Kickflip

by Christina Lee

  He shook his head, practically shivering from the contact. “I want your lips on mine.” Then he urged my fingers to release his swollen cock from the confines of his jeans.

  While I wrapped my fist around his hardness, our mouths rested together, our lips never breaking contact. My tongue licked deeply in his mouth, kissing him at an unhurried pace, while I brought him to climax with my hand.

  It was as if he needed to stare into my eyes, moan into my mouth, and share the same airspace to truly feel connected to me. I’ll admit I needed it as much as he did.

  I could tell how happy Jude had been to return to his own place with his dog—cooking and cleaning, walking Chopper along the bay. Like it had become his home. Maybe more home than any other place on the road had been.

  Chopper had advanced to fucking Pet of the Year in the short amount of time he’d been with Jude. He was no longer such a whiny pain in the ass and played nicely with other dogs, including Patch. As if Jude was as much a balm to his soul as he’d been to mine.

  Today Jude was invited to Gram’s house for a spaghetti dinner after my shift at Raw Ink. I planned on meeting him at her front door so I could finally introduce him properly. But it didn’t quite work out as planned.

  I texted him: Sorry. Running late. Be there in five.

  Already inside. Your grandmother is lovely.

  By the time I arrived, I could tell that he and Gram had hit it off. He was sitting at her kitchen table, drinking a glass of her peach tea while she told him a story about my winning first place in some art show in high school.

  “Seriously, Gram?” I slid into a seat across the table from Jude.

  “I don’t mind at all.” Jude winked and smirked at me. “Helps me get to know you better.”

  “Why didn’t you mention how adorable Jude was?” Gram said, squeezing my hand. “I can see why you’re so smitten with him.”

  Heat crept across my cheeks, and I felt like a little kid all over again.

  “Well, I fancy Cory too,” Jude said, watching me closely while his foot brushed against mine beneath the chair. “Quite a bit.”

  And now my heart was fluttering against my rib cage like a damned baby bird. Right then I had the urge to blurt my whole heart out to him in the middle of my grandmother’s kitchen. We had yet to really lay it out there to each other. Face-to-face.

  But I was enjoying my time with him. It was beginning to feel almost normal. Like we were figuring out our own special rhythm in a world where the drumbeat was constantly changing.

  “Good,” Gram said, a smile flitting across her lips as she turned and stirred her sauce. “Cory needs somebody to look after him.”

  Jude and I just stared and smiled at each other like we were sharing some magical secret. A secret that involved hopes and dreams and desires.

  “I’ll set the table.” I stood and reached for the dishes above the sink.

  “Let me help,” Jude said, and I pointed him to the utensil drawer.

  Jude complimented Gram’s meatballs several times over the course of dinner, which I could tell she relished hearing. She’d smile and pat his arm and then ask him something else about his work at the Board Room or cities he’d spent time in—obviously while on the run, but he was careful not to divulge any more history than necessary.

  Jude could be quite the charmer when he wasn’t hiding himself. I could already tell how much Gram adored his sense of humor and gentle demeanor.

  I’d been nervous that he wouldn’t share himself with her and only remain quiet, polite, and alert, like he’d continued doing with the rest of the town—outside of the Raw Ink crowd, which I could tell was growing on him. So I was instantly relieved when he opened himself to my grandmother without hesitation, as if allowing me a special gift. She never pushed for details, and he never offered more than he was willing to share, so it was an even and pleasant balance.

  Jude had traversed the United States and had lots to share about his favorite places on the West Coast. I couldn’t help wondering if we’d ever have the opportunity to travel together, but I also knew what feeling settled meant to Jude. After all, he had an entire tree inked on his back, roots and all.

  After Jude and I cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher, we joined Gram on the sofa.

  “Cory, in the dining room curio cabinet,” she said, nudging my elbow with her fingers, “there’s a drawer beneath with some photo albums. Pull out the large brown one for me.”

