him as much as possible. When I came to trial that didn’t count in my favor.” He watched her face for a moment. “I imagine you’ve never known a killer before.”

“No.”

“Do I frighten you?”

“Oddly enough, no. Logic tells me that I should be afraid of you and when I think about that I do feel a gut reaction to what you represent. But that isn’t who you are.”

“And I represent bikers on a rampage?”

She smiled. “Some cliche like that.”

“I think the cliche is partly true. Our club, most clubs like it, is a bunch of misfits who get along because they don’t fit into any other society. They act out often enough, but they join the club because they aren’t really rebels. They want to belong as much as anyone, but the mainstream society doesn’t have room for them, or is uncomfortable around them. Truthfully most of them would rather drink beer than rampage. When they get moody, they’re more likely to smack each other around than pick on what we call civilians. Not that they have a great deal of respect for civilians, but you don’t get much street cred for hitting someone who doesn’t know how to fight.”

“And what about Carly? Don’t you worry about her safety in that crowd?”

“From those guys? Any one of them would lay down their life for that little brat in a heartbeat. She’s got the lot of them wrapped around her tiny pinky. The only thing I worry about with her being around that crowd is that she’ll get thinking too much of herself because of how they dote on her. It’s kind of the reverse of what everyone would think. That’s one reason I’m glad she’s taken to mechanics. She knows that she can’t boss a piston into place or cajole a bike into starting. It takes hard, greasy work, and she dearly loves buckling down and getting to it.”

“And she’s good?”

“Getting there. She thinks she knows more than she does, but what teen doesn’t?”

His words had a calming effect and Melanie realized she needed to evaluate this man by different standards than other men. He lived by different rules, within the greater society. She didn’t begin to understand him yet, but certainly she couldn’t fault his values or his manners. “I bet you are quite a different person when you are with your friends.”

“Different how?”

“Louder, probably more vulgar.”

He laughed. “I’ll admit that I try and watch my language in more refined company, but I never seen much need to raise the volume.”

She remembered his calmness in the face of Malcolm Innes’s tirade. “I believe you.” She did, but recalling Innes brought back her fears, and a cold chill ran through her, making her shiver.

“Are you cold?”

“Just suffering a chilling thought.” She looked away, hoping that breaking eye contact that way would keep him from digging deeper. He took the hint and asked her an innocuous question about her family.

Concern made her mind drift away from Greg and the table. He called for the bill and paid it. Then they went out into the darkness. “It’s late,” she said. “We must’ve talked for hours.”

“And it was fantastic. It’s been a long time since I’ve had so much fun eating dinner.”

She nodded, wishing she hadn’t lost the edge of that special feeling she’d gotten as they chatted. Malcolm Innes had forced his way into that private space and she mourned the loss of it.

They walked to the bike. When they reached it, he looked at her. “Do you have to go home now?”

The idea of being alone with her thoughts, knowing they’d be circling around inside her head, debating what she should do, didn’t appeal to her. She drew a long breath, working up her nerve to answer him honestly. “No, I don’t.” She looked at him, their eyes connecting. “I’d really rather not go home yet.”

He nodded and handed her a helmet. She watched him swing his leg over the bike. When he leveled it, she got on behind him, slipping her arms around him and hoping her eyes had told him the things that her mouth couldn’t find words to say. She didn’t want to go home. She wanted to stay with him. She wanted him to make love to her, to make her feel safe.

The night air was warm, yet the heat of his body and the press of her breasts against his back made an electrifying connection between them. The bike roared to life, he put it in gear and powered out of the parking lot pulling out onto the highway. She hadn’t asked where they were going, and for now she didn’t care. She was alive in the here and now, safe on the back of his bike. It was like Brian said—she wished they could ride forever and never stop.

Somewhere out there in the darkness of Southern California lurked Malcolm Innes. She didn’t want to think about him and couldn’t keep him out of her head. His intrusion made her hate him for distracting her. For now she wanted to think of nothing but enjoying being where she was, and feeling the closeness of this man.

* * *

Riding behind Greg, with the darker thoughts worming their way through her, she felt numbness creep over her… no, not a numbness exactly. She simply began a retreat into herself. Within the cocoon of Greg’s protection, she pulled back from thinking or feeling. By the time he stopped the bike she had withdrawn so much that she had no idea where they were, as if she’d missed half the ride. Unhappily, that retreat didn’t help and when the bike stopped, she found her concerns had patiently followed her.

She got off the motorcycle in a daze, pulling off her helmet and looking around at totally unfamiliar surroundings. She might as well have fallen out of the sky and landed here—she had no reference points. She looked at Greg curiously.

“My place,” he said quietly. She nodded, unable to make that mean anything.

His apartment was small, tidy, furnished with a few pieces of cheap furniture—couch, coffee table, an ancient looking television set, and a recliner chair. It barely looked lived in, except for pictures of people on motorcycles hanging on the wall. A small bookshelf held an assortment of shop manuals, novels and other books.

“I’m not here a lot,” he said. “I don’t use it for much more than a place to shower and sleep.”

His words made her look toward the bedroom. Through the open door she saw a neatly made bed; a dresser against the far wall with a mirror on top of that reflected her image. She saw herself staring into the room.

He had her sit on the couch as he went into the small kitchen and returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses. “I didn’t think you wanted to be alone.”

“Alone.” She mumbled it, and that made her think of Brian and his unstable father. She fought back tears. Why wasn’t there anything she could do to make sure he was safe? “I should call child protective services,” she said.

He sat beside her and slowly poured two glasses of the red wine. “For Brian or you?”

“Me? His father is crazy.”

“Yes, I suppose he is rather out there. At least he has some unnerving ideas and concerns.”

“Brian is alone with him.”

“Does his father hurt him?”

