Dear Diamond

by Walls, Stephie

  Sam narrowed his eyes, and his nostrils flared. “I don’t work for you. Or answer to you.” He scoped me out from head to toe before staring me down. “My job is to bring her in. That doesn’t involve you.”

  I chuckled as I took a step back and folded my arms over my chest. I didn’t give a fuck who Sam thought he was or what position he believed he held in the Union. I’d gone to the box for shit I hadn’t done, and Jesse Silvano respected that. Without being a member, I’d forever gained their protection, and I’d earned a mark. Sam should be privy to that information, but I couldn’t care less if he was or not.

  “The second you laid a finger on her, you lost the ability to follow your boss’s orders.” Not only did I have a couple inches on Sam, but I also had a solid fifty pounds of muscle. I was younger. I was faster. And I wasn’t afraid of anything he thought he could throw at me, including Jesse. Prison had a way of hardening inmates, and that detachment became innate, part of who I was.

  His jaw ticced while he appeared to consider my statement. What he hadn’t done was consider it long enough. Sam barked at Nikki, dismissing me in the process. “Get in the car. We’re late.”

  Clearly, he hadn’t received the message. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I would before I let him drive off with Nikki in the back seat. “She’s with me.”

  “Ryker…” Her voice nearly shattered me. It wasn’t the hostile, hate-filled tone she’d thrown my way before Sam showed. Her vibrato had been replaced with uncertainty and laced with fear. “I’ll be okay.” Three words gave away more than an admission would have.

  Taking my eyes off Sam wasn’t an option. Gang members didn’t play by the rules. They had no problem sideswiping a person to get what they needed. And while just about everyone else under the Union umbrella knew better than to cross my path, somewhere along the way, Sam had gotten the impression he could best me. A shift in my focus, a single second where my attention was lost, and he’d have me on the ground and Nikki in the car. That couldn’t happen.

  A smug expression crossed Sam’s lips, as though he believed he’d won. The motherfucker hadn’t won shit other than my disdain and irritation. If he pushed it much further, he’d be the proud owner of a handful of his own teeth. “Yeah, Ryker. She’ll be just fine.” He waved his hand to indicate that I should scamper along.

  With my sight trained on Sam, I spoke to Nikki. “There’s a black Harley around the corner. Go wait for me there.” I didn’t hear any movement behind me, so she hadn’t walked away. “Now, Nikki. I’ll be there in a minute.” There was no room for negotiation in my command. Once I had her on the back of my bike, if she wanted me to take her home, I would, but there was no way in hell she was getting in the back of that Lexus.

  Sam’s eyes flitted between me and Nikki and then back to me. “That was a stupid move, even for you.”

  “Tell Jesse she’s with me.”

  He shrugged and relaxed. “You just signed your own death certificate.” With a slight shake of his head, he spat at my feet. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  I held my ground. “He knows where to find me. I’ll be waiting to hear from him.” There was no way I’d back down from this.

  When I’d gotten out of prison, Jesse’d made me a promise, an assurance that he’d repay what I did for the Union. At the time, I’d just wanted to be as far away from them as I could get. Completely disassociated. Being caught up in their shit had destroyed my life, ruined any chances I had of getting out of Dacon. I certainly never thought I’d call in that favor, and damn sure not over a girl, much less one whose name was a mystery five minutes ago and whose last name still evaded me. I didn’t once think about the statement I’d just made, not even as Sam drove away. I’d essentially just claimed a woman I didn’t know, and now I’d be responsible for anything she did that affected U21.

  As the taillights faded into the distance, I turned back toward Swank. Cars lined the parking lot, although the owners all remained inside. I couldn’t see my bike from here. I didn’t have a clue if Nikki had done what I’d told her or bolted the instant she’d rounded the corner—either was possible, although the latter wouldn’t surprise me. She didn’t come across as the type to follow instructions from anyone, much less a man she’d just met. There was fire in her eyes, hate in her demeanor, and rebellion oozed from every inch of her perfect frame.

