What he told me, instead, was a hell of a lot different.
“We don’t get to pick the life we’re born into, ya know,” he paused. “Summer sure didn’t.”
He squeezed my shoulders as we headed back to his old pickup. The weeds were tall, up to our knees, and the sun was low in the sky. Who knew the country farms of Iowa could be so damn soothing.
“Summer doesn’t know the kind of life I’ve lived.” Never would either.
He paused behind the truck bed, bushy white brows lifted mid-forehead. “You don’t know much about my granddaughter at all, do ya?”
His words were accusing. Protective too. I shouldn’t have said what I did, but at the same time, I wasn’t gonna hide who I was. Nor would I hide thoughts just to please others. That wasn’t me.
“Not really, other than she’s got a good job and is best friends with my stepsister.”
“Hmm.”
I frowned, rubbing a hand over the back of my sweaty neck. “Listen. Summer and I… we barely know each other. Come from two different worlds. I’m not sure what she’s told you about our relationship, but we’re not together like that.”
“I know, son.” He nodded, grabbing the tackle box from my free hand, then shoving it into the truck bed beside our poles. Once he shut the tailgate, he brushed his hands together and continued. “But you should know that her life wasn’t always easy either. She’s been through her fair share of problems, still goin’ through them, actually. Just don’t jump to conclusions is all I’m saying.”
I looked to the high grass and swallowed, hating how I was curious to know what Summer’s version of hard was compared to mine.
“Now. Let’s get these fish on home. They ain’t gonna fry themselves.”
Thoughts heavy, I jumped into the passenger seat, thankful for today, for the chance to get to know this man who reminded me of my own grandpa. The man who’d abandoned my father and I all those years ago when Pops wouldn’t let me leave the club. When I didn’t feel safe enough to do so myself.
He lived near Vegas. Part of me wondered if we’d have time to visit him. The other part of me knew we’d likely not be welcomed. Slade had mentioned me swinging by on my way. But the thought of him running me off was enough of a deterrent to keep me away.
At a little past five, when the two of us were walking back into the house, Peaches scared me shitless, jumping out from the living room like a ninja.
“Summer’s left already for the evening. Has some dinner plans with her friend.” She buttoned her sweater-thing, then looked at me with accusing eyes. “There won’t be a fish fry after all this evening, I’m afraid.”
I scratched at my chin, the stubble rough beneath my fingers. Even growing up the way I did, nobody made me as nervous as this lady.
“You know when she’ll be back?” I asked.
“Late, I suppose.” She set her hands on her hips, red painted lips pursed. “She’s out with an old friend of hers, like I said. Not sure if it’s a gentleman or lady.” She pulled her purse off a hook by the front door and shouldered it, looking to her husband. Summer’s grandpa silently settled an arm around her shoulders, giving me pity eyes.
“Thanks.” I waited a sec. “For letting me know.” I smothered my grin with my hand when I figured out the woman’s angle. She was trying to make me jealous about Summer going out with a friend—a friend I already knew was a chick.
For some reason, Peaches wouldn’t let the idea of me and her granddaughter being together go. Unlike her husband, though, she didn’t have a clue who I was, or what I’d done in the past. She sure as hell would be changing her mind about me if that were the case.
“Now, we’re going to bingo for the night, remember?” Peaches huffed. “You’re more than welcome to join us if you’d like.”
“No, thanks.”
They left twenty minutes later, leaving me alone in their huge, old house. Apparently, they trusted me enough to do so—most people wouldn’t have. It was… different. Kind of nice.
The rest of my night was spent watching TV or trying to call Maya. Her phone kept going straight to voicemail, though. At least I knew I had the right number.
Sometime later I fell asleep on the couch, waking to the sound of shuffling feet, followed by a thump, and Summer saying, “Oh, shit.”
Curiosity kicked my ass, and I got to my knees and peered over the back of the couch. She was bent over, picking up some wooden frame off the floor, her perfect ass right there on display. Instead of making myself known, I waited to see if she’d notice me first.
She hiccupped, then mumbled something else under her breath as she set the picture back on a shelf. Then she hiccupped again, leaning back against the wall by the door before sliding to the floor, her eyes shutting along the way. With a heavy sigh, she tugged both knees to her chest. Long bits of her blonde hair stuck to her face and neck as she dropped her forehead to her knees.
Minutes passed without a movement. I thought that maybe she’d fallen asleep… until I heard it, even over the loud rumble of thunder outside. Sniffles. Followed by a sob.
“Fuck,” I whispered under my breath. Something was wrong. And no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t ignore it. If there were problems, I dealt with them whether they were my business or not. It’s who I was. What I did. The Red Dragon in me that’d never let up.
“You good?” I crouched down in front of her a minute later, running a hand through my hair.
Slowly, she lifted her head and met my stare. “Niyol?”
Her cheeks were wet, black shit running down both sides. Her bottom lip… It trembled so hard that it made my gut tighten. Made me feel something I wasn’t expecting.
Fear.
“What’s wrong?” I touched her hand, out of my comfort zone.
She shut her eyes again, breathing heavy. “Everything.”
