by Nicole Reed
Carrie huffed at Shyla’s greeting. She narrowed her eyes at Hold a moment longer than necessary before pivoting on her heels and storming back to the garage.
“Hey, Shyla. I hope to see you at the clubhouse next weekend to watch my band play,” Shady said, oblivious to Carrie’s demeanor.
“Oh. Thanks for the invite. I’ll try to make it,” Shyla replied, standing up.
Hold grabbed his soda can and dumped it in the trash as they all silently returned to the garage.
“See ya next week, Shyla,” Shady said, before leaving them at the front entrance.
“Well, I guess you need to get back to work. I’ll see you around,” she said, not sparing him a backward glance as she walked to her car.
“That’s one hell of a looker,” Ward said, coming to stand beside him seemingly out of nowhere.
Hold shifted his eyes to see his father staring at Shyla getting into her vehicle. A rage flared deep within him.
“Somethin’ I can help you with?” he asked, barely hiding his contempt for his old man.
“I need you to go out and check on that issue we’re having in Barrow County. My contact says tonight should be a go,” Ward said, his brown eyes intently regarding Hold.
“It’s already handled,” Hold said, staring him down. No one knew he’d been coming back from Barrow County when he wrecked. The story he’d made up had him in a different town altogether.
“What do you mean it’s already handled?” Ward’s face flamed a bright crimson.
“It means I sent two prospects out to infiltrate the bar where they hang out. I should know somethin’ in the next couple of days.”
Ward’s nostrils flared, his chest puffed rapidly, and his quick hiss of breath all indicated his rising anger. He grasped Hold’s arm.
“You’re not in charge here, boy. Nothin’ gets handled unless I give the go,” Ward said, venom dripping from every word.
“You taught me to handle shit. That’s what I do,” Hold said calmly, knowing it pissed Ward off that he didn’t rattle him.
He released Hold and stepped back. “A chip off the old block, eh?” Ward barked a brutal laugh.
“I guess.”
“You guess,” Ward repeated, his laughter carrying across the garage. “How true it is,” he said before walking away.
The guys standing around seemed disturbed at Ward’s actions. Hold didn’t know if his request was sinister in nature or not, but he wasn’t chancing it. Badger had helped him set forth their plan weeks earlier, picking two prospects to check things out. It was an answer to Ward’s request without putting Hold in danger. Ward seemed to not know anything about the accident, which confused Hold. Did that mean he didn’t have anything to do with him getting busted up?
He glanced up to see Sage staring strangely at the scene that unfolded. She grasped her chest, her eyes swinging to Hold’s. He saw the raw terror and something else—something that looked a lot like guilt.
Shyla glanced down at her cell and saw the latest text Mikey had sent.
You missed my call again. Am I getting the shaft?
She quickly typed him a reply.
Things have been crazy at Hard Ink. We’ll chat when you get back.
He’d called two nights in a row. She didn’t know what to say to him if he asked her how she was doing or what she’d been up to? Shyla could hardly tell him how his best friend had invaded her thoughts. Her sleep started off with horrific nightmares of the motorcycle accident, but then always, every damn night, turned into something so painfully erotic she woke one morning on the brink of an orgasm. All it took was a squeeze of her thighs together to finish her off.
It was completely crazy. She hardly knew Hold, but she could sense how much pain he was in yesterday when she’d seen him at Dawson’s Garage. Sage had called her out of the blue to have lunch and she couldn’t say no. It’d gone stunningly well until she asked Shyla to bring Hold his lunch when she was getting ready to leave. Shyla had planned on not seeing him for a while, hoping it would cure her of her dreams. However, once she saw him in the flesh, the last thing on her mind was getting away.
To make matters worse, she’d used Mikey as an excuse. Some female intuition told Shyla that Hold might be uncomfortable with her after the other day and she wanted him to believe that her intentions were directed toward Mike. Now she felt like a horrible person. Shyla knew Mikey liked her. If she didn’t have plans to be romantically involved with him, he deserved to know. She’d always hated chicks who led guys on.
