Vipers Rule

by Stephanie Tyler

  “What? No! It’s just . . . you seemed so into it.” God, she was scrambling. This was a stupid idea—they weren’t friends, and the fact that he was insulted proved how far she’d overstepped. “The way you talked about it . . . and first impressions. And I saw you had written in the book. Underlining things, and I do that when I’m really into something. The movie is great,” she finished lamely, pulling it back.

  He took it from her before she could. “Thanks. I’ll return it.”

  She nodded, then went back to the tree, sat and rummaged in her bag like none of it mattered. He went back to reading, and she attempted to settle in and do some of her own work. But it was hard to concentrate on anything with Tals this close.

  Finally, she heard the distant bell that signaled the change of class. She got up and noted he didn’t. “Don’t you have class?”

  He glanced up. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I’m not.” It was no skin off her back if he cut class, got detention, got suspended. Missed their daily meetings . . .

  “Have a good one,” he told her absently, his concentration on the book. She walked away, not turning back to see if he was watching her go.

  In her recollections—in her dreams—he always was.

  Chapter 4

  Maddie slept well past noon, then pulled on a robe and joined her grandmother in the dining room for an early supper. If she’d had her way, she’d have slept straight through till the next morning, but she had to make an appearance. Or rather, had to put on an appearance. She might be hiding from her present by running toward her past, but in this house, she’d never admit that.

  Right before she headed downstairs, she made a quick call, because while she slept, the next part of her plan for Tals had formed.

  She was still smiling a little about that as she went into the dining room.

  “Maddie, I was hoping you’d make it down.” Her grandmother looked the same, a little older but no less dignified. Maddie bent down for a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  “I was later than I thought. I had a flat outside of town.” Grams had known she was coming in late, so Maddie didn’t feel that guilty. At least, not about that.

  But she wasn’t going to mention Vipers Towing. Or Tals.

  “I suppose Hugh’s not joining us?” Grams asked after Maddie sat down.

  The question immediately took away any appetite she might’ve had. “No, Grams, he’s not. We’re getting a divorce. I’ve moved out.”

  “How are you going to work from here?”

  “I’m not. I quit. There was no way to stay in that company. The divorce would stir up too much controversy.” As it was, this might bring some bad press to Hugh’s business, but he’d done that himself.

  With a little help from you, the harsh voice of her toughest inner critic reminded her.

  Behind these gated walls there was a mess that no one knew about. Until Tals. In one night he’d slammed the walls down—and she’d let him—and then she’d known she had to get out. Escape from the gates and from Tals.

  He is still here. Her hands rubbed along her jean-clad thighs as she thought about him.

  You’re putting too much on him.

  But she’d never been able to shake thoughts of him. Probably, she hadn’t been meant to shake his touch.

  It had been tolerable when he’d been states away and she hadn’t seen him. She’d known that laying eyes on him would change everything.

  She’d been right—it had. All those aching feelings had rushed back. Time hadn’t stood still, but she’d been made wiser. She could only hope it wasn’t too late.

  Grams pointed to the chair next to her. “Your friends will be happy to see you.”

  Maddie gave a small smile and poured herself some coffee before settling into her chair. She’d given scant thought to her high school friends and their reaction to her return—her focus had been more on her happiness than her old life.

  Many she’d gone to school with had stayed close to home, married men with family money in the good old Southern tradition of the small, wealthy enclave. She’d escaped, and even though she’d married wealth, she hadn’t gotten a lot of approval from her grandmother, who’d wanted her to stay in Jessamine. There would be many who’d welcome her back with open arms, but there would be just as many who would be thrilled that she’d failed. But she didn’t care about any of that. She certainly wasn’t coming back to Skulls Creek for them, or for her family.

  Her childhood had been a lonely one. She’d been raised by Grams, which meant she’d seen more of the staff than anyone, and had been basically ignored by her parents. Dad was supersuccessful and her mom had been flighty. At least that’s what Maddie had been told—she had few memories of Margaret Wells, who’d left when Maddie was five. All Maddie knew was that one morning Margaret Wells left the house and never came back. Grams had looked for her, utilizing private detectives, with no luck.

  It made her father more driven than he’d been, if that were possible.

  “Have you spoken with your father?” Grams asked, and now Maddie’s appetite was officially gone. Maddie and her dad talked once a week, mainly about Maddie’s work. Her father was the most driven man she knew, and she’d definitely inherited that trait. Or, at the very least, imbibed it.

  “We spoke a few days ago—he’s in Japan.” And Maddie had yet to tell him about her and Hugh.

  “He still comes home once a month for dinner.” Grams looked over the tops of her reading glasses at Maddie, a not-so-subtle condemnation of how little Maddie had been home since leaving for college. So few and far between—she’d go directly to the house, drive behind the gates and not leave until she could get back on the highway. All in case Tals had been around.

  She couldn’t risk seeing him then, hadn’t wanted to be pulled to him—it was the most helpless she’d ever felt. Not that he’d made her feel bad. No, in fact, it was just the opposite.

  Maddie didn’t have to leave Skulls Creek to escape. She’d actually been running herself right into another prison when she’d had Tals—and her freedom—less than five miles from her childhood home.

