Scooter

by Marie James

  “Too much fun at the party last night?”

  The woman, Gigi, as Ryan called her, scoffs. “I wish.”

  She reaches for two cups before filling each to the brim.

  “Amelia is teething again. We were both up all night trying to soothe her. See ya later.”

  She shuffles out of the kitchen, a cup of coffee in each hand.

  “That’s Kincaid’s daughter. Well, one of them. She has a twin. She’s also with Hound, and they have a baby together.”

  “She doesn’t seem happy to be here,” I mutter, even though I saw the missing spark in her eyes reignite when she spoke about her daughter.

  “I imagine mornings are rough after tending to a cranky baby all night,” he says. “She’s usually more put together than that.”

  “The president lets his underage daughter stay in a relationship with one of his bikers.”

  He smiles at me, his eyes darting back and forth between mine.

  “What?” My eyebrows draw together.

  “I never thought that we’d be talking about someone else when you finally decided that talking can be a good thing.”

  I roll my eyes, focusing on my empty coffee cup on the table rather than responding to him.

  “Gigi is twenty-one, maybe twenty-two. I can’t really keep track. She’s grown, and I don’t know much about her, but I do know that I don’t think Kincaid could’ve stopped what was going on between those two. If you ever see them together, you’ll understand.”

  “I’m sor—”

  Ryan’s phone rings in his pocket before I can finish apologizing for jumping to the wrong conclusion. Instead of silencing it like he normally does, he stands from the table.

  “I have to take this. I’ll be right back.”

  Thankfully he doesn’t go far. I can still see his shoulder on the other side of the kitchen door. Jinx left before we plated our breakfast, so I’m the only one in here right now. After being snapped at by Ryan, Rocker didn’t even come back to make a cup of coffee.

  “I can’t,” Ryan hisses into the phone. “I told you why.”

  My head tilts as I try to listen harder.

  “Seriously, Kirsty. Now isn’t a good time.” He sighs again. “I don’t know. I’m helping her. She needs me. We’ve discus—”

  He growls, pulling the phone away from his ear, making it clear that the woman on the other end isn’t happy and hung up on him.

  I snap my eyes back down to my plate before he turns to come back in.

  Sorrow clogs my throat with the realization that I’ve kept this man from his life for the better part of two weeks. I didn’t ask if he had a girlfriend or a significant other in his life, yet here I am, coming in between what he has with her.

  This is unacceptable, and since it’s a new year, things will change today.

  Chapter 7

  Scooter

  “You okay?” I lean in close to Mia so she’s the only one that can hear my question.

  She nods but refuses to meet my eyes.

  I thought her going to the kitchen was a huge step. I tried my damnedest to make her comfortable, keeping the conversation going and not making a big deal when she clearly freaked first with Jinx sitting at the table and again when Rocker walked in without a shirt on, but it may have been too much for her.

  Now we’re sitting in the living room as it fills up with bedraggled Cerberus men, and she’s frozen beside me. I’ve asked more than once if she wanted to head back to my room, but each time she’s shaken her head no, refusing to leave her spot on the sofa beside me.

  Her eyes dart everywhere, taking in the men playing pool, the two talking near the stereo system, and a couple of guys bantering playfully near the foosball table.

  Every once in a while, a shiver runs up her spine, but she’s made no move to get up and leave.

  As the minutes pass, my concern for her only grows. I’m relieved she’s wanting to hang out and leave the confines of the bedroom, but it seems like it’s more to her detriment than helping her ease back into things.

  Things were looking up. She spoke more at the breakfast table than she ever has in one sitting when Gigi walked out, but now her lips are clamped shut. I have no idea where Max is, but I find myself wishing he was here with us, if only to add another person around her that makes her more comfortable.

  A yell from the other side of the room draws my attention, but it’s more of a casual look in the direction of the guys as they bump chests, arguing mildly over a lost game of pool.

