by Shyla Colt
“What’s going on with you, Firecracker?” He furrowed his brow.
“That.” She pointed toward the door. “I loved that.”
His eyes grew wide. “No, you loved the image he sold you. There’s a big difference.”
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” Her voice broke.
“Nothing. Don’t let him fuck with your head like that. You’re better than this.”
“How do you know? This person you see isn’t me. It’s a mirage.” She laughed. “I thought I could fake it, and then he calls and I’m back where I started.”
“No.” Rocky gripped her arm and yanked her to him. “Snap the fuck out of it.”
“Stop.” She shoved at his chest, but he stood firm like a tree trunk with roots that ran deep.
“There’s the Firecracker I know.”
“This isn’t a game!” she yelled, furious that he’d wound her up on purpose.
“No it’s not. And if you don’t get your head out of your ass you won’t make it. He knew what he was doing when he called you and you fell for it,” he growled.
“Fuck you.” She spat the words out like they tasted bad.
“Get angry but don’t direct it at me. I’m not the one who twisted you into knots. Direct that toward him.”
His words penetrated her rage. Shame cooled the flames like a bucket of water and she ceased her struggle, dropping her head.
“Look, I know it’s a lot and heavy, but you got to keep it together. I need you to think before you do shit. You go off half-cocked and bad shit tends to happen. That means trouble for you and my crew.” Rocky shook his head.
“I hear you,” she whispered.
“Good. You ready to go back in?”
She nodded, unable to speak.
“All right. Next time you run out like that solo, I’m going to put you over my knee and spank your ass.”
“It was stupid. I won’t do it again,” she said.
He grunted and tugged her back toward the entrance. “Let’s see if Specs and Gadget got anything from the call.”
Subdued now, she nodded. Her life had turned into an episode made for a TV drama. Back inside, the mood seemed to have shifted from relaxed to full alert. She trailed beside him, silent as she slogged through the swampland her mind had become. Less than kind thoughts and emotions flooded in, and she lost some of the ground gained in recent weeks.
“No, bastard is smart. Even if we could’ve traced it, I get the feeling he’s on a prepaid burner phone. She might be better off changing her number so she doesn’t have to deal with him. I don’ think we’ll get a damn thing this way,” Specs said.
“Damn,” Rocky growled. “We’ll get you set up with a new phone tomorrow, okay?”
Evonne nodded.
“We’re going to head home now,” Rocky informed her.
She tuned out as he said his goodbyes and led her out to his bike. The freedom that normally came with being on the back of his bike felt stifled. Reality just knocked her on her ass and shoved her failings in her face—a lot to swallow. They turned the corner and she clutched Rocky’s waist tightly. When they passed the house and he hit the throttle, she couldn’t help but feel relieved. Anywhere would be better than stuck behind four walls with nothing else to do but replay her mistakes on a loop. Pressing closer to Rocky’s broad back, she let his warmth and the vibrations of the bike lull her into a false sense of contentment as the wind caught her hair.
They pulled up to a worn-down-looking warehouse and she frowned. Butterflies zoomed around in her belly as he shut off the bike. “Where are we?”
“My gym.”
“Wait—you’re going to train?” She asked.
“No, you are.”
“What?” She removed her helmet and handed it to him, slightly dazed.
“I know what it’s like to feel helpless, to be a victim of your circumstances. It robs you of your peace of mind…makes you shut down and get tunnel vision. Until one day, you decide you’ve had enough. Today is your day to take back control.”
“How? I don’t know where he is, or when he’ll be back—”
Rocky covered her mouth with a calloused hand. “Shhh. None of that matters. This is about here.” He removed his hand and tapped her forehead with two fingers. “And here.” He covered her chest with his hand.
She stared into his eyes, and her mouth went dry.
“You feel me? Being strong, training, it’s sixty percent mental and forty percent physical.”
She nodded, entranced by the wisdom and the serious tone he’d taken on.
