Loving Me, Trusting You

by C. M. Stunich

  As we approach the spot on the map where Gaine's phone supposedly is, we're forced to take an obscure exit to keep on track, moving through industrial buildings, shipping centers, and large warehouses.

  We're all on high alert, but I don't think any of us see it coming.

  Shots explode around us, peppering the ground and bursting like fireworks in the air. Some bikes go down, mine included, and unfortunately for me, Gaine's not here to catch me this time. I hit a pothole as my bike spins out of control, and find myself flying through the air. It's actually a lucky outcome, considering the other options. A few of my friends go down in flames, crushed under their bikes and smashed by the ones behind them, steamrollered and broken in places I can't even imagine. Me, I hit the dirt with my shoulder and feel an agonizing pain rocketing through my bones, cutting me to the core and pulling every last breath out of me.

  “Keep going if you can,” I hear Austin shouting through the com. “Don't stop. Follow behind Beck.” Ignoring his own orders, my new Pres, my former lover, slams on the brakes and comes to a screeching halt in front of me, sliding off his ride and falling back behind the metal. His visor comes up as he reaches out and helps me into a sitting position. I have to grit my teeth against the pain in my shoulder, but I manage it. I have to. This physical pain is nothing like the emotional pain I'll suffer if I lose someone important to me. “You alright, sugar?” he asks as he examines me for bullet holes.

  “Fine,” I growl, pulling away from him and peering around the front tire. There are bodies in the streets, but the the gunshots have stopped. As soon as we get the chance, we'll check them and see who's alive. For right now, we stay back here, partially protected by the gleaming metal and chrome. I pull out the pistol and get ready to shoot. “But what the fuck do we do now? I don't have time to sit here in a stalemate for six hours.” Austin opens his mouth to respond when more shots ring out from inside one of the nearby warehouses, pinging off the metal walls with screeching cries that make my ears bleed.

  Gaine.

  “Mireya, don't!” Austin calls out, but it's too late. I stand up and start running in a low crouch, maneuvering behind obstacles and managing, somehow, to stay ahead of the gunfire that follows me. I keep going until I find Beck's bike, abandoned on its side in the dirt near an open door. If he's in there, I know there's at least a fighting chance that everything will be okay.

  I move inside after him and nearly end up dead from a stray gunshot that grazes my shoulder and draws a cry from my lips. I roll to my side, behind a pile of scrap metal and end up next to Kimmi and her steady hands as she takes fire, aims, and shoots. A body drops and reveals a surprising sight across the room from me: Gaine and Melissa crouched behind a row of motorcycles.

  What the fuck?

  My knife manages to make contact with Will's thigh, and I leave it there, choosing instead to grab Melissa around the waist and drop her to the ground. Couldn't happen any sooner. In a split second, there's an explosion of heat and sound all around us, drowning us in the burst of gunfire as it echoes around the enclosed space.

  Will is screaming and drawing a weapon from his belt, lifting a shaky hand up towards the two of us. Time slows for me, and I don't see straight. I don't think straight either. I can't. My anger is too intense, my rage too pure. I reach out and pull Melissa's gun from her fingers, aim it down and press the barrel into the elder Walker's head.

  “I wish it could last longer, end sweeter, and destroy you from the inside out.” I close my eyes and pull the trigger. Wetness splatters my face, but I don't waver. Being a part of an MC means thinking on your feet, keeping in control of the situation. My eyes open and avoid the carnage, choosing instead to focus on the knife as I yank it out and use it free myself at the ankles. Melissa's already taken charge and grabbed the extra gun, scooting close to the row of motorcycles nearby, so she can have a place to shoot. I follow after her, lifting my weapon up and aiming at the opposite end of the room, hoping I'm a good enough shot to hit some targets.

  “I'm surprised to see you here,” I say casually, and Melissa smiles. It's not a happy smile. In fact, she looks like she might've gone bat shit fucking crazy, but at least she's still on our side. Whether she's the rat or not, I don't know, but it's pretty obvious that she's not sticking around to do Bested by Crows any favors.

