Wreck Me: Steel Talons MC (11 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

 

When Susan hadn’t heard a single word from her family or the hospital the following morning, she assumed her mother was too angry to call and that none of the other medical professionals involved felt she deserved the consideration. Frustrated and unsure of how to spend her day off, she flopped back on the couch and called the hospital, hoping to get someone who would tell her something.

 

But after sitting on hold for several minutes, she gave up. She growled in frustration, and she grabbed the phone, dialing the only person she thought might be able to help her. Eric picked up on the third ring. “Hey, pretty lady. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”

 

A reluctant smile crossed Susan’s lips. “I don’t think you’ll find it so pleasurable if I answer that question.”

 

“Try me,” he taunted.

 

“My father’s in the hospital. I had him taken in yesterday, and my mother and probably my sister are there with him. There’s no way I’m going up there to check in on him, but I can’t get anyone to tell me if they’ve found out what’s wrong.” She sighed. “I don’t want to bother you on our day off, but people up there listen to you. They respect you. Maybe you could get some intel for me.”

 

“I’m sorry, Susan. That’s got to be hard. Do you have any idea what’s wrong with him?”

 

“Other than the fact that he was drunk at nine in the morning?” she laughed. “Well, he’s probably in detox right now and cranky as hell. Aside from that, I have a gut feeling the drinking has burned up his liver. But like I said, no one told me anything.”

 

“You’re probably right.” Eric mumbled something under his breath. “You’ll owe me, but because we’re friends and you deserve to know about your own family, I’ll find out.”

 

“Consider it an IOU. Thank you, Eric.” She hung up and stared at the ceiling. More than anything, Susan hated being bored.
You should be studying.
But she didn’t have the patience or the attention span for it. And if she stayed here all day, she would spend her time thinking about Jim. That wasn’t going to fly.

 

Of course, just his name floating through her head gave her an idea. It wasn’t her usual pastime, but it would keep her busy while she waited to hear back from Eric. Eagerly, she got off the couch and headed to the shower. She dressed quickly, slung her wet hair into a clip, and grabbed her keys.

 

The nearest motorcycle shop was a ten minute drive, and when she got there, she sat in her car for a long time, watching the variety of people filtering in and out of the store. There were dozens of bright, shiny bikes, lined up in perfectly even rows with sunlight glinting off the chrome and polished black paint. She’d never understood the obsession with motorcycles. She’d never been on one in her life, and she didn’t think she ever wanted to.

 

At the same time, Jim was just like so many of these people. They perused the inventory and touched the bikes reverently. It was almost a cult-like worship. To her, they were as terrifying as an angry bull at the rodeo, and she couldn’t comprehend the intense love for the beasts. But unless she could figure it out, she would never know what made Jim tick, why he felt so loyal to the club, or why he rode on two wheels instead of four.

 

Susan stepped out of the car and walked through the lines of bikes outside, trying to get a feel for them. She tried to absorb the positive, enthusiastic energy of the shoppers and admirers. But nothing struck her. She turned to leave, but she looked back to the shop and decided to see what was inside. There were more bikes and lots of gear. Maybe something in there would catch her eye.

 

She browsed the shelves and racks, enjoying the feel of the leather jackets beneath her fingers and reading the sarcastic and lewd comments on some of the shirts. She thought several of the helmets were pretty while others were just silly. Still finding no tingling sensation within her, Susan returned to the motorcycles inside the shop, considering them more carefully. She read the information on a couple of them, details about the size of the engines, speed, fuel mileage, and prices.

 

As she came up on the next one, she admired it. No, it didn’t give her a sense of excitement, and she didn’t feel an instant connection. But it was a beautiful piece of equipment, painted a solid shiny black with electric blue lightning bolts on either side of the tank. It was covered in chrome – handlebars, wheels, décor – and it looked fierce and classy, all at the same time.

