by Sybil Bartel
“Fuck you.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Tell me off all you want. You know I’m right. You’re sitting on a fat bank account, and trust me, I know, because I’m nosey enough to check the balance every once in a while because you’re too stupid to change the passcode from three years ago. You could afford to buy her three Harleys and still have enough left for a decade. Quit being a dick. If you love her and you want her, show her you fucking care.”
“I didn’t ask for your goddamn opinion.”
“Yeah, then why the hell are you calling?”
Staring at the front entrance to the Harley dealer, I didn’t say dick.
Kendall snorted. “That’s what I thought. And by the way, remind me to thank you for never falling for me. I can’t fucking imagine being tied to you. You better hope you’re a goddamn rock star in bed, because your disposition sucks.”
“You think you’re any better than me?” She had the worst attitude out of anyone I knew, and that was fucking saying something.
“Not one bit. But I’m not stupid enough to sit outside a motorcycle dealership holding my dick while another man buys my woman a thirty-thousand-dollar toy.”
“He’s not fucking buying her a Hog!”
“How do you know?” she yelled right back before turning on the sarcasm. “Oh, that’s right, you wouldn’t, because you’re still fucking sitting outside.”
“Fuck you,” I seethed.
“Fuck you too. Now grow a pair and walk the fuck in there.”
I hated her. “I don’t know why the hell I called you.”
“Because you’re a pussy. And because despite everything, you know I’m right. You also know I’ll never lie to you, and frankly, I think you appreciate that more than anything else about me.”
“Don’t fucking start.”
“I never stop. But that doesn’t change the facts. You called me because you have no one else to call.”
“I don’t need anyone.” Her included.
Kendall inhaled loudly and let it out even louder. When she spoke again, her tone was unusually calm. “Maybe it’s time, Candle.”
Fucking Christ. “For what?”
“To let someone in.”
“I already did that.” Then I lost everything.
“She loves you, you know.”
“She called Talerco.” My woman hated me.
“She was hurting.”
She was strung out. “Not from me.”
Kendall got indignant. “Are you fucking kidding? Please tell me you’re not that ignorant.”
“I didn’t hurt her.” Not intentionally.
“Life hurt that girl,” Kendall pointed out like it wasn’t obvious. “You know what that’s like. We lived it. Why can’t you make shit better for her?”
A new wave of irrational anger hit me like a fucking blast wave. “Why the hell do I have to?”
Kendall didn’t answer.
In fact, the line went so damn quiet, I didn’t know if she was still there. “D.”
“Tarq,” Kendall solemnly stated. “Making her feel better will heal you.”
Fighting a wave of shit I didn’t want to think about, I closed my eyes. “I gotta go.”
“Stop blaming yourself for everything.”
“Hanging up.”
“Fine. Hang up. Be a dick. But know this…” Kendall’s voice got real quiet. “I give a shit about you.”
I hung up.
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I made the decision to man up and go get my woman, but as I threw my leg over my Hog, Talerco walked out with my woman under his arm.
In short-as-fuck cutoffs and a tank top, my woman wasn’t in flip-flops anymore.
Wearing black biker boots and a shy, almost smile, she pushed her hair behind her ear.
Talerco said something I couldn’t hear and grinned as he opened the truck’s passenger door.
My woman laughed.
She laughed.
Then she got in the truck.
One whole week with me, and I’d never made her laugh.
I didn’t wait for Talerco to pull out.
I started my Harley and took the fuck off.
I looked around Talon’s fancy beach house for the fifth time because I still couldn’t believe it. It was a hundred times nicer than Tarquin’s house, and Tarquin’s was the nicest place I’d ever been in.
But Talon’s house?
It was a whole new level of nice.
A wall of glass sliding doors looked out at the unobstructed ocean view from the second-story main living area. The kitchen was all stainless steel appliances and shiny countertops, and every piece of furniture looked comfortable but expensive as shit. Talon must’ve been rich as hell to own this place and not even live in it.
“Like I said, darlin’, help yourself to whatever is in the cupboards, but check the expiration dates. I haven’t been here in a while.” He put the bags of groceries he’d bought me on the counter. “You have the run of the place. There’s the master bedroom upstairs and a guest bedroom downstairs. Take your pick and make yourself comfortable.”
Holding the bag of clothes from his surf shop, I wiggled my toes in the new biker boots he’d bought me. “Why are you doin’ all this?”
Glancing around his house like he was remembering something, Talon rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. Then a pensive expression I hadn’t seen before clouded his features. “Let’s just say I got a soft spot for women who need help.”
I wondered if the person he lost that he mentioned earlier was who he was talking about. “Who was she?”
“Come again?”
“The woman you couldn’t save?” Because he clearly had that air about him. He liked to be the hero.
Talon chuckled without humor. “I can see why you’ve got Candle up in arms.”
Barely hiding my expression, I tried to shrug it off. “I don’t have him doin’ nothin’.”
Talon grinned. “Except shittin’ himself that you’re here.”
“He didn’t want me.”
Talon’s expression sobered. “On the contrary.”
Anger flared. “Trust me, when a man spits after kissin’ you, you know he don’t want nothin’ to do with you.”