  “Uh-oh.” I swallowed my groan as I stood up and made my way into the other room. “What are you up to?”

  I searched around in the drawer and came across some other albums from my childhood that I quickly rotated and hid at the bottom of the pile.

  “Do you remember that your grandfather and I honeymooned in the English countryside?” she asked me once I sat back down with the book in my hand.

  “Which area?” Jude asked, and off they went on an hour-long discussion about their trip to Harrogate and Jude’s childhood, where he confessed to being a decent student but always a bit of a clown, taking any dare offered. That was the real Jude, and I loved seeing his indulgent smile. I also got a history in English culture and learned something about my grandmother’s youth in the process.

  They flipped through the pages, laughing and talking, as if this was completely natural for us. As if Jude was not in protective custody. As if he wasn’t hiding from his dangerous stepfather while a motorcycle gang patrolled the neighborhood, noting anything suspicious.

  For this one night, it simply felt real.

  33

  The following weekend, I walked in to find Jude and Gram sitting together at her kitchen table. They had apparently become chummy since the night they’d met. She’d even requested that both Jude and I pick her up from her ladies’ card night a couple of nights before. But Jude had been busy at the Board Room that night, and after frowning about it, she invited him over for breakfast the next morning instead.

  “Have a seat, darling,” she said, placing a plate in front of me.

  “What’s this?” It looked like a sausage in the middle of some egg concoction.

  “It’s called Toad in the Hole, and it’s the dog’s bollocks.” Jude’s face had broken into a stunning grin. “My mum used to make this for me and my sister in England.” His foot slid over mine beneath the table, his hand reaching for my knee as he took his first bite and declared it to be fantastic.

  I looked over at Gram, who was pouring orange juice into short glasses. “I figured he’d want a little taste of home.”

  “Thank you,” I mouthed to her.

  That same afternoon, Jude wheeled his Harley into Gram’s garage so I could help him change his brake pads like I’d done on my bike the month before. All my tools were already there, and Jude watched as I bled the fluid into an oil pan.

  “Hand me a wrench?”

  He nodded and rummaged around my toolbox.

  “I’m thinking about taking some uni courses again,” he mumbled, as if unsure of himself.

  “That’s great. What track, Doc? Medical?”

  He shrugged as his cheeks dotted red. “Or maybe something with animals?”

  “You could talk to Emmy about that.”

  He nodded, seeming more settled about it.

  We said our goodbyes to my grandmother and departed for a longer ride outside of town to test his brakes. We ended up back at my place so I could feed and walk the dogs.

  Then we had dinner at Jude’s, making for a perfect ending to our day. He broiled steaks, made a salad, and afterward, I lay back on his couch, sated and sleepy.

  “I want you to stay,” he whispered against my ear. “Wake up in my arms.”

  “You sure?” I asked, adjusting myself against his chest.

  “You’re totally knackered. You could use a good night of sleep.”

  He was right about that. The shop was busy, and my last day off had been a week ago.

  I arched my eyebrow. “We’d only sleep?”


  “You think I can’t lie here without groping you?” he scoffed, and I laughed. “You wanker. Come on, I’ll prove it.”

  We went to bed, and he turned toward me in the warm sheets, kissing me breathless.

  “Good night, Cory,” he whispered. His fingers burrowed in my hair, massaging my scalp, and I struggled to tamp down the desire beginning to flare from having his lips on me, his skin next to mine.

  I shut my eyes and hummed as he kissed my neck, his lips lingering near my throat, and then he settled me across his chest.

  “Jude?” My thumb lazily circled his stomach. There was a question I’d been gearing up to ask him for days.

  “Hmmm?” he replied, his fingers still grazing my temples.

  “That note you wrote me,” I mumbled. “When you had to leave…”

  “Meant every single word,” he said without hesitation, then curled his arm over my waist, settling in.

  “Thank God,” I murmured. “Because I love you too.”