 

“Who would have thought I’d find you here?” The voice made Susan jump, and she stared straight into Jim’s incredible eyes. He smiled, full of charm. “I thought you had a serious vendetta against motorcycle clubs. You never told me you had a secret love affair with their rides.”

 

Embarrassed to be caught here, Susan rolled her eyes. “I don’t. I just… ” She trailed off, not wanting to explain her reason for coming here today.

 

He chuckled. “It’s alright, Susan. You can admit it. Lots of people have strange fetishes they don’t feel comfortable talking about. And a lot of them hide behind the guise of hatred for it. I see the way you’re staring at that machine.” He pointed to the bike she’d been checking out. “I guess the real surprise here is that you have impeccable taste. In fact, I might just have to ask you to take your hands off my ride.”

 

“I have as much right to be here as anyone else,” she countered. Why did he always make her feel defensive? “And I don’t have a fetish. I just wanted to see if I could understand the passion people feel for these death machines.” She glared at him. “So tell me, smartass. Tell me why you love bikes so much. Explain it to me so I can understand.”

 

Jim stared at Susan, taken aback. He’d been teasing her, but now she was adamant – and almost passionate – about wanting to understand what was so special about riding. That only added to the shock of seeing her admiring that particular ride. She probably hadn’t realized that the four bikes in front of her were here inside because they were sold and customized. “Okay, but first, let me ask you something.” She raised an eyebrow. “Did you not see the ‘sold’ sticker on that one?”

 

She frowned and checked it, blushing. “It’s not like I was going to buy it.”

 

“You’re damn straight you’re not, because I already did.” Her expression was the epitome of surprise, and he laughed. “You honestly thought I was joking about that? Come on, I had to replace the one you saw in a pile on the road beside me. I had some work done to this one yesterday—a few personalized details added—and now I’m here to take her home.”

 

She didn’t say anything for a minute, then she finally smiled. “I don’t like bikes as a whole, but this one caught my eye because it’s pretty. Not in a feminine way. I wouldn’t want to insult your manhood. But I think it’s a beautiful design.”

 

“I’m glad you approve of my taste.” He closed his eyes and thought about the sensation he got from riding. “The reason people literally become addicted to riding is because it’s like flying. You aren’t caged in a box, there’s always wind in your face and your hair, and you can go as fast as you want. It’s refreshing, and there’s nothing in the world that can make you feel so free. It’s truly liberating.”

 

He opened his eyes, hoping to find revelation in Susan’s face. Instead, he saw confusion and doubt.

 

“I just can’t see that,” she said. “When I look at these, I see the lack of enclosure as less protection. The air blowing at me, I think, would just annoy me and make it hard to breathe. And as for speed, I scare myself in my car if I don’t pay attention. I don’t need an unbridled horse that can gallop three times that fast without breaking a sweat.”

 

How disappointing and sad.
“Who taught you to hate clubs and riding?” he asked, keeping his voice down now.

 

“Why does it matter?”

 

He wasn’t going to push her, but he’d find out eventually. “I know it’s hard to imagine, Susan. I can’t really put it into words. But let me take you for a ride and show you. It’s the only way you’ll ever understand.”

 

Susan’s eyes grew large, and she shook her head vigorously. “No way! I’m not getting on one of these.” She pointed at the motorcycles, backing away from them.

 

But he smiled. “If I promise to keep it under the speed limit, will you please give me a chance to show you how it feels? I’m telling you, it’s the only way to understand. And if it’s too much for you, I’ll bring you right back and never ask you to ride again.”

 

He saw her wavering, and it wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge. “Live a little, Susan. You’re a paramedic. You, of all people, should understand that life is short and precious. Let me give you an adventure you never thought you’d experience.”

 

She glanced nervously back and forth between the bike and Jim, and he knew he had her. Her chest heaved with a deep breath, and she told him, “One short ride. That’s all.”

