Vipers Rule

by Stephanie Tyler

  And she was definitely included in that group.

  He walked toward the car and she held her breath, waited for him to walk to her side, tell her he wasn’t coming. He wasn’t about humiliating her—and she’d been pushing him for sure, but maybe . . .

  Before she could continue her thought, he’d opened the door and was sitting next to her. “I’m starving—let’s go.”

  And then he smiled, like he was dialing up the charm. Which wasn’t good, because it meant he was taking control of the situation.

  “Me too,” she managed, pulled away and headed toward a small Italian restaurant that was slightly off the main drag of town. Away from most of the Vipers-related businesses too.

  With her luck, she’d find out Vipers owned the restaurant.

  Tals was fiddling with the radio, and then he popped in the CD she’d been playing on the drive down. When Stevie Nicks blasted out, she called, “You can change it.”

  “Nope. She’s got good stuff.”

  She prayed “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around” didn’t come on, though. She remembered singing it with Tals, yelling it, no doubt, like they were in concert.

  She slid him a glance and got a nod in return. Yeah, he remembered. But the song didn’t come on, and the short ride was filled with comfortable silence, occasional singing along. She couldn’t help herself.

  When she parked across the street from the restaurant, in the small lot, he got out first, then came around and actually opened her door.

  “I know you asked me out, but there are some things a man still needs to do,” he said, his voice a soft rumble through her.

  She stood, almost lost her balance, and he caught her. They were so close, and the heat she’d always remembered between them was still there. Her nipples hardened, and her body pulled toward him like a divining rod.

  He ran a hand over her shoulder. “You look really pretty tonight, Maddie.”

  She flushed. She wore jeans and a sheer, flowing shirt, hair down. Hippie-chic, she’d call it, much like the way she’d dressed in high school. The clothes were more expensive now, but her style had evolved more than changed.

  Could she say the same about herself? “We should go in.”

  “Right.” He stepped aside to let her out and closed her door. They walked across the street as he pointed out a few of the newer stores along the strip.

  When they were seated, Tals took a sip of his water, then asked, “How’s the tattoo healing?” He leaned back a little, his eyes raking over her side like he could see right through her clothes.

  She shifted a little at the heat in his eyes. At least she could tell that he wasn’t putting on an act—there was no way to get Tals to fake that look. She’d watched many of her friends hang all over him back in the day, and while he was always able to throw on the easy charm, she’d look in his eyes and know if he was actually feeling it or not.

  Honestly, the only time she’d seen the look he was giving her now had been with her. “It’s actually good. I thought it would . . . peel or something?”

  “Holly’s great—just use what she told you and it’ll look perfect.” He rubbed his arm through his shirt. “She’s working on mine too. I go back next week.”

  “Me too.” She took a sip of her wine and wondered how hard it would be to force this from a surface conversation. She wanted her Tals back, the one she’d had for those forty-eight hours. It was one of the worst hours of her life, coupled with the best forty-seven. “It’s been great to finally do it. I’ve been wanting to, but . . .”

  “Life got in the way.” He leaned back, tilted his head and yes, he’d push them to go there too.

  “I got in my own way. It’s so screwed up, Tals. I screwed up. I can’t believe . . .” She shook her head. Took another sip of wine, then pushed it away. She didn’t need alcohol for this, no matter how badly she wanted it. “I thought my ex understood me. My drive. He worked hard. Played hard. I thought he respected me and what I wanted. I believed what I wanted to believe.”

  “Because he didn’t stop you from doing what you wanted.”

  It was like he saw right through her, to all her fears. And he was right, but it still pissed her off to have him point it out. “So it’s my fault?”

  He softened. “Ah, babe, no. I’m just saying, if you were really happy, work and play would’ve been more equal.”

  “Maybe.” But secretly she knew he was right. She’d never rushed home from work. “When people would comment, I’d just say that he supported me completely. I was a fool.”

  “Worse things than being a fool for love.” He shrugged, took a sip of his beer and studied his menu. She did the same, and they ordered shortly after that—him the steak and her the same. It sounded delicious.

  “I wish I could cook,” she told him. “But you don’t want to let me near a kitchen. I can burn water.”

  He smiled a little, and she realized she couldn’t skirt the topic of immediate life post–high school for long, but there was no way she’d talk about the events leading up to her leaving Skulls Creek.

  She realized she didn’t know where to start. Her strength in life had always been about moving forward, looking back only long enough to respect past mistakes.

  But any kind of catching-up conversation would have to include the events leading up to her leaving Skulls Creek.

  Tals brought it up first in his no-bullshit way. “You knew I went into the Army.”

  He didn’t seem angry about it, but she still braced herself and started cautiously with, “I did.”

  “It was me and Cage, and we dragged Tenn along with us.”

  “I don’t know what to say about that. I mean, thank you for your service sounds so . . .”

  “It’s a nice thing to hear,” he said easily. “It was an experience that all MC members should have, if they can. Rounds a guy out.”

  She swallowed. “You had a hard road growing up. I can’t imagine you needed more. I mean, you were the most grounded guy I knew.”

  “Not sure that’s much of a compliment, considering the guys you knew back then.”

