by T. S. Joyce
“Finish it,” Ramsey growled, sitting up. God, it felt like someone was battering the inside of his skull with a sledgehammer. “Even if I was what?”
“Even if you were okay.” Rike sighed. “We’ve got bad news.”
“Great. Let’s hear it.” Every day was fuckin’ bad news, so whatever.
“Grant and Kasey got into it last night. Over something stupid. Over one of the Crow Chasers. Sabrina. Grant said something to her, and Kasey lost his shit. No reason. He doesn’t even talk to her. The boys are all riled up because of…well…”
“Because I’m fucked up.”
“Yeah.”
“So? Crows fight all the time. If they weren’t fighting, I would be worried.”
Rike gave Ethan another look, and his Second stood and took over. “Kasey killed Grant.”
“What?” Ramsey barked out, sitting up straighter.
“Pulled a knife on him and went to town. Wouldn’t stop. We had to pull him off.”
“What the fuck? Why did no one wake me?”
“We looked in your room, but the light was off. We thought you were out hunting Tenlee again.”
“Hunting…? No, I haven’t been to Two Claws in days. At least I don’t think I have.” He couldn’t remember much from The Crow’s night flights. Ramsey scrubbed his hands over his bleary eyes. Was this really happening? And so soon? The killings? Momma Crow had told him the steps. She’d told him exactly what would happen to him and the entire Clan if he didn’t bring Tenlee back in line, but he hadn’t thought the killings would happen so soon. “Did he show remorse?”
“Nah,” Ethan said, trouble swirling like storm clouds in his eyes. “None at all.”
“Fuck! He and Grant were friends!” Ramsey couldn’t wrap his head around this. He’d just talked to Grant yesterday. He’d bought Ramsey a few shots of whiskey at a bar in town and talked to him about life, about their pasts, about anything but how fucked in the head Ramsey was becoming. Grant had been relief. And now he was dead?
“Did you call the cleaner?”
“Yeah. The body is taken care of,” Rike said softly. “Ram, I know you don’t want to give up your rank…but we can all see it coming. We’re gonna fold under you, and not everyone is going to survive it. And yeah, we’re a bunch of outlaws, but we have people who depend on us, too. Grant had a son. Yeah, he’s grown and lives far off, but he has to bury his dad. And we’ve already lost so much to Two Claws. It’s like they’re still here, poisoning us. You understand what I mean?”
Ramsey was staring at the glass on the floor, shaking his head. “What? No, I don’t understand. Spell it out. I had a long night.”
“What if we kill Tenlee?”
Ramsey was up like a shot, grabbed Rike by the throat, and slammed him against the wall so hard the drywall gave. “Don’t you ever fuckin’ say that to me. If she dies, you die. You understand?” he snarled in Rike’s face.
“Her life,” Rike choked out, “is not more important than your entire Clan’s lives.”
Stunned, Ramsey released his throat and backed off. He was right. She was one life and he was willing to sacrifice his people to protect one life. His. People. The root of the problems with Red Dead Mayhem all stemmed from the broken mating bond to Ten. Everything that was happening, this storm that was building, was a direct result of Ten not bonding back. It wasn’t her fault. It was his. His responsibility, it fell at the feet of his crow.
The animal had chosen wrong, and it was costing lives. Lives of outlaws and hell-raisers, sure, but there was good inside of his people. They were his Clan, the ones who had backed him while he rose to power. The ones who were killing each other because of his broken bond. The ones who were mourning the loss of their fallen brothers to Two Claws and to themselves.
This wasn’t on Ten.
This was on him.
Ramsey winced at the realization. Some of his people might make it out of this alive, but some would not. And there wasn’t an Alpha challenger powerful enough to best him while he still had this kind of strength and moments of lucidity. He couldn’t kill Ten. Couldn’t allow his people to kill her, but he couldn’t let his Clan fight to the death over unstable bonds either.
He had to find a way to fix this.
Ramsey strode past Rike and Ethan and into the bedroom, and there he yanked a pair of jeans out of his closet and pulled them on, leg by leg.
