The Nomad Series-Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  “Yeah, nurse, tell me,” Jagger taunts.

  Finding the courage to face him, I lift my eyes and peer across the bed into the blue eyes that always have the power to hold me captive the minute they lock with mine.

  “Cute,” I clip, turning back to Mr. Scott. “Dr. Glassman has you on a low-salt diet. You absolutely should not be having Salami.”

  “I thought you were on my side,” he grunts.

  “Trust me, I am on your side,” I assure him with a wink.

  “You’re lucky you’re pretty,” he huffs.

  Reaching into my pockets, I smile and pull the two puddings out.

  “I have something for you, but you have to promise not to be a pain in the ass,” I warn, lifting the pudding cups like a prize.

  “Marry me,” he says and reaches for the cups. I pull my hands back and shake my head.

  “Nope, not until you give me your word you will be on your best behavior tonight,” I tell him as I peel back the foil on one of the cups and slide the spoon inside. I watch as his eyes dip down to the spoon and then I shove it in my mouth. “So good,” I tease, dipping the spoon again.

  “I won’t make a peep,” he promises, holding out his hands again as he smirks at me through the white whiskers covering his face. “Now fork over the goods, nurse Spinelli.”

  The corners of my lips twitch as I hand him the pudding and watch as he digs in. He moans through the first spoonful and I turn to Jagger.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the room,” I say, straightening my posture as I chance looking up at him.

  He raises an eyebrow as he crosses his arms and stares back at me. I draw in a breath, trying to keep my composure under his gaze. My tough exterior slips from me as Jagger’s eyes drop to travel the length of me. Suddenly feeling naked, I clear my throat and remind myself he’s Cobra now and I shouldn’t let him have any kind of effect on me. The thing is; I’m powerless because when two hearts have been apart for so long, it doesn’t matter where you are or what’s changed around you. Those hearts fall in sync with one another, they beat to their own chorus and block out the rest of the world.

  “Like now,” I struggle.

  “You heard my future wife—”

  Both us of turn abruptly to Mr. Scotto and he blows me a kiss.

  “A deal is a deal and as long as I behave you said you’d marry me,” he points out.

  “Mr. Scotto, I meant I’d give you the pudding,” I clarify.

  “Darlin’ how many times do I have to tell you to call me Wolf?”

  A groan escapes my lips as I think about the ridiculous nicknames these men go by. I wonder if someone gave them these names or if they chose them for themselves. Especially Jagger—I wonder if there is any meaning behind the name he uses now, a name he so proudly wears.

  “I’ll leave you two to celebrate the impending nuptials then,” Cobra says.

  My eyes dart to him and I see the satisfied smirk work its way across the thin line of his lips. I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Honestly, I don’t even know how to respond to him anymore. I can’t pretend like he’s the person I’ve loved my whole life, nor can I go on pretending he’s a stranger.

  He saunters to the door, pauses and turns back to us. He speaks to Wolf but his eyes roam back to me and fix to mine.

  “Careful, man, she looks like a keeper.”

  His tone is full of regret, but his words are a lie.

  Then he does what he does best and walks away.

  Shocker.

  -Ten-

  Cobra

  “The crazy fuck actually thinks he will be able to convince her to be his fourth wife. I’m not kidding, Stryker, pick up your fucking phone, man,” I snarl, before I disconnect the call. Like all the other messages I’ve left for him, this one will probably go ignored too.

  Selfish prick.

  Not that I blame him.

  If I had the willing body of a woman keeping me warm at night, I wouldn’t be sleeping at that fucking motel, and I most definitely wouldn’t be coming up for air. No, if I had the woman I wanted, I’d fucking lock us away from the rest of the world and keep my head between her legs. I’d live off her pussy for days. I’d fuck her long, hard and raw for as long as I possibly could.

  “Jesus, fuck,” I groan.

