Max (Ride Series Second Generation Book 6)

by Megan O'Brien

His blue eyes shone with frustration. “Fine. You don’t want to talk to me? I’m not going to force you, but you need to rein your shit in. I still need you on the Rossi business tonight, but not if you’re going to go off half-cocked. You get me?”

  I took a deep breath in. The club had some issues with the mob wanting to expand outside of Vegas, way outside, too close to Hawthorne. That shit was not happening. “I get you. Gun and I are riding out tonight.”

  “Be careful.” I could tell he wanted to say more, while at the same time knowing he wouldn’t get more out of me.

  “I will,” I agreed, rising to stand and heading for the door.

  “Max.” His voice stopped me short. “That offer to talk? It stands, always.”

  I nodded once and walked through the door.

  ****

  My fist met flesh again and again, the rhythmic sound soothing in some twisted way as I took out my aggravation, my angst, on the man slumped in a chair in front of me.

  Thanks to Maddox’s source, we’d intercepted the member of the Rossi family with a truckload of firearms headed directly through Hawthorne.

  “Max, man, enough.” Gunner grunted, pulling me back.

  “It’s not,” I ground out, the primal growl of my voice barely registering as mine.

  “It is,” he insisted, pushing me by the chest toward the far wall.

  “Stay the fuck out of Hawthorne,” I warned over my shoulder.

  “Doubt he heard you, brother.” Xander chortled. “He’s out cold. But he heard you the other ten times you said it. I’d consider your message delivered.”

  “Let’s go, man,” Gunner coaxed, guiding me from the warehouse. “What the fuck is up with you?” he demanded, echoing Cole’s earlier line of questioning. “Not saying you don’t usually hold your own, but I’ve never seen you like that.” His gaze was cautious and a little amazed as he regarded me.

  Had I really gone that overboard? My bloody knuckles, so torn up you could see bone, said maybe.

  “Whatever it is, you know I have your back, right?” he demanded. “Whatever it is. Whoever it is,” he emphasized.

  Fuck, he knew.

  We’d been thick as thieves since grammar school. We’d patched in together. I trusted Gunner more than anyone, and he knew me better than most. That didn’t mean I wanted to talk about it.

  “How long has it been?” he asked quietly.

  “Since what?” I ground out.

  “Since you fell in love with Wren,” he replied simply. He was going to force my hand. Hell, maybe it would help.

  I sighed, raking a hand through my hair. “I’m not sure,” I answered honestly. “A few years maybe.”

  “Shit, man,” he muttered. “Sal’s gonna kill you.”

  “Not if he doesn’t find out,” I shot back.

  Gunner leaned against his bike, crossing his feet at the ankle. “Hate to say it, but there’s no way you can hide it forever. I figured it out easily enough. It’s all over your face when she’s around. If he cares enough to pay attention, he’ll notice. And you, fuck, dude, you’re wound so tight you’re going to fucking snap. Something has to give.”

  “I’ll rein it in.”

  He chuckled. “Sure you will. About as much as she will.”

  My head snapped to his in surprise.

  “What?” he demanded with a grin. “You’re telling me you don’t see the way she looks at you? You two are ridiculous.” He shook his head.

  The fact that Wren might feel the way I did made something foreign, but not all together unpleasant, expand in my chest. I’d never considered the possibility and instead had focused on controlling my own feelings.

  “Sal will kill me,” I repeated.

  “Yeah, he will,” Gunner agreed. “But he might also surprise you.” He shrugged.

  He might. But could I take that chance?

  “Are we done with our little heart-to-heart?” I demanded, swinging a leg over my bike.

  He chuckled. “It was beautiful, man, but yeah, sure.” Gunner loved to fuck with me, always had. It was part of why we were such a good team. I kept him grounded, and he got me to lighten up every now and then.

  “Fuck you,” I threw back without malice as our bikes roared to life.

  He merely chuckled and shot me his middle finger.

  We hit the highway, my thoughts jumbled, heart pounding with the knowledge that the girl I loved might actually love me back. I knew that with that possibility, even without acting on it, my life would never be the same.