“Where are you going?” Rike asked from behind him.
“To see a moose.”
Chapter Seven
“Well, perhaps a country club would work better for what you’re wanting,” Vina explained to the couple. “We just don’t do all that here. I can’t make a dance floor that big, and you would have to bring in your own nacho cheese fountain and linens, and if you’re wanting to get married in the same place as your reception, the only space we have is the empty lot next door between the buildings. I can make it as cute as I can, but I’m limited by all the brick walls. And weeds. And raccoons.”
“Yeah, but I like the price of this place,” the groom-to-be, Joey, told his blushing bride-to-be. She was mostly blushing because Vina had told her no on all the ridiculous stuff she wanted. No to doves being released inside the community center and no to opening a wall so they could drive a white Rolls Royce straight into the reception. And no to painting fairy tale murals on the wall of the reception room.
Days like today made Vina want to jab her eyes out with a Q-tip. Her smile was plastered as she said, “Would you like to look at the lot?”
Thunder rolled outside, but Vina was confused because the sun was clearly shining in through the windows. No, it wasn’t thunder. That rumbling sound was from a motorcycle.
Out front, Ramsey eased a huge, black-on-black Harley right up the sidewalk and parked in front of the main entryway. Right there. Right on the concrete. He was breaking some serious rules! But also…Ramsey looked hot. Like…panty-melting, poontang-pounding, she-felt-like-swooning hot.
His legs were split over the seat of a low-riding motorcycle with tall handlebars. He stretched his muscular arms upward as he hit a kickstand with the heel of his riding boot. He wore ripped-up black pants, a white tank top so his ribs and the sides of his abs were on full display any time the breeze pleased. He didn’t wear a helmet, and his short blond hair was mussed from the ride. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses, which only added to his mystery. Were his eyes black right now? Ramsey took off his glasses and clipped them onto the neck of his shirt. Nope. Bright blue eyes locked right onto hers through the window.
He nodded like she was one of the boys, and all she could do was clack her mouth closed like a lady and grip her clipboard tighter to her boobs.
“Is he yours?” Laura, the bride-to-be, asked.
“I wish. Wait, what? No.” Vina laughed like a psychopath. “Of course he isn’t mine. Look at him.” She waved her hand at all his glory as he yanked open the door like the heavy contraption weighed nothing and strode toward her with the most confident strides she’d ever seen a man take. “Ha ha. Hahahahaha. Ha. No. I’m just…” Vina scrunched up her face at her clothes. It was a business suit that incased her womanly curves today. A pink one that she got from a consignment store for thirty-seven dollars.
Ramsey’s worn boots made soft thuds as he came closer. He was still looking right at her. Directly at her. Just like his crow did. She couldn’t even hold his gaze if she tried, so she ducked her attention again and again to the tile floor. “H-hi,” she greeted him as he came to a stop in front of her.
When she cast a quick glance at him, his head was cocked and he was studying her. “What’s up, man?” he said to Joey with a chin nod. “Ma’am,” he greeted Laura, who’d gone all pink in the cheeks and was staring at his hundred-thousand arm tattoos with a big, dumb grin on her face.
A wave of possessiveness took Vina, and she said, “You didn’t come see me last night.” Oh, God. Why had she said that? She’d made it sound like he was her booty call w
ho hadn’t shown up. But ya know…Laura backed her little ho-self the F up, so whatever. Settle down, Moose.
Ramsey narrowed his eyes and looked from Vina to Laura and back, and now an obnoxiously sexy grin was slowly spreading across his face. “Did you miss me?”
“No!” She clutched her clipboard tighter. Her voice had held such a false note to it that her cheeks heated. “I’m not good at lying.” Stop. Talking!
Ramsey’s smile got even bigger. “Do you get breaks here?”
“Like lunch breaks? LOL, no. I eat while I’m working.” Good God, she’d just said “LOL” out loud.