“Once I started fighting, the turmoil became…manageable,” he said.
“But it didn’t stop?”
He tilted his head. “Not at first. That takes time to work through and for you, it’s an ongoing thing.”
“So, how will this be helpful?” She wrinkled her nose.
“Gaining knowledge and taking back power stolen is always a good thing.”
“Are you going to start calling me greased lighting and telling me to eat lightning and crap thunder?”
Rocky smirked. “Oh, you must be feeling better since you have jokes. You know my real name is Rocco, right?”
“What? No.” She shook her head.
“Yes, very Italian. Last name is Moffa.”
“Rocco Moffa, dude, that’s straight out of a gangster flick. Now I have to know your middle name.”
“Maurizio,” he mumbled.
She smiled and bit her lip to keep from giggling.
“Shut up, you, come on.” He nodded toward the building.
Evonne slid off the bike and together, they walked across the dimly lit parking lot.
“You have a key?”
“Yeah, Mayhem owns this building. We like to have as much control over our ventures as possible,” Rocky said.
“Very smart,” she said, impressed.
“Don’t let the leather and the grease fool you, mama.”
“I’ll endeavor not to again.”
“I can tell you’re feeling better ’cause…big words.”
She huffed, secretly pleased he found her quirks endearing instead of annoying like a lot of other men she’d dated. Not that I can call what we do dating.
Rocky unlocked the front door, turned on a light and swept his arm forward. “Please enter my dojo.”
She rolled her eyes but stepped inside. “I’m not dressed for what you have in mind.”
“I have some clothes I can lend you. Some of the guys are small and wiry.” He locked the door behind them. “You stay here and I’ll turn on the lights.” He walked off and each click, followed by a pool of light, revealed more of the warehouse.
It reminded her of a school gymnasium on crack. Bright-blue mats lined the walls and the floors. A row of mirrors lined the wall farther away from her. Red and black teardrop-shaped speed bags and cylindrical punching bags were set up a few yards away. On the right side of the room there was an area of various weight machines. She expected to smell sweat, but instead a strong scent of cleanser greeted her. They took care of the space, but something very masculine tinged the air.
“Heads up,” he called. Peering up just in time, she caught the bundle of clothes Rocky tossed her way. “The locker room is around the corner. You ready to get started?”
“Yeah, I am.”
Dressed and slightly uncomfortable in the borrowed sweatpants and t-shirt with the Mayhem logo, she shifted her weight from one side to the other. She curled her toes into the mat and drank in the sight of Rocky at work. The black tank top showed off his muscular arms and the wicked sleeve on his arm that was a black-and-white mural of skulls and motorcycle parts.
“All right, let’s get you gloved.”
She followed him to an equipment area.
He dug out a set of black fingerless gloves. “This will feel weird, but you’ll get used to it. I’m not going to unleash you on the speed bag. We’ll start small. I’m going to hold a handheld punching bag.”
Slipping her hand into the gloves he held out, she allowed him to pull them onto her hands.
“How are they?” He asked.
“Odd, tight, but good, I think,” she said.
“Clench and unclench your fists a few times.”
She did as he requested.
“Still good?”
“Y-yeah, I think so.”
Rocky nodded. “First lesson. How to not break your hand.” He demonstrated how to make a fist with her thumb safely tucked inside her other fingers. “It’ll feel weird at first but you’ll get used to it. Now, step two. When you throw, I want you to square off, plant your feet like this, a bit staggered, knees loose. You want to make sure you have some give.” He bounced a little, showing her. “Okay, now you.”
She repeated the process.
“Good, Good. When you throw a punch, I want your body to follow. Here…like this.” He demonstrated, leading with his right hand and twisting his body. “Short snaps. Let’s start off with four right hooks, four left. When you get used to that, we’ll mix it up with a few uppercuts.”
It felt awkward but good to use the muscles and have her mind focused on something else.
