RIDE (A Stone Kings Motorcycle Club Romance)

by Daphne Loveling

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard the phrase ‘nice tattooed young man’ before,” I laughed.

  “He has kind eyes,” she replied, undeterred. “And he’s good for you, Eva. And Zoe loves him. That’s all I need to know.”

  I thought for a moment, then nodded.

  “Me, too,” I replied softly.

  Zoe and I walked over to Mrs. Hayes’s house, then I came back to sit on the stoop and wait for Trig. He’d told me to wear jeans and casual attire.

  Not long after I sat down, the roar of an engine sounded off in the distance. As it got louder, I broke into a wide grin.

  By the time I walked down to curb to greet him, Trig had pulled up.

  “Hey, princess,” he called over the bike’s idle.

  “You’re riding again!” I cried.

  “First time out,” he nodded with a grin. “Get on. I wanna take you somewhere.”

  He unhooked the helmet that was strapped to his saddlebag and handed it to me. I took it and put it on, then climbed on behind him.

  The smell of his leather cut, and the clean, masculine scent of his skin, brought back so many memories. Memories that were no longer painful, except if I thought too much about how many years we had spent needlessly apart.

  I should have known where he was taking me, but I didn’t figure it out until we were almost halfway there. When I realized it, I snuggled closer to him, hugging him tight and softly kissing the back of his neck.

  The hot springs.

  It was the perfect place for our second first ride together.

  There were a lot more people at the hot springs than I had remembered the first time we’d gone there together. But it was still the same mixture of couples, families with young children, and groups of teenagers showing off for each other. Like last time, we hadn’t brought bathing suits. But like last time, we weren’t there to swim and splash.

  We parked the bike, and Trig produced all the necessary items for a picnic lunch from his side bags. He had clearly thought of everything, and I silently marveled at how my tattooed, bad boy biker was secretly a hopeless romantic.

  We hiked along the rocks until we found a quiet, isolated spot with a view, and sat down to enjoy the sandwiches and other treats he’d brought.

  “We should really bring Zoe here sometime,” I remarked as I took another bite of my sandwich. “She’s never seen a hot springs before.”

  “Neither had her mama,” Trig reminded me. “Until I showed you.”

  “It’s true.” Trig had lain back against a flat rock, and I lay next to him and snuggled into the crook of his arm. “You were thoughtful and romantic even then. Too bad I was too pig-headed to see it.”

  “No regrets, princess,” he murmured. “The important thing is we’re together now.”

  It was true. We were together now. And nothing would ever drive us apart again.

  “So, can I ask you a question?” I said.

  “‘Course. What’s up?”

  “Well,” I said slowly. “It appears that I’m going to be the girlfriend of a motorcycle club member.”

  “Nope,” he cut me off.

  “What?”

  “You’re going to be the old lady of the vice-president of an MC,” he grinned.

  “‘Old lady’?” My eyes widened. “Seriously?”

  “Don’t take it personally,” he smiled. “It’s just a label. Doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Okay,” I said dubiously. “But, it occurs to me that I know next to nothing about what an… MC… actually is.” I frowned at him. “I mean, is it dangerous? Are you in danger?”

  “Eva.” His voice was deep and rich. He turned to me and caressed my cheek. “I’m not going to lie to you. Sometimes I am in danger. But I don’t think the MC is what you think it is. There are families. Children. It’s about loyalty, and sticking together.”

  “There are children?” I asked.

  I had to admit to myself that I had wondered more than once how Zoe’s life might be impacted by the fact that the man I loved was an MC vice president.

  “Yeah, of course.” He shrugged. “It’s a lot more family oriented than you might think. Look, you’ll meet some of the women. I think you’ll like them.” His face broke into a lopsided grin. “Seton, she’s with our president, Grey. She’s an apprentice chef at one of the restaurants in town. And Cherish…”

  “Cherish?” I cocked my head. “That’s an interesting name.”

