Wrath (11 page)

Aidan

I stared into my coffee, trying to understand just what was happening.

Emma had woken me up with her mouth and we’d wound up finishing what we started the night before. 

“Are you going to let me fuck your pride?” she had drawled, eyeing me with a broad smile as she wound her hips. 

We hadn’t had the same problem twice.  And I worked twice as hard to make it up to her, succeeding if her kisses and cries were anything to go by.  But I still felt off.

And something had changed in her.  I wasn’t sure if it was good or bad.  Maybe it was neither, but it was definitely different. 

She didn’t try to tell me what to do as I prepared my prosthetic, but I made sure to double up on the socks before I put the sleeve on.  When the fake leg clicked onto the stump the difference was obvious.  The fit was sturdier.  More secure.  She had been right.

Her massage had worked wonders on the ever-present ache, too.

I had grabbed a cup of coffee while she showered, and I was seriously thinking about joining her, but something held me back. 

She had seemed like she was waiting for something, something that had nothing to do with sex or words or rings.  I didn’t feel pressured to do anything exactly, but I wasn’t sure yet what she was thinking about.

I liked being able to read her, to know what she needed.  I’d realized pretty quickly that she made me feel protective of her.  She was tough, but I knew better than most that even the toughest men – the toughest people – needed someone to watch their back.  If the military had taught me nothing else, it was that.

I knew she could watch my back, and I wanted to guard hers.  And I wanted to fuck her like that every morning.

Damn
…

It should have been great.  Instead, it felt weird. 

Part of it was that I’d lost it before I got inside her last night.  It had been incredible, watching her arching beneath me, her lips parting and crying out my name.  She had been so wet, her entire body hungry for me. 

I prided myself on giving a woman hers, but I hadn’t realized Emma would affect me that intensely.

I ran a hand through my hair, my jaw tightening.  I hadn’t lost it like that since I was very young, and I wasn’t going to let that happen again.  Not with her.

I swilled the coffee around in my mouth, savoring the way the black roast burned my tongue. 

How many women had I been with in the past year?  They’d been great company, and we’d split up as pleasantly as I could manage each time.  But none of them had gotten to me like this. 

I felt… uncomfortable.  Like I had forgotten something important.  That bugged me.

I set aside the coffee cup and called out, “I’m going to get us some breakfast.”

Before Emma could call back, I was out the door, rushing through the lot for the familiarity of my bike.

I didn’t want to leave her.  I didn’t want to show her all the turmoil inside of me.  If I stayed, she’d see it.  But I knew it was a shit move to leave. 

I rushed out onto the road, barely aware of my surroundings, steering and swerving the Chieftain on autopilot and trying to get my shit together. 

Somehow, I wound up back at my flat with a bag filled with god only knew what.

I found Emma in one of my t-shirts, her hair still damp, her leg swinging loosely over the edge of the bed.  She was laying on her stomach when I came in, and when she turned to check who had come in, her ass tilted up at just the right angle, baring that gorgeous curvature. 

I nearly threw the bag aside.  There were a lot of things I nearly did just then, dumb shit.

Instead I brought it to her, watched while she pulled out a buttery croissant and immediately stuffed it in her mouth so she could grab her coffee.  As she rifled through the bag, I smelled bagels and the sugary sweetness of doughnut holes.  My brain might be fucking with me, but Mary had taken care of us, helped me get this one right. 

As she swallowed the last of the croissant, Emma’s eyes caught sight of my bulging pants.  Her eyes widened and that ridiculous smile was worth it all. 

“Ooh.” 

She looked up at me and shifted, and I knew what I would find if I slid my hand into her lap.  If I touched her.

She was wet again.  She wanted me.

It was another hour before either of us could breathe again.  And if my knee hurt a bit from what I’d been up to, it had been worth it.  Get her going and Emma knew just how to give it back.  And I was starting to feel steadier, too. 

We’d both gotten ours – again.

Hell, as she stretched and slid in the tangled sheets, my shirt rode up under her arms, catching around the underside of each breast.  If I hadn’t had to get to the garage, I’d have gone down on her again. 