  Adjusting my junk, I shove my phone into my pocket and peer across the dark room at Wolf. The man snores louder than a freight train but thank God he’s sleeping or I’m not sure he’d make it to see the light of dawn.

  Standing true to his word, Wolf quit hollering and demanding that I go grab him a hero from the pork store, but he tortured me in other ways. I had to hear him go on and on about how hot his nurse is and how if the club wasn’t in ruins he’d be milking this heart attack for all its worth just to keep seeing her face.

  It wasn’t a bad plan, and I toyed with the idea of faking a heart attack myself, but she’d probably quit her job if I was her patient. I’ve got to force her to look at me when we’re in the same room together otherwise she does her best to ignore the shit out of me. I watch her interact with Wolf and I’m fucking jealous because she genuinely smiles at the fucker. She gives him her undivided attention, her kindness and her humor. All the things that made me fall for her, all the things I miss most in this world.

  Then she turns to me, pretends I’m a stranger, like I don’t know every goddamn thing about her. Like I don’t know how she tastes and what drives her fucking insane.

  I fucking hate it.

  I hate that she looks at me with resentment. I hate myself more for being the reason she does. Even when I told her to forget me, I didn’t really think she would. I didn’t think it was possible because I could never forget her. For once in our lives she listened to me, and two years ago when she said goodbye—she meant it.

  I fucking hate that too.

  Swiping a hand over my face, I glance at the clock on the wall and note it’s four in the morning, making it hours since Celeste last checked in on Wolf. Realizing she’s probably avoiding me at all costs, I decide to go grab myself a cup of coffee, leaving the room vacant and giving her the chance to do her job without having to look at me.

  The hall is quiet except for the two nurses laughing softly to one another—neither of them are Celeste and I wonder if she’s left for the night. I order myself to stop thinking about her and remember the vending machine I spotted earlier by the elevator. It won’t have coffee but I’ll take a bottle of water and a bag of chips as long as I don’t have to listen as Wolf’s tonsils strangle him.

  I hear her curse before I round the bank of elevators, she comes into my line of sight and I watch her smack the side of the vending machine repeatedly.

  “Piece of shit machine,” she hisses.

  Another man, a better man would turn and walk. I’m not that guy. I’m the guy who keeps going back for more, the guy who gets high on the feeling of loss and regret. The guy who is never satisfied with one taste, the guy who keeps hitting his vein until he overdoses and finds a way out of his own hell. Like any true junkie with no control, my body gravitates for another fix.

  Without a sound, I step behind her, waiting for her body to acknowledge my presence. Her body goes still, her back straightens. If I run my hands down her arms I bet I’ll find the little blonde hairs standing at attention.

  Satisfaction courses through me as I lean closer and place my hand next to hers on the side of the machine.

  “You’re doing it wrong,” I whisper over her shoulder.

  Quickly, she moves to my side, angling her head a fraction so our eyes meet. I wait for her to turn around and walk away but she stands there quietly assessing me.

  “Oh, you think you can do it better?” she challenges.

  One question becomes a victory for me and my brain works overtime trying to figure out how to keep her here in front of me. I turn to the machine and slide my hand down the side of it.

  “You got to give it a little finesse,
” I start, stroking the side of the machine. I have no fucking idea how to get the candy out of the machine, but I’ve got her attention so I’ll pretend I’m not full of shit as long as I can.

  “Finesse,” she repeats.

  “Yes,” I tell her, twisting my head to keep my eyes on her. “Be gentle, find the right spot.” My hand pauses. “Then hit it hard, give it all you got.”

  Holding her gaze, I slam the palm of my hand against the side of the machine.

  “Watch it release,” I gruffly whisper.

  The faint flush of her cheeks excites me and I yearn for more. I want the look she gives when she needs me to hit her spot roughly. I want the look she gives me when I make her come.

  As if she can read my mind, she shoots down my dreams and points to the machine.

  “Been a while since you found the spot, huh?” she teases, fighting not to laugh in my face.