  It’s more for Mia, I realize, when she begins to shake uncontrollably.

  “Act like men or go to your rooms,” Hound mutters as he walks past Jinx and Grinch.

  “He fucking cheated,” Grinch sneers.

  “Winning isn’t cheating, asshole,” Jinx counters. “Quit being a fucking baby.”

  They shove each other, but it’s not like they’re going to go to full-out blows, but when I turn to face Mia to assure her that everything is fine, her hands are clamped on the hem of her shirt so tight her knuckles are turning white.

  “Ready to go?” I ask again.

  Her head works up and down at a violent rate, but it seems she’s unable to take her eyes off the guys arguing across the room. I have no idea why she’s reacting this way, but maybe she saw some pretty violent shit back in Miami.

  I don’t question her in front of everyone. I simply pick her up and walk out of the room with her. As if she’s come to her senses, she wiggles to get out of my arms when we make it to the entrance to the hallway.

  “They won’t hurt each other. We’re all like brothers, and even though I don’t really know what that was like growing up, I can tell you that men argue and fight, and then things are back to normal.”

  Raucous laughter filters in at our backs, proving my point. The timing is perfect, but Mia is already too rattled. I urge her down the hall to my room, but she stops a door short and pushes open the door to the room she was offered when we first arrived. I don’t think she’s been in here since that first day, but I watch, bewildered as she steps inside. She closes the door in my face before I can ask her what’s going on.

  I raise my knuckles to knock, but let my arm drop before I manage it. If she needs space, I have to give it to her. I can’t force myself on her. That would be too reminiscent of the things I’m sure she went through before, and I refuse to even make her think for a second that I’m anything like those pieces of shit.

  Even though I don’t knock, her being locked away doesn’t keep me from pacing the hallway for the next twenty minutes, waiting for her to step back out to look for me. When it doesn’t happen, I go to my room, leaving the door wide open, and wait for her there.

  She never comes. The door to that room doesn’t open, and when I convince myself that she’s probably fallen asleep, I leave my room. I’m not a weirdo. I only press my ear to the door for a few seconds, and I walk away when I’m met with nothing but silence.

  Most of the guys are still in the living room, but since I don’t feel like socializing, I walk out the front door and head to the garage. Jinx and Grinch gave up on the game of pool, and they’re currently huddled around the space heater near Shadow’s project bike.

  “Didn’t mean to scare your girl,” Jinx mutters.

  “If you didn’t cheat, we could’ve avoided the entire situation,” Grinch argues.

  “You guys are like three-year-olds,” I mutter as I join them.

  I didn’t think to grab a jacket, and even though the garage keeps the wind out, it’s fucking cold right now. I breathe into my hands, rubbing them together in front of my face to warm them faster. I really wanted some peace and fucking quiet, but I knew it was a long shot. There are ten Cerberus men, not including the original guys, and short of holing up in my room, I know I’m bound to run into one or three of these fuckers.

  “Everyone else comes back tomorrow,” Grinch says. “Means we’re that much closer to going and setting Venezuela on fire.”


  We all grin. I’ve been focused on Mia, but I haven’t forgotten for one second what we’ll be facing soon. My blood burns with the need for some vengeance, and even though I know that’s just about as dangerous as heading into a mission with personal shit hovering over me, it won’t stop me from taking my pound of flesh.

  If there was a way for me to drag Luis Jiménez back to New Mexico so Mia could be the one to put a bullet between his eyes, I’d make it happen and call it a late Christmas gift. Even if that were a possibility; however, I know that it wouldn’t change much for her. Killing the man responsible would only be a Band-Aid over the wounds that were inflicted on her.

  “I heard talk that Kincaid is bringing in additional men,” Jinx says, keeping the conversation going.

  “That would help,” Grinch mutters. “But hired men can be more of a hindrance.”

  “Naw.” Jinx shakes his head. “We had to do it three years ago in South Africa. The guys he hires are top-notch. Patriots through and through.”