  Chapter 9

  WREN

  When Friday night rolled around, I was fully prepared to put my pajamas on and watch a movie with my mom. Ever since the encounter with Max, I’d been avoiding anything having to do with the club, and that included Gunner’s party I’d heard was happening tonight.

  When a knock sounded on my front door, I was surprised to find Livie on the other side.

  “Did I forget plans we made?” I asked in confusion.

  She grinned mischievously. “In a way, maybe. You’re coming to Gunner’s party with me. Let’s go get you dressed,” she directed. “Hi, Kat.” She grinned at my mom as I sputtered behind her. Gunner’s was the last place I wanted to go since Max was almost guaranteed to be there.

  “You girls have fun.” My mom smiled, turning back to her magazine.

  I looked at her in wide-eyed bafflement. Of course, the one time I wanted her to lock me in my room, she was pushing me out the door.

  “You could use some fresh air, Wren. You’ve been cooped up here with us. Wouldn’t hurt to get a little dressed up, and to shower.” She wrinkled her nose a bit.

  “I’ve showered,” I protested.

  “Not today,” she replied, as my dad sauntered into the room, dropping to her side on the couch and putting his arm around her.

  “Wren and Livie are going out for a bit,” she informed him with an intimate smile.

  Oh gross, now I knew at least part of the reason they were so eager to get rid of me.

  “Mine too,” Olivia grumbled with an eye roll as she pulled me toward my room.

  “I have no idea what to wear,” I admitted, eyeing the cute sundress Olivia wore.

  “Let me help.” She moved toward my closet before I could argue otherwise. She pulled out one of my more formfitting V-neck T-shirts, my jean shorts, and booties. “I’d try to talk you into wearing something more revealing, but I know you won’t go for it.” She sighed dramatically.

  “Thanks,” I murmured, taking the clothes.

  “No big.” She shrugged. “I’ll get you wearing stuff to show off that rack eventually.” She grinned.

  I rolled my eyes. “Not likely.”

  “Challenge accepted,” she replied resolutely. “In the meantime, at least you can flaunt those stems of yours. Now go get dressed!”

  “I don’t know about this,” I admitted, looking down at the clothes in my hand.

  “Wren, what’s the other option? Avoid him forever? Because that’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? These people are your friends, your family. The sooner you face the music, so to speak, the better off you’ll be. And you’re going to do it looking hot as hell, so go get dressed.” She gave me a little shove, and I argued no further, doing as she said. She was right, after all.

  Thirty minutes later, as we walked together up to Gunner’s door, I was still pulling at my shirt.

  “You look gorgeous, quit it,” Liv ordered as we walked inside the single-story home, packed to the gills with a raucous crowd.

  I took her hand and led her straight to the keg, pouring us both a cup. I chugged the first and immediately poured a second.

  “Whoa, Wren, take it easy. You’re sort of a lightweight,” she reminded me worriedly.

  I shrugged. “Fuck it.”

  She looked like she wanted to say more just as a beautiful redhead came hurdling at us, wrapping us both up in an embrace.

  Though several years older than Olivia and me, Grace Jackson was like a
big sister to those of us who were several years her junior. We’d idolized her when we were little. She never minded, and instead of giving us a hard time when we’d chased her around with stars in our eyes, she’d looked out for us.

  She’d been the first to give me any type of advice about boys, and lord help you if you asked for fashion advice. You’d never get rid of her. Grace had always been confident, and despite her beauty, down to earth with the warmest heart I’d ever known. As Cole’s oldest daughter and Cal’s first grandchild, she was the princess of the Knight’s MC. With gorgeous strawberry blonde locks and startling green eyes, she was impossibly gorgeous.

  Once Grace released me, I noticed that Emmie, Max’s younger sister, stood with her. Emmie was much more reserved than Grace, more like her big brother, but no less thoughtful. The two of them were much like Olivia and me, best friends since childhood and still as close as ever.

  “You two look hot.” Gracie beamed, looking me up and down. “Liv?”