  “Yeah. She’s pretty great, actually. She’s Levi’s old lady. She’s working on founding a women’s shelter here in town. You’d like both of them. And I know they’d like you.”

  “Huh,” I mused. “That’s not exactly what I’d expected.”

  “The point is,” he murmured into my neck, “Don’t worry. You’re gonna fit right in. And so is Zoe. It’ll all work out, Eva.” He grazed his lips along the skin of my throat, his beard sending shivers through me. “Stop trying to control everything. We’re fine.”

  I sighed. “Damnit, Trig. Stop being so reasonable.”

  His laugh rumbled from deep in his throat. “You can’t handle it that I’m the stable one sometimes, can you?”

  We sat and watched as the sun began to dip lower, covering the mesa in colors that were nothing short of dazzling.

  “So,” Trig said. “I guess we gotta figure out our living situation. It’s gonna be pretty silly for us to continue going back and forth between our two houses, especially with Zoe.” His hand went to my hair, absently toying with a blond lock. “How attached are you to your house?”

  “Not very,” I admitted. “Too many bad memories. And honestly, I’d like a new start.”

  I felt him nod. “I wouldn’t mind that either,” he said. “How about we get rid of both places, and start fresh? As a family? That way, Zoe gets a say, too.”

  As a family.

  For a moment, I was too choked up to say anything. It was the family I had always wanted. I had the man of my dreams, and Zoe had a father figure who would never let her down. I knew that as well as I knew my own name.

  Instead of answering, I propped myself up on my elbow until my face was just above his. Slowly, I bent my head and kissed him. The low rumble in his chest as our tongues met and began their dance sent a familiar jolt of heat through me, all the way to my core.

  Just like the first time he had kissed me here, I felt my pulse begin to race, my skin shivering with anticipation and hope.

  But this time, I knew, Caleb “Trig” Jackson was going home with me. And eventually, we would be making our own home.

  Together.

  I was sure it would be one hell of a ride.

  THE END

  Thank you for reading RIDE! I hope you LOVED this story! Trig and Eva found true love, in the unlikeliest of places. Their story touched my heart.

  ABOUT THE STONE KINGS SERIES:

  Book Four of the Stone Kings MC series is called STAND.

  It’s about Cal, Seton’s brother and one of the newest members of the Stone Kings.

  STAND will be released on October 18, 2016.

  TURN THE PAGE TO READ YOUR BONUS NOVELS: RUSH and CRASH, BOOKS 1 and 2 in the Stone Kings Series.

  If you want to skip RUSH and CRASH, and go right to the sneak preview of RIDE, just go back to the Table of Contents and click on the link.

  RUSH

  A Stone Kings MC Romance, Book 1

  Prologue

  It all happened so fast, no one had time to react.

  It was hotter than average that day, even for July, the thermometer topping out at ninety-four degrees by mid-afternoon. The townspeople had been going about their business, cars driving slowly down the main street of Lupine, Colorado, as if they, too, were turned sluggish by the heat.

  There were muffled shouts coming out of the Blue Angus Bar, its door open to the heat of the day. Through the darkened threshold, Clayton Greenlee staggered into the blistering sun, already drunk despite the early hour. What came out of his mouth was mostly
unintelligible, but the folks of Lupine were mostly used to that from Clayton, especially when it was clear he’d been on a bender.

  But when Lester Lawson, a.k.a. Lawless, followed him out of the Blue Angus into the sunlight, the atmosphere soon began to change. A slight crackle seemed to give the air a sudden charge as Clayton’s and Lawless’s voices grew louder. A few people turned to glance at the men as they walked by, but most averted their eyes and walked just a little more quickly. As the men argued, Clayton’s ramblings became more strident, and a word here and there began to emerge: “…whore…good for nothing….kill…” Most folks were still trying to pay no attention, but a few slowed down now, and turned their heads toward the men.

  Suddenly, a sharp cry came from Clayton. He staggered forward and lunged without warning at Lucky. The wild swing of the drunken man’s fist miraculously connected with Lawless’s right temple, though not hard enough to take the large man down.

