Chapter 24

~Roxana~

 

The world whizzes by as Neil and I tear down the road on his Harley. We’re miles away from Brockford and all the bullshit there. For the last few days, our time together has been constantly interrupted by me dealing with the fallout from the Mavs situation. My remaining guys were anxious as hell—for good reason—and I’ve been working overtime to reassure them. I dealt with the shootout that happened at the motel. I had to talk to the cops for hours to get it sorted out. Thankfully, I had a little help from the ones in my pocket. And I also have twenty-four-seven surveillance set up around the entire city now. Anyone either on a bike or matching Broker, Skinner, or Bulldozer’s descriptions riding through will instantly be ID’d and my guys will send an alert directly to me.

It’s nice after dealing with all that crap to finally have some peace and quiet. Neil and I are spending the weekend together. No business talk or dealings allowed at all.

Neil makes a sharp left turn onto a quiet back road. I shift my weight behind him, getting ready to do what we’ve planned.

“Ready?” I call over the roar of the engine.

“Ready, babe!” he calls back.

I slide my hands from his waist, up his back. He trembles at my touch.

I laugh. “Keep your dick under control.”

“Tryin’, babe.”

Taking a deep breath and drawing on the courage I need for what I’m about to do, I grip his leather-clad shoulders tightly. He hasn’t been wearing his cut for the last few days. No club colors. Just his unmarked black leather jacket. He hasn’t said a word about it, but it’s clear there’s something going on with him and his club right now. Him not wearing his cut is a huge sign. But I know better than to push it—club business and all that.

“Go on,” he encourages me.

I muster my courage and slowly rise up behind him until my feet are on the saddle. Then I put my right knee onto his shoulder, followed slowly by my left. I shift my grip to his helmet. He slows down.

“No, don’t slow!”

“You sure?” he asks, worriedly.

“Yeah! I have great balance!”

He speeds up, the fields either side of us rushing by in a blur.

I shift my weight on his shoulders.

And then I let go of his helmet. I hold my hands out to the sides.

Oh my God. The feeling is incredible. I scream excitedly. Neil laughs.

I close my eyes and relish the wind whipping all around me.

I can’t believe it. I’m balancing on Neil’s shoulders as we hurtle down the road at ninety miles per hour on his bike. The rush of adrenaline, the thrill of it is unbelievable. It’s the most freeing feeling in the world. I can feel it through every part of me.

“Whoo!” I bellow. “Free! I’m free! Whoo!”

Neil laughs loudly and takes his left hand off the handlebar to reach up and hold my hand. He squeezes it gently.

“I love you!” I call to him.

He flinches. I feel it in his grip. It takes him a moment to respond and when he does I can hear the raw emotion in his voice. “I love you, beautiful girl!”

 

 

***

 

She pulls off the helmet I bought her a couple of days ago and hangs it off the left handlebar.

“I can’t believe I agreed to wear this,” she says, frowning at the neon pink thing that has flowers all over it. “I could have just worn my own one I use with my bike.” I knew she’d make a fuss when I purposely picked out the most girly one in the store. Fucking worth the look on her face though.

I pull off my own helmet and hang it on the other handlebar. “I told you: my bike, my rules, Rox. Besides, you look so damn cute wearing it.”

She rolls her eyes.

I grab her hand and jerk her into my chest. “Rolling your eyes at me is just asking for me to spank this sweet little ass,” I growl in her ear as I slide my hands down to squeeze it. “And it’s looking so damn fine in these tight-as-sin leather pants.”

“You like?” she asks, smiling up at me.

“Yeah, babe. You should wear ‘em more often.”

“They turn you on, huh?”

“Everything ‘bout you turns me on,” I tell her, grabbing her hand and pressing it to my rock hard dick.

She glances ‘round self-consciously.

“Ain’t nobody for miles, Rox.”

“What about that house over there?” she asks, pointing to the cottage a few feet away. I parked the bike at the end of its driveway.

“Definitely nobody home.”

“How do you know?”

“Cuz,” I say, playing with her hair. “It’s mine.”

She gazes at it, her eyes wide. “Wow,” she breathes. “Really?”

“Yeah, I know it ain’t much compared to your castle of a home, but—”

“I love it! Wow, Neil. It’s gorgeous.” She spins ‘round with her arms out. “And in such a peaceful spot too. It’s perfection.”

I laugh.

Her gaze snaps to mine. “What?”

“Just never seen you so carefree and…happy. You high from the stunt on the bike?”

She smiles sheepishly. “Maybe a little. Not just the bike though.” She takes my hand. “You might also be a factor.” Her eyes sparkle up at me and she tells me, “I meant what I said on the bike: I love you, Neil.”

Christ, those words from her and the look on her face send a warmth right through my fucking bones. I squeeze her hand gently. “I love you, beautiful girl.”

Ever since I told her how it was in the kitchen and she finally stopped running, she’s been opening up more and more every day we spend together. She’s stopped holding back. The only thing fucking with what we got is her work and the club. Several of the boys have been texting me ‘bout me shunning church and taking off without a word. After I left, Trig sat in church and told ‘em all we weren’t gonna go to war. And they were all pissed. They want me to step up and do something. But I already fucking tried and all I had to show for it was a black eye, a split lip and a bloodied cheek. Trig’s too stubborn. Nah, ain’t going there. Ain’t worth it.

My priorities have shifted over this last week or so spent with Rox. Ain’t had the urge to go after Broker at all. It hit me, from being away from all that bullshit for a bit, that all there is down that path is darkness and death. It’s all I’d known…’til her. She brings the fucking sunshine into my life.

So, I’ll get my mission done: kill Skinner.