“Shyla, are you paying attention?” Diamond asked, tattooing a prospect who’d proudly just received his Hell’s Highwaymen three-piece patch and was now a full-fledged member.
“Yes. You were showing me the difference in shading,” Shyla replied, not sure if that’s what her aunt was tattooing now or twenty minutes ago when she’d started daydreaming.
“Pay attention,” her aunt snapped.
“You have my absolute attention,” she said, smiling at her frowning family member. “I promise. You really have it now.”
The evening seemed to drag by slowly. Usually, Shyla loved when her aunt would work the evening shift. It kept her busy and the shop was usually filled with club members who stopped by for off the cuff, friendly conversation in between clients. Not tonight. She was seconds away from telling Diamond she was going to call it a night when he sauntered into Hard Ink.
Hold greeted Badger and all the other MC’ers before casually glancing around the shop. His eyes landed on hers. Shyla physically felt his presence with a flip of her stomach. He gave a nod of hello, before grabbing a chair and straddling it to talk to her uncle.
“You look tired, hon. Why don’t you call it a day?” Diamond asked, speaking directly into her ear.
“I’m good for now. Maybe shortly,” she answered, looking every which way but at her aunt or Hold.
Every time she dared to take a sneak peek at him, he wasn’t even paying attention to her. After a good thirty minutes Shyla couldn’t stand a second more. For her, the connection between them was almost tangible. Maybe Hold just didn’t feel it.
“I’m out, Aunt D,” Shyla said, kissing her aunt on the cheek.
She didn’t have far to go home, so she said her goodbyes and headed out the front door. The cool night breeze did nothing to alleviate the hot pressure burning inside of her. Shyla even fanned herself for good measure, but it didn’t help in the least.
“Hey! Wait a second,” Hold said, stepping outside of Hard Ink.
Shyla stood in the shadows of the building and prayed the dark covered her heated cheeks.
“I’ll walk you home,” he said, striding up to her, clad in his dark jeans and black t-shirt.
“It’ll be a short walk,” she replied, shaking her head at his ridiculous offer. Shyla lived only ten feet from where she was standing through the side alleyway
“It’ll be a short conversation then.” Hold stepped past her to the path leading to her apartment. “C’mon.”
It was a weird chemistry that filtered between them. She constantly ran hot and cold from it and so it seemed did he. Tonight Hold appeared agitated. He ended up not saying a word during their short stroll. When they reached the steps leading up to her apartment he climbed them two at a time.
“Hand me your keys,” he asked, reaching out with his open palm.
Shyla didn’t hesitate in handing them over. Why was it that she knew he wasn’t here for anything other than to talk? Not that her mind wasn’t playing her dreams on repeat. He unlocked her door and stepped inside her apartment, flipping on the lights. Hold glanced around, nodding his head.
“Nice,” he said, staring at her as she entered and closed the door behind her.
“What is it, Hold? What do you want from me?” She was suddenly very tired from it all. The day. The dreams. Mikey. Him.
“I want to know what Diamond told you about me.” Hold walked over to her window to peer outside.
“Why?” she asked, sit
ting down on her couch. “Does it matter?”
“No,” he muttered, rubbing his hand over his recently skinned head. Hold turned to give her a serious stare. “Yes.”
She took a deep breath. “She told me about Hels. How you loved her so much that you set her free.”
“Is that all?” he asked, imploring her for more.
Her Aunt D never explained exactly what Hold did, but Shyla let Hold think that she knew with a careless tip of her head. She desperately wanted to know what had made Hels walk away from the enigmatic man standing in front of her.
“That her happiness obviously meant more to you than your own. But in the end she couldn’t forgive what you did to her and left.”
Hold turned his full-on hardcore stare toward her. “Is that what you heard? So she told you how I forced her back, then planned her punishment for leavin’ me? Did she describe the way I beat Hels or how the leather tore at her colorful tattooed skin? That the blood ran down her mutilated body?”