  Grinch and I both nod, happy with the news. There’s nothing worse than facing a life or death situation and not knowing if you can trust the guy at your six.

  “It’s fucking cold out here,” Jinx hisses when it’s clear the heater is fighting a losing battle with the cold.

  “Yeah,” I agree, feeling like I’ve already left Mia alone for too long.

  She may not want to be around me, but my skin is itchy, needing to feel her against me.

  “I’m going back in. See ya.” I walk away from the guys who continue to grumble about the cold but make no move to head inside where it’s warmer.

  Kincaid stops me in the living room before I can get back to Mia.

  “How’s she doing?” he asks. “Some of the guys said she finally came out of the room for a while.”

  “She’s taking it one day at a time.” I run my hands over my cold head, still regretting that I didn’t wear a jacket or a beanie outside. It’s going to take me forever to warm back up.

  I know the quickest way to make that happen, but my president is standing between me and my little living furnace right now.

  “I can have Emmalyn and Misty spend some time with her if you think that will help. They’re both chomping at the bit to get to know her better.”

  “They’ve stopped by the room a couple of times, and Mia knows the offer is always on the table. She’ll accept when she’s ready.”

  Kincaid nods, giving me that same sad look Max did this morning when he woke us up.

  “Just let me know,” he says with a quick nod before walking away.

  The door to her room is still closed, and mine is open and empty, but I’ve given her space, given her time to come to terms with being outside of the room a little, and now I have to see her. I have to know that she’s alright and offer the strength of my arms if she needs them. Not once since she reached for me in the hospital have I needed distance from her. If anything, I’ve grown addicted to the way her body curves around mine, each and every one of her curves fitting perfectly into mine. Enough is enough.

  I knock softly on her door, increasing the force when she doesn’t answer. By the time I’m ready to pound on the damn thing, I announce myself and turn the knob. She isn’t on the bed, and after further inspection of the bathroom and closet, I realize she isn’t in here at all.

  I check my room again, sprinting to open my bathroom and closet doors. My heart is pounding in my chest, making that and my rough breaths the only thing I can hear.

  I rush to the kitchen. She isn’t there either. She’s not in the living room, and the people hanging out haven’t seen her.

  “Maybe she went to the pool?” Rocker offers.

  “It’s fucking twenty-five degrees outside,” I hiss. “She’s not fucking swimming.”

  It doesn’t stop me from checking there, though and by the time I make it back inside, everyone is huddled in a group, as if they already know that I’m about to ask them to help me find her.

  Before I can give them instructions, I pull my phone from my pocket, hating that I’m fixing to have to give her brother this news. The phone rings and goes to voicemail over and over, but just when I’m fixing to press the call button for the sixth time, the phone rings in my hand, and Max shows up on the screen.

  “What’s wrong?” Max asks instead of giving some contrived greeting.

  “It’s Mia,” I tell him, sucking air into my lungs, but still unable to get enough oxygen to my brain. “She’s gone. We can’t find her anywhere.”

  He tells me he’s on his way before he hangs up.

  “Tell us what to do,” Jinx says.

  I’m unable to speak. I was responsible for this girl, and now she’s gone. This failure is on me.

  Kincaid steps forward, places a hand on my shoulder, and addresses the crowd, “Listen up. This is what we need to do.”

  Chapter 8

  Mia

  Cold doesn’t even begin to describe the state I’m in right now.

  Chilled to the bone and near hypothermia is a much better description, but even though I can no longer feel my feet in the borrowed mud boots I found on the back porch of the clubhouse, I keep on walking.

  My mind doesn’t clear with the distance I create between myself and the clubhouse. My body doesn’t grow more relaxed the further I get from Ryan. I’m only filled with dread and a constant feeling that’s been telling me I’m an idiot and making a huge mistake since I took the first step off the property.