  Those who had slowed to take a look now stopped: Lawless was not a man to be screwed with. He was the sergeant-at-arms of the Stone Kings, MC, the one-percenter motorcycle club based out of Lupine, and as such he was held in fear by all, and grudging respect by most. But Clayton was too either too drunk or too out of his mind to care.

  Lawless’s hand raised to Clayton’s chest, and he pushed the other man backwards with a low growl. He muttered a few low, angry words to the drunkard, which only served to enrage Clayton further. “I’ll fuckin’ kill you!” he shouted, and reached into the back waistband of his dirty jeans. But before anyone realized what had happened, Lawless had drawn his own piece and fired.

  Clayton’s thin frame blew backwards like the wind had caught him. His heel caught against the curb and he fell into the street, his head making a sickening thud and crack against the pavement. A dozen or so shocked townspeople halted in their steps, then slowly wandered toward his prone form like zombies. No one was even talking or shouting, it had happened so quickly. As they people drew near to stare down at the wounded man, Lawless simply turned, calmly tucked his gun into his waistband, and walked away.

  Slowly, slowly, the crowd began to grow. An ambulance was called, then the police. No one remembered calling his family, but about ten minutes after Clayton fell, a young girl broke through the gathering crowd — a girl of nine, maybe ten years old. Slight of build, wild brown hair streaming behind her, she ran wordlessly toward the figure lying in the dirt. As she skidded to a stop, she flung herself to her knees beside him. Throwing her arms around his heaving chest, a high pitched sob tore from her lips: “Daddy!”

  The man lifted one feeble arm to touch the sobbing girl’s head. Weakly, he began to cough, and in a wheezing whisper said something to the girl that no one else could hear.

  Some of the men and women turned their heads away, then, at the shame of such a young thing having to see her father like that. Mothers covered their children’s eyes. Fathers resolved to go home and hug their wives. But one child stood unnoticed in the crowd, unaccompanied. A boy, tanned and blond, about fifteen years old, stood and stared at the scene in front of him. He had been there all along, had seen it all transpire: the crazy drunken man who had threatened his uncle; his uncle, who had shot the crazy drunken man. And now the girl, sobbing over the prone, bloody figure. As the girl looked wildly around her, her arms still flung around her father, her tear-filled eyes met those of the boy. Their gazes locked, held a moment, until she squeezed her eyes shut in agony, her body wracked by her weeping.

  The ambulance arrived. The crowd stepped back. Clayton Greenlee was pronounced dead at the scene as his daughter, still sobbing and screaming, was led away. The boy watched her go, and felt the rush of guilt and shame of one who realizes that his kin has been the source of someone else’s sorrow.

  In the coming days, the story would emerge of what had happened. Maggie Greenlee had been cheating on her no-good husband with Lawless Lawson. Clayton had somehow found out, and gone after his wife’s lover, the drink making him foolish and careless. As the days turned into weeks, the town thought less and less of the young girl who had watched her father die, and of her two brothers who were also now down to one parent. The scandal became the stuff of gossip on front porches after dinner, the characters reduced to curiosities. For wasn’t Clayton just a pathetic drunk anyway? And wasn’t Maggie, after all, just a cheating wife — and not a very friendly one, at that? She had never really made an effort to get to know her neighbors when the Greenlees moved to Lupine, after all. And what did she expect, getting involved with a Stone Kings member like that? No, it was sad all right, but somehow — and people never went far enough to actually say it out loud — hadn’t they kind of had it coming?

  1

  Seton

  Fifteen years later

  Some days it felt like everything was conspiring against me.

  I had just finished up my shift at the Cactus, a local bar near the college in our town, and I was looking forward to getting out of my work clothes and relaxing at home for the rest of the evening. Stretching my aching arms over my head, I turned down the hallway to the back office to collect my purse. Just as I opened the desk drawer where I had stuffed it, my phone buzzed in my back pocket. I took it out and read:

  Sorry see cant pick u up 2nite after work

  I stared in disbelief at my phone screen, then sighed in frustration. It figured. I didn’t even know why I was surprised anymore when Cal left me in the lurch. It happened more often than not. I swore softly under my breath.

