Shadow's Surrender: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 14)

by Chiah Wilder

  “Scarlett, are you listening to me?” Irritation tinged her mother’s voice.

  “Oh, sorry, I was thinking about something. What did you say?”

  Her mother looked pointedly at her. “Something or someone?”

  Here we go … “What were you talking about?”

  “I was asking if you’ve seen Warren. His dad said he’s here with some friends having lunch.” Pamela looked around the room. “He must be eating at the Cabana Café.”

  Scarlett picked up the bread basket in the middle of the table. “Do you want a piece?”

  “No, and you shouldn’t either—all those empty carbs go straight to a woman’s stomach or hips, or in the case of Adele Semper—her belly and behind.”

  Choosing the largest slice, she put it on her bread dish, then slathered butter all over it before taking a large bite. “I didn’t see Warren and I don’t care if I do. I’ve told you that I’m not seeing him anymore.”

  “We’ll talk about that when your father gets here.”

  “It doesn’t matter if Dad is here or not, I’m never going back to Warren. Let’s just talk about the elephant in the room—Shadow. I’m dating him and have no intention of stopping.” Scarlett took another bite of her bread.

  Her mother took several large gulps of her drink, then leaned forward in the chair, her eyes narrowed. “You will not disgrace your family this way. You will not humiliate your father or me by your selfish and childish behavior,” she said in a voice that could cut glass.

  “You act like I’m doing all this on purpose, Mom. I’m in love with Shadow—it’s that simple.”

  Pamela clenched her hands into fists. “Of course a spoiled brat would think it’s so simple. For once in your life, think about someone other than yourself.”

  “I’ve been thinking about the family my whole life,” Scarlett said, her voice rising. A few people glanced over at the table, and she took a deep breath and exhaled. “I went to the schools you and Dad wanted, came back to Pinewood Springs after college even though I wanted to live in Boston, played the good daughter for all the charitable fundraisers you roped me into, and dated Warren for much longer than I wanted to because of you and Dad. And I’m the selfish one?” She tossed her head back and let out a dry laugh. “I’ve decided to live my life, Mom.”

  “Are you finished?” her mother asked. “Your gang member boyfriend has already begun influencing you in a bad way.” Pamela rested against the chair. “It’s really not very becoming, Scarlett. Not. At. All.”

  “Shrimp cocktail?” the waiter asked, his eyes avoiding both of them.

  “For me, thank you,” Scarlett said.

  “And the Brie en Croute is for you,” he said placing the dish in front of her mother. “Would either of you like another drink?”

  Scarlett shook her head while her mother nodded hers.

  “Another Arnold Palmer coming up with a shot of gin,” he said.

  “Make it a double shot,” her mother said as she picked up her fork and knife.

  The server bowed his head then walked away.

  Before she could squeeze the wedge of lemon over the shrimp, Scarlett’s phone vibrated in her pocket. After fishing it out, she glanced at the screen and a small thrill of pleasure coursed through her. Shadow.

  Shadow: Hey, babe. How’s it going?

  Scarlett: Like most of my times with my mom—crappy. She says ur a bad influence on me.

  Shadow: Me a bad influence? No fuckin’ way!

  Scarlett: Ur getting blamed for my attitude. :)

  Shadow: Fuck, baby, u’ve had an attitude since I met u. ;)

  “Please put the phone away. It’s rude,” her mother said as she placed a piece of the gooey cheese on a slice of French bread.

  Scarlett: I have to go.

  Shadow: Want to go for a ride? 5:30?

  Scarlett: Yes!!! Meet u at my place. Bye.

  She slid the phone back into her pocket and then speared a shrimp with her fork and put it into her mouth.

  “There’s your father,” Pamela said, her eyes brightening.

  “Goody,” she said under her breath.

  “My two favorite girls,” her dad said. He bent down and brushed his lips across her mother’s cheek.

  “Where’s Bruce?” Pamela asked.

  “He’s having a drink with Warren and a few of his friends. I’m going to meet up with him and Alan soon.” He looked up at Scarlett. “How’s my little girl doing?”