Instead, I tried to make sense of words. 

“Stay here till your class.  Get some rest.”

She looked puzzled.  Either I wasn’t making sense, or she was more out of it than I’d realized.  The thought cleared my head a little.  One of us had to think straight.

“You can borrow my car so you can get back to campus.” 

“Campus?”

“You’re safe there, right?  And you have classes.”

She nodded.  “Hmmm.”  It was like she’d completely forgotten the rest of the world. 

Damn.

The truth was that I didn’t dare risk her staying another night.  For all the mess, there had been a bigger issue.  We’d been lucky last night.  I didn’t want her to be there when the dreams took over.  I didn’t want her to see the sweat or smell my fear.  It was all just phantoms anyhow, but I didn’t want her to know just how deeply they haunted me.

Because the monster they brought out in me was still locked up, kept safely away from her eyes, and that was the only way I could look her in the eye.

Keep her with me.

I might trust her to watch my back, but I didn’t trust myself when I got like that.  So she was going to stay on campus and that was all there was to it.

Emma

Aidan’s kiss was soft and sweet on my lips.  I could feel his lips against mine.  Wanting me, needing me. 

The same need lay coiled in the pit of my belly, calling out to his, drawing us together. 

I was reaching back to caress the short hair behind his ear right when my alarm clock started beeping, and pulled me right up out of the dream.

I reached for him in my barely conscious state only to find my bed empty and my memories of him all tangled up.

Restless and disoriented was not a fun way to wake up.

Kim was already gone for the day.  She was an early riser and had a campus job at one of the computer labs.

I wished I was in his arms, in his bed, instead of here at the dorms, but he had been right.  I had an 8AM class that I just couldn’t miss.  The professor was going to be handing out the study guides for our first exam.  If I didn’t show up, I wouldn’t get a copy, and I needed every single advantage that I could get.

I had done a lot of work to get this far in school.  Messing it up now just because I wanted to fuck seemed like a bad decision.  Admittedly, the way my body was aching for him made me wonder if I really cared, but I had a little more control now that he was across town. 

I took a moment to stretch like a cat, then popped up out of bed and got ready.

A hot shower didn’t push him from my mind.  Neither did breakfast.  Or coffee.  Or a long brisk walk.  I should’ve been focused on my studies.  I was behind on my readings.  It was nothing too serious, but I wasn’t used to being behind.  Not one of my previous boyfriends had ever been able to distract me from my studies.

I liked sex as much as the next woman – at least when it was done well – but I’d always made a point to focus on my academic future and my career.  I had always believed that it was better to have a goal than a man.  Men were exchangeable.  A future was something to grab and keep. 

Now I wanted both, and I seriously wondered if I’d jinxed myself somehow.  If I tried to have it all, would all my work fall apart? Could being a “career woman” destroy my chances with Aidan? Could being with Aidan crush my ambitions?

It was a silly superstitious sort of fear.  I shook my head, trying to shut it up.  But it was still there, tucked away between my goals and all the shit I had seen. 

I pushed on with my day, determined not to let him completely invade my every waking thought, returning to the dorms before lunch to drop off my books.

As I cobbled together a quick sandwich, there was a buzz from my intercom.

“Emma Snow?”

I tiptoed to the door.  A year’s worth of harassment had left me uneasy. 

“Yes.  Who is it?” I asked

“Delivery for you.”

Delivery.  I was starting to hate that word.

“Who from?”

“It doesn’t say, ma’am.  It’s a long box, though.  Smells like flowers.”

Flowers.  That couldn’t be a bad thing.  Dead animal did not smell like flowers.  It was possible Samuel had hidden a rat in flowers, but that seemed a bit paranoid.  Besides, I had the giddy feeling Aidan might have decided to send me something sweet.

He could be frightening when he was angry, but he was kind under all that muscle and stoicism.

I padded down the stairs, book-bag and sandwich in hand. 

A delivery man handed off a receipt and a long box.

I signed for it, and smiled, rooting in my pocket to give him a tip.  Shit was hard.  I had a few extra bills from bartending.

This seemed to please him.  “Thank you.” He was gone in a quick instant and I was left with this package.