  Yet as soon as I stepped foot in front of the building, there she sat. Her knees were drawn to her chest as she cowered close to the brick, hidden by her black jacket and my motorcycle. She flinched when I approached, and I nearly broke in two taking in her expression. Her eye makeup was ruined by tears, and the right side of her face already showed signs of swelling. She’d have a nasty bruise by morning, but it was the terror that turned her dark-blue eyes to grey that sent a dagger to my heart. I hated to see a woman cry, but witnessing this one broken gutted me. It took everything I had not to scoop her off the ground and press her to my chest.

  However, I didn’t think she’d welcome my embrace, and I didn’t know what I’d do with her afterward even if she had. Women were trouble, and the one on the ground was proof of just that. Not only had I just put a target on my back with one of the most ruthless gangs in the area, but I’d taken on the responsibility for any shit she might pull—including fleeing without paying off whatever she owed Jesse Silvano. If that happened, it would fall to me to make good on it. My mark would guarantee her protection; I couldn’t ensure it would absolve her of her obligation.

  She didn’t look like an addict, not that addiction had a face or an identity. I had a hard time believing she was a prostitute since she didn’t get close enough to the men in Swank for anyone to actually touch her. It was possible she’d stolen something or even done something sinister to a thug, although that didn’t seem likely, either. Now wasn’t the time to ask for her story. We needed to get out of here before someone other than Jesse came looking for me. Union 21 was a brotherhood—not a family I wanted to be a part of—and if word got out about what I’d done before it got to Jesse, it could spell disaster for both Nikki and me.

  I wasn’t good at placating. I didn’t deal with women for a reason. “We need to move.” Sugarcoating wasn’t my specialty, and I had zero tolerance for bullshit. I could have softened my tone, but Nikki needed to understand the urgency in the situation.

  Her head barely moved when she shook it. “You shouldn’t have gotten involved.” Her voice cracked. There was just enough light from the moon to see how hard it was for her to swallow before she spoke again. “You don’t have any idea what you’ve done.”

  She was wrong. I was well aware of the implications of my decision; hence the reason vacating the premises was currently my top priority.

  “Nikki, we don’t have the luxury of sitting around debating the merits of my actions. I need you to stand up.” I stepped close enough to offer her my hand.

  The grey hadn’t left her empty eyes. The fight I’d been privy to on the stage was nowhere to be found. There was nothing more than a shell cowered against the brick. I didn’t want to have to pick her up and haul her ass onto the back of my bike, but I’d do what was necessary.

  Silent tears streamed down her cheeks, further marring her makeup. By the time we got wherever we were going, anyone who saw us would believe I’d been the one who had beaten the shit out of her. My impatience grew by the second, yet she didn’t budge.

  “Nikki, seriously. Get up.” I was well aware of just how overbearing my voice could be; coupled with my appearance, she was likely more scared of me than she had been Sam.

  She blinked. Twice.

  Jesus. This chick would be the death of me. Literally. I closed my eyes, counted to ten, and took a deep breath. When I reopened them, I softened my words, hoping she heard my unspoken promise. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Her tongue snuck out between her lips, moistening them as she swept it from one side to the other. When she snagged her bottom lip between her teeth, my dick sto
od at attention. Thankfully, she took my hand and wrapped her little fingers around mine. I took a moment to allow myself to relish the heat of her touch and the electricity that traveled through me, feeling her skin on mine. There hadn’t been a woman alive to affect me this way. Instead of dwelling on my reaction, I clenched my jaw to keep from saying something I might regret and gently pulled her up.

  Standing inches from me, I dwarfed her in size. She’d appeared larger than life on stage. Even in the parking lot before Sam had shown up, her personality exuded confidence. The blue began to edge out the grey in her eyes, and her warm breath tickled my neck with each exhalation she released. Without thought and still holding her hand, I reached up to wipe away the mascara on her cheeks. She didn’t pull away, just stared at me in what I could only imagine was disbelief. Sympathy wasn’t my forte, yet here I stood, desperate to ease her mind and comfort a girl I didn’t know. Without the shadows covering her, it was now easy to see the defined outline of a handprint on her cheek, and her eyelid had already begun to swell shut. When I noticed a trickle of blood on her brow, it took monumental effort to calm the storm that brewed inside me. Had I seen the thick crimson before Sam left, nothing would have stopped me from giving him exactly what he’d dealt her. Only I wouldn’t have done it with an open palm, and I wouldn’t have stopped with one punch.