  I laughed, knowing it was that obvious I hadn’t dressed myself. “Yep.”

  Grace slipped Liv a high five. “Well, I’m glad you two were able to fly the coop for the night. The guys lightening up a bit?”

  “A bit. We’re here. Though I think it’s just so our parents could do it.” Olivia wrinkled her nose.

  Grace laughed. “Well, whatever gets you here, I guess. Mine are no better. Trust me. But at least I’m not living at home.”

  “Don’t remind us,” I put in dryly, finishing the last of my beer.

  “Oh look, the youngins are here,” Gunner teased, coming over and tousling my head.

  “Or you’re just old,” I replied with saccharine sweetness. Gunner and Max were the oldest of the younger Knights generation and loved to remind us of that fact, or Gunner did anyway. “I’m getting more beer.” I held up my cup.

  “Wren,” Liv called after me worriedly, but I ignored her.

  I’d just finished filling up when I spotted him off in the corner with a brunette cherry hanging on his side. It was the worst kind of déjà vu. My heart dropped to my stomach as I fought for composure. The mere sight of another woman with her hands on him was almost too much. The thought of what they’d likely be doing later definitely was.

  This was why I’d left in the first place. Three years later, and it was no easier; if anything, it was harder.

  When his eyes met mine, they were glassy as though he’d already had a lot to drink or hadn’t slept. Maybe both. For a minute, we just stared at each other across the crowded room until the brunette leaned in and kissed his neck.

  I turned away then, nearly spilling my beer in my haste to escape the sight. I made my way to the kitchen in search of something stronger than beer. When a newer prospect, whose name I couldn’t remember, started plying me with shots, I accepted gratefully.

  A strong buzz began to take over, and I welcomed the feeling. But it wasn’t enough, not yet. I wanted to be numb.

  “Stop giving her drinks,” Max ordered harshly, knocking the shot I was just about to down out of my hand.

  “Hey!” I protested, knowing I wobbled slightly as I turned to face him.

  “I’m taking you home.”

  He was always so mad at me. Why was he always so mad at me?

  “Don’t bother,” I scoffed, trying to reach for my beer before he moved it out of reach.

  Olivia joined us then, followed by Gunner. “Shit, Wren, I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Here I am,” I responded, theatrically sweeping my arms out at my sides.

  “Shit,” she groaned. “I can’t take you home like this.”

  “I’ll sober her up,” Max put in.

  “I’m just buzzed. I’m fine,” I protested. “And I’m not a baby. And I’m definitely not your baby, so you can just leave me the hell alone.”

  “You two are like fucking dynamite,” Gunner grumbled.

  I looked at him in confusion as Max let out a low growl. “You. Shut up.” He pointed at Gunner. “And you—” He turned to glower at me. “—are coming with me. Either up over my shoulder or you can walk out of here on your own. You choose.”

  If he put me over his shoulder, I might barf all over him; though I was so mad at him, the thought wasn’t entirely unappealing.

  “Fine. But only because I actually like your jacket and don’t want to barf on it,” I huffed.

  He looked to be fighting a smile as he guided me in front of him through the party and straight out the front door.

  The fresh air immediately lightened my buzz as he led me toward the sidewalk.

  “I’d put you on my bike, but not when you’re drunk, so let’s take a walk.” It was more of an order than a suggestion.

  “I’m not drunk,” I argued, and it was mostly true. “What about your date?” I demanded.

  “She’s not my date.” He held my elbow as I tripped over an uneven patch of sidewalk.

  “She kissed your neck,” I accused, knowing I was giving away much more than I’d intended and not able to stop myself.

  “And you didn’t like that?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I think,” I grumbled in frustration.

  “It does to me.” His response had me stopping short. I stared at him, his expression raging with conflict.

  “Why?” I dared to ask.

  He stared wordlessly at me with that unreadable expression I hated so goddamned much.

  I let out a bitter laugh. “God! Why do I even bother asking? Why are you even out here with me anyway, Max? To torture me some more? Just go back to the party. I’ll walk it off. I’m fine.” I started walking again, only making it a few strides before I was gripped by the arm and spun around.