  He tried to keep it light, but she made it serious. “It’s definitely a compliment. I knew enough—before and after I left.” She wanted to not do this here, had to bring it back to . . .

  To what? They needed to retread if there was any hope of moving forward, and how did she think this could work? Because she couldn’t read Tals at the moment—and she vowed to steer the conversation to more casual things. “How is your brother? Tenn, right?” she asked, and he nodded. “Is Tenn part of Vipers?”

  “Honorary, but no. He lives in North Carolina, running his own business.”

  “You guys were always close.”

  “Still are,” he agreed.

  “That’s nice to have family like that.”

  “Vipers is my family too.” He stretched, like he was trying to ease tight muscles in his neck and shoulders.

  “Tough workout?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I’ve always heard a hot shower and a good night’s sleep work wonders.”

  He laughed softly. “If that works, you deserve a medal. I don’t really sleep much.”

  She smiled, because she remembered that, reminded him, “Same here. I watch old movies or read. I can usually fall asleep just before dawn.”

  “I remember, Maddie,” he said quietly. “What happened when you worked?”

  “I used the phrase ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead’ a lot. It wasn’t easy, but as I got higher up in the company, I could work my own schedule. I’d go in late, but I’d stay later than anyone. I put in more hours than anyone.” Her tone was clearly defensive, and then she softened, like she realized she didn’t have to convince him. “Sorry. A lot of people thought I got special favors. Personally, I think there should be special shifts for night owls.”

  “Yes, during school especially.” He shook his head. “I was late every morning.”

  She remembered that,
because she was always sliding in the door behind him. Now, as they sat here together, championing the merits of three in the morning, she couldn’t recall a time she’d had this much fun with a guy. She didn’t have to monitor herself or worry she’d insult him.

  No, Tals was a big boy who wouldn’t turn every innocent thing she said into a sly dig. “Seriously, I’m glad you let me do this. I know I backed you into a corner.”

  “Yeah, you did.” He tilted his head and stared at her. “Why now, Maddie? What the hell’s going on?”

  “I was trying to show you . . . you did it to me, and I figured, if I was willing to do the same thing . . .”

  “Why now?” he repeated.

  “I’m going after what I want,” she said simply. It was the way she’d gone after her career, with a single-minded focus that had served her well. Once she knew what her heart’s desire was, she’d never seen any reason to hold back, and she’d never had any patience for people who did. She didn’t understand subtle—and she was pretty sure Tals wasn’t looking for a shrinking violet.

  “Why now?” he asked, like he really wanted to know the answer.

  “It should’ve been a long time ago.” Admitting that took more out of her than she’d thought it would.

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  * * *

  Maddie frowned a little at his repeated question, then squared her shoulders like she was preparing for battle. “Why don’t you tell me what you think I’m doing back in town? You seem to have an opinion.”

  And the gloves were off. Good. Not that Tals hadn’t been enjoying himself, but there was too much between them to pretend this was all normal. “I think you’re back in town, nursing your wounds. Looking for a little action—all the shit you think you missed out on. Midlife crisis hitting you early. So what, I’m your dirty little secret, your roll in the hay so you have a story to share with your high-society friends? Or am I always going to be your secret?” He sat back. “Not that I mind fucking you. But in case you’ve got some romantic visions of where this is going, figured I’d lay it on the line.”

  He was bullshitting her as hard as he could. He knew that he could no more simply fuck her than he could pledge to never steal a car again.

  But he’d be damned if he was going to let her have her way with him so easily, like he was a fucking woman . . . When the hell had that happened?

  When she sent you flowers and shit, that’s when. Not that he minded a woman taking control . . . in certain situations.

  Just thinking of those situations made him hard. Got him thinking about Maddie on top of him. Riding him.

  Yeah, he could get really into that, and then she’d run off into the sunset. “Forget it.”

  “Tals . . .”

  “Plenty of guys willing to play along with your games,” he assured her roughly, although none of his friends, because they fucking knew better.

  “I don’t want anyone but you.”

  “I can’t believe that.”

  “I refused to. For a long time,” she admitted. “I went out of my way to avoid admitting even feeling the way I did for you. I thought I’d succeeded. Turns out, you don’t get that many chances at that feeling.” She gave a wry grin. “I thought it happened every time. I was really wrong.”

  “Any guy can give you an orgasm, Maddie.”

  “Not like you, Tals. There’s never been anyone like you.”

  Jesus, she wasn’t kidding.

  Or she’s a good actor.

  Suddenly, he was freaked out at the prospect of either option. “Look, we got close fast. What you went through that night . . .”

  As he spoke those words, she changed in an instant. Froze for a second, then threw her napkin on the table. “I’m not talking about that.”

  “Maddie—”

  She leaned in. “No. I’m never talking about that. Got it?” She stood. “I’ve got the check. You can take the food to go if you’d like.”

  “So you’re dismissing me?”

  She wouldn’t look at him. Or maybe she couldn’t bring herself to, but he wasn’t sure it mattered either way.

  What did was that he was done following her rules. “This isn’t over, Maddie.”

  She looked at him, her eyes filled with pain. “Maybe you were right, Tals. Maybe it should be.”