“Did someone hurt you?” I sat beside her against the door, wondering if her grandparents could hear us. They’d gotten home about an hour ago, and I’d played like I was asleep, not wanting to talk.
“I’m so tired, Niyol.” She laid her head against my shoulder, shocking me. Wetness dripped onto my bare skin, and I swallowed hard, not used to the intimacy—regretting immediately that I hadn’t put on a shirt.
I’d never been a touchy-feely guy before. Sex and foreplay were as emotional as I got. Until this woman came along apparently.
Why was that?
“Let’s go to sleep. I’ll stay on the couch tonight.”
“No. Not tired like that.” She sniffled, snuggling closer, her head dropping to my bare chest. Lips grazed my nipples as she spoke, and I sucked in a breath. “I’m tired of hurting. I want to feel good again.”
“You’ll feel better in the morning when you sleep this all off.”
She mumbled something over the rain beating against the door that I couldn’t hear. Then finished with, “He told me that I was the only thing he’d ever need. That he loved me. How can I sleep that away?”
I frowned, keeping my arms at my side. If I didn’t, I’d wrap her up in them. “Who?”
“Landon.”
Before I could ask who Landon was, she started in again. “He told me he loved me, and he gave me that ring, and I bought a dress…”
Shit. So she’d been engaged then?
More sobs, more tears. And because I couldn’t stand the sound, I dropped an arm around her waist and squeezed her a little closer, setting my chin on top of her head. I didn’t make a move or speak after that, but I felt her breathing even out against me. Heard the small tiny snores exhaling from between her lips not long after too.
She’d fallen asleep on me. Another first in my book.
Weirdly transfixed by her confession, her body laying so trustingly against mine, I rubbed a hand over the back of her blonde hair, pretending for a second that this was normal. That I had every right to comfort her. Guess I couldn’t help myself. Pressed close to me like she was, Summer fit.
Tossing
my head back against the door, I looked to the dark ceiling, telling myself I didn’t need this right now. But as I tried to push the feeling away, I kind of liked the sensation of being wanted like this, even if all I was, was a drunken shoulder to cry on. Growing up in a club full of guys and the groupies who were there for only two things—protection and sex—I didn’t have much of a need to feel the emotional shit when it came to women. Not even Maya, who’d been an important part of my life, had ever made me feel like this woman did.
This softness in Summer, her vulnerability, it brought out a side of me that I never thought I’d want to explore. A need to protect something when it wasn’t club related. A need to feel something that stemmed beyond just fucking too.
Question was, would I?
Eight
Summer
We’d driven two and a half hours in near silence. My nerves were shot, and my head thundered loudly against my temples. I couldn’t take another minute of hangover driving, nor could I deal with the tension ricocheting between Niyol and me. What I needed was fresh air, ibuprofen, greasy food, and a bathroom to either pee… or possibly puke in.
After yesterday, I was truly regretting everything I’d done since agreeing to do this for Emily. Nothing had gone right, and the tension between Niyol and me had only thickened, twofold. I’m not sure what happened after I fell asleep against him, honestly, but I can tell you what I did know.
Niyol had put me to bed—in bed.
Then he’d tucked me in, under the covers.
And then this morning? He pretended like I didn’t even exist. Again.
Had my confession freaked him out? The one I’d apparently felt the drunken need to divulge in? Probably. Did I want to apologize? Absolutely. Had I? Of course not. I felt awful, and if I spoke about last night, how I’d spent the first half of my night giggling with an old friend, only to spend the latter half of it sobbing when I’d confessed my broken relationship, then I would likely start crying even more.
“I’m stopping,” I finally said somewhere outside of Omaha, Nebraska.
His answer was a grunt. No surprise there.
I pulled into the parking lot of a gas station, but Niyol forwent my invitation inside—like I figured he would—and fell back asleep.
What I needed to do was check in with Emily before she boarded her cruise ship. Give her an exaggerated version of how well this was going. My fingers hovered over the call button as I stepped out of the Rover, hesitating even still as I peed. As I strolled the aisles of the convenience store, cherry Slushie in one hand, Doritos tucked under that same armpit, I found myself shaking at the prospect of chatting with my best friend.
At the last second, in line at the checkout, I chickened out and decided texting was the best option. If I didn’t, I’d probably spill my guts—which would only cause more problems.
She got back to me within seconds, no surprise there. My guess was, she’d been waiting by the phone.
Thanks for checking in. Miss you, and love you, too.
My shoulders slumped as I read her words. Little did she know that I wasn’t happy. More so I was miserable and ready to turn this car around and say screw it. This was feeling like way more work than pleasure.
When I got back into my Rover, I made an executive decision, even if it wasn’t on my itinerary—the thing was already shot to hell anyway. “We’re gonna stay in Omaha for the rest of the day, and the night.”
Niyol barely stirred against the door. At least he wasn’t sleeping in the backseat anymore. It was a small win I’d take.
“We’ve only been driving for two hours,” he managed.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t deal right now. My head hurts.” Not to mention I was an emotional mess. Perhaps after a shower and a nap, he and I could do an early dinner in town and talk a little more. I’d apologize for my behavior from the night before. Then fix the issues once and for all between us.
