VENDETTA: A Bad Boy, Motorcycle Club Romance (7 page)

“What do you want to study?”

“Business management. I have a head for numbers.”

“Really?”

“What do you mean really?” I teased, cocking my head to the side.

“I’d expect someone like you to study something softer. Literature, maybe. History.”

“Why?”

“Most of the women I went to college with weren’t into math.”

“Where did you go?”

“UCLA, after I left the Army.”

“What did you study?” Somehow I hadn’t pictured him as a college student, armed with fresh books and a hunger for knowledge. He slid dark sunglasses over his eyes and his lips quirked as if he knew exactly what I’d thought and it amused him. I wondered whether he was used to people underestimating him, only seeing the tough exterior.

“Accounting,” he said, and I laughed out loud. An eyebrow shot up. “Why is that funny?”

“If I don’t look like a business major, you definitely don’t look like an accounting major. Were all the skinny boys scared of you?”

He grinned and I felt something glow in my chest. It was like my heart stopped when he looked at me that way. “They were,” he confirmed.

“Are you a CPA?”

“No. I didn’t need it for what I was planning to do.”

“What do you do?”

“I keep books for the club.”

“Your club?” I asked, reaching out to touch one of the patches on his shoulder but pulling my hand back before I made contact. “The Fallen?”

“Yeah, The Fallen.”

“What are they?”

“I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of us,” he said, and I knew he must be picturing my life differently than it was. I had heard of The Fallen. I’d been warned to stay very, very far away from The Fallen—but I wanted to hear about them from him, not from my uncle who almost pissed himself when he’d been run out of downtown by a biker who didn’t like him bringing meth to their territory.

I still remembered the night Uncle Dale had come home beaten half to death, swearing that he wouldn’t let some rat-faced fucker stop him from selling.

“So tell me about you.”

“The club was founded by some vets who came home and didn’t like having to take orders from people they’d fought for. Those same people spit on them and called them killers for doing their duty. So they made a way to work outside the law to get the better life they were promised.”

“Outside the law?”

Flash tapped the 1% patch on his arm. “Yes.”

“So you’re a criminal?” Lord, we were more alike than I’d known. I guess it should have occurred to me that he was as deeply embroiled in the drug trade as I was, but if he was really an active member of The Fallen, then it was crucial that he didn’t learn who I was. Because I really liked him, and I didn’t want him to have to kill me.

Maybe he’d understand…

“I guess. We have rules and I think they’re pretty fucking fair.”

“Like what?”

“Don’t sell to children. Don’t hurt women. Don’t leave orphans. The club isn’t going out and forcing junkies deep into debt then whacking them when they can’t pay. We’re working on building an economy. A damn good one.” He trailed off.

“Which, if I’m right about what happened yesterday, is now fucked because you pulled me out of that house last night?”

He sighed. “Your life is worth more than all the bricks of cocaine in that place, Emmy. Wouldn’t change what I did, even if we’re all royally fucked once I get home.”

“Are you?”

“Maybe. I spoke to my president and he’s pissed. I have to report in soon and take my medicine.”

“I’m sorry, Flash.”

“You can’t blame yourself at all, sugar. Besides, you saved my life back there.” The reminder of what I’d done to Santiago was unwelcome at first, but somehow seeing it through his eyes made it easier to bear. If I had to kill Santiago to keep Flash alive, then it was worth it, no matter what tomorrow might bring.

“Do you think we could get some food?” I wanted to change the topic, and my growling stomach was as good a reason as any to bring up something else.

“Let’s drive for awhile, then stop.” Flash reached into one of his bags and pulled out a protein bar. Unwrapping it, he offered it to me and I snapped it in half, then handed him a piece.

“You should eat too.”

“Thanks.”

We both chewed the hard bars that tasted like dusty peanut butter and smiled. A lot of bad stuff was not very far behind us, but I’d never felt as content as I did in that moment.

Of course, it couldn’t last. But I think we both knew that already.

Flash

I took the long way to the border, even though Piston had told me to get my fucking ass back to the clubhouse ASAP.

Didn’t seem safe to stick to main roads, not when Manuel would have the entire fucking cartel out gunning for Emily and me. The club was officially battened down and ready for the shit to hit the fan. Piston was already negotiating with Manuel, who was enraged that Emily had killed his son.

“Thank god you didn’t pull the trigger,” Piston drawled. “I wouldn’t be able to talk his bitch ass down then. He wants to cut her into chum.”

That wasn’t going to happen.

The Fallen could handle themselves, but I wasn’t about to let someone plug Emmy in the back while I tried to outrun their SUVs. Wasn’t going to happen.

