Biker romance book bundl.., p.361
Biker Romance Book Bundle: 17 Full Length Novels, page 361
I kissed her. Not a simple kiss, like the one she’d given me a moment before. It was a toe-curling kiss. The kind that caused my mind—and my breath—to escape me. When our lips parted, I was dizzy, breathless, and extremely satisfied with what my life had become.
She traced the tip of her index finger over her lips. “I really like kissing you.”
“I like kissing you, too.”
“I have a question,” she said.
“What?”
“It’s a three-car garage, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I park my car in there?” she asked.
“The Bug?”
“No.” She laughed. “Not the Bug. I’ve got another.”
“Oh really? What is it?”
“A twenty-year-old Porsche,” she said, pronouncing the word Por-shuh. “I had it shipped here in an enclosed trailer. I’m as anal with it as you are with your house.”
“Is that the one you set the track record in?”
One corner of her mouth curled up. “It is.”
“Sure,” I said. “You can put it right beside your SUV.”
“My SUV?”
“Ghost said whoever became the getaway driver was supposed to make that car their own. He said, becoming one with your getaway car is crucial, or something like that.”
“Okay,” she said with a smile. “I’ll park it beside my ‘red’ getaway car.”
I smirked. “Speaking of red, I’m seeing red right now.”
“Why?”
“I can’t remember the last time we fucked,” I said with a laugh.
“All you’ve got to do is ask.”
I didn’t want her to think all I wanted was sex, because it wasn’t. I shrugged. “I don’t want to over-ask.”
“We can’t have too much sex,” she explained. “No matter how often you ask. And, for what it’s worth, you don’t have to ask. You can just say, ‘Ally, take off your clothes and assume the position’.”
I lifted her chin with my index finger. “Ally?”
She grinned. “What?”
“Take off your clothes and assume the position.”
161
Ally
“Closer,” I whispered. “I want you closer.”
“I can’t get any closer,” he replied. “I’m touching you.”
“I want all of you touching me.”
We’d been officially living together for four weeks, to the day. Sunday had become a day of household chores, cleaning motorcycles and cars, and making love. No matter what happened during the week, we always made time to make love on Sunday evening, before dinner.
He lowered his chest, pressing it against mine. I kissed him eagerly, devouring his mouth as if it was vital to my survival.
He wedged his hand between us and guided himself past my aching folds. As each inch penetrated me, my mind drifted further away.
He paused.
Our mouths parted. I gazed into his eyes. They gleamed with satisfaction. Filled with his entire length, I relished in the feeling of becoming so in touch with my love for him that I could feel it. In fact, my soul filled with it.
Our love making wasn’t simply sex. It certainly wasn’t fucking. With each stroke, we developed a stronger union. A more established bond.
We were making love. Manufacturing it.
His forearms slipped behind my back and his hands cupped my shoulders. Holding my body tight to his, he gave himself to me, one unbelievably incredible stroke at a time.
I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my fingertips into the muscles of his back. Feeling him with my hands gave reassurance that he was real, and that what we were sharing was more than something my mind had simply conjured up.
I pressed my face against his chest and drew in his scent. He smelled like a man should smell. Not sweet or obtrusive. Defining it was difficult.
Masculine.
Irresistibly sexy.
The rhythmic thrusts that followed were exactly what I’d hoped for. I lifted my legs high in the air, giving him free access to what was rightfully his.
He took possession of my very soul. I closed my eyes. His charismatic aroma filled my nostrils. Euphoria filled me. I relaxed. Reservation escaped me. I held my face tight against his chest.
He lifted me to a state of climactic bliss and held me there. My body shook. My legs relaxed. With reluctance, I released my grasp.
Weightless, I floated, savoring the sense of elation that filled me.
In time, it diminished. Slowly, I floated back to the reality of the bedroom. I scanned the room before focusing on him. “That. Was. Amazing.”
He held my face between his hands and looked me in the eyes. “I love you.”
We kissed.
I never grew tired of kissing him. Each kiss brought with it an inarguable reassurance of our love for one another.
Our lips parted. “I love you, too.”
I worried for a lifetime that I’d never find someone who would love me without wanting to change me. A man who would accept me, as me. I never would have guessed loving a man could be so effortless, but it was.
All I had to do was be.
162
Goose
“What do you mean, vacation?” Cash asked. “Where are you going?”
“On fucking vacation,” I said.
He looked at Ally. “Where are you guys going, Shorty?”
Ally shrugged. “He won’t tell me. I guess it’s a surprise.”
Cash looked at Baker. “That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. Motherfucker’s going somewhere, and he won’t say where. Who does shit like that?”
“Someone that doesn’t you all up in his business,” Baker responded.
I gave Baker a nod. “You’re exactly right.”
“You can be an asshole all you want,” Cash said. “Hell, I’m used to it. But I’m not comfortable with you taking my little sister somewhere and me not knowing where she’s going. Give it up, motherfucker. Where you headed?”