  “Just fine,” she said as she stabbed another shrimp and popped it in her mouth.

  “I’ll have a whiskey on ice,” he said to the waiter.

  George Mansfield was larger than life, and when he entered a room, his presence commanded attention. He was so unlike her mother, who preferred to stay behind the scenes, thus allowing Scarlett’s dad to shine. Since she was a child, Scarlett remembered her mother telling her that a man needed to feel important, his ego to be constantly stroked, and it was up to the woman in his life to do so. She watched as Mother now withdrew to the background and her dad took the stage—front and center.

  “How’s that job of yours going?” He tore off a hunk of French bread, then reached for the butter.

  “It’s great—I really love it.” She ignored her mother’s almost inaudible snort.

  “It’s good to work. It makes a person feel useful and alive.” His jowls jiggled as he chewed the piece of bread.

  “I think fundraising is more work than going to an office,” her mother said, but her dad glanced at his phone instead of acknowledging her comment.

  “Do you want the rest of my shrimp, Dad?” Scarlett pushed the large cocktail glass toward him.

  “Are you sure you don’t want it?” he asked, already dipping one of the jumbo shrimp in the red sauce.

  “I’m not very hungry,” she answered. A finger of nausea poked her stomach. Any moment now, the lion would begin to roar. The suspense of when played havoc with her nerves.

  “You need to eat more—you look like you lost weight. Do you need a cook?” He squirted lemon over the food.

  She laughed, the tension easing up a bit. “I can manage to cook, Dad. I’m actually pretty good at it.”

  George stopped for a moment, looked his daughter in the eyes, then resumed eating. “I didn’t know that. You’ll have to invite your mother and me over for dinner one night.”

  “We still haven’t seen your place,” her mother said, bitterness lacing her voice.

  “I didn’t think you wanted to. I mean, you haven’t called me since I moved.”

  “Your mom’s just upset because she misses you.” George wiped his hands with a napkin.

  That’s hard to believe. “It’s whatever, Dad. I’d love to have you”—she glanced at her mother sideways—“and Mom over some night. I’ll call you and we can set a date.”

  “Here come Bruce and Warren,” her mother said, looking over Scarlett’s shoulder and waving her hand briskly.

  Scarlett, staring down at the crumbs of bread on the white tablecloth, groaned inwardly. Can this fucking lunch get any worse?

  “Pamela, you look as lovely as ever,” Bruce said. “Have you forgotten about our golf game?” he said to George.

  “How’ve you been, Scarlett?” Warren said as he crouched down on his haunches.

  “Fine, thanks. You?” She glanced at him quickly.

  “Good. Work has been real busy.” He paused, then said, “I heard you’re working now. That’s great. Do you like it?”

  “I do.” She shifted in her seat.

  “Maybe we could meet for lunch sometime. My office is just a block away from the Palace.”

  Scarlett was acutely aware that even though her dad, mom, and Mr. Huntington were talking, their ears were on the stilted conversation she and Warren were having.

  “How about next Tuesday? I could come by the hotel and we can have some lunch.”

  “Tuesday doesn’t work.” All of a sudden the room grew very stuffy and small, and everyone
started to blur into caricatures of themselves. It was like she was in one of those abstract paintings she’d seen at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Denver that past spring.

  “Wednesday or Thursday is good for me too.”

  She pushed away from the table and rose to her feet. “None of those days work. I have to go,” she mumbled.

  “You’re not leaving?” her mother asked.

  Her lips tipped up, and she nodded. “I have an appointment.” Scarlett grabbed her purse and slung the strap over her shoulder, her gaze cutting to her father. “I’ll call you, Dad.”

  Her heels clattered on the wood floor as she headed out of the restaurant.

  Not wanting to run the risk of her mother, or even worse—Warren, coming after her, she snagged the keys from the valet and hurried to her car. Once there was distance between the club and herself, Scarlett finally started to relax.