  “I'm surprised to still be alive,” she says, sweeping blonde hair from her forehead before steadying her gun again and taking aim. “Thank you.”

  “Don't mention it,” I respond as the door explodes open and in walk Beck and Kimmi, trailing some other Triple M'ers behind them. They take stock of the situation in an instant and move for cover, trapping Bested by Crows in the middle of our two groups. I might actually make it through this. I hold my shots as I watch Beck work his magic, crawling around behind the scrap metal pile he's using for cover and bursting out into the open. It takes him three friggin' seconds to grab a man and snap his damn neck. Six more to knock another asshole out with his elbow and eleven more to kick Mack Walker in the nuts, bring him to his knees and steal his damn gun.

  I'm so wrapped up in all of this crap that I almost miss a man in a red T-shirt taking aim at my best Goddamn friend. But Mireya doesn't. I don't see her until she's standing up and taking a shot at the back of his ugly fucking skull, flecking the air with red and pink for a moment before he drops to his knees and gives us a clear view across the room at each other.

  When her eyes meet mine, she narrows them and pinches her lips. I can't tell if she's happy to see me or just pissed off. And then I see the wet sheen in her gaze, and I can't help myself. I rise to my feet and move across the space between us, listening to the strange absence of sound.

  “There's more of 'em,” Beck says, kicking Mack in the side and nodding his chin at a group of Triple M'ers sneaking in the back. “Just down the road with the Pres.” His severe frown flips straight up into a grin. “Let's go kick some ass and then get the hell out of here before their little friends show up to pay us a visit. I think we're in Seventy-seven Brothers territory.” He starts to move forward and then pauses when he sees Melissa rise from behind the motorcycles, gun in hand, blood staining her face and hair. They look at each other for a long, long moment, one that I can feel stretching out and warping the Goddamn space-time continuum. I smell another romance on the horizon.

  Beck holds out his hand and she takes it, moving across the room like she isn't even really sure how she got here in the first place. That woman has issues, but if there's anyone that might be able to help her out with them, it's Beck and his sense of humor. That shit could cure anyone. Anyway, I know what it's like to be in love with someone that isn't ready to love you back. Yet.

  “Mireya,” I say as she moves forward, towards Mack, her eyes on me. When she gets close enough, she lets go of her gun and holds out her right hand. At first, I think she's going to touch me. I know I'm desperate to grab her, hold her, kiss her. I always will be. Instead she slaps me so hard that my jaw aches and the left side of my face goes numb.

  “You dumb fuck,” she growls as her eyes brim with tears and she glares daggers at me. “What were you thinking?”

  “I wasn't,” I whisper back, listening to the sounds of shouting outside the warehouse. “But Mireya, I – ” She steps forward again and grabs me behind the neck, kissing me so hard that I stumble back and nearly trip over the legs of a body on the ground. One that's still moving. Despite the fire in my blood and the beauty pressed against my lips, I pull back and look. We both do.

  “You Goddamn bitch,” Mack screams as he rolls to his side and starts to get to his feet. I look at him and then over at Mireya. Her face is calm this time, but her hands are shaking. She stares at him as he stands fully and, instead of turning to face us, takes off running. Mireya watches him go and for a moment, I think she's going to let him live.

  “I'm sorry, Crystal,” she says, and then raises her arm, grabs hold of the gun with both hands and fires. Mack drops to the ground, stil
l and silent, seconds before the first screech of sirens cuts through the air around us.

  Blue and red lights tease the gray walls in front of me, kissing the dirty cement with frightening color. La policía. I'm not ready for cops. I still have blood on my hands and regret in my heart. I still see Tray's face in my mind and there's a freaking pistol clutched in my fingers. I turn to Gaine, to that pillar of strength, to the one person I know that has never let me down, that's always been willing to try, who refuses to judge me, even when I judge myself.