  Y not?

  I waited a few seconds, not even sure if he would bother replying. Then the phone buzzed in my hand again and I read:

  Club business. cant get away

  Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I stifled a groan of irritation. Unbelievable. Not only was my brother not going to be picking me up like he promised he would, but he had my car to boot. And even worse than that, he was using it for just about the last thing I would have let him borrow it for if I’d known what he needed it for.

  But then of course, I hadn’t known. Because he hadn’t bothered to tell me. Typical.

  I walked out of the back office muttering to myself, and closed the door behind me. Closing my eyes in frustration, I leaned back against the dark wood paneling in the back hall. I considered my options. It wasn’t worth chewing Cal out via text over what a shit for brains he was being. I knew if I called him, he’d just let it go to voice mail. Frankly, there was really nothing I could do at the moment.

  “This is the last time I let him borrow my car,” I seethed to myself. Grumbling, I reached for my pocket and pulled out my phone again. I typed in the security code and texted him back:

  Forget it. I’ll get a ride home.

  A couple of minutes later, I got this response:

  U mad?

  My eyes rolled so far back into my head I thought they might stick that way. Seriously, I wasn’t sure why I was even surprised at any of this. I could feel my blood pressure rising the more I thought about what to say in response. I knew he would barely read anything I had to say anyway. I decided to just forget about responding and try to concentrate on what to do next.

  A wealth of less than charitable thoughts were swimming around in my head as I stomped my way back down the hall toward the bar area. My friend and fellow bartender Andi was just wiping down the counter. She looked up as she saw me plop down on a stool toward the far end of the bar.

  “You okay, See?” Andi asked, one perfectly penciled brow raised as she looked at me speculatively. A perceptive girl, my bestie Andi is.

  “Don’t want to talk about it,” I grumbled.

  “Asshat stand you up again?” She cocked her head, her shock of short platinum blond hair falling forward over one eye.

  I had to laugh at the irony that I had so many unreliable men in my life that Andi had to choose from a list. “No,” I said. “My brother. And what’s more, he has my car.”

  Andi blew her bangs back with an exasperated breath and chuckle
d. “That Cal. He’s really something.” Andi had the dubious fortune of having to listen to any number of my rants about my brother.

  “That is quite the understatement, An,” I smiled wryly. “Maybe I should start numbering the asshats in my life. Cal is Asshat Number One right now.”

  “You gonna call Asshat Number Two and see if you can get a ride out of him?” she smirked, tilting her head to one side.

  Asshat Number Two was my boyfriend, unfortunately. Well, Nate was more or less my boyfriend. At least, I’d been sleeping with him on and off for about six months. He was good looking in a kind of “hot douchebag” way: thick, wavy blond hair that any girl would have killed for. Pretty blue eyes with long lashes, a perfectly sculpted gym rat body. He was firmly convinced he was God’s gift to women, and probably half of the college girls in our town would have agreed with him. Lord knows why I had put up with him as long as I had. The sex had been pretty good, though somewhat lacking in variety, and he had caught me during a long dry spell, which probably explained why I had bothered to give him the time of day in the first place. But beyond that, he was pretty much worthless, rivaling Cal for unreliability. Maybe I should start giving out douchebag trophies, I snarked to myself.

  Honestly, I should have kicked Nate to the curb a long time ago. As with many good looking men who know it (or at least so I’ve heard), Nate tended to be selfish in bed. It was probably sheer luck and horniness that I managed to get off with him most of the time. After he finished, he would look at me vaguely, say, “Good for you, babe?” and then slide out of bed to play Warcraft or something. On top of that, he was kind of a mooch. We had met at the bar one night while I was working, and he had started flirting with me shamelessly almost from the get-go. Only later did it occur to me that he might have been hitting me in the hopes of free drinks.