Laura’s boot whacked rudely against Vina’s. “Yep, she gets lunch breaks.” Laura looked at her watch and grabbed Vina by the elbow, started ushering her toward the door. “Three-twenty p.m., it’s about that time.”
“I ate lunch at noon,” Vina said under her breath. “And why are you pushing me?”
Was that Ramsey laughing behind them? Or Joey?
“If you don’t get on that man’s motorcycle, you will regret it for the rest of your life!” Laura whisper-screamed.
“But I’m not done with your tour.”
“Can you give me a nacho cheese fountain?”
“No.”
“Then I’m not sold. I’ll find somewhere else. You have a nice day now, ya hear?” Laura had shoved Vina right to the door before Vina could struggle out of her grasp dramatically.
She straightened her pantsuit. “I don’t have the right clothes to wear,” she announced.
“That’s fine,” Ramsay said. “I’m taking you to Harley right now. I’ll get you fixed up.”
Vina narrowed her eyes to little squints. “I’m not dressing like those girls in your clubhouse. I’m a proper lady.”
“With nice tits.”
“Swoon!” Laura said.
Vina didn’t even know how to respond because she was pretty sure her traitor body was begging for Ramsey wiener right now. Really? A crass sort-of-compliment made her want to hop in bed with this man? He was a rebel. A hellion. An outlaw. Sure, he had blue eyes and a million abs and really nice arms and perfect man-nipples. And look at that bright white smile. Damn, he was a looker. Probably had a big dick. His beard was on point. What was she arguing against again? Oh. “You’re going to have to woo me harder than crude compliments and sexy…motorcycles.”
“I’m not trying to woo you. I want to be friends who fuck.”
Well, that worked for her.
“Bye Laura and Joey. I’m sorry we couldn’t work out the venue for you.” Vina shoved open the door and ignored the chuckles behind her. Grandly, she said, “I shall not ride this death-machine without the safety of a hel—”
Ramsey pulled a helmet from the side storage bag of his Harley and pulled it over her head, clipped it, tightened it, and then palm up, gestured for her to get on the bike first.
Right. “Uh. I don’t know how to do this.”
“It’s like getting on a horse.”
“I don’t know how to do that either.”
“Dear God,” he muttered, but at least there was a smile in his voice. “The bike won’t fall. It’s on a good kickstand, and if you go from the low side, it’s easier.”
She marched over, took a steadying breath, straightened her helmet, and threw a leg over the seat.
Riiiiiip.
Mortified, Vina froze, leg in the air, gripping the handlebars, the heel of her black pump aimed at Ramsey’s grinning face.
“Did your fancy-pants just rip?” he asked.
“Possibly.”
“Date number four, I’m going to take you clothes shopping.”
“I feel like you’re already trying to change me.”
“You can keep wearing your pink pants with the hole in the crack if you want. Let all of Darby and Corvallis see your Care Bear panties.”
“First of all, I can’t believe you recognize what Care Bears are, and I kind of want to discuss that later. Second of all, I did laundry, and today my panties are pink. To match my pants.”
Ramsey’s eye twitched. “Get on the bike.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she groused as she settled onto the back seat and rested against the leather pad. “It’s rule number four on the list I gave you.”
“I didn’t read your rules.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t give a shit about your rules or anyone else’s. We’ll make our own rules.”
Vina opened her mouth to argue that’s not how things worked, but he’d said it with such gusto, it kinda sounded like fun, making their own rules.
“Rule number—”
“New word or I won’t hear it,” he said, slinging his leg over much more gracefully than she’d done.
“Suggestion number one. I left my purse in my office so we need to get back before the center closes at eight.”
“Fine.”
“Also, suggestion number two, noon slash real lunch was a long time ago, and I’m hungry.”
“I’ve got you,” he said as he reached back and settled her hands on his hips.
Huh. I’ve got you. That was the best three-word combination she’d ever heard. She sat there stunned as she gripped onto the side of his pants.
Ramsey balanced the motorcycle and turned it on. The engine roared to life with a deafening sound and, under her, the machine rumbled with power.