  “Gaine,” I whisper, and the word falls quiet, drifting down to the still bodies like a leaf in the wind. Outside the warehouse, I can hear Austin shouting orders, bikes revving up, a chorus of frightened whispers. Strong fingers slide down my wrist and hold tight, giving me the strength to turn and look at the face of the man that I know loves me, that I might just love back. I swallow the pain in my throat and wait for the help I've always needed, but refused to accept. It's okay to say I want somebody around to hold me up in the worst of times. I've already proven I can go it alone. Now, I think, it might be time to prove I can go it together. It's a whole different set of challenges, another host of rules. Some things might be better, others worse, but it'll be new. “I need a fresh start.” I pause. “But I'm still pissed at you for running off like that. Fuck you.”

  Gaine's face is sober, but tender. Despite the seriousness of the situation, he manages to smile, to turn up his full lips and draw me into his love, away from this horror.

  “It's over and done,” he tells me, and his voice is almost as soft as the touch of his hands when he presses them against either side of my face. I move forward and touch my mouth to his, knowing that it's not over yet, not completely. I might go to jail. Or I might get into it with another MC. I don't know. All I know is that the men that betrayed me have left this world and fled to the next. Emptiness fills me then, and I know that I'm the only one that can decide what to fill it with. “Now, let's get the fuck out of here before we get arrested. I bet Austin's sweatin' like a whore in church.” Gaine grins, pushing past the pain and the ugly, and giving me the strength I need to run from that warehouse and never look back.

  We ride for a long time in the quiet dark, my arms wrapped around Gaine, my injured friends bandaged up as best we can and draped on the backs of other riders. My own trashed ride is lying abandoned in a dumpster. The second one in as many weeks. If I keep going through motorcycles like this, I'm going to end up permanently glued to my … I pause. Ay, Dios mio. I have no idea what to call Gaine. Boyfriend isn't right, never was. He's more than that now. I can finally admit it, even if it's grudgingly. I press myself close and revel in the warmth of him, of knowing I have someone I can count on. Finally. I sigh and let myself drift away, past the old nightmares, past the new ones, and into a place where I just am, where I'm resting in the moment, not caring what happened in the past or what will happen in the future.

  I have myself, and I have Gaine.

  For now, that's all I need. Well, that a new ride, but that'll come eventually. I'm not worried about it.

  As we move across the earth like a stampede, carving our names into the wind and grinding the dust with our wheels, I feel Gaine's body start to tighten, like he's anticipating doing something dangerous. Again. Since I have no fucking clue what that could be, I wait, expecting the worse. After all, life hasn't exactly been good to me. It's in my nature to see the glass half empty. So you can imagine that when he pulls off on an exit without so much as a word to anyone, I'm a bit surprised.

  “Where the fuck are you going?” Beck asks, voice crackling through the intercom. I know it's only a matter of time before Austin turns the caravan around and chases after us the way I used to wish he had before. But not anymore. I feel things for Gaine that I never felt for him. Besides, even if I did love him, I couldn't separate him and Amy, not anymore. If any two people were meant for each other, they were. And you and Gaine? Please, I'm not quite ready for that lovey-dovey crap yet. Love's complex. It's not easily dissected or understood. One day, I'll get it. For now, all I'm willing to do is accept it with pursed lips and an eye roll or two.

  Gaine doesn't answer, not until we're pulling into a parking lot and he's lifting off his helmet like he's coming up for air, swinging his leg over the bike and turning to face me full on. The smell of salt tickles my nostrils and promises that the ocean isn't far off. I could use a vacation, we all could. I narrow my gaze on the man that's managed to touch my heart, to cut through the rusted chains and splay his fingers wide on that blackened bit inside of me. Slowly, very slowly, it starts to pump.

  Sweat pours down Gaine's face and neck before soaking into the black fabric of his shirt. In the distance, the rumble of motorcycles sounds like the world's finest music. I wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world.

  “Sawyer,” he begins, swiping a hand across his forehead. A droplet of moisture pools invitingly on his lips as I yank off my helmet and hold it under my arm. His dark eyes reflect the stars and keep my gaze locked on his. I start to shake, and I don't know why. Before he even gets out another word, I'm in tears. Rough thumbs brush the liquid from my cheeks as he presses his forehead to mine, takes in a deep breath and says words I never thought I'd hear again, that I never wanted to hear. “Will you marry me?”