  For a moment all the resentment fades from her eyes and she looks at me like she used to…like we’re back to being us. I feel my lips quirk and I don’t fight it. I give her the smile I used to give her every time her smart mouth fired back at me.

  “I may be a little rusty,” I admit, reaching into the pocket of my jeans to pull out a crisp bill. Regretfully, I peel my eyes off her and feed the dollar into the machine. I don’t have to look at the offerings to know she was trying to get her hands on the bag of peanut M&M’s. I type the selection and the bag she originally purchased drops down. I bend down, taking the candy from the machine and offer it to her.

  “I could’ve done that too,” she says, taking the candy from me. “Now a bag of candy that costs a dollar cost us two,” she sasses sarcastically.

  It doesn’t go unnoticed that she used the word us and that fucks with me a little.

  “But thank you,” she adds, tearing the corner of the bag with her teeth. I watch as she spills some into her palm before popping them into her mouth.

  “You’re welcome,” I rasp, clearing my throat before I point to the bag in her hand. “You going to share?”

  “I wasn’t planning on it,” she replies, throwing back another handful.

  I laugh slightly as she reaches for my hand, turns over my palm and gives me two M&M’s. She quickly lets go of my hand and tips her chin.

  “There,” she says softly.

  “Still hate to share I see,” I observe as I pop the candy into my mouth.

  “Well, some things never change no matter how much everything else does,” she retorts. The tension between us resurfaces, and she shoves the candy into the pocket of her scrubs. “I should get back to work—”

  “Or you could show me where to get a cup of coffee and then go back to work,” I quickly interrupt. “Isn’t there a cafeteria or something in this joint?”

  “The cafeteria is closed to visitors at this hour,” she responds, glancing at the watch on her wrist. Lifting her chin, she sighs and tilts her head to the side. “They keep it open for the staff.”

  “I bought you M&M’s,” I remind her.

  “You never played fair,” she says thoughtfully as she presses the button for the elevator. “Fine, one cup of coffee.”

  “Careful, don’t sound too excited or I might think you like me,” I reply sarcastically. She lifts her head and I wink at her as the elevator doors open wide. “Ladies first.”

  “Let’s not get carried away,” she smirks, stepping into the elevator. “I feel sorry for you. It seems like my future husband can be a lot to handle,” she jokes as I step beside her and she presses the floor for the cafeteria.

  “You think it’s a joke, but he somehow tricked three other women into marrying his ass,” I tell her, shoving my hands into my pockets to keep from touching her.

  “I met one of them the other day. She brought one of his sons to see him and tried to hit him up for more child support,” she reveals, chuckling slightly. “He buzzed me into his room, asked me to draw his blood so he could give it to her,” she pauses and continues to laugh.

  “Sounds like Wolf.”

  “Why do you call him that?”

  “Like Cobra is my road name, Wolf is his,” I say simply, shrugging my shoulders. “None of us really refer to one another by our real names.

  “Does it mean anything?”

  “There is meaning behind some and others not so much, but it also ties us to our club and that’s something.”

  “So, does Wolf’s name mean something?”

  “It means he hates the fucking name his mother gave him,” I joke before shaking my head as the elevator doors open. “You’ll have to ask him.”

  “What about yours?” she questions as we step off the elevator.

  I think about the question and how I should respond as she leads me down the corridor.

  “It’s a means to an end,” I say finally.

  “The end of Jagger?”

  “Something like that,” I admit.

  “Does everyone call you Cobra?”

  “Everyone except you,” I point out.

  She pulls the badge off her scrubs as we reach the cafeteria and swipes it to unlock the doors.

  “I can’t help it,” she confesses, turning to me. “You’ll be always Jagger to me.”

  The words come softly as she touches my leather vest. Her thumb glides over the patch that reads my name before she drops it and clears her throat.

  “Did you want something to eat too, or just coffee?”