  I dropped my eyes and my shaking hand, and then I turned toward my Harley. I hadn’t expected to have a passenger, so I only had one helmet with me. It would be too big, but it was better than nothing, so I grabbed it from the handlebars and faced her. She hadn’t moved and stared at me with wide, curious eyes. Somehow, it felt intimate to put the helmet on her head. I held her gaze as I adjusted it and fastened the chin strap. Calm washed over me as I tightened the strap and the corners of her mouth tilted in the faintest of smiles. But I didn’t allow myself to dwell in it or think about the ramifications of what any of it meant when I tossed my leg over the bike, stood it up, and pushed back the kickstand.

  Nikki hadn’t moved while I walked the bike backward or even after I started the ignition. I jerked my head to motion for her to hop on, and she moved closer. Her hand landed on my shoulder, and she tightened her grip for stability before sliding on. The scent of vanilla and lavender surrounded me, the smell catching me off guard. It was soft compared to her sharp edges. Warm in direct contrast to her cold demeanor. Deadly to a man like me.

  “Where’s home?” My voice was raised to be heard over the rumble of the Harley.

  She leaned forward, her arms snaking around my abdomen, to speak into my ear. “I can’t go home.” Her trepidation hit me like a wrecking ball to the gut.

  I prayed like hell the answer to my next question would be no, because if it wasn’t, she was in far deeper than I’d thought. “Do they know where you live?”

  With her chin on my shoulder, her nod was easy to detect. She wouldn’t be safe alone, and she knew it as well as I did. There was no choice other than to take her with me. Thankfully, she couldn’t see my face or the agitation that had to have passed over my expression. My frustration wasn’t with her. She didn’t ask or even expect me to step in; in fact, she’d tried to get me to stay out of it. Nikki had encouraged me to walk away and let her deal with her chaos. None of this was her fault, and I refused to let her shoulder the blame for my hero complex.

  I patted her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze of reassurance that I wasn’t certain I felt. When I took both grips, her hands clasped, and her fingers laced together on top of my stomach. I popped the bike in gear, gave it a little gas, and let out the clutch. I’d never had anyone ride bitch, but the pressure from her tits against my back and the embrace of her arms around my middle had me wondering why this was a first. For whatever reason—maybe only her lack of options—she’d put her faith in me.

  I refused to let her down.

  6

  Nikki

  I had no idea what had come over me. It appeared I’d left my brain on the stage as I’d exited my last performance. Hell-bent on escaping the tattooed god who now sat in front of me, I’d managed to land myself in his debt as well as Union 21’s. As if crossing Sam, and therefore Jesse, hadn’t been foolish enough, I’d ended up on the back of a menacing Harley that growled like its owner. And both did things to my panties I’d never admit out loud.

  My knowledge of motorcycles was even more limited than that of stripping and gang banging, yet here I was straddling a beast that vibrated between my thighs and threatened to end my life with one wrong move. While I should have been crippled by fear, all I could think about was how the monotony of the hum and the wind against my face had me flush against a wall of muscle, dreaming of all the ways Ryker could make me forget my past, abandon my present, and drown in my future.

  I didn’t have a clue where we were heading or how long it would take to get there, but I savored the weight of his palm on my calf and the delicious agony it sent longing through my core. I chalked it up to nervous energy and an affectionate-less life that left me yearning for human contact, preferably that of a tattooed bad boy who’d ruin me in the end.

  Nothing could touch me on the open road. It was foolish to believe that to be true. Motorcycles by definition were dangerous; add running from the Silvanos to the mix, and it was a recipe for six feet of upturned ground and a freshly carved tombstone with my name as the headliner. Yet somehow, I’d never felt more alive. The heat of his hand gave me comfort I shouldn’t believe in. Ryker and Jesse shared an association of some sort. I’d seen him with Jesse’s grandson. Sam had allowed him to walk away with me in his possession. He had a connection, regardless of whether I knew what it was—that alone should have me taking my life into my own hands and diving off into a ditch. I’d likely fair better with a tuck and roll than I would anywhere this bike stopped.