“Oh! Suggestion number three, swear not to drive fast?”
“No,” Ramsey said over his shoulder. Vroooooooooooom! He ripped out of there so fast she was pretty sure she left her tits back at the community center.
And what else could she do but scream? “Aaaaaaah!”
Ramsey was laughing, the jerk.
Vina clutched onto him like a parasite and hid her face against his muscular back as she tried to remember how to breathe. They had to be going a hundred miles an hour! She didn’t even want to look at the world blurring by them. What if he crashed? What if they got in a wreck? Her pantsuit wouldn’t protect her from road rash! For goodness sake, she couldn’t even get onto the dang motorcycle without the material giving up. Her butt was cold! The wind was like a hurricane!
The scream died in her throat as she contemplated her life regrets. She didn’t have a will in place, and who would inherit the savings account she had been building for her future hedgehog farm? Who would water her plants? Her parents would cry so much at her funeral.
Ramsey was saying something, but she couldn’t understand him over thoughts of her own demise.
“What?” she screamed, her eyes still tightly closed and her hands clenched around his middle.
“Open your eyes.”
“I’m scared.”
“I’ve been riding since I was fourteen. I won’t let anything happen to you. Open your eyes, Vina. You’re missing it.”
She squinted one eye open with the full intention of closing it again right away, but they were going over a bridge, and the river was beautiful. Ramsey wasn’t going as fast anymore, so it wasn’t as terrifying. The bridge was long. It was the one that led to the bigger cities on the other side of the mountains. How long had they been riding? When a fish jumped in the water, she gasped.
“I saw it,” he said, filling her insides with butterflies by resting his hand on hers. “You can loosen up now. I broke you in.”
“What do you mean you broke me in? I thought we were going to die.”
“That’s the scariest it gets. And look, you survived. Now we can cruise. Look around. What do you feel and see? Feel that wind? You aren’t a flight shifter, so this is as close to freedom as I can get you. Relax against the back rest and take it all in.”
But the touch of his hand felt too good for her to pull away. “Put both hands on the handlebars, and I will.”
“I ride one-handed most of the time.”
“Well I haven’t had affection in three years so I’m gonna stay just like this until you stop touching me.”
For a few moments, the
y rode like that, with his hand cupping her clenched ones right over his abs. The wind was nice now, cool, and she imagined there would be bug and bird sounds in the woods if she could have heard over the Harley. Ramsey gripped her hands once more and then put his other hand on the handlebars.
“Suggestion one,” he said, barely audible over the engine noise. “Whatever happens with us, I won’t ever be affectionate. No kissing or holding hands. None of that mushy shit, and it won’t change with time. I had a mate. I wanted that at one point. Now I don’t, and pushing me for it will make me leave.”
And just like that, he sucked the breath of fresh air he’d given her back out of her lungs. He deflated her, but what could she do? He was being honest with his intentions, and all she could do was respect that.
Dominant Alphas like Ramsey didn’t change. They didn’t improve with time. They stubbornly stayed just as they were and didn’t compromise because they didn’t have to. He could have anyone.
But he was giving her this—a break from the loneliness. He’d shown up. He was letting her experience a glimpse of his world. I’ve got you. And maybe making a friend was what this was supposed to be about.
So she trusted him and relaxed back millimeter by millimeter until her back was against the comfortable rest. She gripped the loops of his jeans and heaved a breath to expel her tension. She kept her eyes open because this right here was different from anything she’d experienced over the past three years. Maybe in her whole life. She was trusting someone else at the wheel, someone else with her life, while she just sat back and…breathed. Looked. Experienced. And she just…was.
Ramsey had really shown up.
Chapter Eight
Harley Davidson had huge stores. She’d assumed it would be mostly motorcycles for sale, but there were a ton of clothes to try on.
Holding up a ripped-up shirt, she asked, “Where is the rest of this? It’s missing half the material.”
“Just try it on and then you can complain all you want,” Ramsey said as he pulled three more shirts off a rack, all in her size.