“Looking good, Firecracker. I think you’re ready for the bag.” He jogged off and returned with a red rectangle, which he held up. “Focus in, picture all your problems, fears and concerns…here.” He tapped the middle of the rectangle. “All right, lay it on me, mama.”
She hit the bag. The feel of the bag beneath her fist felt odd and jarring.
“Don’t be so dammed delicate. Is that how you express your anger?”
His taunt lit a fire and she laid into the bag, burning off the negativity weighing her down. The slap of her fist became a welcome rhythm as she found relief and bliss.
Chapter Five
Rocky wanted to kick himself for bringing Evonne to his sanctuary, but he had to admit it’d done her good. She’d gone home, showered and crashed, exactly what she needed. His sleep, however, had been disturbed. Why did Levi call now? To let them know he was still around? To taunt them because he remained hidden, or to throw them off their game before he made his move? Rocky sighed as the alarm on his table chimed. They had a charity ride to do today, so sleeping in would be out of the question. He forced his weary body out of the bad and stumbled to the shower.
The little firecracker was getting under his skin, burrowing deep and making him forget himself. It felt good and pissed him off at the same time. He’d never trusted a female like this. The horror story of his home life had soured him on women. But Evonne had come in knocked on her ass and he’d never been the type to kick a person when they were down. Not when he knew what it felt like.
Who knew hidden beneath her austere exterior lived a cool fucking chick? He liked hanging out with her. The amazing sex became a bonus that complicated things. Now, a month later, he’d come no closer to getting her out of his system. Instead, she’d become his salty-sweet addiction he had to have as much as possible. She slept in his bed more often than not and today, as he rolled over alone, the space felt empty. Fuck. I’m starting to swim in dangerous waters. He leaned against the bathroom door as the water warmed up. The patter of water against the tub basin relaxed his tense muscles. If he blew her off now, not only would he feel like an ass, a rarity for him, but he’d be stuck living with her. The tension would be through the roof, and he also realized no new female would satisfy him the same.
He hadn’t so much as looked hard at another bitch since they’d tumbled into bed. Shedding his clothing, he tossed the clothes in the hamper. Another new addition that had crept into the house, thanks to Evonne. It should’ve bothered him, but it didn’t. A dull ache crept behind his eyelids. Shit is way too complex. Slipping inside the stall, he stuck his head under the shower spray and let the worry wash down the drain.
Being on his guard was paramount. Levi continued operating on ghost mode; no moves had been made after the phone call. The M.C. were still working on gathering information to bring him and his cronies to heel. Hil was working with Juliette, trying to piece together a list of possibilities, but so far nothing concrete had surfaced. Money could wash away a lot and close mouths, voluntarily or by force. Soaping his body, he set his mind to the ride. Mayhem was raising money for a leukemia foundation. People thought they were the scourge of the earth. But the truth was they did a lot of good for the community. Just one of the things that attracted him to the life. He wanted to help people who needed it without getting fucked over.
The unfortunate truth was, though, a lot of people liked to play games and played you for a sucker to get what they needed. He’d seen his mother play men for suckers as a full-time job. She gave them sad eyes, a sob story and some ass, then they funded her habit and paid her bills. It disgusted the fuck out of him. But he could never erase the feeling of being the kid forgotten, hungry, lonely and scared of being taken away from everything he knew if an adult found out what it was like at home. He forced the thoughts away and turned off the faucet. Doing shit for kids always brought him back to that time.
Mentally shaking off the bad vibes, he stepped from the shower stall and grabbed a towel. Drying off, he wrapped the damp material around his hips and brushed his teeth. He was headed out when a knock came at the door. “Come on, Firecracker. I’m surprised you’re still knocking.”
The door opened slowly and she poked her head in, smiling sheepishly. “I try not to assume. You know what they say…”
Rocky laughed. “We both know I’m an ass.”
“You said that, not me.” She pointed at him.
“How long will it take you to get ready today?” he asked.
“No more than ten. What am I going to do while you make the ride?”