I opened it to find at least a dozen red roses.  Aidan.

I picked them up and smiled at them, ready to drop them off in my dorm. 

That was when I saw it.  The single black rose with the note buried among the thorny stems.

Most florists trimmed the thorns from bouquets to prevent pricked fingers and spilled blood. But this bundle had not been put together by a florist. The black rose stood alone and ugly amidst the beautiful reds, unable to blend in or hide its taint.

The note around its stem read:
Mine
.

I shuddered in revulsion, suddenly feeling like I was going to be sick.  I threw them aside, rubbing my hands against my hips.  I felt as if that note had dirtied me somehow, and I couldn’t get it off. 

Samuel
.

I was sick of this shit. 

That bastard wouldn’t stop until I confronted him.  Or her.

I found Aidan’s car keys in my purse and clutched them.

I needed to tell my mother to call off her attack dog.

Aidan

I rounded up the rear of the pack as we tailed the supply truck filled with produce. 

In the minds of the MC, I was the least experienced. 

I didn’t let that assumption faze me.  I’d been riding since I was a teen, my first vehicle a bike.  I knew what I was doing.  But I was the newest in the pack, a hang-around.  I’d have to prove my worth on wheels.

In the meantime, the back of the pack suited me just fine.  I had a better vantage point.  I could see each of the guys as we ran close together.  I could predict the parts of the road they were going drift to. 

I could see everything.

We drifted far enough off the tail of the cargo vehicle.  It was a Civic.  Nothing much to look at.   We didn’t want to tip off anyone what was in the car.  And we didn’t want anyone to guess we were guarding it.  A rival MC might recognize us, but to the casual onlooker we were just a bunch of guys out for a ride on our bikes. 

No colors flew; Strike’s orders.

I tried not to think about the ache building in my leg, the one that was slowly growing despite the double layer of sock on my stump.  I had done everything Emma had suggested.  She’d known her stuff.  She’d make a great – what did she call it? Physical therapist.  I’d always just called them masseuses in the past, but that word was loaded.  It didn’t fit Emma.  She was sexy as hell, but she was mine.  I’d break anyone’s face who assumed she did more than clinical massage.

The bad thing was that even she hadn’t been able to fix the problem with my prosthetic.  Her suggestion had helped for a few days, but riding my bike really made it clear.  I’d have to get refitted.  That was going to cost.

I didn’t have the time or money for that.  I made up my mind to push through it.

I knew how far I could push myself.  Right now, I had a job to do.  A mission.

It felt so fucking good.

I tried not to think about what might happen if things went sour on the road today.  I had refused to carry a weapon at all.  I was the only one.  Every other man was packing.  Even the driver.

But I knew what could happen if I had a gun and I lost control.   There were side effects to post-trauma that I still hadn’t gotten control of. 

We took the curve that followed the Mon River and headed on up.  This was the same road I took Emma down the night we had… the night of our “date.” I grinned at the memory, but it quickly faded as our surroundings became bleak. 

Houses littered the landscape, many of them dilapidated and vacant.  Dravosburg was another mill town.  It had been abandoned on the march of progress.  What had been a busy highway during the height of industry was almost completely vacant.  Abandoned.

A perfect backdrop for drug smuggling and trafficking.

I could tell the driver knew the route well.  He took each curve with the expertise of long habit.

I wouldn’t be surprised if this was a regular route for their heroin trade. 

I knew who this group was.  I didn’t need Rage’s backroom explanation.  One look in Strike, and his brother, Hawk’s, eyes and I knew they were running the show.  I hadn’t known that they were Irish Mob until we met the cargo, but I’d guessed they were scum.

“Keep it to yourself,” Rage had told me.  “Nothing illegal here.”

It was “the price we had to pay,” he said.  Favors traded, or some shit.  Well, it could have been worse.  At least we had some say so in what we traded.

Nothing illegal here
…

It was the Mob.  “Clean money” or not, it wouldn’t stay clean for long.

But who was I to judge? I was the one worried about what I’d do if I had a piece on me.

No, I had a job to do.  I knew the drill.  I was a soldier, taking orders.