I’d planned on going wherever felt right. I’d stop when the desire to keep going vanished. I had a few ideas, but nothing was etched in stone. “I really don’t have any idea. I’ll know when I get there.”
“Which direction?” he asked.
“There’s only one way to go out of this state. Up.”
“Oregon?”
“Hard saying,” I responded.
He glanced at Ally. “You still don’t believe in phones?”
She smirked. “I sure don’t.”
“Will you call me from the hotel phone and let me know that everything’s alright?” he asked. “You don’t even have to tell me where you are.”
“I can send you a postcard,” she said. “Each time we stop.”
“That’d be cool.” He raked his hair away from his eyes with his hand and smiled. “Let’s do that.”
“Send me one, too,” Reno said. “I like postcards. I used to get ‘em each year we went on vacation when I was a kid. They’d be on one of those spinning displays in the gas stations. I’ve got a whole box full of ‘em.”
“Add me to the list,” Tito said. “I’ll put them in my scrapbook.”
“Just as well send me one, too,” Baker said.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I complained. “We’re not going to have any money left by the time we get there for all the fucking postcards we’ve got to buy.”
“Other than going on our club road trips and seeing my mother, I ain’t been on a vacation,” Cash said. “Ever.”
“Take one,” I said.
He stared blankly at the floor for a moment, and then looked up. “Don’t know where I’d go.”
I chuckled. “See how that works?”
His eyes narrowed. “Just send the postcard.”
“I’ll send four of them,” Ally said.
The front door buzzer rang, indicating someone was at the street-side entrance.
“Check the monitor, Ally,” Baker said. “Mail’s already been here.”
“It’s a rough-looking guy with a kutte that says President on the patch,” she said. “He’s got a tattoo of a bee on his neck.”
Baker looked at Reno. “Crip?”
“Sounds like it.” Reno went to the monitor. “Yep. It’s Crip.”
“Alone?” Baker asked.
“Looks like it.”
Baker stood. “Buzz him in. Bring him up.”
“Wonder what that fucker’s doing here?” Cash asked
“My guess is he’s got something to say he needs to say in private,” I said.
In a few minutes, Reno and Crip sauntered into the room. Upon seeing Ally, Crip’s approach developed a hesitation. “Just stopped in to give my condolences for your loss,” he said. “It’s been a while since your brother passed, but I thought I’d swing by and say how sorry I was.”
He leaned over Baker’s desk and extended his hand.
He’d already given his condolences, when we were at his shop. Suspecting he was uncomfortable around Ally, I stood.
“She’s one of us,” Baker said before I could speak. “What brings you this far south?”
He gave Ally a solid once-over, and then met Baker’s gaze. “She’s a patched member of your club?”
“She sure is.”
Crip stepped in front of Ally and extended his hand. “Crip. Filthy Fuckers MC.”
She stood, looked him over, and gripped his hand in hers. “Shorty.” She gave a crisp nod. “Devil’s Disciples.”
“Likewise.”
Crip looked at Baker and let out a sigh. “Remember that cop friend I was telling you about?”
Baker nodded. “I remember you saying you had one.”
Crip crossed his arms over his chest. “Fucker stopped in to see me the other day. Guess he’s been investigating a bank robbery or two, and one of them involved a pretty sizeable sum of money.”
“Define sizeable,” Baker said.
“Well, you and I both know what they report to the news media and the insurance isn’t exactly true.” He shrugged. “On the record, it was fifteen million.”
“Did he say where it came from?” Baker asked.
Crip chuckled. “No, but he said where it went.”
“Where’s that?” Baker asked.
Crip nodded toward the elevator. “Right here.”
My heart shot into my throat. I looked at Ally. Stone-faced and emotionless, she waited for Crip to continue.
Baker swallowed hard. He pressed the heels of his palms against his temples. “What’s prevented…” he stammered. “What’s keeping him from…”
“He’s not a typical cop,” Crip said. “I can speak from experience.”
He lowered his hands. “What’s he going to do?”
“Same thing he’s done with my club,” Crip responded. “From time to time, he might want a mess cleaned up. Told me to bring you the word that he wants to meet.”
“I scanned those boxes, Boss,” Tito said. He looked at Crip. “How’d he track the money?’
“Motion-activated GPS,” Crip replied. “They don’t activate until they’re moving.”
Tito’s shoulders slumped. “Son-of-a-bitch.”
“So,” Crip said. “How close was he at the fifteen million mark?”
“Off by roughly eight,” Baker lied.
Crip smirked. “You fuckers don’t play around, do you?”
“Taking ten grand or ten million will get you the same prison sentence,” Baker said. “Just as well take as much as a man can get.”
“Amen to that,” Crip said.
“So, he’s not going to come nosing around?” Baker asked.
“Speaking from experience? He might. But he won’t make a habit of it. He said, at least for now, he’ll talk to me, I’ll talk to you, and you’ll have a meeting,” Crip said. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll report what I find to Brother Reno. He’ll be the pivot point. No offense.”
Crip looked at Ally. “You squeamish?”
“Not the last time I checked.”