But that’s it. After that…well, I dunno no more.

My whole life, the club and all the down and dirty shit that comes with it is all I’ve ever known.

It was.

Now there’s her.

She’s shown me something more. Something different. Better. And I like it. A lot.

“Neil?” she calls to me.

I blink outta my thoughts to find her standing in front of me, holding my hands between us. “Yeah?”

“You were spacing out. Are you okay, baby?”

“Just thinking.”

“About the club?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna talk about it?” She grins. “You know, the none-club business parts anyway.”

Funny. She’s teasing me ‘bout club secrecy and shit. I pinch the bridge of my nose and slump against my bike. “Life with the club and your life in Brockford, it’s…dark, Rox.”

“Yeah, it is,” she agrees. “And it’s just become darker recently with the Mavs’ threats.”

I shake my head to myself. “I dunno if I wanna be a part of it all no more. It ain’t what it used to be when I was younger.”

“Since your mom?”

“Yeah. I left the club for a couple of years after that.”

“And Trig brought you back in and you agreed, cuz he was offering you the tools to kill your father.”

“Wow. Smart.”

“I just added up all the facts and came to that conclusion.”

“What ‘bout you?” I ask her.

She shifts her weight and says, “Ralph’s out. He warned me to do the same. Thinks the shit we’re involved in is getting old too. As we are. You’re in your thirties, right?”

“Thirty-five,” I tell her.

“Thirty-one,” she tells me.

“Seriously?” I ask, wondering why the hell we never bothered finding that out ‘bout one another already. Crazy. Guess it weren’t that important. Weren’t in Trig’s files on her either.

“Yeah. You’re surprised?”

“I figured you as early twenties. Shit.”

“Like them young, do you? Am I too old for you, old man?”

I raise my eyebrows and tease, “Well…”

She slaps my arm. “Neil!”

I hold up my hands. “I’m fucking with you.” I look her over. “You got the body of a twenty year old, that’s for damn sure.”

She winks. “I know. And your dick has the stamina of one.”

“What choice you giving me with your appetite, babe?”

She slaps me again. “That is mostly you. Insatiable.”

“Oh, okay then. It’s me. Yeah, if we’re lying, it is. But to keep you happy, we’ll go with that.”

We both laugh.

Then I mount my bike and hold my hand out to her. “Wanna check out my place?”

She nods excitedly and grabs my hand, letting me help her on behind me. I know she don’t need my help, but she’s doing it playfully, keeping me happy, knowing I’m always gonna do shit like this for her whether she likes it or not.

Finally, we both get the meaning of the word compromise. It’s cut down on a hell of a lot of fights.

 

***

 

Neil shuts the door behind us. We’ve barely made it two steps into his house when he suddenly freezes and throws his arm across my chest, holding me back.

“Someone’s here,” he whispers.

I listen carefully and then I hear what probably tipped him off. A TV is on. Some sort of football game. I can hear the commentator’s voice.

He draws his gun. “Get behind me,” he orders, pushing me back.

“I don’t fucking think so,” I say, drawing my glock and pushing back to his right side. He scowls at me and he’s about to say something. But, instead, he thinks better of it and just blows out a breath of frustration.

We make our way through the little hallway into the living room.

“Shit!” someone cries.

It’s Runner. He’s sitting on an oversized cream couch beside Smiter. Both of them have their feet up on a coffee table, each with a beer bottle in hand.

“Jesus, Ax! Put that fucking thing away!” Runner cries, almost dropping his beer.

“Yeah,” Smiter adds, his eyes wide.

“Fuck. You idiots,” Neil grumbles, holstering his gun. I do the same with mine and follow him into the living room.

“Finally you show,” Smiter says.

“Yeah, we’ve been here for hours waiting on your ass, dickhead,” Runner tells him.

“Why?” Neil demands. “What the fuck you doing here? And how the hell you get in?”

Runner smirks. “Picked the lock. Just like you taught me.”

I shake my head with disapproval. Neil catches it. “I used to do some small time shit when I was younger. I had a talent for it.”

“I know. I’ve seen your rap sheet, remember?”

Smiter laughs.

“And you still let him in your panties, darlin’?” Runner jokes.

I shrug. “He has an extremely talented tongue.”

Neil’s gaze snaps to mine and he grins, liking my retort.

Smiter almost chokes on his beer. Runner tells me, “I’m better.”

“Sure,” I say, not believing a word.

“Seriously. You wanna find out, just say the word.”

Neil growls, “Keep your tongue and your disease-ridden dick far away from my girl.” Neil looks at me and sees the confusion on my face. “He’s a whore,” he explains.

“Huh. Got it.”

“Hey, man. I’m clean. Always wrap it up.”

“You better with the bitches you stick it in,” Smiter comments.

Neil throws him a look. Smiter flinches and eyes me. “Sorry, Rox.”

I laugh. Neil knows I hate women being referred to as bitches. I don’t expect his guys to follow that rule though. I know what bikers are like. I just don’t want Neil calling me that word. That’s all. But it’s sweet of him to try to enforce it with his boys when I’m around though.

As the three of them continue chatting, my smile fades as what Runner said about always wearing a condom hits me. Shit! How did I overlook that? That intense time in my kitchen with Neil, we didn’t use protection. Nothing. He didn’t pull out either. Oh crap.

“Babe?”

Neil’s calling my name. My gaze snaps to his. “Yeah?”

“Me and the boys gotta talk. You gonna be okay? Ten minutes tops.”

“Yeah, of course.”

Smiter and Runner smile politely at me and then make their way past me. Neil follows after them. I watch as they all file out of the front door.

And then it closes, shutting me out.