Riding Dirty: Nine Devils MC

by Kara Parker

  I laughed softly and thought, I should have been the one to bring a jacket, not him. The shawl around my arms didn't provide much warmth, but I wasn't actually cold, so either way it didn't matter.

  "It's fine. I'm not really cold."

  "Are you sure?" he asked with a touch of concern, and I looked over into his hazel eyes. "I could run up to my room and grab a jacket. It wouldn't be a problem."

  I smiled and touched his arm again, the gesture feeling as natural as breathing. "I'm fine, Garrison, but thank you."

  We got off the elevator, circumvented the lobby, and went out a side door. I smiled at the walking trail in front of us, lit by small solar lights on either side of the path. "Planned this, did ya?"

  He chuckled beside me as we walked. "I like to run in the mornings, and I particularly like this path."

  I leaned into him, as we walked. I felt comfortable with Garrison; even before Yanik had started abusing me, I'd never felt comfortable with him. Life with my ex-husband had been exciting. He hadn't wanted to settle down and plant roots. He'd always been on an adventure, trying something new, and I'd loved holding his hand while we did it. However, I never did anything else. I didn't rest my head on his shoulder or close my eyes and lean into a caress.

  Yet, there was something about Garrison. He'd already told me his reasons for going after Hardell and his gang. It wasn't just part of his job, but the gang leader had kidnapped a little girl whose father had dared to oppose him. Six months later the girl was dumped on her father's doorstep, strung out on drugs and covered with bruises. He'd promised that father that Hardell would see justice and promised that broken little girl that something would be done.

  Garrison had said he never made promises he couldn't keep, and if he had to die to keep this one then that's what he'd do. A sigh escaped me before I could rein it in.

  "What?" he asked, as he strolled beside me.

  I shook my head and smiled at him. "I was just thinking."

  His eyes narrowed. "About what?"

  The man really did see everything, either that or I was an open book. I turned back and faced the curving path we were on. My heels were starting to hurt my feet. "I just think it's pitiful that the first man I go out with in more than four years has a death wish."

  His voice was deadly serious. "I don't have a death wish."

  "Oh?" I stopped and turned to him. "So, I must have misheard you when you said that you were taking on the Hardell gang by yourself with no team or backup."

  His jaw clenched. "That doesn't mean I have a death wish."

  I shook my head and sighed softly again. I reached up and let myself be caring. I let any memories I had of Yanik fade away and let myself be the woman I'd always wanted to be with a man who was getting close to my heart. "Yes, it does."

  I'd known Garrison for less than a week and had only spent a few hours with him, but a woman knew a good man when she saw one. I'd been a child, still in my teens when I'd met Yanik. I wasn't a child anymore, and my eyes were wide open. I didn't look at evil and think there couldn’t be good in it, and I didn't look at good and think that that was all there was in it. The world was filled with gray, only some spots were lighter and darker than others.

  I watched Garrison close his eyes and felt his cheek press more firmly into my hand. "You're cold." I was. "Let's go back inside," he said.

  He turned me, and we walked back down the path and into the hotel. We didn't speak again until we reached the elevators. I had my shawl around my shoulders and held my purse between us, as we faced each other.

  "Well, thank you for letting me take you out tonight, Chelsie."

  I blushed, not even trying to hide it. "Thank you for asking me." I dredged up my courage. "Are you going to invite me up?"

  Garrison blinked back, like he hadn't expected it. Well, I hadn't really thought I'd say it. I saw it then. I watched it move through his eyes. He'd honestly only thought it was a date. The thought of me going up to his room had never crossed his mind; but, if it had, he didn't think it would happen. I wondered then, Why did he invite me out?

  He rubbed the back of his neck warily. "You don't have to come up, Chelsie. I wasn't thinking that anything was going to happen tonight, and I don't want you to feel obligated that anything needs to happen."

  And that was what made it even better. There was no pressure between us, no expectations. It was nice and refreshing, which was probably one of the reasons I wanted to go up to his room.

  Garrison was a man with an old soul, not like this generation. Maybe I used to be a part of the impatient girls, who wore far too less and gave away far too much, but I'd learned. Better than bright and brilliant emotions that sparked and died as easily as the sun set and rose were lasting emotions. Commitment, friendship, and emotions binding two people together with a string that was easily to break but was sustained because both parties wanted it to— that was what it felt like with Garrison. It was not burning passion, but something better.

  "Can I come up to your room, Garrison?" I smiled.

  He returned the smile with one of his own. "I'd love that."

  CHAPTER SIX

  The ride up was quick, and his room was right across from the elevators. In no time at all, I was in his room. He hastily threw some things in the wardrobe and cleared off a table that looked like it had files on it. "Can I get you something?"

  I thought, Southern hospitality at its finest. "Water, if you have it."

