Riding On Fumes_Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance

by Cassandra Bloom

  Stifling an uncomfortable shiver, I wondered if he’d prefer it that way.

  “What are you doing here, Malcolm?” I demanded. “Aren’t you supposed to be in jail?”

  “Got out on good behavior,” he answered with a smirk. “Figured I’d pay a visit to my darling little sister before leaving.”

  “Leaving?” I pressed, uncertain.

  Mack shrugged. “Are you surprised? You obviously heard what sort of trouble I got myself into”—You have no idea, you bastard! I thought at that—“and being out of the big house doesn’t exactly mean I’m out of the real trouble.”

  “Then the Carrion Crew is still after you?” I asked. I wasn’t sure how much he knew of what had happened—if he knew that the debts he owed to the Carrions had motivated them to “hire” me as a whore to pay them off—but it seemed to me that if he was planning on leaving then he had no idea that their sights were on me now.

  Mack laughed at the question, but there was no humor in it whatsoever. “From the sounds of it I’m not the only Chobavich that they’re after,” he said.

  I frowned at that. So he did know. “Guess I should thank you for that?” I hissed.

  He scoffed and shook his head. “I didn’t ask you to do anything, Mia. I never even had the chance. If the Crew came knocking on your door to settle my debt then what happened next is strictly between you and them.”

  I resisted the urge to haul off and hit him then and there. “I was hardly given a choice,” I said, barely able to get my voice above a whisper at that point.

  He shrugged and looked off in the direction of the sound of laughter. “Same old Mia,” he mused, finally tearing his eyes from the distraction and shaking his head. “Always the victim, right? ‘Boo-hoo! My mean, ol’ brother made bad choices and now I’m a whore for it!’” He shook his head again and grinned. “If you wanna start blaming me for all that then you’d better start thanking me for the rest.”

  I felt my lip curl at him. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

  “Word on the street is you got yourself rescued by a badass biker boy-toy. Strong, chiseled type with power, money… everything a little girl needs, right? So if it’s my fault that you had a few sore-pussy nights then it’s just as much because of me that you found yourself this big-deal boyfriend who’s gone and stirred up quite a stinky situation.”

  I actually took a step towards him at that, having a harder and harder time not hitting him. “And what would you know about this ‘stinky situation?’”

  Mack did nothing to move away; seemed to almost glow as I closed the distance between us. “I did say that I need to get out of this city, didn’t I?” he repeated.

  “What do you want?” I asked with a glare. “Why are you really here?”

  “I just figured I should warn you that they’re making you a full-scale priority,” he answered with a smirk.

  “Oh, yeah, right,” I sneered, moving myself away from him—unable to bear the closeness any longer—and starting to turn away. “You seem really torn up about all of this.”

  I heard him mutter, “Speaking of ‘torn up,’” and felt his eyes on my backside. I turned back towards him at that, catching him as his eyes moved across my body, running over me like an oil slick. I shivered at the oozy sensation. I crossed my arms over my chest. Even with the large, baggy tee-shirt I had on I didn’t feel comfortable in front of him then.

  “Look, Mack, I’m done with them, okay! I never should have been in that situation in the first place, but I went through with it because I… dammit, I felt like I owed you something. You were my brother and—”

  “I still am your brother, dummy,” he interrupted.

  I paused at that, realizing what I’d just said and still feeling it sounded right. Then, shaking my head, I said, “Whatever! I’m just done. I regret going through with it. For fuck’s sake, Mack, I nearly got killed. Things are better for me now. I’m out of that life, and now that you’re out of jail you can figure out your own mess. This was never my problem, anyway. I don’t owe them anything.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, sis,” he smirked, his eyes running across my body again, and this time I failed to hold back the shiver. “Y’see, that may have been true before. But you and your boy-toy torched quite a lot of product. And, from the sounds of it, there was a casualty, as well: a rather valuable member from the sounds of things. Not to mention all the other whores you’ve gone and inspired to high-tail it out of their own deals. So, yeah, you might not have owed them anything before, but you went and cost them an arm and a leg—and an entire body along with it—and made it very personal, Mia. You could’ve just been a good little slut and gotten us both off the hook…but instead you decided to look for some happily ever after with the wrong side.”