  Nevertheless, I held on. I enjoyed the way Ryker and his Harley made my body purr. My front melded to his back like Playdough in a mold, a perfect fit. It also provided me with the opportunity to release some of the burning desire between my legs that I prayed like hell he couldn’t feel. As insane as it was, an orgasm was just within reach, and I’d bet money it would release a great deal of the tension and anxiety tonight’s events had created. I groaned and rolled my eyes at just how pathetic I’d become. In less than a week, I’d managed to throw away years of avoiding U21, become a stripper at a trashy club, and now acted like a wanton whore on the back of a stranger’s motorcycle.

  Ryker must have heard, or possibly felt, my audible sigh. His hold on my calf tightened in reassurance, just briefly. I tried to focus on anything other than the machine under me and the alpha in front of me, but the houses we passed did little to hold my interest. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, the road trip was over less than ten minutes after it had started.

  We pulled into an apartment complex a few miles from Swank. I’d been by it before, but it was nondescript. There was nothing fancy about the outside, and I imagined the inside to be equally as lackluster. Not that my own home was anything more than humble. I’d just expected one of U21’s members to live a little higher than I did myself. For God’s sake, the motorcycle alone had to be worth a fortune. I’d never understand why anyone spent more on a vehicle than they did a place to live, but it was quite common with people I knew. Appearances held far more importance than reality, and gang members seemed to want people to believe they were as successful as the people who’d mentored them…and I used that term lightly.

  He slowed the bike but didn’t stop, and we rounded the corners in the complex before Ryker found a space in front of the last building in the back. It was oddly secluded from the rest of the apartments, although I got the feeling that was how Ryker preferred things. Whatever his affiliation was with the Silvanos, he clearly wasn’t part of the pack. But a lone wolf was still a wolf. And even if I hadn’t seen his fangs, he definitely had them.

  I didn’t know how to gracefully dismount, and I worried my legs wouldn’t support my weight when m
y feet hit the ground. They shook from gripping the bike with my thighs to keep from falling off, and the hormonal overload did nothing to help give them any rigidity. Nevertheless, I pushed my foot over while strangling Ryker’s bicep with my fingers to keep from falling. To my surprise, I didn’t topple or face plant the asphalt. I hadn’t made a fool of myself by stumbling, either. In my frazzled state, I would call that a win.

  He put the kickstand down and eased the bike’s weight onto it before stepping off. The night was quiet. Not even a streetlight hummed overhead, so when Ryker’s deep chuckle met my ears, I stopped fumbling with the strap to stare at him. Every inch of the picturesque man in front of me was hard, from his jaw to his abs to his prickly personality, but his eyes gave him away. They told a different story. Childlike amusement stared back at me through smoldering irises.

  “Want help with that?” He’d found humor in my inability to remove the helmet stuck to my head.

  I hated asking for assistance, much less needing it. I also didn’t want to wander around God knows where with a mushroom cap designed to keep my brains from splattering on the pavement with zero regard for fashion. I dropped my hands, my shoulders drooped in defeat, and I jutted my chin at him.

  The moon allowed me to see each inked finger as it worked the strap below my jaw. It took effort to stare straight down my nose, but something intrigued me in the lines and colors that shaded his knuckles. My sight trailed to his hands and then his wrists, up his forearms to his biceps. The ink didn’t stop where his shirt sleeve began. Every intricate nuance of artwork that covered his skin had been done with painstaking precision. Ryker was someone’s masterpiece, and damn, I wanted to see the entire canvas.

  He lifted the helmet from my head and hung it on the handlebars the way it had been at the club. This wasn’t a great part of town, and I wondered how he kept someone from stealing it. He didn’t give me the opportunity to ask before he grabbed my hand, wound his fingers through mine, and started walking toward the building in front of us.