  He nodded and went to the bathroom. I went and perched on the end of the bed, taking my shawl off and placing it on the table. Garrison came out a second later with two glasses of water, but he stopped when he saw me on the bed. I watched his whole face contort, like he was pained. Quickly, he shook it off and came to sit beside me.

  I frowned. "Something wrong?"

  He handed me the glass. "It's just been a long time since I've seen a woman on my bed."

  I nearly choked on the water. Garrison wasn't unattractive, actually he was very handsome in that rough-around-the-edges sort of way. He looked more suited for the outdoors, with his strong muscular build, than office work. He had a few scars on his hand and one on his cheek. There were burns on his fingers, and I had no doubt there were more marks on his body. The man wouldn't grace the cover of GQ, but I could see him fitting in perfectly in a home surrounded by a German Shepard and two little girls or boys.

  "It's been a long time since I've sat on a man's bed," I admitted, holding the glass between my hands.

  "I don't—" he started then cursed. Then, he cursed at himself for cursing. I laughed at him. "I don't want you to feel that you have to do anything for me, sugar. I understand that with everything you've been through, this—"

  I cut him off with a finger to his lips, and then my lips to his lips. I'd never kissed a man, never been the one to initiate it. He seemed a little taken back my kiss and was probably a man who'd never had a woman kiss him first. I smiled against his lips as I moved closer.

  It didn't take long for him to catch on, and then suddenly, I wasn't doing the kissing anymore. He was gentle, but ruthless. He didn't take my lips, but every inch I gave him, he took. When I opened my mouth, he was there, tongue searching. It was a nice kiss— one that I didn't feel forced into or taken advantage of.

  There was a duality inside of me. Part of me wanted him to ravage me, but another part was scared of what would happen if he did. However, he didn't press. His hands didn't move to my body, and he didn't force me back. I was the one who had to take the lead.

  "If you want me to stop," he whispered across my lips as he pulled back, "I will. You only have to say the word."

  He was giving me control, giving me the power. No other man in my life had ever done that. Not even my daddy had allowed me power under his roof. It felt good to be in control and to be able to say stop if I didn't want to or couldn't go further.

  I tried not to think of the couldn't part, and I tried not to think of the last time I'd been with a man. It hadn't been Y
anik, but it also hadn't ended well. "Thank you, Garrison." I meant it, truly and sincerely.

  I kissed him harder, twined my arms around his neck, and practically climbed onto his lap. He put his hands against my back to steady me as we kissed. I enjoyed it for a few minutes, enjoyed the feel of his tongue and the heat of his mouth; but, I wanted more. I drew back, reached behind my head, and undid my halter.

  The straps fell, taking part of the dress with it so my strapless, dark purple bra showed. I'd worn my nice bra and panty set, something I'd bought on the spur of the minute to feel good. I felt great now, and I was happy that they'd come in handy.

  I felt Garrison's hands release then clench tight on my back. I smiled, feeling wonderful and all-woman. His eyes were transfixed on my bra, almost like he was trying to memorize the lace pattern. I kept my hands at my back, but lowered them to the hooks of my bra. I tugged, undid the clasp, and let the bra fall away. Garrison sucked in a pained breath.

  "You are too beautiful, sugar," he breathed against my skin.

  I laughed, feeling beautiful. "Touch me, Garrison. Please."

  And he did, gently. There was no rush in his touch, no aggression. The caress was reverent, as if he was trying to memorize every dip and line of my body. I’d never felt that before, and it warmed me.

  I laughed out loud and freely when his mouth closed around a nipple. It was a wonderful pleasure. His hands were splayed wide on my back, and I moved my hips on him. I clutched his head closer when he switched to the other nipple, breathless and needy. I moaned and writhed on top of him, needing more.

  Then, suddenly, he flipped me onto my back, the move gentle but quick. A flash of fear went through me when I saw Garrison above me, but I suppressed it and held it at bay. His mouth was on my neck, my fingers were in his hair, and that was where I wanted him. He moaned my name, as his tongue swirled and moved down my body; but, it wasn’t his voice I heard.

  A bright ceiling was above me, a bulb without a cover. The sheets beneath me were white, new. Yanik was above me, holding my hands down. I knew I wouldn’t fight him, wouldn’t scream. He’d done it before. I just turned my head, stared at the clock on the dresser and watched the time tick by.

  “Chelsie!” Garrison was beside me, his voice rushed and concerned.

  I was spread eagle, my body shaking badly with something wet on my cheeks. I reached up and touched my cheeks. When I felt the wetness, I realized I was crying.

  I bolted upright and dashed at the tears angrily. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m fine.”

  Garrison was still fully dressed beside me, but he wasn’t staring at my breasts and all the passion had fled from his eyes. I didn’t want that. This was not what I expected when I’d offered to come up to his room or when I’d straddled him. It was supposed to be different—I was different.

  “Stop. Don’t apologize.” He shook his head and looked around the room. I watched him get up and grab his jacket. He came back to the bed and wrapped it around me. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I should have realized.”