  She was lucky she hadn’t wasted more time. And she refused to believe it was too late. Tals might be a player and have a million women after him . . . but he’d always viewed her differently. She was counting on that to still be true.

  * * *

  Tals watched the gates swallow Maddie’s car up—the same goddamned model she’d driven in high school—thinking about how he’d always known this was as far as he’d get with Maddie. He’d always known she was almost as walled in as her family’s house was.

  Hindsight made him realize she was actually more so. And he’d tried his best to find a way in without breaking her walls down completely, but obviously, he hadn’t been successful.

  He’d gotten close though during junior and senior year, when he’d discovered they both preferred the quiet spot on the west side of the school.

  She was always smart as hell. Funny too, although he was pretty sure a lot of her friends didn’t see that side of her. That was fine by him, because he liked knowing things about her that others didn’t.

  He had a feeling she liked it too. He told himself she did, while Tenn grumbled about “rich girls” even as he proceeded to screw the closeted rich boys . . . and other men around town.

  After a while Tenn stopped answering Tals when asked about his love life, and Tals stopped asking him.

  Maddie was such a pretty girl, even at an age when many of them were gangly or awkward. Maddie always stood out, and from the second Tals saw her, she was burned into his brain.

  “Girls like that don’t mix with guys like us,” Tenn would tell him—not unkindly, though. It was a simple truth, one meant to protect Tals from the possible issues of dealing with a woman who had no idea what the MC lifestyle was all about.

  Maybe it was wishful thinking, but still, Tals could see Maddie fitting in. She wanted to fit in somewhere, and it certainly was
n’t with her friends and family.

  She was an outsider in a way he’d never been. He’d always had an extended family to go along with his immediate one.

  Who did she turn to when she had a problem? Is that why she always looked haunted to him?

  He’d talked to her every chance he’d gotten. She’d acted exasperated, huffed a little . . . but she’d always answered him. Grudgingly, but it would be easier if she simply ignored him, walked the other way.

  And now she was back. Asking him out on a date.

  He turned his truck around, went back to the Skulls side of town, to Vipers clubhouse, where he made himself breakfast.

  Everyone else had come in hours earlier, so he’d gotten several hours of quiet before the men were up and moving.

  Most Vipers business ventures were nighttime ones—the tattoo shop, the bar, and although the car shop was open during the day, Tals dealt with the night shift. Never mind actual MC business.

  Tals was going to head to his room to try to sleep around lunchtime—he knew it wouldn’t happen, but it never hurt to try—when Rocco walked in with an odd look on his face. Maybe because he was carrying a dozen red roses. Long-stemmed. Expensive as fuck.

  That made Tals’s gut tighten and the tattoo on his arm tingle, the way it had from the goddamned second she’d touched it. Of course she’d pick roses—anything else wouldn’t make him suddenly feel nostalgic as fuck and angry as hell all at once.

  “Aren’t you sweet? But you’re not getting lucky tonight,” Cage called, and Rocco rolled his eyes.

  “You wish, asshole. They’re for you.” Rocco plunked the vase down in front of Tals, obviously delighting in this shit.

  Tals stared up at him. “Sorry, but I already have plans tonight.”

  Bear came into the room and looked between Tals and the roses. Narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything. Thankfully.

  “Aren’t you going to read the card and put us out of our misery?” Cage prompted.

  “And put yourself into a ton more?” Rocco added, plucking the card out from the arrangement and holding it out to Tals.

  Tals grabbed it after a beat. He could lie, of course, about whom they were from, but these guys would find out soon enough.

  He made no move to hide the card as Cage circled behind him. “Maddie. I knew it.”

  Tals growled, “You did not know it,” through clenched teeth.

  “Maddie Wells?” Preacher had picked that moment to come downstairs. Dammit.

  “She’s back in town,” Bear jumped in to explain before Tals could. “Tals was helping her.”

  “She had a flat tire. Heathens were riding through, circling her. That’s all,” Tals explained.

  “This is more than a thank-you,” Preacher noted, pointing to the roses. “And here I thought she couldn’t stand you.”

  Tals shrugged. “You know women. Who the fuck knows why any of them change their minds?”

  “Must’ve done something more than just change a flat,” Rocco pressed on. “I mean, I’ve seen you change a tire and I’ve never wanted to send you flowers.”

  Tals shot him the finger. “Maybe you’re not looking from the right angle.”

  That got the men laughing, jostling one another and, for the moment, took the focus off Tals. He was eternally grateful that Cage hadn’t announced anything else that was written on the card—his best friend had always been good about not making someone feel like shit about their past.

  Tals slid it into the envelope and put it into his pocket, the handwritten contents echoing over and over in his brain.

  Tonight. Eight p.m. I’ll pick you up.

  For the love of all that was good and holy . . .

  “Think Holly could use some flowers?” he asked Preacher abruptly.

  “Not sure what she could use these days,” Preacher said roughly. “Plus, they’re secondhand. Women are funny about that shit.”