“Not that I can tell.”

“I know you know this, but I’ll say it anyway. It’s possible for a person to be crazy without being in the least dangerous. It’s even possible for a person filled with hate to love their child.”

“But he gets irrational and he intends to send a message.”

“Sending a message could mean anything. And we all get irrational. The people at child protective services are about as irrational as anyone.”

“What do you mean?”

“Their ideas of protection can be traumatizing. The knee-jerk reaction of pulling the child out of his home, thinking they are making things better is crazy. Sometimes, for a kid, losing their parents is just the last straw as far as the child is concerned. Not that they are not smart or caring people, but rules tend to be generalized solutions, and laws don’t take into account the uniqueness of every situation. Not only would I worry about him if they took him from his father, it sounds like the real concern isn’t that he’ll do something to Brian, but that he’ll do it for him. Take Brian away and he might do something really nuts.”

“Brian thinks his father is about to do something that will get him noticed.”

“Do you know that and is it necessarily a bad thing? It depends on what kind of notice he wants. Maybe it will help him if he gets noticed. He might be trying to get some attention. Besides, what can you do? There are limits to how much you can interfere with another person. It’s hard enough to help the kids—you can’t help all the parents too. You need to let go of the things you can’t control.”

She sipped the wine. “Saying it that way, making it a casual suggestion, makes it sound easy. It isn’t.”

He put his hand on hers. “No, it isn’t. You care a lot and that means you’ll suffer for it. I’m not saying you shouldn’t care, just making the point that every year you’ll have children who aren’t living as good a life as you think they deserve, and to be honest, if you can’t deal with that it will drive you crazy.”

She knew he was right. “It really could.” She sighed. “I can’t stop caring.”

“No, and you shouldn’t. Caring about people, especially kids, shows you are human. I care about Brian too, if only because Carly tells me he is a good kid who isn’t having a fun time right now. I can’t save the world, but what I can do is say I’m ready to help out if there is something you or I can and should do.”

“What do you mean?”

“We act just like any emergency response team—take note of a situation that could potentially be a problem and get ourselves ready to act. We don’t anticipate, because you can’t possibly know what he might do. Just be flexible. You monitor Brian’s situation and I’ll keep listening to what Carly tells me. If we need to act, if we can think of a positive step to take, we’ll take it. As long as he isn’t in danger… Remember, I’ve been there, Melanie. The system is not a home. Right now Brian has a home and a father he seems to care about. It seems like he’s more afraid
for
his father than
of
him.”

She looked in his eyes and melted. He was right—caring didn’t necessarily mean acting. Not until the time was right. “Waiting is hard. I need help to be patient.” She looked at him, put her hand on his cheeks and let herself be drawn into those amazing eyes. “I need your help. I need you.”

He studied her face. “Are you sure?”

Knowing he understood made her heart pound faster.
Was she sure? She wasn’t sure about much of anything except this one thing, her desire for him.

She opened her mouth and let herself say it. “Yes, I’m sure.”

He leaned forward and kissed her. The shock of his warm lips on hers sent a shock wave through her, and when she returned the gentle kiss it grew inflamed, impassioned, setting her on fire. He had his arms around her, holding her, and began tugging at her clothing. His touch became urgent, the feel of his hands on her bare skin as he opened her shirt and caressed her breasts was overwhelming. Her breathing was shallow and she gasped when he bent to take a nipple in his mouth to suck it hard. With her shirt open he pushed her back on the couch and did the same to the other creamy breast. His hands moved down to her waist and began undoing her jeans, unsnapping them and pulling the zipper down. As he tugged her jeans down her hips, he ran his hot kisses down from her breasts, over her belly. He tipped her legs up and pulled her jeans out from under her, up her legs and then tossed them aside and attacked her cotton panties, doing the same with them.

She lay on the couch, exposed to him, feeling deliciously vulnerable, and sharing the hunger she saw in his eyes as he slid his hands under her ass cheeks and brought his face between her legs. The stubble on his cheeks burned her thighs and then his wet, fiery hot tongue kissed her moist lips, tasting the tender flesh of her pussy. She moaned and hooked her legs over his shoulders, digging her heels into his back and arching hers as he began to devour her, sending sparks through her that ignited fires that hadn’t burned in far too long. She let it happen, let his tongue, and then fingers, working in her pussy send her mind reeling. As he fucked her with his fingers, his tongue found her clitoris and attacked it, making her body convulse in that sweet agony that led her upwards, winding her up into a hard ball of emotion, until it abruptly released. She came with a shriek as the long-dormant volcano of passion exploded inside her. She dug her heels into his back and he continued to work his fingers and tongue inside her as she rode her orgasm to the end and sagged, limp and gasping under his face.

He rose up, kissing his way up her naked body to suckle her breasts, first one, then the other. When he sat up, his face shiny with her juices, she reached up to unbutton his shirt and touch her fingers to his hard chest. He rose up, standing in front of the couch, his eyes glued to her as he began undoing his jeans. She held her breath as he pulled them off, and when he moved over her, his knee spreading her legs apart, she reached for his hard cock, feeling its incredible heat. He was large, and his shaft was swollen with a desire she shared. She ached to have him inside her, and she put her legs around him and held his cock, guiding it to her pussy lips, working it between them. When she felt the head enter her, she put her hands on his shoulders and stared into his eyes. “Fuck me, Greg,” she begged.

He kissed her as he drove his hips down, forcing that marvelous cock into her. He filled her with it, again tucking his hands under her ass and pulling her pelvis against his, burying himself inside her, letting her feel its heat going deeper as he penetrated her. And then, he began to ride her. They moved together on his couch and his powerful thrusts rammed all of his cock in her, and then pulled back, taking her in long strokes and moving with increasing speed.