  I shook my head, angry at myself, angry at my past. “I didn’t mean to tease you. I didn’t mean to—”

  He took my hands and looked me in the eyes. His hazel eyes were clear, his jaw tight. “You did nothing wrong. Nothing.”

  The tears I’d been holding back at bay burst then, falling down to the lapel of his jacket and soaking into the material. Strong arms closed around me, rocked me, and comforted me.

  The memory of Yanik had been so real, like no time had passed. It wasn’t true what they said. Time didn’t heal all wounds, and sometimes it didn’t even make them easier to bear. My pain was no less now than it had been six years ago when I’d first had the courage to leave him or seven and a half years ago when he’d first beaten me.

  However, for the first time, I did something remarkable. For the first time in my life, I fell asleep next to a man who made me feel safe. More intimate than sex, I allowed myself to be completely open and unguarded with Garrison. It was a step, at least.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A little more than a week ago, I’d slept beside a man through the night. It was amazing, and a revolutionary step in my life. Ever since that morning, when I’d woken up with Garrison’s jacket still over me, his body molded behind me on the bed, and his strong arms banded around me in an embrace I could easily break, I’d felt happy. Fear hadn’t gripped me, and neither had shame.

  I’d been walking on air ever since. When Lisa came back to work after only a week and a half off, I’d smiled and welcomed her back. The past was in the past, and if I could help it, it would remain there. For the time being, it was the future that worried me the most.

  Hardell had come in the day before and told me, point blank, that I needed to close early the next day because he was having a meeting. Well, today was that day. Garrison was nearby, the auto and video recording was set, and I was feeling like death warmed over.

  “God, Chels,” Lisa said, as she handed Charles a Coke with a splash of Jack. “Just go home already. You look worse than me.” Which was saying a lot considering everything.

  I shook my head and wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans for what had to be the tenth time that day. It was getting close to when I was supposed to close, five. My hair was stringy and looked like it hadn’t been washed. I had bags under my eyes, and my entire face was puffy and swollen. I’d had a fitful night’s sleep and had to drag my butt out of bed, just to be half an hour late to work. I was miserable, but I knew it was all in my head. It was a physiological response to something I didn’t want to do. That something was me watching Garrison risk his life flying solo on what was likely a suicide mission.

  No matter how many times he’d called and told me that it would all be fine and that he didn’t plan to die, I still felt like a dark wave was coming. It made me physically sick and made me want to burn down the bar—something I hadn’t ever let cross my mind before this—just to keep Garrison and Hardell away from each other.

  “I can’t. You know that,” I told Lisa, as I pushed back my hair and tried to ignore the door and the clock above it. If I looked, I’d get sucked in like a black hole and that fucking ticking would start.

  It had been nice. For almost a week, I hadn’t heard a clock. Time, in fact, had just been something that passed. I didn’t dread it and didn’t feel like every tick was some kind of bell tolling a terrible event. I’d spent whole hours ignoring time with Garrison. We’d gone on two more dates, and he’d told me a little bit more about his military time.

  He’d also told me about the tattoo around his bicep after I’d asked about it. The names in the feathers were the names of every criminal he’d put away as an FBI agent, and the four names held by the angel were the four guys he’d saved when his envoy had been bombed.

  “I don’t like it,” Lisa said, her voice soft and filled with fear.

  Any thoughts about Garrison fled my mind as I looked at the young woman next to me, faint bruising still coloring her skin. “I don’t want you here with them.”

  And I didn’t want to be here, but I was hoping that somehow, someway, Hardell would be gone tonight. I refused to close my shop and refused to cower any longer. I thought, Maybe I had been complacent before, thinking that everything I was doing was for the good of the bar and my patrons? The truth was that I’d just been letting Hardell walk all over me. By not speaking out and seeking help, I was doing more harm than good.

  I picked up a dish cloth and wiped the bar. “Go home, Charles, Lisa.”

  “But—” they both began.

  I shook my head. “No buts.” This whole mess was going to end tonight, and I was either going to be elated or devastated; but either way, it was going to end. I raised my voice, making sure the shadow-huggers heard me, and said, “Closing time!”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Tequila shots all around. Top shelf,” Hardell threw at me, as he strode in the door with a group of eight men behind him. I didn’t recognize a sing
le one.

  I smiled, as I poured high and fast. The men pushed two tables together and all sat around the tables, legs folded or propped up. I tried not to notice the looks most of the men gave me, as I placed the drinks on a tray. I felt like each of them knew there was a camera and audio recording them. Practice was the only thing that allowed me to get through their individual drink orders.

  It was dark outside, and I was by myself. Even though I knew Garrison was right around the corner, it didn’t make me feel any better. I wanted to puke when the clock above the door started to tick again. It was that loud, deafening tick that was part paranoia and part fear. I listened to the men’s conversation to tune it out.

  “... good here tonight,” one guy with green snakeskin boots said. The shoes alone made him look like a villain.