Max (Ride Series Second Generation Book 6)

by Megan O'Brien

  We’d left Portland at dawn. It was now just after breakfast time, but I felt like I could definitely use a few hours of sleep myself after a restless night.

  When he booked one room with two beds, I tried to muffle my squeak of surprise.

  Unsurprisingly, he still caught it. Nothing had ever gotten passed him. “Not gonna be using the room long,” he stated simply.

  “Fine. As long as there’s a bathtub,” I mumbled. My numb extremities definitely needed a solid soak.

  Max raised an inquiring brow toward the motel manager.

  “There’s a tub,” the man answered quickly, seeming nervous in Max’s presence.

  I couldn’t say I blamed him.

  “Fuckin great,” Max replied, taking the key the manager handed him.

  “Do you scare people on purpose or is it just a Max Jackson side effect?” I asked as we ascended the stairs to our room.

  “Max Jackson side effect?” He chortled. “What exactly would those side effects be?”

  I had a whole set of personal side effects, but that wasn’t what we were talking about. “Aside from scaring the general population? Including unsuspecting motel managers?” I quipped as he let us into the room and deposited my backpack on the bed farthest from the door.

  “Yeah, aside from that.” His mouth was doing that delicious quirking thing again.

  “I can’t say at the moment, still gathering all the intel.”

  He grinned. “Let me know what you come up with. Now, are you gonna stop with the sass so I can get some sleep?”

  “I’ll try.” It was the best I could do.

  He moved toward the bathroom, shaking his head at me. When he re-emerged, he was stripping off his cut, the muscles in his arms rippling deliciously with the movement.

  At thirty, Max was more gorgeous than he’d ever been. He’d added more tattoos to the beautiful landscape that was his body. He’d gotten bigger, more muscular, but it was his eyes that had always done me in, and still did. Warm chocolate brown, like melted chocolate framed by dark lashes. He was truly breathtaking, as was evidenced by my loss of breath.

  He stepped closer toward me, stopping slightly to peer at my face. “Did you ice your face when it happened?”

  “I did,” I replied quietly. “Didn’t help much though.” I grimaced. The bruise around my temple was nearly black and still sore to the touch.

  “Might have helped more than you think,” he replied. “Sorry as hell it happened though.” His wretched expression conveyed just how true that was.

  “Me too,” I agreed, trying not to get caught up in the tenderness he was exhibiting. “I’ll let you get some sleep,” I continued, stepping away from him. “I’ll take a bath and try to reinject some feeling into my body.”

  He chuckled, the sound low and rich.

  While the warm water helped my sore body, it did nothing to soothe my frazzled nerves. The minute I lay back against the cool tile and closed my eyes, all I could picture was the man’s look of glee as he hit me, and the sound of my flesh being pounded into.

  A soft knock rapped against the door. “Wren? You all right?”

  I sat up straighter, water sloshing around me. “Fine,” I called, my voice coming out far too high pitched.

  “You sure?” he sounded skeptical.

  “Yeah. I’ll be out in a second,” I replied, mortified that I must have made some sort of noise that concerned him. I rose up out of the tub, drying off hastily and throwing my clothes back on.

  When I emerged, a cloud of steam around me, Max was on his back on top of the covers, his arm thrown behind his head. His eyes tracked my movements as I lay down on the unoccupied bed. “Sorry,” I murmured, my face flushed both from embarrassment and the hot bath.

  His head turned on the pillow, and I felt his penetrating gaze as I stared up at the ceiling. “What’s getting to you?” he asked quietly.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not, but you might be if you get it out. It’ll eat at you otherwise.”

  I wondered if he was speaking from personal experience.

  “You need to sleep,” I argued.

  “No offense, sweetheart, but I’m not gonna be able to sleep with all those whimpering noises you keep making.”

  I turned my head, regarding him in horror. “I was making whimpering noises?”

  He eyed me steadily. “Nothing to be ashamed of. I wouldn’t want to live in a world where what happened was something you took lightly.”