I headed for Sonora, thinking we could grab a hotel and maybe some chill time. Letting Manuel and his men think that we’d beat pavement to cross into San Diego inside a day and a half was the best defense. Sonora was out of the way, a place where we could sleep and heal before making the last leg of the journey.

One thing was certain: Emily was moving into my room at the clubhouse once we made it back. Leaving her shit at the resort had been a mistake, because I knew it would take Manuel no time at all to track it down and find out her real address from her identification or employment papers. Cameras dotted the courtyard of the villa. He’d know exactly who had killed his son and he’d be out for blood.

Her blood.

But at the time, I didn’t see going back as an option. Emily told Santiago where she’d been staying, which meant Manuel probably knew as well. If he’d sent men there immediately, they could have intercepted us.

Besides hoping the men on our trail would pass us by, I had another reason for wanting to spend a few days somewhere safe. Emily was cracking. Even if she tried to hide it with shy smiles and quips about every place we stopped to refuel, I could see the shadows beneath her eyes darken every hour while she wrestled with the guilt that consumed her over Santiago. She’d only said something once—that even if he’d deserved to die, she didn’t want to be an executioner—but had walked away to get a bottle of water when I tried to reply.

The fucker did deserve to die. The Fallen had talked about it, after nasty little rumors about his nighttime habits reached our ears, but no one was willing to talk and confirm. That meant we couldn’t take action—especially when action would mean bringing Manuel down on us. So we didn’t act.

Rafael would have
. I missed the man and the way he held the cartel in a steel grip without losing himself to the darkness. Anyone who worked under him was held to the standards to which he held himself, which is one reason why The Fallen had signed on to deliver his shipments in the first place. We weren’t cut out for manufacturing our own product and he’d believed in ethical labor practices.

That’s something you don’t see a lot in drug lords.

But everyone who worked for him that I’d ever met—right down to the guys who packaged coke into bricks—was sober and taken care of. He didn’t have a house full of hookers waiting to service any man who came in. Women who worked for him in that way were healthy and compensated fairly. In all the years I’d spent making runs to the villa, I’d never seen a woman who looked unhappy or who wasn’t free to walk out the door.

The Deleon Cartel was a good operation back then. Maybe that’s why Dad and Rafael got along so well—they’d both seen other motorcycle clubs or cartels rise and fall as the leaders and members got hooked on their own shit and ruined everything. Both of them—and my grandfather, our president before Piston—thought real loyalty meant keeping things clean enough that the club or cartel didn’t fall apart around your feet.

That all changed when Manuel took over. I remember seeing Rosaline age ten years overnight, though she refused to pack up and come work at the clubhouse.

“You hate him,” I’d said to her, eating some beans she’d cooked with lime and cilantro. “Why won’t you leave? What reason would he have to keep you?” She’d worked in the villa as long as I could remember, but there were plenty of younger housemaids, like the one that Manuel had excused himself with after our meeting that time. Rosaline was still beautiful, with light brown hair and faded emerald eyes, but her skin was lined and I didn’t imagine she’d hop into bed with Manuel if he crooked a finger.

“It’s complicated,” she said, and turned to get herself a cup of strong coffee. “But your offer is kind.” Her pretty lips turned up in a smile that was both disarming and sad. I wanted to pull her onto the back of my bike and let her keep house for The Fallen, not stick around here to watch Manuel drag in doped-up women and push the workers so hard that accidents and deaths had increased for miniscule production improvement.

Then he’d added Columbia to the mix. That made it more complicated. Columbians weren’t used to working with cartels like the one run by the Deleons. They’d want more and more control, but Manuel was too blind to see beyond his wallet.

The road flew under us as I turned toward the coast, my hands slick on the handlebars. Driving fast was like flying and having Emily’s legs tucked up against my thighs was pure sensation, even through the stiff jeans we both wore. Every time she moved against me, I remembered the way her body stiffened under mine, the way her tight depths grabbed onto my finger when she climaxed. I wanted it again.

I was going to have her again. Possessiveness was like a living thing inside me, hungry and restless.

The sun was starting to set when the Sonora shore finally came into view. Three days had passed since we left the villa and we’d slept for scant hours at a roadside hovel. Now I could offer her cool, clean sheets, a view of the ocean and something to eat other than shrink wrapped protein bars and dubious food from metal trays in gas stations.

Never before had I wanted to give a woman luxury and comfort, but everything I could give to Emily, I would. Her bravery set me on fire and her defiance of the men at the villa aroused me. If I’d thought the only women who were strong enough to stand up to adversity were the ones claimed by my brothers, then I was wrong. She was the opposite of meek and I wanted to take all that passion and will and wrap it up, keep her safe.