His breathing came in hard pants as he loomed over where she sat, listening to his horrific deeds. “Did she explain my sins all away because I was ordered to do it or kill Hels? Was it justified to mar her beautiful back because I did what I thought would save her life?”
The volume of his voice rose until he almost shouted each question. A tremor visibly racked his lean, muscular body that menacingly crowded over her. But she didn’t shrink back. Shyla should’ve been terrified at his confession, petrified by the ugly truth, sickened because of his viciousness. However, the pain that watered his eyes and the guilt that contorted his face only made her chest ache in a strange sympathy.
“And to what end?” Hold’s voice cracked with emotion as he sat down stoically beside her. “I lost Hels anyway. I can’t kiss her fuckin’ scars and apologize every damn day of my life. Some other fucker does it instead of me and there is not a goddamn thing I can do about it. Is that what you wanted to know?” he asked, giving a tortured laugh. “I betrayed my club, my family, and my best friend for what? And I can’t get any of it back. Everything is lost.”
“Hold…” she begged, her own heart shattering at the torment in his voice and eyes. And the love he obviously still carried for this girl even after everything that happened.
“Don’t. Fuck your pity,” Hold said, his face intimately next to hers. He was so close that she actually felt the heated puffs of every breath. His eyes quickly shut, almost as if he couldn’t bear exposing himself anymore.
“It’s not pity,” she said, turning her body to grasp both of his strong shoulders in her slender hands. Her fingers dug into his t-shirt that covered the width of his upper arms, forcing his tortured gaze to clasp onto hers. “Look at me. You did what you thought was right, whether it was wrong or not. See it for the mistake it was and quit punishing yourself. You can’t go back. You salvage what you can, which I think you already have. I know Mikey loves you. I don’t know club business and I don’t want to but I see the way the majority of those men look at you, including Badger, and it’s with loyalty and respect, something I’m sure they don’t give easily.”
She could see him carefully weighing her words. The azure blue of his eyes perfectly matched the ocean she loved so much.
“They believe in you. You just have to believe in yourself,” Shyla finished, her words drifting softly in the silence.
“I don’t know why I told you all this,” he muttered underneath his breath.
“You can always talk to me if you need to. It will never go further than here,” she said, her hand happening to lay against her heart as she pledged that to him.
Hold coughed, clearing his throat. “You care ‘bout Mikey?”
The question surprised her. She was lost in his confession that had only now begun to register in her mind. She nodded, unsure about what he meant by that question exactly. Sure, she cared for Mikey. She also cared for Hold and Badger.
“Good. He deserves someone like you,” Hold said quietly from beside her.
She tightly swallowed, before gazing into his eyes. “What do you deserve?”
Mental images of him brutally beating a woman blazed like unwanted memories. Shyla meant what she told him only seconds ago about letting it go, but then again, she was crushed by Hold’s truthful telling of his ugly past.
His gaze swung to hers. “Whatever I take,” Hold said, no hesitation in his answer. “I need to get going.”
She sat still, watching him open the door and leave her apartment. The last teardrop of the night fell hours after the very first.
Hold stared out at the sun as it dipped dangerously close to the edge of the ocean. The water suggested it was ready to put quietly out the untamable fire that fiercely burned. Nothing much ever tamed the endless spinning of his thoughts. However, the beach was one place where they slowed enough to hear himself think. His feet were buried by the surf wetting the sand where he sat.
Another week had passed without Mikey’s return. According to Mike, everything was running smoothly with the job. Hold tried not to think of all the possibilities. After everything they’d been through, he didn’t know if he could survive his friend’s death.
There was so much at stake, too many variables that had to fall into place before he could put his plan in effect to take over the club. Ward’s death didn’t even play into it. Hold wanted his old man to eventually heel to the inevitable. It seemed that Ward had groomed Hold for this, but reality was another matter.
