The Nomad Series-Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  “No, I don’t ask for permission. It’s not my thing,” I say honestly. “I’m giving you my word.”

  “You’re drugged up on pain meds,” he accuses.

  “Maybe, but it don’t change nothing. I’m going to marry Ally as soon as we put this Yankovich shit to bed. I’m going to make beautiful little babies with her too. Lots and lots of babies. I think she’d look fucking cute as hell on the back of my bike with a belly full of little Deuces.”

  “Deuce,” Cobra growls and this time I’m sure I smile.

  “You better get yourself a sidecar,” Celeste teases, smiling too.

  “Fuck yeah,” I agree. “The world needs a bunch of little Deuces running around the streets. Devilishly handsome boys with their mama’s fire coursing through their veins.”

  “What if you have girls?” Celeste asks.

  “Jesus, fuck, Celeste,” Cobra warns. “Don’t encourage the crazy.”

  “What? I think it would be nice if the girls had cousins to grow up with.”

  “Oh, fuck this,” Cobra mutters. “Months ago you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants and now you’re suddenly ready to give it to one woman for the rest of your life?” He pauses, cringing as he digests his own words. My guess is he’s having a visual of me and his sister rolling around in the hay.

  Lord knows I am.

  Shot, half dead, lungs collapsed and all, I’d give anything to feel that tight body wrapped around me right now. It doesn’t matter that I probably couldn’t get my dick up if my life depended on it, but a man can dream.

  And dream I do.

  I dream of tomorrow.

  I dream of waking up to that freckled face beauty.

  I dream of long rides on my bike with Ally wrapped around me and the wind at our backs.

  Then I dream of a different kind of ride and picture Ally on top of me, riding my cock until the sun comes up.

  Beautiful.

  Fucking beautiful.

  “How’s he doing?” Jack asks.

  “Where did you come from?”

  “Hell,” he mutters, rubbing his hands over his tired face. Celeste leans back, inspecting my shoulder.

  “I think I closed the wounds successfully. It helped that the bullets weren’t lodged inside,” she says, turning to Jack. “I’m going to start a tab for you.”

  “I appreciate you helping out,” he replies.

  “I appreciate you returning my family safe and sound to me,” she states.

  “You lookin’ for a patch, sweetheart?” he asks, his lips quirking slightly as he turns to Cobra. “She’s a keeper, brother.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Cobra says, turning his eyes back to Celeste.

  “So is yours,” Jack says to me.

  “Yeah, she is,” I reply proudly.

  “She stole my wife’s car.”

  “I heard,” I tell him. I pause a minute and study the worn features of his face. “Thank you,” I murmur thoughtfully.

  “Ain’t nothing to thank me for, brother.”

  “What happened to the Bastards?”

  “What do you think happened to them?” Jack answers with a smile. “Bas and Needles are cremating them.”

  The last I heard we didn’t own a fucking oven. We dug our holes deep and turned the dirt over the poor suckers that crossed us.

  “Wanna explain that one?”

  “Not really,” Jack replies, cocking his head to the side. “Something I want to say to you, Cowboy.”

  His steel gaze tells me I’m fucked.

  Make that motherfucked.

  “You ever take your cut off in front of me again and I’ll torch your ass. Now, you should’ve been straight with me from the get go but that secret is burning as we speak which means it’s over and done with. You fucked up but we’re going to move on because we got bigger fish to fry. You hear me?”

  “Yankovich?”

  “You bet your fucking ass, I mean Yankovich,” he says as he slaps his hands on his thighs and stands tall.

  Tall.

  Dangerous.

  And a touch of crazy.

  About to turn, he pauses and points a finger at me.

  “One more thing,” he says, lifting an eyebrow.

  “Here it comes,” I say with a laugh. “Come on give it to me, Parrish.”

  Those dark eyes of his penetrate through my drug induced fog and rattle me.