My twisted urges confused and disoriented me, so I pushed them aside and started to plan. Concrete plans would do more for us than obsessing over her gorgeous dark hair or the way her lips curved when she took tiny sips from her water bottle when we stopped, then smiled at me over the lid. I hated the way I was mooning over some girl that I’d just met who’d probably bolt the second I came home with a bruise on my face.

I wanted her, but I wouldn’t force her to stay.

If Piston somehow managed to work shit out with the cartel, there would be a lot of late nights and a lot of shit work in it for me. No way I was getting out of this one with a slap on the wrist. Piston and Dad might even ship me up to Montana for a few years and I’d have to live with one of the sleepiest branches of the club. Nothing happened there. Last time I visited, I’m pretty sure I saw a cow die from boredom.

Emily’s perfect ass must have been getting sore, because she snuggled up against me while she adjusted herself on the seat. Pretty obvious she hadn’t ridden too often before climbing onto my Harley. She had no idea how to move with the bike, and if I hadn’t been riding with jumpy, coked-up assholes for years, I could have sent us spiraling off the road and into a ditch when she moved like that.

Didn’t help my erection either. I was hard as iron and if she just moved her hands down a little…

Gritting my teeth, I looked for a nice hotel on the shoreline. For myself, the first place I came across would do, but I wanted more for her. My phone didn’t have enough service at the last fuel stop to book a room in advance, and it was just as well. In my experience, small towns near the border run the gamut from very nice to decrepit, and it’s easy to put up a website that promises a lot more than it delivers. Searching out a good one would be much easier here in person.

A white stone building that sprawled elegantly along the sand came into view. It boasted large balconies and a sparkling pool that I could see through an archway. Pulling into the lot, I shot a poisonous glare at the valet who eyed my bike with avarice, then pulled Emily off and helped her steady herself. Years of riding kept me rock solid no matter how long I was on the Harley, but she didn’t have her road legs yet.

“What are we doing here?” Her wide eyes glanced around at the opulence of the hotel and she twisted to look up at me. “Flash?”

“We’re going to stay tonight and tomorrow. Give the cartel some time to get off my ass.”

Her lips thinned as she took in the high ceilings and rich furniture dotting the lobby. “We could stay somewhere cheaper.”

“No, Emmy. We’re staying here.” She obviously had no idea that I was rolling in money from the club’s more illicit ventures. I wrapped an arm around her slender shoulders and together we walked deeper into the lobby. Her warm body against me would have been enough to lull me into sleep if I hadn’t been so on edge, checking every corner for unfriendly eyes or the gleam of a weapon.

After I got a room at reception, we rode up to it in the silent elevator. Part of me wanted to ask about her life at home, to find out more about her than I’d been able to figure out over bites of beef jerky on the dusty roadside, but her eyes kept fluttering closed. Seemed like she needed sleep more than an interrogation.

“Thanks for stopping,” she said, breaking the silence. Her lips curved in a smile and she reached for my hand, squeezing it. “I didn’t realize how tired I was.”

“Made sense to stop,” I told her, not ready to let her know how she affected me, and led her to the door of our room. The lock blinked bright green when I inserted the key, and then the door opened to reveal our accommodations. One king size bed dominated the room, its cushioned headboard directly against the back wall. Emily wandered over to the bed and sat down, then fell to her side, curling up.

“I haven’t stayed somewhere so nice since my parents died, I think.”

Every cell in my body was screaming for me to join her on the bed and sink into her golden warmth, but I checked the closets and bathroom as a matter of course, then took a cola from the minibar. Before I could offer her some, her breathing went deep and even. She was asleep.

Mindful of her comfort, I unlaced her shoes and slid them off, setting them on the ground. I polished off my drink, clearing the dust from my throat, and walked around to the other side of the large mattress. Slipping off my jacket, I sat down. The soft mattress felt like a cloud under my road-weary body and it only got better when I went horizontal. Couldn’t remember the last time exhaustion had overwhelmed me.

I turned to look at her. Her dark hair was curling around her shoulders and her head was resting on her pale hands. Emily’s chest rose and fell with each breath she took—she was gonna be out for awhile. No doubt she needed it after what she’d been through.

Her dark lashes lay against her soft cheeks and her eyes were still. No nightmares, I hoped. Though god knows she was going to be haunted with them for a time. Taking a life—even the life of a shit like Santiago—comes with consequences. But I’d never been a heavy sleeper and I knew that if she thrashed, I’d wake and comfort her, draw her out of her nightmares.

So I closed my eyes and was asleep before the sun had fully set over the ocean. My last thoughts were of a joke Emily told me when we stopped to rest at that rat-infested hotel. Something about tomatoes blushing and ranch dressing. My lips curved into a smile. For the first time in years, I had someone to think about other than myself and The Fallen, and I wasn’t going to fail her.