  Stopped at a red light, she pulled out her phone and tapped in Shadow’s number.

  “Hey, baby. I was just ready to text you again to see how things were going. You’ve been on my mind.” His warm-as-whiskey voice soothed her frazzled nerves.

  “I just left. The worst thing was that my dad didn’t say a word about it, but the issue was there—crackling between us and bubbling under the surface. Then, Warren and his dad came by, and I just had to get out of there. It seemed like they were ready to gang up on me or something. I don’t know—I just had to get away.”

  When a horn honked behind Scarlett, she glanced up at the green light, then stepped on the gas pedal, turned right, and then made another immediate right into Clermont Park.

  “Hang on,” she said to Shadow as she pulled into a space shaded by the large branches of a sprawling oak tree.

  “What’re you doing?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

  “I just pulled over, that’s all.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Clermont Park. I miss you.”

  “Me too, baby. It sounds like you left that fuckin’ lunch just in time. I’m with you—they were gonna gang up on you. You don’t deserve that shit. I’m sorry as fuck that I wasn’t there to hold you in my arms while I set everyone straight.”

  Warmth spread through her as she switched off the engine. “I love having you in my corner.”

  “I’ll always have your back, darlin’. Always.”

  His words caused a tiny blip of her heartbeat, and a knot formed in her throat. In the space of a held breath, there was silence. Then, she whispered, “You’re the best.”

  “Just telling like it is.” Shadow cleared his throat. “You need a ride so damn bad. I’ll meet you in front of your building in fifteen minutes.”

  “I thought you were working until five.”

  “I was, but I can come in earlier tomorrow.” As if anticipating her protest, he added, “And don’t argue with me. Fifteen minutes. See you then, babe.”

  Scarlett put the phone on the passenger seat, turned the ignition, and headed to her place; she wanted to change from heels to flats and swap sunglasses. Just the thought of fresh air rushing past her, the feeling of flying, and her arms wrapping around Shadow made her press harder on the accelerator.

  When Shadow was talking on the phone, it was as if his heart touched her, and she could feel his affection … his love pouring through and filling her. The things Shadow did for her spoke volumes about his feelings for her. Even though Scarlett craved to hear those three short words—I love you—she knew how hard it was for Shadow to say them. Something had hurt him badly in the past, enough to keep his rational mind in constant battle with his heart. But at the end of the day, the words didn’t really matter, it was the way he treated her, looked at her, kissed her, and made her feel safe and adored without conditions.

  Scarlett pulled into the underground garage of her building, then after parking in her space, she rushed over to the elevator and went upstairs to quickly get changed.

  She was waiting downstairs, leaning against the marble column when she heard the roar of Shadow’s bike. Excitement shivered down her spine as she walked over to the curbside grass.

  The bright sunlight cast a blue sheen to the wind-blown mess of Shadow’s black hair as he approached her. The yellow metallic motorcycle gleamed under the late afternoon rays, and Scarlett noticed a few people stopping on the street to stare as Shadow pulled to the curb.

  Scarlett didn’t move, instead, she sucked in a deep breath and took him in. He lifted his sunglasses off his face and slipped them into the front of a white T-shirt that tugged at his solid chest. Ribbons of hair fell casually into eyes that were the color of gathering storm clouds. Shadow’s gaze seared hers with a glowing intensity, and a flow of tingles rushed to her core.

  She walked toward him, their eyes still locked on to each other’s. When she stopped near the motorcycle, he reached out and yanked her to him, then kissed her deeply. At that moment, nothing mattered but Shadow and how incredible it was to kiss him, to be near him, to be a part of his life.

  “Ready,” he said against her ear.

  “Ready,” she replied. She gripped his shoulder and swung her leg over the leather seat, then looped her arms around his taut waist. The rumbling purr of the motor turned to a roar as the bike pulled out into the street, weaved in and out of traffic, and rolled through a couple of stop signs. The wind whipped through her hair, the bike vibrated between her thighs, and the events at the club soon became a blur once they were on a narrow two-lane highway taking them away from Pinewood Springs. With her body pressed to his, Scarlett could feel Shadow’s back muscles flex against her chest as she leaned with him then came back to center when he did. With each bike ride, she became more familiar and comfortable with his movements; it was like dancing with a partner, only much more exhilarating and freeing.