  “You’re property of Parrish, son,” he says with conviction. Then he glances over his shoulder at Celeste and Cobra. “You’re all fucking property of Parrish.”

  That last name.

  To some that’s all it is.

  To others, to people like you and me, Parrish means family.

  It means finding your place in this crazy world.

  It means home.

  It means I’m not a roamer any more.

  -Forty-seven-

  ALLY

  I lay my head on Deuce’s chest, careful of his shoulder wounds and wrap my arms around his midsection. My fingers trace the letters on his abdomen, gliding over the single word.

  Unscarred.

  We all have wounds. We all have scars. Like tattoos they tell the story of your life. They mark the highs and lows of your ride. Some scars are visible while others remain hidden. It’s what you make of them that matters. If you let your scars define you then you’ll never get to enjoy the beautiful things.

  The simple things that make every trial and tribulation worthwhile.

  The things that make all your nightmares fade and allow you to dream.

  “Who says sinners don’t end up in heaven?” Deuce mutters, causing me to lift my head from his chest.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you,” I murmur as his hooded gaze bores into me.

  “You didn’t. The pain meds must be wearing off,” he replies as he struggles to wrap his good arm around my shoulders.

  “Should I go grab Celeste?”

  “No, I don’t need Celeste.”

  “What do you need then?”

  “You,” he says with a lazy smile. “My fearless Bonnie.”

  “I’m a badass.”

  “Yeah, you are. There aren’t too many girls who would’ve done what you did.”

  “Sure there is,” I argue.

  “No, there’s not. You’re special, Ally. You’re the woman men dream they will find, the woman they roam the whole fucking world looking for and never find.”

  “You found me.”

  “Yeah, and I ain’t ever letting go.”

  “You promise?” I pause and roll my eyes. “Oh, wait, I forgot you don’t make promises.”

  “Wiseass,” he grunts, clearing his throat. “You know where my pants are?”

  I glance down at the sweatpants hung low on his waist and shake my head.

  “I think Celeste threw them out.”

  “Well, shit. Did she empty the pockets at least?”

  Biting my lip, I turn toward the breakfast nook and spot his wallet but I can’t tell if there is anything else over there.

  “Your wallet is on the counter,” I say, turning back to him.

  “Grab it, please.”

  Carefully, I maneuver myself over him and off the couch. As I stand he reaches for my sweatpants, tugging me closer. I nearly tumble but then I feel his hand on my ass.

  “Goddamn,” he groans, giving it a forceful squeeze. I swat his hand away and grab the wallet. When I return, I hold the wallet out of his reach and eye him skeptically.

  “You know you were shot, right?”

  “Yep, twice.”

  “And you know we’re currently sleeping on my brother’s couch with my niece around who likes to wake in the middle of the night?”

  “What’s your point?”

  “The point is you don’t need a condom because we’re not having sex.”

  “Pity,” he mutters as amusement flickers in his eyes. “All right, so if sex is off the table does that mean breakfast is too?”

  “If you’re hungry I ca
n make you toast.”

  “Oh no, sweetheart, we’re going to have to lay some things out.”

  Furrowing my eyebrows, I glance at him and then divert my eyes to the orange bottle of pain meds. Maybe he’s wrong, maybe he’s overdosing.

  “What are you talking about? You just said you were hungry.”

  “No, I mentioned breakfast and you brought up toast. That’s not breakfast, and before you say eggs that ain’t going to cut it either. We’re going to do things right, starting with the first meal of the day.”

  “I don’t cook.”

  “You don’t have to know how to cook to feed me, darlin’. All you need to do is spread your legs and sit on my face every morning. Ain’t no better way to wake up.”

  I laugh out loud.

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he chuckles.

  “So then, no condoms,” I say as I crawl onto his lap and hand him his wallet.

  “Not for breakfast. Hell, not ever. I don’t want anything between us,” he says as he extends his good arm and grabs a hold of my hip. Slowly, he tugs me forward, rocking me against him. “I know you’re just getting your life back and I want to watch you check off all those things on your list.”