That was a job I was made to do.

I was checking my mirrors when I saw them.

A new group of bikes had dropped in to crowd the front of the Civic, while another swooped in from behind.  They were all helmeted, perched on their vicious little crotch-rockets and zipping around like wasps. 

They wove around us, passing a couple of cars ahead.  They provided a spacer between us and the truck which was good.  Our group didn’t seem to recognize them though, which was bad.

Crotch rockets were made for tight turns and quick maneuvers, and they made easy work of the crowded lanes. 

Sensing danger, the drivers of the Civic lagged behind, watching for oncoming traffic before passing us on the double lines.

This new gang was here for the cargo.  It was time for us to earn our pay. 

Strike looked over at Rage, and I saw Rage nod.  We knew what to do. 

We got the signal to hold back and wait.  Not every fight started with blood.  The leaders wanted to observe.  What maneuvers would these thieves use? How would they perform their ambush?

Know your enemy
.  It was the most important rule in warfare.  Our leaders knew what they were about.

They swooped around the Civic like a swarm of angry birds, trying to shake up the driver into pulling over.  Then, a mile down the road,  another group of bikes pulled out in front of the truck.  They forced themselves into the oncoming lane, riding beside the Civic.  Surrounding the driver on all sides, they forced him onto a side road.  That route headed north, driving the cargo off track. 

That was when Strike gave us the signal.  We followed them up, a group of about twelve of us deviating off the road.

We dealt with them intuitively and with military precision.

Rushing up on the riders, we made it clear whose cargo they were trying to run off with.  We had the bigger bikes, and it didn’t matter that they were bulkier.  We knew how to maneuver them.  We owned the road.

I’d altered my Indian for maneuverability and better clearance in my spare time and as I wove through the pack, I was easily able to keep up with and crowd a pair of them.  I nearly turned one pretentious little Yamaha into road-paste, rushing his flank. 

My heart beat filled my ears, a steady beat as I roared on their tails, chasing them down.

A car was coming towards us, but it was still in the distance.  I took the chance, driving them out into oncoming traffic.  They buzzed and hissed angrily, weaving drunkenly to intimidate me, but I refused to back down, forcing them to choose.  

They might have taken my bluff, but then another of the Fire and Steel joined me, and another.  It was the three of us, towering over their little bikes.

We outnumbered them. 

We were lucky.

After a small show of force they dove back into the lane and took off, their small troupe passing ours and hitting the gas.  I immediately pulled out of the way of oncoming traffic and took a steady breath.

They’d decided to retreat.

If my mouth was stretched into a wild grin, I’d earned it. 
Fuck
.  It’d been a long time since I’d done anything that reckless.  That stupid.

I fucking loved it.

I settled back into our pack at the rear, riding with my shoulders squared and my jaw firm.  I’d faced the adrenaline rush.  I’d risked my life for the group.  And not once had I flashed back to Afghanistan. 

I was in total control of myself, my veins cold as ice.  Every bit of me focused in the moment, fully alive.

It was the first time in years that I’d felt that way. 

This was why I had agreed to join Fire and Steel.  This was why I was on the back of a bike.  Not just because it was a thrill for me, but because the only time I ever felt like I was in control of my life was when I was on the edge of losing it all.

We passed the little gravel parking lot I’d taken Emma to, where I’d kissed her.  Where I’d made her mine.  Hell, where she had made me hers.

Emma.

I bared my teeth at the road as my body reacted to the memory.  Fuck, that night had been intense.

She did more than just get me hard.  Thinking of her made my hands ache.  The thought that something might happen to her sucked the breath from me, gripping my chest like a vice clamp. 

I would tear down the sky for that woman.  She gave me a reason to be alert, to stay on guard.  I needed her.

Needed her and the club.

Could I have both? She didn’t seem like the sort to become a biker’s woman.

It was a question for another day.  A question to ask her in person.

We didn’t catch sight of the pack that ambushed us the rest of the trip.  It was easy riding until we got to the strip.  At that point, we all turned off and followed Strike back to the club. 