“You can ride bitch with me or stay back at the club with some of the prospects.”
She wrinkled he nose and he laughed. “What’s wrong with the prospects? You don’t like one of them?” he asked.
“No, it’s just boring. They’re so afraid of fucking something up and not getting their patch, it’s like being in the witness protection program.”
“You can ride bitch if you think your ass can handle it. It’s going to be a good hour-long ride.”
Evonne lifted her chin. “I can take it.”
“Yeah, you can…” He licked his lips.
“Stop looking at me like that or we’ll be late.” Her voice took on a breathy tone.
He smirked. Yeah, don’t act like you’re unaffected. “Then, I’ll leave you to it.”
She ran her hand through her sleep-tousled hair and he stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him swiftly as his cock swelled. I have to get a handle on this shit. Forgoing a razor, he rocked the five o’clock shadow, threw on an old Mayhem shirt, his cut and a pair of worn denims. He slipped on his steel-toe boots and walked to the kitchen. A quick perusal of his kitchen had him reaching for cereal. They always had a big dinner after charity rides. With the weather being nice, it would be a BBQ.
“Is this okay?” she asked.
Rocky glanced up with a spoon of cereal in his mouth and his eyes went wide. She wore a skintight pair of jeans that hugged her shapely ass, belled out over a sick pair of black biker boots and a tiny black Mayhem tank top that showed off her cleavage. The shit made him want to vest her ass with a cut that said Property of Rocky Mayhem M.C. on the back. Possession melted his brain and he swallowed heavily—damn near choking on the sugary cereal. “Fuck, you look good, mama.”
She grinned. “Thanks. I was hoping it’d be all right.”
“More than all right. Fucking smoking. You trying to raise some money with those tits?”
“No, but if you think it would help, I can get a lower-cut tank,” she teased.
“Hell no,” he growled. “You like playing with fire?”
“You’re the one who named me Firecracker,” she said with a wink.
He smirked and shook his head. She was back on her game this morning, b
ut he could see the rawness lingering in her brown eyes. “I guess I did. Grab a bowl or two, and then we need to head out.”
“‘Kay.”
He remained standing, eating from his bowl as he watched her move around his kitchen, at ease and natural looking, like she’d always been there. Dazed, he came to terms with the lines crossed. She meant something to him. Sooner or later he needed to figure out what he planned to do about it.
Ten minutes later, they were at the club waiting for everyone to arrive.
“Damn, Firecracker, you’re looking fine this morning,” Casanova said, strolling over and molesting her with his eyes.
“Likewise, blondie.”
Casanova huffed, and Rocky smirked. She was a challenge now. Never one to bow out gracefully, Casanova hit on her every chance he got. “You staying back with the prospects?” Casanova asked.
“No, I’m coming with,” she said.
“Well, you know the back of my bike is always open for you,” Casanova offered.
“Cool your jets, she’s riding bitch with me,” Rocky said, staring him down.
Casanova’s eyes widened.
Rocky narrowed his eyes, silently daring him to open his mouth.
Casanova nodded and walked off to talk to someone else.
“Did I miss something?” Evonne leaned against him, peering up.
“No, he just realized he isn’t ever going to get into your pants,” Rocky said.
“Thank God.”
Rocky chuckled. “First time I ever heard anyone say that shit.”
“Is that why you get a kick out of it?” She asked.
“Always amusing to see someone who needs it…put in their place.”
She shook her head. “Men.”
“If I’m cock blocking, let me know,” Rocky said, holding up his hands.
“Please,” she huffed.
He hid his smile, grateful when Tiny came out and they all lined up to ride.
It felt good making the trek with Evonne behind him, pressed against his back like a pro. She leaned into the curves, holding his waist tighter. Her thick thighs pressed against his, and he forgot himself, reaching down to cover her hand with his own. They reached their destination and she climbed off the back, leaving him slightly bereft. He watched her join the other old ladies and caught Tiny staring at him.