  “This isn’t my fault, Mack,” I snarled. “The place blew up because of what was in there, not because of me or Jace.”

  “And you think they see it that way?” he raised an eyebrow. “Your best feature might be between your legs, you slut, but don’t go pretending that you’ve got nothing between your ears.”

  “Call me a ‘slut’ again and—”

  “And what, slut!”

  I felt my left eye twitch under the storm of rage within me, but I still managed to calmly say, “And I’ll make a call.” I glared. “I can get Jace’s guys—the other guys—here before you can say, ‘No, warden, don’t let the other inmates fuck my little asshole,’ and then you’ll have twice as much trouble on your head.” I tilted my head, studying him then. “The way I see it, Mack,” I said, “either you’re here because you’re trying to scare me back into handling your mess… or you think it’ll help put you in good standings with the Carrions. Well let me make a few things clear, bro: I am not going back, and if you don’t leave me alone—if I get the Crows involved with this—then the Carrion Crew will kill you just for breathing the same air as their enemies!”

  Mack stared at me for a long time, the perverse leer gone and nothing but bitterness and hate left in their place. “Fine,” he finally said, holding up his hands in surrender and beginning to back away. “Doesn’t matter, anyway. They will get you, sis. What do you think? That it’s going to be okay? That you’ll just have some happily ever after with your Crow? You’re dreaming. This is the real world, and in the real world it’s the ones with the biggest guns that win the wars. And from what I’ve heard, the Crows don’t deal in guns.”

  And then, turning away and slipping into the crowd of people, Mack was gone.

  I was left staring out, not exactly at where he’d been, but at a great expanse of nothingness that my future had begun to decay into.

  Then my phone started to ring.

  Worrying that Danny or Candy might have caught on to my plan, a fresh stream of panic began to run through me as I quickly pulled out the source of the chimes. A bittersweet moment passed as I realized that I didn’t recognize the number, and I answered it with a warring sense of worry and cautious optimism.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Mia Chobavich?” the voice on the other end asked calmly.

  Calmly, I thought to myself. Calmly is good… right?

  “This is,” I said slowly, wondering what I might have just confessed myself to. “May I ask who’s calling?”

  “This is Nurse Addich from UR General,” the voice began. “I see that you are listed as one of the emergency contacts for Mister Jason Presley.”

  “Oh… uh, yes. Yes, I am,” I answered, the panic coming back at the word emergency. “Is he… is he okay? Oh, please me he’s not—”

  “Ma’am,” the voice somehow managed to remained calm while still asserting enough force to silence my worry. “I am calling to let you know he woke up about ten minutes ago. The doctors are in with him now, but we think he’ll be—”

  “Oh thank God!” I groaned as I fell back against a bench on the sidewalk; Mack and all of his bullshit suddenly a gray and distant thought. “Thank you so, so much. I
will be there shortly.”

  “No problem at all,” Nurse Addich replied. “We will see you this afternoon.”

  After hanging up with the nurse, I dialed out to Danny. Deciding that I didn’t want to wait on the bus to get to the hospital. I leaned back against the bench, a wave of happiness flooding me.

  Jace was awake.

  Things would be okay!

  “Mia? Is everything okay?” Danny answered, sounding worried, after only two rings.

  “Things are fine!” I smiled. “The hospital called! Jace is awake. Can you pick me up? I could take the bus but I don’t want to wait.”

  Danny chuckled. “Told ya he’d wake up. And don’t worry, I’ll be right over. Where are ya?”

  Blushing at the question, realizing that I had to come clean about my little adventure, I confessed.

  The line was silent for a long moment.

  “Danny?” I called out, questioning.

  “Yer lucky that Jace loves you so much,” he grumbled back at me. “Damn lucky!”