“A man doesn’t get angry when he doesn’t love a woman.”
“I’ve got no part in Tarquin Scott’s anger.” He came to me seven years ago already angry. “He managed that all on his own.”
“I’m sure he did.”
I didn’t comment.
“Give it time, darlin’.”
The more the day wore on, the less charitable I was feeling. I knew my mistakes, but Tarquin made a bunch too, and I wasn’t responsible for his anger. “He had seven years.”
“By my count, he’s had seven days. He thought you were dead. That’s not a lot of time to process everythin’.”
“Now you’re defendin’ him?”
“Just pointin’ out a different perspective.”
I glanced around his ridiculously nice house and lied. “I got all the perspective I need.”
“Fair enough.” Talon handed me the keys. “Braige will be here in the mornin’. House phone works if you need somethin’. I’ll leave my number.” He jotted it down on a pad of paper on the kitchen counter. “You good?”
I lied again. “Perfect.”
Talon Talerco, surfer, savior, pain in the ass, stared at me for a long moment. Then he nodded. “I’ll take that at face value. Take care, darlin’. I’ll check in tomorrow.” He headed for the door.
“Wait.” Shit. “I’m not good at this. I know, at best, I’m charity. I can’t pay you back. I don’t fit in your fancy world, and I got no redeemin’ qualities outside a damn biker clubhouse.”
Anger crossed his features, and he started to say something.
I held a hand up. “Don’t. I know what I was. I ain’t makin’ excuses. I was addicted, and drugs were more important than anythin’. But tryin’ to change that now don’t erase the past. I k
now not many people would help me like this, so… selflessly. I just want you to know I know that. I hope one day to pay it back, or forward, or something.”
Talon stared at me. Then he opened his mouth and threw me. “I wanted to die once. Took enough pain pills to get the deed done.”
Sweet mercy.
Hurting deep, for him, for me, I remembered not too long ago coming to in the filthy bathroom of the clubhouse as some prospect had shoved his fingers down my throat and made me vomit up all the pills I’d taken. “What happened?” I asked Talon, feeling a kinship with him I couldn’t begin to explain.
“Someone helped me out.”
It all clicked into place. “You’re payin’ it forward.”
“Every day that I can.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He tipped his chin once. “Life’s a gift, darlin’. No matter what happens with Scott, remember that.”
Assaulted with humility, standing in his house in the boots he bought me, wearing the clothes he gave me, I nodded.
“Lock up behind me.” He walked down the stairs and out the door.
After I set the alarm like he’d shown me, I was looking out the now darkened windows at the light of the moon as it danced on the waves when a knock sounded on the front door.
Quickly disarming the alarm and going downstairs, I opened the door. “Forget some—”
My question died on my tongue as I took in six feet four inches of Tarquin Scott.
His hair windblown, his eyes haunted, his expression locked, he held out his hand.
I looked down.
A single flower sat in his palm.
Sucking in a sharp breath, knowing exactly what a single flower meant to him, my eyes welled. “Tarquin,” I whispered before my heart lodged in my throat and I couldn’t say no more.
Taking my wrist, he put the pretty ivory flower, tinted with a peach color that almost matched my hair, in my hand. Then he simply turned to leave.
“Please.” My voice broke. “Wait.”
His shoulders stiffened, and he paused for half a second, but he didn’t look back. He continued down the driveway and disappeared into the darkness.
Shutting the door, I set the alarm.
Then I sank to the floor and dissolved into tears.
The front door banged opened, and I jumped a foot.
“Shaaaaai-laaaaa!” The surfer’s voice carried through the whole house as I heard him disarm the alarm.
My heart about to explode, grasping the edge of the bathroom counter in a death grip with one hand, my other went to my chest. “Goddamn,” I whispered, looking in the mirror. Bloodshot eyes, sunken cheeks and the look of fear ingrained. Awesome.
Braige’s footsteps echoed on the hard wood stairs as he went up to the main level. “Where you at, mamacita?”
“I’m down here,” I called out. “Be ready in a second.”
Double-time, his flip-flops slapped back down the stairs. “You decent?”
“Yeah.” No matter what you dressed me up in, I’d never be decent again. “But you scared me half to death. Ever heard of knockin’?”
Braige’s head popped around the bathroom door a split second before his wide, tanned shoulders followed. “Sorry about scaring you. Talon should’ve warned you I have a key.” Grinning, he held up one of those cardboard drink holders with two cups shoved in it. “Peace offering? I brought the good stuff.”
My muscles stiffened, but my traitorous mouth watered. “I don’t drink no more.”
He laughed like he didn’t have a care in the world. “Coffee, babe. Caffeine and sugar.” He plucked one of the cups out and handed it to me.
The scent of fresh-brewed deliciousness hit me, and I almost wept. My hands trembling slightly, I took the cup and brought it to my lips.
“Careful,” Braige warned. “Still hot.”
I didn’t care.
I drank the first sip, and blessed warmth filled my soul. Except it wasn’t just plain ole caffeinated warmth. The strongest-tasting coffee I’d ever had was mixed with about a gallon of cream and sweetness, and the whole concoction exploded on my tongue like the best kind of morning wake up. Losing all decorum, not that I had much to begin with, I gulped half the cup.