  The silence that followed was surprisingly comfortable as I rolled to my side to face him. He watched me expectantly. There was something about his steadiness, his confidence, that settled me.

  “I keep seeing his face. I’m afraid it’ll haunt me.”

  “It won’t.” He sounded so sure.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because he won’t be breathing for long,” he replied without hesitation. “And he’ll never hurt you again. Nothing will.” The conviction in his tone had me wondering if maybe there was a small possibility he felt something for me.

  “My experience? Inner demons are what really haunt you,” he continued. “Shit you haven’t dealt with, things you regret, things that brought out the worst in you. People you love who’ve let you down. Something like this? It’s fear and some pain, but it’s not a demon you can’t shake, not unless you let it be.”

  “You know something about this,” I deduced, holding his gaze. It was the most we’d spoken in years, and despite the subject, I relished the sound of his voice, of getting just a piece of him, no matter how small.

  He turned his head, pondering the ceiling. “Yeah.” His reply left no room for further conversation.

  “Thanks, Max,” I murmured quietly.

  I couldn’t help but want to slay some of those demons Max seemed to be fighting. Somehow, I knew the battle scars just might be worth it.

  Chapter 5

  MAX

  Like a fucking creep, I watched her sleep. I couldn’t seem to help it. It was taking everything in me not to head back to her place in Portland and lie in wait for anyone who even thought about hurting her. The fact she’d been attacked, that I’d been so far away when it happened, didn’t sit well with me.

  I’d always been protective of Wren. She wasn’t like the other girls. She was something special, always had been.

  Not many women knew their way around a motor the way she did. She was tough, unafraid to get dirty or speak her mind. She was also sweet and looked soft as hell. She was a fiery ball of contradiction that I longed to unravel.

  And now, now I felt that same protectiveness, except it was something… more. Something that struck deep the second I saw her. For years I hadn’t seen her as anything other than a kid, but she’d always been pretty. But, Christ, she’d turned into a beautiful woman. Those huge blue eyes that looked so damn determined, that mass of dark hair my fingers itched to be buried in, and those bee-stung lips that I wanted to bite first and kiss second.

  But she was too young for me, and she was Sal’s daughter, his only daughter for fuck’s sake. As our VP, Sal didn’t take any shit, and he was like an uncle to me. He’d never forgive me if I went there, and he might not be the only one. I couldn’t lose my club. It was my life. My family. So, I wouldn’t. I’d keep my distance, like I had ever since she’d grown a pair of tits and my cock had stood up and taken notice.

  I reached down and adjusted myself at the mere memory of her in that little red bikini one summer at the lake. I’d had to turn my bike around and leave, not able to bear the sight of her lush skin and that smile I swore, when pointed at me, lit up my world in a way I’d never known before or after her.

  Distance. Right.

  I’d get her back to Hawthorne and make myself scarce. I could do that. There just wasn’t another option.

  Chapter 6

  WREN

  We rode into Hawthorne just as the sun was sliding beneath the horizon. Ever since we�
�d woken up at the motel after a few hours of sleep, Max had reverted back to the removed, surly personality I was used to. Aside from making sure I was okay to get back on the bike, he’d barely said a word. Clearly, our heart-to-heart earlier had been a fluke. I tried not to be completely dejected by that.

  When we pulled up to my parents’ house, I was unsurprised to find them both waiting on the porch, my pop’s arm firmly around my mom’s shoulders. Worry shone clear on my mom’s face while my dad was biting back obvious fury.

  Max cut the engine, turning to help me off the bike as my mom rushed to me, wrapping me in a hug so tight she had me grunting on impact.

  “Easy, Birdie,” my dad chided, using the nickname he’d called my mom for as long as I could remember. He slid an arm around both of us. “Christ, your face.” He glowered once he got a look at me.