“Whatever you need, Princess.”
I rolled my eyes—secretly thankful he didn’t argue with me.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I punched in the GPS for the nearest, and classiest, hotel I could find. I’d splurge if I had to. Get a suite with a whirlpool tub to soak my woes away in.
“I’ll pay.”
“Huh?” I blinked, thrown off by his words.
“For the hotel tonight.”
His announcement had me frowning. And utterly confused. “It was my idea, so I’m fine with paying for the rooms. Emily said you were short on cash, so—”
“I said I’ll pay.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Just let me, would ya?” He glared out his window, fists tight on his lap.
I narrowed my eyes, unsure of how to respond. Every second longer I spent with this man, he did, said, or acted in a way that eradicated all my preconceived notions of him—even if he had a rough way of going about it.
“Thank you,” I finally replied. “I, um… appreciate your offer.”
Another grunt. That’s all he seemed to be capable of doing today. Caveman Niyol—a name I’m sure Emily would back me on. I grinned at the thought, for the first time in hours, imagining him in some sort of leopard-print sarong, swinging from one tree to another.
Niyol nudged me with his elbow from over the console a minute later. “And I’m sorry for being an ass today. Just got shit on my mind.”
I shrugged. The asshole part bothered me, yeah, but it wasn’t like I wasn’t used to it. Sad, sad, Summer, always so accepting.
“It’s fine. I’m kind of used to assholes.”
“You shouldn’t have to be.”
“How do you mean?”
He cleared his throat. “Be used to assholes, I mean. It shouldn’t ever be okay.”
Not knowing how to respond, I could only shrug his comment away.
As I reversed out of the lot, he got quiet again. The silence was easier than it had been before, though I still wasn’t a fan of it. Thankfully it didn’t last long.
“Where would you be right now? If, you know…” He motioned his hand between us.
“If I weren’t driving you?” I got back onto the highway, swerving through traffic.
“Yeah.”
“Hmm.” I thought for a second about my answer. “I’d likely be at home, practicing cheers. I’m not only an ELA teacher, but also the head cheerleading coach for the seventh-grade girls at my school. Tryouts are coming up, and I need to create some new routines for the upcoming year.” I shrugged.
“Damn.” He chuckled, the sound surprisingly nice. “It’s no wonder you got all this energy.” He lifted his hands from his lap and did a set of spirit fingers.
I hit his thigh with the back of my hand, fighting a grin. “Don’t make fun of me. Cheerleaders are the only athletes who can fly, you know.”
He rolled his eyes and kept at his teasing. “Give me a N, give me an I, give me a Y, O, L.”
I glared at him, opening my mouth, only to wind up giggling at how ridiculous he looked. This big, bad, darkness-inducing man actually had a sense of humor? Who would’ve thought? That also sucked in its own right because a funny Niyol was a charming Niyol.
“You are the strangest man I know.”
A hint of a smile crept over his full lips as he pointed toward a row of large complexes and buildings to our left. We twisted through the interstate, the downtown already coming into view.
“See that over there?” He jabbed a finger toward a tall hotel that could only be described as a Mandarin meets a Hilton—definitely not the semi-classy one on my GPS, but a full-fledged luxury joint. “We’re staying there.”
“Uh, no. It’s going to cost a fortune.”
“You’re not paying for it.” Another grunt.
I wasn’t sure where he got that kind of money, but at the same time I was too exhausted to argue. The last twenty-four hours had drained every bit of emotional energy I could spare—the highs and lows of it all too much. So, I’d let him pay the four hundred bucks if it meant a nice, snuggly
bed to cozy up in. “Whatever you say.”
A valet came toward his door as we pulled into the turnaround about ten minutes later. He was dressed in a suit with a green bowtie and had this handlebar mustache like something out of the 1920s.
“Welcome to your palace.” Niyol smirked from over the roof when we got out. “Every princess needs to stay in one at least once in her life, right?”
I didn’t respond to his smartass remark, just shook my head and grabbed my bags from the trunk. This man would be my undoing in some way or another. The question was, could I find a way to keep myself safe in the end?
Nine
Niyol
On the fourth ring, after the tenth time in two days, Maya finally answered her phone.
Now, there I was, sitting on the edge of a hotel bed, attempting to say something that made sense. Nearly seven weeks had passed since I’d last heard her voice, so nothing about this was easy or simple like it once was.
“You’re really coming to San Diego?” Maya asked.
“Sitting in a Nebraska hotel as we speak.”
“And everything is fine?” She paused. “Things are safe? Because my uncle said shit back at the club is—”
“Yeah. Everything’s great.” I rubbed a hand over my forehead, the need to call my brothers damn near painful.
If something was going on back at home, I’d feel even more like a dick for running. I didn’t want to get into club business over the phone, no matter. Was damn shocked Flick had even mentioned anything about it to Maya at all, especially since she hadn’t bothered to show her face in Rockford for the last eight years. Plus, anyone who wasn’t a brother, didn’t follow the code or wear the patch, had no rights to anything said behind the compound doors in the past. Maybe with Flick in charge, though, it was different.
Her Wild Ride: An addictive, steamy biker MC romance suspense novel Page 6