Ward envisioned himself as the only leader of the Hell’s Highwaymen Motorcycle Club, forgetting it was a brotherhood. He obviously didn’t have any plans to relinquish that control to anyone anytime soon. Power had corrupted his vision; it had tainted his own commands.
The sound of a throat intentionally clearing behind him had Hold turning to see who it was. No one knew of this spot. Even most of the locals didn’t come out this way.
“Something tells me I shouldn’t have remembered my way back to this sweet piece of real estate,” Shyla said, peering down at him.
He stared at her through the lenses of his darkened sunglasses. A white string bikini top showed off the generous curves of her breasts. Must run in the family, he thought. One of those tied skirts covered the bottoms. She switched the bag she had swung over one shoulder to the other.
It’d been almost an entire week since Hold had seen Shyla. He still couldn’t believe what he shared with her. It wasn’t like him at all to be so openly candid, but stranger shit was going down lately. The only reason that came to mind for him was complete and utter lunacy. Next time he’d lose his man card when he became one giant pussy.
“Nah, I’m ‘bout to be out,” Hold said, turning his head to glance out over the peaceful water one last time.
“Don’t. I promise to let you get your Zen on while I sunbathe on my side of the beach,” she said, giving him a little wink.
“Your side of the beach?” he asked, one of his eyebrows hiked in question.
“I’m not a sand hog. I’m a Cali girl who’s used to sharing her beach towel. I even have a nice little late afternoon snack I’d be willing to halve.” Shyla talked as she walked over to dry sand, spreading out an oversized towel, and throwing her bag and herself on top of it. “For a price of course.”
Shyla intrigued him, something most females lacked the ability to do. Every move she made or didn’t make had him thinking about her entirely too much.
“A price, huh?” he asked, his voice hardening. Everything in his life cost him: money or a piece of what was left of his soul.
“Nothing crazy serious,” she replied, spreading out containers around her. “Questions. Like what’s your favorite color?”
He choked back a laugh. “My favorite color?” he asked incredulously. There she goes again, doing something that throws him off his game. Asking questions that have no fucking relevance. “Why?”
“Honestly?” she asked, staring intently at him.
“Yeah.”
“Well, the
last couple of times we’ve been together, our conversations consisted of pretty heavy stuff. When I drove up today, I saw this cute guy in his bright blue board shorts sitting by the ocean, seeming to enjoy the day. I thought, lucky me. Hopefully, I’d get to spend the afternoon getting to know the hottie.” She paused before finishing, “Then I realized it was you.”
This time Hold couldn’t stop the rolling laughter. “Ouch! Oh, really?” he asked, trying his damndest to be offended. Which didn’t work.
“Totally ruined it for me at first,” she said, shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders. “But I’m an optimist. I know that there has to be a fun-loving side to Hold Dawson. I’m already surprised to learn you own more clothing than your regular club attire of jeans and a t-shirt.”
“Damn, that’s harsh,” Hold said, playing along with her.
“I said to myself, Shyla, Hold Dawson is not only a biker god. He’s a person too. And I realized I didn’t know anything pertinent about you. Like favorite color, food, maybe you’ll even share your deepest, darkest secret… top or bottom?” she asked, putting her finger to her lip to appear in deep thought.
Hold’s thoughts went wild at her question, his cock liking her more by the minute.
“Bunk beds of course,” she explained cheekily.
His stare narrowed in on the press of her fingertip along the center of her mouth. God, she was pretty. And she thought she was funny. Hold shook his head, realizing that for the moment, all the thoughts plaguing him finally gave him the peace he sought.
“So give, big boy. What’s your favorite color?” she asked, cocking her head at him. “And if you say black I’m not going to share my hummus.”
“Black. I don’t want any damn hummus,” he said, slowly standing to walk over to her. Hold lay down on the other side of her towel. “What else you got?”
He prowled through the different containers until he found several slices of apples. Popping one into his mouth he glanced up to see her staring at him. She quickly turned back to the nasty looking dip she was about to scoop up with a carrot stick.