We entered the lot like a swollen swarm of birds – a loud, throbbing flock of metal and sweat.  There was a strange ease to it, a satisfaction, and as I killed the engine.  And as I yanked my helmet off, I fought to smother a grin.

We’d done it. 

Strike’s brother, Hawk came over while Rage and Strike shook hands. 

Strike looked like a leader.  His brother looked like a devil.  Strike was obviously the steady one, the brains.  What did that make Hawk?

A bit of a smirking devil, he always looked like he was on the verge of laughing.  He’d been one of the men who backed me up when the bikes got a little aggressive.

Back me up or not, I didn’t like him.  He was too pretty.  Too rangy.  His smiles were crooked and he flashed his teeth too often.  Something in his eyes seemed…
wrong
.  This was the kind of man who liked breaking things. 

I decided right then and there that if he ever looked twice at Emma, I’d kill him – Mob connections be damned.

“Hey man, that was some brilliant riding.  Stupid as fuck, but brilliant.  Where the fuck did you learn that shit?”

I shrugged off the check.  I was fine.

“I know something about aggressive and evasive maneuvers,” I said blandly.  “Been riding since I could drive.  Army taught me the rest.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it was as close as they were going to get.  “What about you?”

“Gotta do something to piss off daddy, you know?”

He grinned again like an Irish party-boy drinking from a broken glass. 

“Heh.  Nothing like ruining the family history by bashing your own skull in, eh?”

That jester’s smirk creeped me the fuck out.  His brother’s sullen leader posturing I could understand, but this royal joker shit… There was a good time, and then there was this guy.

He was the one to watch.

Apparently, his brother knew that too. 

“Hawk, shut the fuck up,” Strike barked at him.  When he looked at me, his eyes were languid and observant at once.  “My idiot brother doesn’t know when to let up.  Got him exiled.”

When he smacked the back of Hawk’s head, Hawk’s smile vanished.  What replaced it was worse than his grin.  It was an ugly light that hid in the back of the eyes.  A sharp edge cutting into the curve of a man’s mouth.  Any man who had ever lost it knew that look.  It was the edge of insanity peeking through. 

I knew those cracks well, and I knew it would be all too easy to slip down the slope into cruel and twisted games. 

The way he looked then was the way I sometimes felt, the part I only let out when no one was looking.  I did not want to be around when this man cracked.  One of us would end up with blood on his hands, and a body to bury.

Strike waved Rage over with a stiff hand, patting him on the shoulder like a pompous dick. 

I kept my mouth shut, but I watched Rage’s back.  Across the way, I could see Thrash doing the same.  Our eyes met and he gave me the slightest nod.  We had a meeting of the minds on that at least.

Strike was all solemn congratulations.  “Your boys did good, Rage.  You might be smaller in numbers, but you know how to do a job well.  We’ll remember that.  You’ll bounce back.  Then we might talk some serious business.”

Strike glanced at me then, eyeing me carefully.

I didn’t say a word.  I just looked him directly in the eyes and waited.  If his lips twitched one way or another, I wasn’t about to read into it.  Mob was mob.  Never trust them.  Especially the damned Irish branch.  That was the sort of trouble you didn’t want.

“Your man there.  He’s new?” Strike asked.

Rage just nodded.  He kept things friendly but he wasn’t offering any further information.  Smart man.

Strike just patted his back and tilted his head to me.  I didn’t nod back.  But I didn’t glare either.  Just kept my face stoic, a soldier’s stare.  It was a useful thing.

For one, it made it clear that I was not to be fucked with.

Strike seemed to get that.  He turned back to Rage.  “I have a proposition for you.  And your group,” he added casually.  “You want the details in private, or shall we talk freely?”

Rage looked over the group and took the practical route.  “They’ll hear it one way or another.  You tell us, it’ll take less time to decide.”

“Hmm.  Yes, well… It would seem that I have a traitor in my organization.  You see, I told my circle that we’d be running a shipment of heroin up from Clairton this morning.  Didn’t let them know it would be guarded, and I sure as hell didn’t tell them it’d just be produce.  One of them is either my traitor, or is leaking information.  You can be certain that I will be ferreting them out.”