He shifted his gaze back to Baker. “Have no idea where this is headed, but to give you an idea, this cop has had us take out a drug dealer or two. We keep the proceeds taken in the process. He’s cleaning up the streets one MS-13 member at a time. It’s possible that’s where this meeting’s headed.”
Baker lifted his head. “That’s not our specialty.”
Crip smirked. “Might know a fella or two that could guide you through it, but it’ll cost you.”
“I think we can afford to pay for a little expertise,” Baker responded.
“Your expertise brought me up the elevator,” Crip said, turning away. “All you need is a few more able bodies.” He raised his right hand in mock wave as he sauntered toward the door. “I’ll be in touch.”
With those words, he got on the elevator.
“Holy shit,” I said. “Did that just happen?”
Baker exhaled a mile-long breath. “It sure did.”
“I should have known they’d be motion-activated,” Tito said.
“I know enough to know that cop he’s talking about let’s them get away with murder,” Reno said. “Hell, that bank job was more than a month ago, He’s been looking into this and sitting on it for six weeks. That cop ain’t gonna do shit. He’s gonna use us for his dirty work, and that’ll be that.”
“My experience with that is this,” Baker said. “It never ends.”
I’d heard all I was willing to listen to. I felt slightly uneasy about us being under the thumb of a crooked cop. Reno had a good point, though. If he wanted to arrest us, he would have arrested us six weeks prior.
I tightened the laces of my boots, got Ally’s attention, and tilted my head toward the door. “I’m headed out fellas. Not going to sit here and bump my gums about the what-ifs. See you in two weeks. Sounds like we might be busy when I get back.”
Ally and I hugged our way out of there and got on the elevator together. When we reached the garage, we put on our helmets and I started the bike.
When Ally and I met, I laughed at her old-school approach to life. After being around her for several months, I realized most of the amenities that she’d relinquished weren’t, by any means, necessary.
I now felt like she was one step ahead of the population with her system of beliefs.
As the motorcycle’s engine was coming up to operating temperature, I walked to the trash can. After taking my phone out of my pocket, I paused.
I looked at Ally. “You ready to go on vacation?”
“I sure am.” Her eyes narrowed in wonder. “Are you?”
I tossed the phone in the trash. “I am now.”
Epilogue
I was witnessing nothing short of a miracle. We’d been on the road for seven days, with no plan—that I knew of, anyway—of where we were going, or what we were going to do when we got there.
It was the best vacation I’d ever been on.
The unbelievable part?
Goose was driving a cage.
A red cage.
“This fucker’s actually fun to drive,” he said. “Plenty of power, handles good, and is pretty responsive. It’s like driving a four-wheeled motorcycle.”
I rubbed my eyes and gazed out the window. “Where are we now?”
“In the mountains,” he said. “If you wouldn’t have been sleeping, you’d know.”
I reached for the navigation button to activate the map. He slapped my hand before I touched it. “Keep your hands off my buttons. You’ll know where we are when I stop.”
I pulled my hand away. “I love you, too.”
“We’ll be there in an hour,” he said.
It was three o’clock in the afternoon. “Are we staying all night, or just eating dinner and leaving?’
“Depends, I suppose.”
“On what?’
“If you want to stay, or if you want to go.”
“So, I get to decide?” I asked.
“Suppose so.”
I rubbed my eyes. “I stayed up too late last night.”
“That movie was good, though.”
“The Hustler is an awesome movie,” I said. “I can’t believe you’ve never seen it.”
“Wasn’t as good as that one we watched the other day. The boxer that testified against that guy? What was it? The Waterfront?”
“On the Waterfront,” I said. “That was Marlon Brando.”
“I like that one. Movies like that make you think. Made me think, anyway.”
“About what?”
“Life. Been thinking a lot, lately. Since Ghost’s death, anyway. And, since meeting you.”
“Good things, or bad things?” I asked.
“Both.” He glanced over his right shoulder. “I don’t want to die like this.”
“Like what?”
“With unfinished business. I want my life to be in order when I die.”
“You’re not planning on—”
“No. It’s not like that,” he said. “It’s just. I don’t know.”
I gazed out the window, wondering what unfinished business he had—other than the mess back in San Diego with the crooked cop. After a few miles of grassy green fields rushed past, a big sign on the side of the road let me know where we were going.
It took a moment to register.
I turned in my seat to face him. “Are we going where I think we’re going?”
With his eyes straight ahead, he grinned. “Depends. Where do you think we’re going?”
I grew excited and anxiously hesitant at the same time. “My stomach feels flippy-floppy.”
“You can add me to that list,” he said. “Mine’s been doing backflips all morning.”
“How long have you been planning this?” I asked.
“I don’t know that I’ve been planning it,” he said. “But I really started thinking about it when you said everyone deserves a second chance. It got me to thinking.”
“What if this isn’t what you think? I asked. “If everything’s the same?”
“We leave.”
I tried to wrap my head around everything that he might be going through and couldn’t make sense of it all. His situation was unique. All that mattered, I decided, was that I was there for him regardless of what he needed or wanted.