  “Marry you?” The words catch in my throat and leave me speechless. I was trying to sound pissed off, but it came out more breathy than anything else. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” I can barely whisper past the lump in my throat, my eyes lifting up to the bright sign above our heads. A quickie marriage on the fly doesn't sound like the most romantic thing in the world, but in that moment, on the road, on the run, with Gaine by my side, it is. Somehow, it really is.

  From his pocket, he pulls out a ring. It's wrapped in tissue paper and rusty as hell, but the red jewel in the center shimmers with secrets.

  “I got it a long, long time ago,” he tells me, voice soft, catching a ride to my ears on the gentle breeze that salts the air and stings the eyes. I wipe the liquid from my face and try to stay still. My hands shake, but I pretend not to notice and so does he. “When I first told you I loved you. I bought it then, and I've been cartin' it around ever since. It's a little worse for wear, but I couldn't think of anything else worthy enough to take its place.” Gaine reaches out and takes my hand, and I let him. He uncurls my fingers with his and sets the ring down gently, like it's worth a million bucks.

  I stare at it for a long while, listening as the group gets closer, moving in towards us in a drone of revving bikes and howling spirits. I think of Tray, but only briefly, just enough to know that this is different, that Gaine and I are meant to be in ways he and I never were.

  I should think long and hard about this. Lord knows mi abuela is probably spinning in her grave now, clucking her tongue at me and telling me that no man is worth it. But this one is. This one is more than just a man. This is Gaine Kelley, and I'm in love with him.

  “I love you.” The words burst from my mouth before I can stop them, before I can overanalyze my feelings and come up with something different to say, something bitter, something that isn't half as truthful. I've fucking fallen for him, after all this time. Or maybe I've been in love all along and never knew it? Whatever the case, his hands find my hips and lift me up, knocking the helmet to the ground where it clatters in the silent, still air. His lips find mine and we kiss a kiss that can never be topped, that tastes like self-discovery and fresh beginnings. It isn't sour, doesn't reek of old, and best of all, it means something. No, not something, everything.

  “I love you, too,” he says before sealing the deal with a sizzling tangle of tongues and hands that rove too much for this wide open parking lot. I push back with a gasp and look him in eyes that sparkle. “I sure as shit hope that's a yes,” he whispers against my lips, dark hair teased by the breeze, body hot as coals against mine. “Because if it's not, I'm going to look like the world's biggest fucking asshole when the re
st of Triple M shows up.”

  I think for another second, just one more second to be sure, but I don't need even that. My heart is beating now, climbing faster and faster with each passing second. Warm blood flows through my veins and heats up my thighs, teases my nipples, warms my chest. I'm ready for the road, for the future, and I'm finally fucking ready for Gaine Goddamn Kelley.

  “Yes.” That's all I have to say, and that's enough. He knows. He smiles; I smile.

  By the time our MC pulls into the parking lot, we've already said I do.

  If you enjoyed this, try the Never say Never Series.

  Excerpt Included!

  1

  Rick is a perfectly nice guy.

  But not for me.

  Rick is the kind of guy you can take home to your family, show off, and know that at the end of the day, he'll be there for you. I'm not into guys like Rick. I should be, but I'm not. I think there's something wrong with me. I need a guy like Rick to put me on the straight and narrow, to help me stop doing the things I shouldn't be doing and start doing the things I should.

  Right now, my back is to a wall and I'm kissing the neck of a guy I don't know. My therapist says it's because I have 'daddy' issues. Like that's supposed to mean something to me. How can I have daddy issues when I barely knew the prick? He didn't walk out on me and mom like my therapist thinks. She thinks that because I've never told her the truth. My dad died right in front of my eyes, called out my name seconds before the light went out of his face and left him cold. That's all I remember about him. Other than that, my mind is a blank, a series of shadowy pictures without words. They don't make any fucking sense.