  “Fucking hell, Cory.” He rolled me over and pressed me firmly into the sheets. “Say it again.”

  I stared into his twinkling eyes, the green color darkening. He looked so earnest right then that my heart practically burst through my chest.

  “I don’t know if I should,” I said, a wry smile twisting my lips. “You called me a wanker. I think that’s a pretty serious offense.”

  “Depends on the context,” he explained, his eyes alight with amusement. “I used it with affection.”

  “Affection, huh?” I flipped him on his back, pinning him down with my knee. “You sure about that?”

  He bit back a grin as he gazed into my eyes. “Pretty certain.”

  “In that case,” I said, my mouth brushing over his lips, “I love you, Jude York.”

  Then I seized his lips in a long, deep, heated kiss, leaving him as breathless as he’d just left me.

  It felt amazing to wake up in Jude’s bed. Warm and soft and protected. Maybe the world outside of us wasn’t safe, but inside his arms—his heart, his soul—I was.

  Dawn was just breaking, so I sank back into his sheets to doze for a couple of hours more before I needed to let out my dogs.

  “Come fishing with me,” Jude mumbled into the darkness.

  “Now?” I tried to think of any excuse to get out of the tedious task. But maybe this time it would be different.

  “Yes.” He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “I haven’t been in weeks. It’s so beautiful in the morning.”

  “On paddleboards?” I looked at him doubtfully.

  “You can sit down on yours if you like. The rentals are pretty sturdy.” He threw off the sheets. “We won’t stray far from shore.”

  Grudgingly, I got up, figuring I wasn’t getting out of this one easily.

  “We don’t even have to catch any,” he said, already dressing in shorts and a T-shirt. “We’ll throw them back.”

  He sent a quick text to Smoke to tell him what he was up to. From what I learned from Jude about the club, the recruits did the majority of the patrols 24-7 on their territory. Smoke was in charge of keeping tabs on Jude, and all seemed to run smoothly thus far.

  The sun was just rising, and it warmed our backs as we walked toward the pier. It was a tranquil morning, sleep still fogged our eyes, and my heart was settled and happy. It felt great to simply do something normal together.

  “I’d hold your hand right now if I could,” Jude said, stopping at the crosswalk. “And someday I plan to, Cory Easton.”

  “I look forward to that day,” I said, content with simply strolling beside him to the marina.

  There were only a couple of other fishermen and kayakers out when we arrived at the dock. The sound of a motorcycle engine cut through the quiet of daybreak. I was so used to listening for it that I no longer searched in the direction of the noise.

  Jude grabbed his equipment from the locker he rented near the shore and headed to the water. He stood on his board and used a paddle to propel himself out into the bay.

  I wasn’t as skilled with balance, besides the fact that it was only my second time on any type of board. But after a few minutes, I got the hang of kneeling using a wide stance as I paddled to catch up.

  We talked and laughed and simply enjoyed being together in the open water. It was so relaxing that I wondered why in the hell I’d been so reluctant to begin with.

  I even tried standing on the board while Jude held on to the side, and after a few tries, I was mostly able to keep myself steady.

  “It’ll have to be my goal this year to learn how to stand and fish,” I said, tilting my paddle sideways to regain my equilibrium.

  Jude’s eyes lit up. “I like the sound of that.”

  We were about thirty minutes out when Jude caught his first perch. He unhooked it and threw it back in.

  “So you’re actually enjoying this?” he asked, wiping his wet hands on his shorts.

  I dragged my fingers through the cool water as my feet dangled over the sides of the board. “I am.”

  He smiled in that magical way that always sent my pulse racing.

  The bay was beginning to fill with boaters. We saw them in the distance but still remained virtually alone in the water. We decided to head back in at the top of the hour before it became too crowded.

  When we heard a motorboat fast approaching in our direction a few minutes later, Jude stiffened and assessed the situation. “Christ, I hope they see us.”

  “We’re in plain sight; they’ve got to,” I said, panic rising in my chest.