  “I’m okay,” I tried to reassure them both as I pulled out of their embrace. As their only child, I was used to both of them being a bit overly zealous when it came to me. I was sure this situation was about to push them into overdrive.

  “Take her inside, baby,” my dad asked my mom as he turned his eyes to Max. “A word,” he growled.

  Max nodded as I watched him over my shoulder, my mom guiding me inside. I didn’t know when I’d see him again. The realization caused that ever-present ache, the one I’d left Hawthorne to unsuccessfully eradicate, to resurface with a painful blow.

  His dark eyes lifted to mine once, and I swore I saw feeling there, something he tried to hide before he looked away.

  I bit back tears that my mom likely thought were from everything that happened and let her guide me into the house.

  ****

  “I’m going to kill my parents,” I groaned to Liv two days later as I sat on her bed. “I feel like I’m in prison. They’re never going to let me go back to Portland, not that I really want to,” I admitted. “Do you think you’ll go back?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. The thought of going back without you feels weird though. Have you seen he-who-shall-not-be-named?” she asked cautiously.

  I shook my head. “No, I’m sure he’s back in indifference mode now that we’re home safe.”

  She eyed me thoughtfully. “In the past, I’ve agreed. He’s always been aloof with you. But I don’t know, this time it seemed different to me. The way he looked at you, there was something there, Wren.”

  I groaned. “Don’t put ideas in my head. The last thing I need is to get any sort of hope when it comes to Max.”

  She shrugged. “Just sayin’, babe. The man had eyes for you. Whether he wants to ever admit that or not is a different story.”

  “You girls want some brownies? Fresh out of the oven!” Liv’s mom, Sophie, called cheerfully. I was thankful for the interruption, even if my stomach would pay for it later.

  Every now and then, her mom would get a wild hair to take up cooking again. It always ended up with lots of experiments gone wrong, creative discarding of whatever she’d made, and the occasional kitchen fire.

  “My dog wouldn’t eat the last batch,” Liv warned in a low voice.

  I laughed. “I think the potted plant in your living room still has some of the cookies I hid there the other day.”

  But the truth was, we’d always pretend. They didn’t come sweeter than Liv’s mom, except for maybe mine, and we’d never dream of hurting her feelings.

  “Look out, Liv, your mom’s cooking.” Axel ducked into the room to warn us.

  With his formidable frame, bushy beard, and surly demeanor to most who encountered him, Axel was an intimidating man. Fortunately, I’d never faced an angry Axel Black. I knew him as the doting husband and father he preferred to be.

  “Got it, Dad. I’ll get the Pepto-Bismol,” Liv stated in complete seriousness.

  He chuckled. “Good call, sweetheart.”

  The rumble of my dad’s Charger sounded as we were finishing up with the brownies Sophie had made—or rather, finished hiding the brownies she’d made.

  “Here’s my chaperone,” I grumbled to no one in particular as I gathered my jacket.

  “Go easy on your pop,” Axel instructed. I hadn’t realized I’d spoken loud enough for him to hear. “It would be hard as hell for any father to know his daughter was beaten, to see the evidence of it on her face, and to know he couldn’t stop it.” He squeezed my shoulder briefly. “But I’d imagine it’s harder still for a man like Sal. He just wants to protect you.”

  I met his gaze, resolving to bite my tongue and be more patient. “I know. You’re right.”

  He nodded once before striding toward the kitchen as I waved my goodbyes and ran out to my dad’s car.

  The Charger had been the first car we’d ever worked on together. It’s heady rumble and black-on-black design was one of my earliest memories.

  “Hey, Pop,” I greeted, sliding into the passenger seat.

  His eyes swept my face a moment before he turned his eyes to the road. “Have fun?”

  “Sure.” I shrugged. “Sophie packed you some brownies.” I held up the bag, muffling a grin.

  “Fucking great.” He groaned as he hit the gas. “She’s runnin’ a little rough,” he noted, referring to the car. “Want to take a look with me when we get home?”