  Chapter 9

  As soon as she heard the words come out of her mouth, Maddie regretted them. She’d known they’d have to talk about this—that they would, but in her mind tonight would be them just . . . talking. Flirting. Having fun.

  Instead she was back in that moment—the start of the worst and the best forty-eight hours—terrified, humiliated, a seventeen-year-old attempting to fight off a drunk football player and then wishing it to just have not happened.

  Having Tals find her, save her, and everything that followed changed her, stripped her denial.

  The next best thing was to simply not talk about it. “I’m sorry, Tals. I can’t stay. Please.” With that one word, she was begging him to understand . . . and to forget everything. Then and now.

  She didn’t want to see if he’d comply. Bag in hand, she handed her card to the desk, waited, told them it was fine.

  She was lying. About that, about everything. About believing in fresh starts and do-overs. She would always be dragging baggage behind her.

  There was no escaping the past . . .

  * * *

  She’d been a senior in high school—seventeen—and she’d been celebrating at the lake with her friends and the football team after their big victory. There were no adults to be seen, but there was lots of beer and pot and loud music.

  She’d been dating Earl, the quarterback, for the last couple of months, although they’d been mostly group dates that finished with couples breaking off and making out at the end of the night. He’d never really been pushy, not until that night. It had been exactly the opposite—he’d begun his seduction in a way that made her feel comfortable. Special, even. He wasn’t exactly her type, although at that point she hadn’t really known what her type was.

  Obviously, she’d been ignoring her type for years.

  That night he’d somehow cornered her in a more secluded area, and he’d come on strong. She closed her eyes now and swore she could still hear the hardness in his voice, smell the alcohol on his breath as he’d grabbed for her breasts, shoved her back against a tree and held her there.

  She’d fought, hard as she could. Cried out, and when he’d covered her mouth with his palm, she’d bitten it.

  “Little bitch,” he’d snarled, and his language got more abusive. His hand went between her legs and then . . .

  And then the pressure had been off her, suddenly. She’d opened her eyes to see Earl on the ground and Tals with his foot on Earl’s neck.

  “Maddie, are you all right?” Tals had sounded so concerned. He’d looked angry, but that hadn’t been directed toward her.

  Even so, she’d tried to excuse Earl. “He’s not like this usually—he’s been drinking.”

  Tals’s expression had hardened, but his voice was gentle when he’d told her, “Don’t justify violence against you, Maddie. Not now, not ever. You did nothing wrong. There’s never an excuse.”

  She didn’t remember much else about the next couple of hours—she was probably in shock—minor, but she was so cold. She felt out of her body . . . until Tals gathered her up against him.

  “You’re so warm,” she murmured against him.

  “Maddie, you’re safe.”

  But she knew that, so she concentrated on burrowing further against his chest, letting the heat from his body unfreeze her.

  She thought what had happened would’ve sobered her up completely, but no, she was definitely still sluggishly inebriated . . . enough so that the horror of what had happened to her—and what had almost happened to her—was numbed over. Was a numbed-over thing she’d deal with tomorrow.

  Up until that point Tals had been the toughest boy she�
��d known, and he was a bad boy without having to bully or abuse women.

  That dichotomy stayed with her, and she thought she’d imbibed it. Thought that she’d found those qualities in someone who was in her business, who had similar career goals. “I don’t understand,” she remembered murmuring. “I told him I didn’t want to have sex.”

  “It’s never about sex. It’s always about control. Always,” he told her. “When someone has to control you that badly, it means they know they have none. They look for someone who doesn’t know their own power.”

  And that had most definitely been her in high school. That night, for the first time in a long time, she’d actually slept for several, unbroken hours—in Tals’s arms.

  She tried to blame it on stress and the alcohol, but really, she felt safe with him, and so for the first time she could remember, she slept.

  When she woke, it was still dark.

  “Three a.m.” Tals’s rough voice answered her unspoken question. “We’re in my truck. You’re safe. Do you want me to take you home?”

  “No.” She said it so strenuously she startled herself with how loudly her voice had come out. “Let’s go for a ride.”

  He’d obliged her, brought her down to the river that ran at the edge of his backyard. It was a warm night. Wrapped in a blanket, she’d ventured out with him, scrambled onto the hood of his truck, felt the warmth of the engine under her mostly bare legs.

  He’d run a hand over her hair, gently smoothing it from where it had fallen over her cheek, and she wasn’t sure how she could go from feeling such revulsion for Earl’s touch mere hours before and now feel a shiver of arousal ran through her. “You’re so pretty, Maddie.”

  She’d stopped thinking. Worrying. Instead she wound a hand in his hair and pulled him in for a kiss. And it hadn’t stopped at just a kiss, no matter how much he’d tried to back off. She’d begged. She’d wanted him, been wet for him . . . wanted this act to take away what Earl had done.

  And it had. Tals had turned what could’ve been the worst night of her life into the best. Under the moonlight, he’d worshipped her. And it hadn’t ended there. She hadn’t wanted to go home, even as the sun started to rise. It had been a cloudy day, she’d remembered, added to the dreamlike feeling. It had been magic.