  They were cutting it close, however, so Jude took his paddle to the water and began retreating toward shore.

  “Inexperienced drivers can make mistakes,” he said above the roar of the boat’s engine. “Better to be safe. Start heading back.”

  I was closer to the coastline, so I rose on my knees to row ashore. But I felt like I was only treading water, so I stood up, thinking I’d gain better traction.

  And then it was as if everything happened in slow motion. The speedboat decelerated before barely clipping Jude, a wall of water spraying in our faces.

  “You could’ve fucking killed us,” I yelled at the top of my lungs as my pulse hammered in my veins.

  Unexpectedly, two large men jumped down from the boat into the shallow water and surrounded Jude’s board. One of them was holding a gun, and the next thing I remembered was him pointing it at Jude’s head. My heart jackhammered in my chest, and my feet became unsteady from the boat’s wake as well as my inexperience on the board.

  Then suddenly my feet slipped sideways and down I went, my head cracking on the fiberglass edge. I fell beneath the waves and could feel the cool liquid rushing my lungs. I was sure to drown if I didn’t get my head above water level. My hands fumbled for the side of the board and finally found purchase. When I pulled myself up, I fell forward on the board, my hands groping the sides, struggling to hang on. I attempted to lift my splitting head, but everything looked spotted and fuzzy.

  “Jude!” was all I managed to force out, but the boat had already motored away.

  My brain was thudding loudly in my head as I weakly clung to the board. I felt something warm trickling down my neck and realized it was blood. I didn’t know how long I lay there before I managed to propel myself to shore.

  As I got closer to the kayak launch, I began yelling for Smoke, having no clue if he was anywhere around. I heard his motor in the distance, and then he came running, darting into the water, and pulling me to shore.

  “Holy shit, what happened?” he asked in a panicked tone.

  “They got him,” I groaned because my head felt like it was splitting in two.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” he growled. “Where’s Jude?”

  “It was a speedboat.” I crawled the rest of the way out of the water on my hands and knees. “Two men. One had a gun.”

  “Fuck!”

  I vomited in the rocks and sank down on the uneven surface. Then everyt
hing went black.

  34

  I woke up in a strange bed in a darkened room. I tried to lift up on my elbow, but my aching head wouldn’t allow it. The room tilted at a nauseating angle, and my body sank back down like a lead weight. I rolled to the side and dry heaved over the bed. Where the fuck was I, and what the hell was happening?

  I could hear voices, so I clamped my lips shut. Warm bile suspended at the back of my throat as I attempted to listen.

  “Fuck, I never considered the water,” the voice said, and it sounded strangely familiar.

  Water? Then I remember what happened. Jude. The boat. My stomach roiled, and I moaned.

  “What do they want, Mal?” another voice now asked.

  Mal. The president of the Disciples of the Road. I was with the MC club. Smoke had helped me from the water. I was safe. But Jude wasn’t.

  My muscles throbbed and my chest ached. This could not be happening.

  “They know we have something on them,” Mal said. “They say they’ll give up the kid if we destroy the evidence.”

  Jude was still alive. The relief was so immediate that my head lolled to the side.

  “What do the feds say?” Smoke asked.

  “Not the feds’ business,” another voice said. “This is club business.”

  “If we destroy the evidence, we’ll be even?” Smoke asked, urgency in his voice. “The kid will be left unharmed?”

  “You grow fond of him or something?” the other club member said, chuckling.

  “Fuck you,” Smoke said. “He’s a good kid, had a shit life, and deserves something decent.”

  And then I remembered all the conversations Jude and I had about his stepfather.

  I tried to move again and groaned loudly. “Damn it.”

  The door slipped open, permitting a shard of light that nearly blinded me.

  “You’re awake,” Smoke said. “Get him some water.”

  “Where is he?” I asked, trying to get some answers.

  “We’re working on it, kid.” The voice came from the doorway. It was Malachi.