  “Y-yeah,” I said with a nervous chuckle. “Pretty lucky, huh?”

  After hanging up, I moved my phone back to my purse and stood. Feeling revitalized from the news of Jace waking up, I decided that I wouldn’t let myself worry any more, at least for the time being, about Mack. Looking at a few more shops, I began to head towards the front entrance where the public parking was. I stopped at a small shop selling cotton candy and decided that I’d buy a bag for Danny for all he’d done. He deserved a small gift after everything he’d been dealing with for me.

  ****

  Though it was, admittedly, a bit of a wait, the amount of time that passed between my call with Danny and the first audible roar of his approaching Harley proved to me just how scenic the bus route I’d taken was.

  “Told ya it would only be a matter of time,” he teasingly mocked.

  “Oh stop!” I grinned. “How many times do I have to tell you you were right?”

  “Gay or not, a guy never gets tired of hearing that he was right. But, I dunno,” he smirked, “how ‘bout one more time?”

  “Fine, you were right,” I said.

  “Anything go down while you were here?” he asked.

  Though I really didn’t like the idea of hiding something from Jace or any of the Crows, I couldn’t help but feel that worrying Danny about my brother would only serve to distract from the real problems. Mack might have been a hurtful bastard, and his time in prison had certainly appeared to turn him into a real creep, but I couldn’t believe that any set of circumstances could have turned my brother into an actual threat. More than likely, I figured I’d never even see him again—a sad thought initially, but one I could see myself getting over pretty quickly. Calling upon all the acting prowess I’d acquired as a whore, I plastered a phony smile for Danny and shook my head.

  “Not at all,” I replied. “I just got a gift for Jace…” Then, my smile shifting into a sincere grin as I pulled out the bag with the cotton candy in it, I added, “… and a little something for you!”

  “Somethin’ for me?” he asked, his eyes gleaming teasingly.

  “Yup!” I smiled, pulling out the clear plastic bag of bright pink cotton candy. “Your favorite color even!” I boasted

  “Cotton candy? My favorite!” he grinned. “This is the best! Thanks, girlie!”

  “I hope this isn’t the best gift you’ve ever received,” I pouted, remembering a similar conversation Jace and I had had back at Canal Days.

  “Well, prolly not,” he confessed, sporting a lecherous smirk as he did. “Anyway, shall we go visit yer Prince Charming, Princess?” Danny changed the subject, offering me a teasing wink.

  “Don’t even,” I rolled my eyes, fighting not to laugh.

  ****

  “I’ll go find parking,” Danny offered as he pulled up to the entrance of the hospital. Despite his words, however, I felt like he was going to be offering me a bit more time than would normally come from simply parking a motorcycle. Looking back at the mostly-empty parking lot, I wondered why he’d even bothered pulling up front when he could have just parked and been done with it. At that moment, once more seeming to read my thoughts, Danny swatted his hand at me, casting me away. “Off with ya!” he demanded.

  And off I went, smiling my thanks back at him.

  Feeling like I was floating, I headed through the hospital doors, took a deep breath, and continued on, walking slowly, through the halls. The surroundings blurred, and I was distantly aware that I couldn’t even remember talking to the receptionist in the waiting room or passing through the great divide—what separated us from him—and yet, all of a sudden, I was approaching his door. Despite this—despite how quickly and effortlessly it all seemed to be happening—it didn’t seem quick or effortless enough; every step felt like a slow-motion trudge through cold waters.

  And then, just like that, I was reaching for the door handle. Feeling so very, very—

  “What do you think? That it’s going to be okay? That you’ll just have some happily ever after with your Crow? You’re dreaming. This is the real world…”

  I frowned, my hand stilling just over the door to Jace’s room, as Mack’s words returned to haunt me. I tried to ignore them; I had to ignore them

  “Damn you, Mack,” I muttered under my breath. “I will not let you ruin this for me!” I clenched my eyes shut, stopping in the hall and leaning against the wall. I fought to not let the tears fall. I was so close to seeing Jace again.