  It has to be below freezing, and after being in Miami and before that balmy Louisiana, my body is in no way able to deal with the frigid wind beating against my face as I stay off the road, hovering near the tree line.

  I don’t know north from south or east from west, and even if I had a clue which direction the nearest town was in, I’m so directionally challenged that I’d probably still miss it.

  I didn’t really think this through. All I know is continuing to be a burden to Ryan, and every other member of the Cerberus MC ends today. I’ve taken over their lives. Even Rocker couldn’t stumble to the coffee pot shirtless without me freaking out and Ryan insisting that he leave. If their bitterness about me being there hasn’t started yet, it will soon.

  Ryan, with his phone call to his girlfriend, was the final straw. I’m not his responsibility, and yet I’ve clasped on to the man and turned his life upside down.

  No more.

  No more neediness.

  No more being afraid of my own shadow.

  No more upending people’s lives because I can’t get my shit together.

  Just, no more.

  I should’ve gone back home to Louisiana with my parents. Ma wouldn’t bat an eye if I didn’t want to leave the house. Hell, she never wanted us to grow up and leave in the first place.

  The rumble of an engine coming from the direction I began walking what seems like years ago fills my ears, and I duck further into the trees, crouching low to the ground because the leafless timber doesn’t provide much cover. Thankfully, the dark clothing I’m wearing helps me to blend in with my surroundings. An SUV rolls past slowly, but I drop my head down before they pass, making it impossible for me to tell who’s inside.

  I plan to watch their taillights until they’re a safe distance away and I can start walking again, but before they get a couple of feet past my location, the brake lights flash.

  I keep in my hunched-over position, whispering prayers that they’ll keep going, but just like the day I was taken from the mall, my luck runs out. A man climbs out of the passenger seat, the interior light making it easy for me to see the outline of his form. At least he was smart enough to dress for the weather. The hood of his thick jacket is pulled up over his head, and it obscures his face, making it impossible to see who he is.

  He looks down at some small machine in his hands, but then his eyes snap up in my direction as if he can see in the dark.

  The tremble that’s been racking my body from the cold turns into something more. Fear lik
e I’ve never felt before washes over me.

  Fear is a healthy emotional response. It activates the fight-or-flight part of your brain, but when you’ve already faced horrific things, it’s enough to make you shut down completely. Fear of the unknown is one thing. With the experiences I’ve already had, knowing what could happen if I’m taken again is enough for me to pray for a quick death. I’d rather curl up and die right here on some desolate road in New Mexico than end up in another compound as a plaything for sick, sadistic men.

  “Mia?”

  Ryan’s voice startles me, and I want to run to him, but the illusion of him isn’t real. He would be the first person grateful that I left, no doubt having been counting down the days until I get my shit together and disappear. I’m only wishing the man standing at the side of the SUV is once again my tattoo-covered white knight.

  Before I have the wherewithal to turn and run deeper into the trees, he turns, placing the machine down on the seat, before turning and walking in my direction.

  I’m frozen solid, seemingly in the real sense of the word due to the weather as well as the proverbial.

  “Sweet Mia,” he says as he crouches in front of me, staying on my level but not reaching for me. “What are you doing out here? You’ll end up with pneumonia and frostbite.”

  I shake and shudder, my teeth clacking together, and no matter how hard I try to make it stop, my efforts only make things worse.

  “I’m picking you up,” he warns as he reaches for me, and for a moment when the moon shines on his face revealing familiar features, I let myself believe that the only man that makes things right is the one lifting me into his arms.

  Here’s the thing about being near death, even when parts of my body and brain are telling me to run, my heart and the bone-deep exhaustion make me believe in his sanctuary. It’s foolish, and in some part of my barely functioning brain, I can appreciate that fact, but giving in and letting him carry me away is easier. Giving up is easier. And since I fought so hard back in Miami, only to become the sinister focus of so many men, I realize I’m tired of fighting.