It was the best damn coffee I’d ever had.
Braige laughed. “Knew you were a coffee junkie.”
I stiffened at his last word, but I didn’t correct him. I was a junkie. A pathetic one. “Thanks for the caffeine. Best I ever had.”
He touched his cup to mine in a toast. “Lattes make the world go around.”
Latte? “I don’t know what that is, but I’m sold.” It was the first thing in a week that’d tasted good. And after seven years of piss water flavored with stale grounds, I was in heaven.
“Steamed milk, espresso? You never had a latte?” He laughed. “What kind of rock have you been hiding under?”
I didn’t know how to tell him I’d been a junkie club whore lying on my back for seven years, so I drank more coffee.
Frowning, he dumped the cardboard tray in the little bathroom trash can like he was familiar with the place. “Okay, I’m not going to step in it, because Talon said you were Candle’s lady, and I value my goods too much to mess with him, but damn, girl.” He shook his head. “He needs to take you out more.” He raised his eyebrows. “Especially since you like coffee. And don’t drink,” he added with a wink.
“Are you mockin’ me?” Suddenly uncomfortable, I wanted out of this bathroom and away from his six feet of surfer cheerfulness.
“No, no, I swear!” He held his hands up, coffee and all. “I was just…” He exhaled and his cheeks turned pink. “Never mind, you ready to go?” He stepped out of the doorway and back, making room for me to head to the front door.
I stared at him a moment. “Are you blushin’?”
“What? No.”
I cracked a smile. A real dang smile. “Okay, coffee boy, take me to my new pity-party job.”
“Pity-party job?”
“Pity job, really. Talon felt bad for me, so yeah, pity job. But pity party sounded better sayin’ it out loud.”
Braige frowned. “Why does he feel sorry for you?”
“You don’t?”
The lines between his eyes grew deeper. “Feel sorry for you?”
“Yeah.”
“Should I?” He glanced at my shorts and T-shirt. “You hurt or something?”
Digging my own grave, I sighed. “Somethin’ like that. Let’s go.” I walked out the front door in my new boots, soft blue shorts, a tank top, and a T-shirt over it that I had to knot in front because it was two sizes too big. “Since you got yourself in here, you can do the honors.” I waved at the lock on the front door.
“I’ll knock tomorrow, promise.” Braige smiled sheepishly as he glanced at my outfit again. “You all set?”
“Yeah, why? Do I look funny or somethin’?” I didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to wear to my new job, but seeing as Braige was in shorts and a T-shirt himself, I figured I couldn’t be too far off the mark.
“No, not at all, you look great. Just, no purse or anything?”
Suddenly defensive, I threw it back on him. “Do I need one?”
Chuckling like he was as nervous as I felt out of sorts, he locked the door, then crossed the gravel driveway to the same truck Talon was driving me around in yesterday and opened the passenger door.
I glanced up at him. “Why the show?” He didn’t seem the type. It’d be like Tarquin holding the door for me, but the only time I’d ever ridden in a car with him, his friend André had opened the door.
“What?” Braige asked.
“Why you holdin’ my door?”
His frown returned. “I can’t open your door?”
“You always answer a question with a question?”
He smiled. Wide and genuine, it also looked like he was caught with his hand in the candy jar. “I’m thinking I’m not playing this too smooth.”
Crossing my arms, I gave him a look that said I meant business. “I’m thinkin’ you’re not playin’ it at all.”
His expression turned serious. “I hear you.”
“Good, because I don’t need my door opened.” It made me uncomfortable, like I owed him something for it.
Braige nodded. “Got it.”
No, he didn’t, but I let it slide and got in the truck.
That prick surfer who worked for Talerco picked her up before nine. I followed at a distance as he drove her to the surf shop.
An hour later, I was sitting across the street watching her through the window as the asshole showed her shit behind the counter.
Talerco gave her a fucking job.
I pulled my phone out and dialed.
Talerco answered with a chuckle. “What up, Ranger?”
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Right this minute or in general?”
I heard a woman’s and a kid’s voice in the background, but I didn’t care what the hell I was interrupting. “You gave her a job,” I accused.
“Lady said she needed one. I had one. Problem solved.”
Cocky prick. “Not your problem to solve, SARC.”
“Hang on.” Talerco held the phone away from his ear. “Be back in a minute, darlin’. Keep my seat warm.” The voices in the background faded, and he came back, all business. “You want to have a real conversation or you just pissin’ in the sand?”
“What the fuck do you think?” I wanted to pound his face in.
“I think you’ve lost your shit.”
“Fuck you.”
“All good, thanks,” the asshole drawled.
“Don’t fuck with my woman,” I ground out. “I’m warning you.”
“I wasn’t the one who fucked with her to begin with. I came in after the fact, and you know what I found?” Not waiting for a response, his tone went military hard. “I found an addict fighting to get clean and a hotheaded Ranger selfishly crawling up her ass with his own damn demons. So yeah, I fucking gave her a job. I also gave her a place to lay her head where she doesn’t have to worry about your fucking moods.”