  “Why would I torture you? What do you mean?”

  I threw up my hands, letting the tidal wave of emotion I’d held back for so long rip free. “Because watching you with another woman makes me want to die. Is that what you want to hear? It makes me want to rip my own heart out and stomp on it since that would be less painful.”

  Before I could utter another word, his mouth was on me. His lips took mine in a commanding caress that had my heart hammering and wetness pooling between my legs. He didn’t just take. He claimed. When his tongue met mine, my entire body hummed in response, wanting more, wanting everything. His large hands slid down my spine, cupping my backside with a throaty groan as he pulled me closer.

  I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, relishing the feel of his firm body against mine. His hands moved up into my hair, pulling slightly as his teeth nipped at my lower lip. Kissing him was everything I’d imagined it would be. No, it was more.

  Suddenly he broke away, as though I was made of fire. “Fuck, that was a bad idea, Wren,” he rasped. “We need to forget it ever happened.”

  Euphoria turned to a living hell, one I was used to when it came to Max. I touched my kiss-swollen lips. “I don’t want that. I don’t want to forget,” I protested quietly.

  He groaned. “We can’t, Wren. I’m older than you. I’m supposed to be trying to protect you, not tryin' to get in your pants. Your father would never understand. We just… can’t.”

  I faced him, anger mixing with hurt running through my veins. “I’m not going to beg you, Max. But I will say that, yeah, you’re older than me. That mattered when we were kids. It shouldn’t matter now. And my father? He’d probably be pissed, but he loves me and wants me to be happy. He’d get over it. This is less about him and more about you,” I challenged. “If you don’t see me as worth fighting for, then you’re right, this was a mistake. Because to me, you’d be worth it all and then some.”

  He looked at me, conflict raging in his eyes.

  I swallowed back the tears threatening to clog my throat and gave him a sad smile. “Well, I should thank you, then. Because you confirming I wouldn’t be worth it? You just gave me the only real reason for me to get over you.”

  And with that, I strode away from him, back toward the party.

  “Wren…
”

  I didn’t turn at the sound of his voice. I couldn’t. I’d loved Max for so long—most of my life. It was finally time to begin to move on. And maybe, just maybe, be free.

  Chapter 10

  MAX

  When I pulled up in front of the two-story home I’d lived in since the age of seven, when Jill and Cal had brought Emmie and me home and become our parents, I inwardly groaned at the sight of Ma waiting out front.

  Jill was my aunt by blood, but had been my mother for all intents and purposes for as long as I could remember.

  I’d missed the last two Sunday breakfasts. With the text from my pop this morning demanding my presence, I knew I either needed to show up or risk him knocking at my door. He would too. I’d never doubt it.

  “Hi, Ma,” I greeted as I strode to the front door, helmet in hand.

  She wrapped me in a hug, pulling back to look into my eyes. “You’re not sleeping,” she deduced correctly.

  “I’m all right,” I assured her.

  She bit her lip against pressing me further as she guided me inside. The house smelled like apples and cinnamon, like childhood, like home. “I made your favorite,” she shared, pointing to the muffins fresh from the oven. There were also eggs, sausage, and fresh fruit. She loved to put out a spread when we all came over to eat. “We’ll eat when Emmie gets here.”

  “Mason not home from school this weekend?” I asked after my youngest brother. Mason had bucked family tradition and wasn’t interested in the club. Instead, he was playing college football. Despite Pop being the former prez and the club having been his life, he respected Mason’s choice and supported him. We all did.

  “Next weekend,” she replied. “You’re going to his game, aren’t you?”

  “Of course,” I replied, stealing a muffin and taking a massive bite as she slapped my hand with a laugh.

  “Where’s Pop?” I asked with my mouth full.

  “Working on his bike in the garage.”

  “I’ll go see if I can help him out.” I nodded as she handed me two coffees to take with me.

  “You tell him breakfast is in twenty, and I know damn well he already stole half of my first batch!” she hollered after me.