  Then, finally, I forced a solid thought of Fuck you, Mack! And forced myself to turn the knob before anything else in my head could try to stop it.

  Everything suddenly felt perfect at the sight of Jace’s forest green eyes on mine.

  FOUR

  ~JACE~

  “God damn! Nothing should look as good as you look right now,” I said with a smile. Then, working to sit up—working to seem more presentable—and succeeding in tugging the increasingly annoying network of tubes and wires littered across my body, I winced and rolled my eyes. Groaning, I added, “And here I probably look like complete and utter shit.”

  Mia’s face twisted in a brief instant of varying micro-expressions. I caught flashes of pity, anger, sadness, and hatred. While there were a few others that I missed, I wasn’t thrilled with the ones I’d seen. I hated having people pity me; I hated seeing Mia angry or sad; and, as for hatred… well, hatred didn’t exist to look good on pretty faces.

  Simply put, I hated seeing how hatred was twisting such a gorgeous face.

  Not that I was about to tell her so, and I certainly understood. I guessed it was directed either at the entire situation or more specifically on the dead-but-not-dead-enough T-Built. Lord knew I wasn’t done hating T-Built. Hell, I wasn’t done hating just about every beating heart tied to the Carrion Crew. When it came to hatred, I was something of an expert—a connoisseur, if I could be so bold as to think so—and, on many occasions, I’d seen that same twisted snarl on my own mug whenever a reflective surface was available. Granted, I wasn’t nearly as pretty as Mia. Far as I was concerned, nobody was. (Damn, that felt simultaneously glorious and guilt-inducing to think given everything I’d been through.) Needless to say, I knew hatred when I saw it, but that didn’t mean I wanted to see it.

  It wasn’t like…

  Where the hell was my head?

  Growling, I snatched the tubing leading to the morphine drip and yanked it out of my arm, wincing at the exiting needle’s bite and hurrying to hide the growing bead of blood that followed it on its way out.

  A small, nervous-sounding bark of worry escaped Mia’s lips, and I caught sight of a bag in her left hand that had been previously angled away from me. Then, hurrying to compose herself, she reangled herself—once again putting the bag out of my sight—and worked a rather convincing mask of apprehension atop a still concerned face.

  “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to leave that in,” she scolded me, taking a bold-yet-awkward step inside. There was
a renewed confidence about her that was, admittedly, quite intoxicating to behold, but that bag of hers and her ongoing mission to keep it hidden was clunking up the effect.

  That, I thought to myself as I worked to get a glimpse at whatever it was she was trying to conceal, needs to be taken out of the equation.

  “Gotta take it out,” I said matter-of-factly. “Otherwise I’m going to have to walk out of here still wearing it in my arm.” I gave her a coy smirk and a playful shrug. “Sort of muddies up the effort of sneaking out if your clanging around with medical equipment all tagged-up in your veins.” Then, nodding towards the bag she’d been working so hard to keep hidden, I asked, “What’s that?”

  Another micro-expression, this one showing embarrassment, passed across her stern-yet-concerned face. The blush held, but the embarrassment was gone quickly enough to have me convinced it had never been there. She twisted herself, angling her right hip more in my direction in an ongoing effort to further conceal the bag. It thumped against her thigh, crinkled audibly—earning a flinch from her in the process—and she rolled her eyes.

  “They said you could go then?” she asked, ignoring my question and the painfully obvious elephant that she, herself, had carried in with her.

  “I said I could go,” I said passively, already beginning to unplug more of the diodes scattered across my chest. “So what’cha got there?” I pressed further, ignoring the whine of a nearby machine as my vitals were suddenly robbed from its scans.

  Mia’s eyes drifted to the angered machine, and then they rolled again. She seemed pleased to have something other than the bag to roll her eyes at. I grinned playfully at this, yanking another wire—this one all-but glued to my left temple—and giving her another excuse to roll her eyes. She did, but just as playfully.

  Struggling to maintain her “mother said no cookies”-demeanor, she said, “I don’t think it works that way.”