  Despite his overprotective nature, I’d never turn down a chance to spend time with him. I grinned. “Sure thing.”

  Chapter 7

  WREN

  The familiar smell of gasoline and rubber filled my lungs as I worked underneath my Mustang in the garage bay at the club the next day. My dad had kept her stored here for me while I was away at school, and I was anxious to get her running again.

  “Shit!” I exclaimed harshly when I lost my grip on the wrench and smashed my thumb. I rolled out from underneath the car to squeeze it tight against my chest, waiting for the throbbing to stop.

  “You okay?” Max’s gruff voice took me by surprise. We hadn’t spoken since he’d brought me back.

  “What do you care?” I shot back, the pain in my thumb triggering my temper.

  His brows lifted in surprise as he stood, feet braced apart, arms crossed over his broad chest. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Max, you act like I have the plague every time I get within a hundred feet of you,” I snapped. “I don’t know what in the hell I did. You didn’t used to hate me so much. But it makes me feel like shit. So, by all means, don’t pretend like you’re concerned. Feel free to run in the other direction like you always do.”

  For a moment, we just stared at each other, the tension crackling like a live wire between us. I hadn’t planned on being so honest. Hell, I hadn’t planned on ever saying those things to him at all. But now that I had, it felt good, like a weight had been lifted off my chest. I wasn’t going to apologize or back down, not now.

  “You think I hate you?” His voice was an incredulous rasp.

  “Maybe not hate,” I allowed. “But you clearly don’t like me very much. We used to actually talk to each other.”

  In fact, despite our age difference, years before, I’d felt like he’d actually understood me in a way that most people didn’t. That all felt like a lifetime ago.

  “I remember,” he acknowledged quietly.

  “Then what? Did I do something?”

  He held my gaze, and I felt like I was drowning in the amount of intensity pooling from those dark depths. “No.”

  I tried desperately to hide the pain his one-word answer incited. When it was clear that was all I was going to get, I released a sad sigh. “Okay, Max.” I lay back down on my roller and slid back under the car, effectively ending the conversation.

  I let out a shriek when I was grabbed by the ankles and pulled back out. I stared up at him in shock as he leaned over me, fire lighting his gaze.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you, got it?” he demanded, our faces inches apart. “You’re perfect. Don’t ever think otherwise.”

  His gaze dropped to my lips, and for a heart-stopping
moment, I thought he might kiss me. My heart pounded in my chest as my breathing accelerated. I’d never wanted anything more in my life. Then he pulled back, rising to his feet, his chest heaving. “Be careful with the wrench,” he ordered brusquely before turning and striding away. The slam of the inner garage door registered his exit as I fought for breath.

  What the hell just happened?

  Chapter 8

  MAX

  Shit.

  That had been too close. Way too fucking close. But the pain in her eyes, pain I’d caused, was too much to bear. I’d had to set her straight. Having her that close had been nearly excruciating. Her full, rosy lips taunted me, her sweet smell drawing me in. I deserved a fucking medal for my restraint.

  I slammed my way back in to the club, growling at any one who dared look in my direction.

  “Max. My office,” Cole’s command had me inwardly groaning.

  Fucking great.

  I followed him into his office, sitting in the chair opposite his desk. “I’m talking to you as your brother right now, not as your prez,” he began, sitting on the edge of his desk, looking down at me with concern. “What the hell is going on with you lately?” he demanded. “You’ve been in your own head more than usual and meaner than a fucking grizzly.”

  I clenched my jaw but remained silent.

  “You’re avoiding everyone, including Pop and your mom. They’re worried.”

  Though not related by blood, Cole and I shared a father in Cal, who’d adopted me when I was seven. Despite being over twenty years my senior, Cole and I had always had a solid bond. He accepted my reserved personality, my tendency to be a loner. Except for right now apparently.

  “I’m fine,” I ground out.

  He made a noise of frustration. “You’re not. You can talk to me, Max. You know that.”

  Not about this. Not about Wren.

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”