  “Faster!” she yelled.

  Shadow glanced back at her, grinning. “Hold on,” he said before the wind carried away his words.

  She tightened her hold as he opened the bike and they surged around twists in the road. Laughing, she tilted her head back and watched the clouds scuttle across the sky; it felt like if she reached out she could touch them.

  All too soon, the bike slowed down before turning into a parking lot in front of a small eatery. Scarlett kissed Shadow on the back of the neck before sliding off the bike.

  “That was exactly what I needed,” she said.

  “It’s the best way to get rid of all the shit bouncing around inside your head.” He tugged her to him and dipped his head down. “I like the way you feel pressed against me on the back of my bike.” He rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip.

  His breath fluttered warm over her face, and she tipped up her mouth. And then they were kissing. She looped her arms around his neck, and he lifted her up a bit onto her tiptoes, their lips never breaking contact. The space around them evaporated, and for a moment, everything in her world was just perfect; sneaking around and dating Shadow seemed worth the struggle, worth the tension with her parents and the whispered gossip behind her back.

  “You don’t know how much I—” But his lips smothered her words as he deepened the kiss.

  A short while later, Shadow’s hand slipped down to squeeze her behind, then he playfully smacked it.

  “Let’s go inside, babe,” he said, snaking an arm around her shoulders.

  “Okay.” She leaned her head against him as they crossed the lot and went into the restaurant.

  The place was packed and noisy, and Scarlett clung on to Shadow’s arm like a vise as he weaved them through the labyrinth of people. They walked straight out of the roadhouse to the back patio, and he stopped at a table next to a railing in the corner. The rush of the Colorado River echoed through the valley, and she held on to the wood bannister and looked down at the clear water as it wended its way between the wildflower-dotted sloping banks.

  “The water is lower than usual,” she said, pushing away from the edge and joining him at the table.

  �
�It’s because we haven’t had any rain for the past couple of months,” he said.

  “It’s strange not to have our usual afternoon thunderstorms. I heard on the news last week that it’s been one of the hottest summers on record. That’s crazy, huh?”

  “Yeah, well, I won’t go into my theory about that.”

  “Let me guess—conspiracy all the way.” Scarlett poked his upper arm lightly.

  He laughed. “You know me.” He held up his middle finger. “To the establishment.”

  “The true rebel.” She squeezed his bicep. “That’s one of the things I like about you.”

  Shadow swiveled in the wrought iron chair, an amused smirk playing across his lips. “There are more things?”

  She nodded. “A lot … Like how you listen to me go on about my friends or my family when they piss me off, even though I know you think I’m overreacting … or how you laugh at my lame attempts to be funny or the way you hold me and tell me that you have my back … and so many other things.”

  He looked away, his gaze fixed on the vista of mountains and evergreens.

  Oh shit. I gushed too much. He’s feeling pressured, like he has to say something back about me. She cleared her throat, but before she could say anything, his eyes shifted back to hers. She bit the inside of her cheek and her heart squeezed: lurking in his stormy orbs was pain. Did I cause that?

  “My mother was murdered. Stabbed—it was brutal,” he said, both anger and sadness in his voice.

  Shock swept through Scarlett as a rush of tears welled her eyes. She reached out and stroked his arm as she took in a heart-jolting breath. “I’m so sorry. I … don’t know what to say. How horrible.”

  A small shrug, then a quick shake of his head. “There’s nothing to say—I just wanted to tell you.”

  A silence stretched between them, and her mind whirled with a slew of questions that she wanted to ask Shadow but didn’t.

  “Sorry for the delay,” a perky waitress with large breasts encased in a tight top said as she put down two glasses of water, plates, and cutlery wrapped in napkins on the table. “Do you want something to drink?”