 

Success.
“You won’t regret it.” He pointed her toward the rack of goggles. “Pick a pair that fit and bring them up to the counter. I’ve got to write the check so I can ride off into the sunset with you on that ‘death machine.’” He laughed as she stuck her tongue out at him. With a spring in his step, he made his way over to pay for the customizations on his bike. This was going to be a wild ride.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

 

Susan didn’t know what had come over her. She should have just said no, she wasn’t going to get on that
thing
. But something inside her had to know. She couldn’t explain it, and she couldn’t define her need. Something swept over her, aside from incredible fear, as she waited at the curb and Jim pulled the rumbling machine up beside her. Heart pounding, she shouted over the noise, “What now?”

 

Jim smiled. “Put the goggles on, and throw your right leg over behind me.” She did as he instructed, feeling awkward. He leaned back and said over his shoulder, “Now, get settled, and wrap your arms tight around my waist. I don’t want you falling off the back.” He laughed, but Susan didn’t particularly find it funny as she pictured him doing a wheelie and dropping her on the pavement.

 

She clutched at him for dear life, and strangely, this felt more intimate than when they had sex. She was pressed against his back, and unlike getting laid, she had to put complete trust in his ability to keep her safe. She didn’t like giving up control, especially to do something she had sworn she never would.

 

To his credit, he didn’t push the accelerator, but easing them out to the exit, and when he turned onto the road, he drove just as gently. She doubted he rode this way on his own, but she was grateful he wasn’t trying to scare the shit out of her right away. He increased his speed gradually as they continued, and stray hairs blew out of her clip, flying around her face in the brisk wind that felt fresh on her face.

 

He turned a corner, and the bike leaned. Susan nearly panicked as he leaned with it, and she had to lean with him. She was sure they were going to skid across the ground any second, crushing their legs beneath the heavy bike, but he righted it and sped down the street. Overwhelmed, Susan looked from side to side, noticing the buildings they passed streaking behind them. She’d never noticed how quickly the world went by in a car, and now, she wondered just how fast he drove. But it didn’t matter; he held steady, and she loosened her hold on his waist just a bit so air could flow between them and cool her.

 

The sensation made her throw her head back, and for a moment, she didn’t seem to be connected to the ground. The machine that vibrated beneath her disappeared with the road, and the wind carried her body. She closed her eyes and imagined clouds floating beneath her, and it made her laugh out loud.

 

The bike slowed, and she came back to earth. They were at a red light, and suddenly, she was terrified.
What the hell am I thinking?
This was so stupid. She could have been killed at any moment! And yet, a little voice at the back of her head reminded her that this was living. If she was always scared of the consequences of life, how could she really live?

 

Despite her terror, Susan was almost disappointed as Jim pulled back into the dealership parking lot and stopped beside her car. Feeling awkward once again, she dismounted and pulled off her goggles, then reached to try to smooth the mess of hair that had come out of its clip. With a teasing grin, Jim reached up and tucked a stray strand behind her ear. “So, what do you think?”

 

Susan didn’t want to say she’d truly enjoyed it, but she couldn’t lie. She nodded. “I think I get it now.”

 

He stopped the engine so they didn’t have to shout and pulled off his sunglasses. “Do you?” His eyes twinkled.

 

She shrugged. “As much as a non-biker can, I think. Yes.” Susan thought about inviting him over. Something about that ride had aroused her. But her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she scowled as she dug it out.

 

As she stared at the text from Eric, the world spun, and she felt faint. She needed to sit down.

 

Jim was off the bike and grabbing her. “What is it, Susan?”

 

She shook her head. “I have to go.”

 

He nodded, not even questioning her. “Are you okay to drive?”

 

Not really.
“I’ll be fine. I’ll call you later.”

 

Jim hesitated as she went around to the driver’s side of her car. “I may or may not be available, but if I don’t answer, I’ll call you back as soon as I can. I might be on the road or out of town.”

 

Susan gritted her teeth. “What you should be doing is taking care of your leg.”

 

“Take care of yourself, Susan. I’m taking care of the leg, I promise.” He closed her door and waved, and Susan sat with the engine running while she watched him drive away.

 

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