  “Why do I feel like there’s a but in there?”

  “No.” He shakes his head.

  Releasing my hip, he opens his wallet with one hand and pulls out a book of matches.

  “I think it’s safe to say we already created fire,” I tell him as he chucks the wallet onto the floor and hands me the book.

  “Damn straight we did. Beautiful fucking fire,” he rasps, flicking open the book of matches.

  “A fire that you never want to escape.”

  “The kind you can’t,” he murmurs as he brings the book to his mouth and tugs the lone match free. The empty book of matches joins his wallet on the floor and he pulls the match from between his lips and hands it to me.

  “Been hanging onto this thing for what seems like forever,” he says. “You’re the last match in the book, Ally. The one that burns until the end.”

  I take the match between my fingers and stare at it for a moment before I draw my attention back to him and smile.

  Bright like a flame.

  “You love me,” I accuse.

  “I love you hard,” he confirms. “You and me, we’re going to ride to the end of the line.”

  “Just us, Caleb West and Alexandria Richardson,” I whisper as I close my hand around the match and lean down to cover his mouth with mine.

  Then I hear Bonnie Parker whisper in my ear.

  Yeah, I’m still by his side.

  Yeah, I’m Bonnie and he’s Clyde.

  Hand in hand, that’s how we ride.

  THE END

  Hallelujah!

  -Epilogue-

  DEUCE

  I’m a firm believer a man should never rush his meal and seeing as breakfast is the most important one of the day, I take my time. Savoring the taste, I flick my tongue over her clit before licking her all the way down. Ally rides my face like she rides everything else—with every bit of fire in her soul.

  Being a survivor, losing as many years as she did—taught her to live in the moment, to leap with all she has. Every inhibition is lost, and that’s a beautiful fucking thing. Especially when we’re fucking. It don’t matter none—whether it’s my tongue fucking her senseless or my cock, she takes and takes.

  Gripping the wrought iron headboard, her thighs clench around my head as she goes off like a fucking firework.

  “Yes, goddamn it, yes!” she cries as her pretty little pussy throbs against my tongue. Sucking every last drop, I grip her thighs and push her back, sliding out from under her. Flipping onto my knees, I watch her chest rise and fall with each breath and grab her legs. I drag her body down and wrap her legs around my waist. Then I take her hands and pin them over her head and dip my head. Staring into her blue eyes, I press my lips to her nose, count her freckles and push my cock inside her.

  Panting she locks her ankles around me and arches her hips off the bed. With every thrust, she takes another inch until I’m fully seated inside her and then we remain still.

  “You feel me?”

  “I feel you,” she murmurs.

  I slide out of her and charge back in making her take me in one stroke. Fluidly we move together as if we’ve been fucking each other our whole lives. As if this is all we know as if there was never anyone before me or before her—as if we were put on this earth only to do this with one another.

  Bending my head, I take her nipple between my teeth and tug. She cries out and begs for more. More of my teeth, more of my cock, more of everything. Never one to begrudge her, I give her what she needs. I give it fast and hard until her hips buck and she thrashes against the mattress. I give it to her as she screams my name and comes all over my cock. I give and give until I can’t anymore until my balls are too heavy and my cock spasms inside of her. Letting go, I come hard and give her something else.

  And she takes every bit.

  We create fire.

  Beautiful fucking fire.

  Her legs fall from me and I drop my weight onto her before rolling us over so she’s on top of me. Silently we both lay tangled in one another catching our breath.

  Minutes later, I lift my head from her chest and kiss her softly before pulling out and rolling onto my back. My arm snakes around her and I pull her into the crook of my arm.

  “What time is it?” she murmurs as she slings her arm around my stomach.

  I have no idea what day it is let alone the time. Since Ally and I moved into our apartment, every day has been like the one before. When we’re not breaking in our new bed, she’s got me painting walls, hanging pictures and building Ikea furniture.