  Tals grumbled, picked up the heavy vase and headed to Holly’s room. She took a while to respond to his knock, and when she did, she opened the door slowly. Ever since she’d been shot in her tattoo shop while defending Calla and Cage’s youngest brother, she’d been closed off. Well, more closed off than normal, and bitchier, which was no mean feat.

  “What?” was all she asked, her tone clipped and cool.

  “Want these flowers? Some chick gave them to me and I don’t want them.”

  She narrowed her eyes.

  “They’re too pretty to just throw out,” he continued when she didn’t say anything. The door edged open a bit more, and she took the vase, backed up and closed the door in his face. “You’re welcome,” he muttered.

  Because women.

  Preacher had been watching the whole thing from down the hall. “How’d you know she’d take the flowers?”

  “Haven’t you ever looked through her tattoo portfolio? Roses are her specialty.” Tals slapped a hand on Preacher’s shoulder before he left. Poor bastard had fallen hard for her, probably from the first day Vipers had taken her in. She was some kind of MC political prisoner, and it wasn’t a secret that the No’Ones would’ve outright killed her already if Preacher hadn’t claimed her.

  Saying he’d claimed her was one thing . . . but the reality was, they’d never actually been a couple. Holly was really fucked-up when she’d come here.

  Still was.

  Chapter 5

  Giving Holly the roses did something, because she texted him afterward that she had an opening late that evening. She’d been working on a piece on his side for a while, plus adding to his sleeve, which he’d started when he’d been sixteen.

  She was also teaching him to use the guns. He’d started out apprenticing in this shop a long time ago, but quickly realized that, even though he appreciated the art form, sitting that still for long periods of time wasn’t his thing.

  Until the Army had taught him patience he never thought he possessed. They’d made it all about will, about survival, and that brought it home to Tals.

  The shop was crowded already, but it would get more so as the hours passed. Holly never minded a good show—having a half-naked man or woman on her table after midnight ensured that the shop would get more crowded, bringing out the party atmosphere she preferred. The looser people got, the more money they dropped on tattoos. And the more Vipers who were hanging out, the more women from town would show to try to get their attention.

  “Let’s go, Tals. I haven’t got all night.” Holly’s voice was sharp like a whip, but she was nowhere near as icy and reserved as she came off. That was all a protective shell around her six feet of stunning beauty, and there’d been times over the last years that Tals had wanted to kick Preacher’s ass for the way he circled her but never touched.

  He was pretty sure Holly felt the same.

  But hell, none of that was his problem, and stripping his shirt and getting his ink was the perfect refuge, since he wasn’t waiting around for Maddie to pick him up for their date.

  He’d called her, left her a voice mail message—he’d had to dig for her phone number since she’d conveniently left it off the card, no doubt purposely so he couldn’t cancel—telling her he thought it was better if they kept their distance.

  Preacher hadn’t said anything more about it to him, but toward the middle of the session, Tals looked up and saw Preacher standing against the wall, looking decidedly unhappy. Which was odd, considering how packed this place was.

  Which also meant odds were that Preach was pissed about the possibility of Tals hanging out with Maddie.

  Holly’s gloved hand ran along his side as she stared down at her work. She glanced up at him. “What’s wrong? Too much at once?”

  He lowered his voice. “Preach looks like he wants to kill someone. Probably me.”

  She gave him a brief smile. “Why’s that? The woman behind the flowers?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I think he’s looking at you like that because you’re all goddamned alike,” she said crisply a
s Calla sauntered over. “All want what you can’t have.”

  But there was no reason for Preacher not to have Holly—it seemed so much less complicated than what he was dealing with. Or avoiding. “Sometimes you can’t have what you want,” he corrected. “Trust me.”

  Holly shook her head. “No matter which way you slice it, for me the chase is always better than the catch.”

  “Not always,” Calla corrected her. The bar was closed that night, and she often hung out here with Holly.

  “Go away before I kick your sunny little ass,” Holly grumbled haughtily . . . and lovingly, for her. She and Calla had gotten close, and it was good to see. Because this wasn’t an easy life for any woman.

  Calla was obviously the right one for Cage, because she made it look pretty damned effortless. Especially so because Tals knew how bad things had been for them to get to this point—between Cage’s battles with the Heathens, the MC he’d been born into, and Calla’s near-death experience at the hands of a guy who’d been stalking her since high school, the couple had had more than their share of tribulations.

  Then again, they didn’t have a history with each other, a past that would make it near to impossible to be together. Never mind other obstacles, like zero trust.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, buried his head in his arm.

  “Try to melt into it,” Holly soothed as the needle began to buzz again. “Close your eyes. This shouldn’t be stressful. Turn your goddamned mind off.”

  Easier said than done, but he did close his eyes and attempt to enjoy the high he always got from the needle’s buzz.

  Until Rocco called out, “Special delivery for Tals.”

  “Fuck. If these are more flowers . . .”

  “I’ll take them,” Holly said brightly.

  But they weren’t. It was a basket of chocolate. He looked up at Rocco, Cage, Calla and Bear. “It took all of you to deliver this?”

  “It was heavy,” Rocco explained with a smile.

  “What is she doing?” Bear asked with a frown.