  I remain rooted in place and watch her walk toward the counter. I’ve been telling myself I need her to see me for what I am and not what I used to be or could have been if I didn’t choose to live life suffering and sinning. Hearing her say those words, knowing I’ll always be the guy she fell in love with makes me want to be the guy she falls in love with all over again.

  “Did I lose you?” she questions over her shoulder.

  No and I’m wondering if she ever truly did.

  “Sorry,” I say.

  Sorry I ever made you think you did.

  “Do you still take it black?”

  I nod watching as she pours me a cup of coffee and then one for herself.

  “Sugar?”

  Shit, this was a bad fucking idea.

  And so is this…

  I move next to her, take both cups from her hands and set them down in front of me. First, I fix hers with two equals and milk then I fix mine, securing the lids.

  She reaches for her coffee, but I shake my head.

  “I remember too,” I say quietly before stepping around her and making my way toward the checkout.

  I remember every fucking memory.

  Every tear.

  Every touch.

  Every fucking smile.

  Each one mine.

  -Eleven-

  Cobra

  Age: 14

  “Richardson, you’re in,” Coach calls from the sidelines. “Get your helmet on and hustle onto the field.”

  I’m sure I imagined the order. I lift my head and turn my attention to the junior varsity coach that is commanding me to play. For the first half of the season I sat on this bench, waiting for a chance to prove myself to my team, but it never came. Now was my shot, my opportunity to show my team and everyone in the stands I deserve to be here.

  I grab my helmet, fit it to my head and jog onto the field. Reaching the huddle, I listen to the quarterback as he includes me into our play. We all put our hands in the middle, chant and then break apart, moving to take our positions on the field.

  Adrenaline courses through me as the bright stadium lights try to blind me and I turn my head to the stands before the whistle blows. In a crowd of hundreds, it’s easy to spot her—the girl with the biggest smile in the whole damn place. She’s wearing my jersey and holding a sign bigger than her that reads my number.

  Since the season began, Celeste hasn’t missed a single game. Normally she’s sitting on the bleachers with my sister, but Alexandria is working tonight. She’s the only one screaming my name, the others have n
o idea what I’m capable of or how badly I want this. They don’t know I’ve been dreaming of this moment since I first held a football in my hands. But she does…she knows everything about me.

  The prettiest girl in the whole damn school is there for me and I’ll be damned if I don’t make her proud.

  This one is for you, Cel.

  I hear the quarterback shout over his shoulder and I turn my attention to the ball, keeping my eyes on it as I run. Defense works to tackle and block us, but I find the sweet spot in the field and charge for it. The opposing team doesn’t see me as a threat and put their efforts into blocking the first string players they’ve studied in their playbooks. My father’s voice replays over and over, reminding me to follow my gut.

  Intuition knows the game.

  My eyes lock with the quarterback’s as I run backward and hold my hands out against my chest. He throws the ball; it’s almost as if everything around me freezes except for the ball and the girl cheering me on. My fingers grip the leather as I catch the ball and tuck it safely to my chest and run down the field.

  My cleats pound the turf, swallowing up the yards until I’m more than halfway down the field and they realize I’m the guy with the ball—the guy that is forty yards away from scoring his first touchdown. A touchdown that will win the game for his team.

  I quicken my speed as the defense from the other team tries to tackle me. My shoulder collides with him and he drops to the ground. I don’t look back, I keep my eyes pinned to the end zone and let my teammates guard me as I sprint forward.

  Cheers implode around me as I score the touchdown and win the game.

  My team charges to the end zone and tackles me to the ground gleefully. Not only did I score the winning touchdown, but I secured our place in the state playoffs. The next few minutes are a whirlwind as I’m pulled and pushed in a million different directions and congratulated by my team and coaches. I don’t have time to glance back at the bleachers, but I know she’s sharing my victory.

  The celebration moves from the field to the locker room as we change into our street clothes and the coach gives us a final pep talk. Before I leave he tells me to be prepared to play first string at our next game.