  Fucking Ikea.

  The black hole of home decorating.

  Make that, the ninth layer of hell. When did we start buying furniture in pieces? Shouldn’t the drawers come with a dresser? And don’t get me started on the fucking knobs. That shit should all be included.

  Reaching over, I grab my watch off the nightstand that took twelve hours to build. Turning it over to display the time, I glance at it quickly before tossing it back on the table and wrap my arms around her.

  “We got at least an hour before we have to get out of this bed,” I tell her, burying my nose in her coconut scented hair.

  “Or we can get up, have breakfast and you can hang a few frames before we head out for the day,” she suggests, throwing her leg over my thigh.

  “More frames?”

  I swear we’re running out of walls but whatever—I’ll never tell her no. Giving her this, letting her decorate our apartment, watching as she puts her touch on everything—well, it’s better than watching her pick out lipstick and toothpaste. She’s making us a home, something she hasn’t had since she was a kid and something I never had at all.

  Aside from the twenty-seven trips to Ikea, we’re constantly taking trips to Target and always come home with another picture frame to fill. If I wasn’t head over heels in love with her, I would’ve surely slipped over the edge when I came home and found a photo of me and my old man on one of the end tables in the living room.

  The old photo was the only thing I had left of my pops and to say the thing had seen better days would’ve been the understatement of the year. Somehow, Ally managed to preserve the photo and framed it. It sits alongside a photograph of her parents.

  “This is the best one yet,” she says, as she rests her chin on my chest. Those blue eyes find mine and she grins up at me.

  “I may have a shopping problem,” she confesses. “But I had to have it. It was perfect for us.”

  “Let me see,” I say, threading my fingers through her hair.

  “It’s on the coffee table,” she replies before taking her lower lip between her teeth. “So is the hammer and nails.”

  I laugh out loud and give her hair a playful tug.

  “Of course it is,”
I say, releasing my hold on her hair. Sliding my hands down the curve of her back I grab her ass. “Fine, I’ll hang your pictures.”

  “Our pictures,” she corrects.

  “Right,” I laugh, patting her ass before I let go.

  That goddamn ass—I’ll never get enough.

  I throw my legs over the edge of the bed and grab my sweats from the floor. About to pull them up my legs, I pause when I feel Ally’s lips touch the scar on my shoulder. Her mouth lingers for a moment before it travels to the second scar and I glance over my shoulder at her.

  Kissing the puckered flesh on my shoulder is something she does every chance she gets. It’s almost as if she thinks she can kiss them and they’ll magically disappear. But, like I can’t make the scar on her belly vanish she can’t make the ones on my shoulder disappear.

  It’s okay though.

  Those scars remind us we’ve prevailed and when the future is bleak, it’s those scars that will make us fight harder to overcome.

  “I’m going to shower,” she says as she scrambles off the bed. I watch her hips sway as she grabs her clothes and thank the good Lord for sparing me and giving me more time with Ally.

  Then I force myself not to join her in the shower and pull my sweatpants on. Padding out of the bedroom, I make my way down the small hallway and into the living room. Resting on top of the coffee table is two framed movie posters of Bonnie and Clyde.

  My lips curve into a smile as I stare down at them and then I notice the books piled next to the frames. Stacking one frame on top of the other, I sit down on our red sofa and sift through the pile of books.

  The one on top is Ally’s journal—a gift from her therapist. Every night before she goes to sleep she jots something down. Sometimes it’s a dark memory but most times it’s a new experience, something she never thought she’d get to do. Respecting her privacy, I flip through the pages and smile proudly when I realize she’s filled most of the pages. Setting it aside, I reach for the second book and my eyes widen slightly at the GED study book.

  She had mentioned going back to school and wanting to get a job but I didn’t realize she had struck another match. To be fair, my head has been pulled in a million different directions lately. When I’m not with Ally building shit and loving her, I’m with my club.