by Davida Lynn
I ran over to him and threw my arms around his neck. He fell backwards before catching himself.
“Jesus, Hope, you’re gonna kill me.” He laughed and squeezed me tight.
I had a tear streaming down my cheek and a warble in my voice that I couldn’t disguise. “You ever do anything so stupid again, and I will kill you.”
I looked around at the bikers in the bar. Some were sleeping, their heads down on the tables. Others were talking in groups. It had been a long night for them, and I owed them all a huge debt.
I pulled Nick toward the main table where Bear and Trask were sitting with a few other bikers. I felt awkward, but I felt like I needed to reintroduce the two.
“Nick, you remember Trask from high school.”
Trask stood up and stuck his good hand out. Nick was not a confident man, and it took him a second to meet the grasp. Trask smiled. “Hey, man. It’s good to see you again. I wish it was under better circumstances, you know?”
Nick looked away. “Yeah. I, uh, I can't thank you guys enough. I really fucked up, and without your help, man, I don't know what I’d do.”
Bear stood up, and Nick turned to him. “And you, man. You’re the one who got me from Beezer’s place. Fucked up, right?”
I butted in. Curiosity got the better of me.
“Um, excuse me, but what in the fuck happened here?”
Vegas had stopped working for Beezer three months before everything went down, but apparently there was some residual feelings still lingering. When the boys came back from the fight, it hit a sore spot for him. He didn’t see it as a criminal element getting wiped off the map. He saw it as a fatherly figure and someone who had believed in him getting killed over a druggie.
I almost couldn't fault him, until I thought about him putting a gun to my head. When I thought about that and Trask swooping in to save me once again, I didn’t feel any pity for Vegas. They took his cut before they threw him out, and they made promises of painful torture if any of them ever saw him again. A fair deal, if you ask me.
The four of us sat down, my brother and I, Trask and Bear. Everyone was exhausted and still reeling from the long weekend that was only half through.
“Thank you, Bear,” I said, trying to express my true respect. “You saved Nick, and I owe you everything.”
“Darlin’, you don't owe me shit. You saved this one right here.” He slapped a hand on Trask’s good shoulder. “Irreplaceable.” Bear looked over at Nick, who was still a little strung out and awkward. “You, on the other hand…”
Nick’s eyes went huge. He had seen firsthand what the Rising Sons were capable of, and he didn’t like a finger pointed at him from the president. “You owe us big time.”
I really thought that Nick was going to pass out. He had that meeting the girlfriend’s father for the first time look. He stared, his mouth open, his palms surely getting sweaty. My heart skipped a beat out of empathy. Everyone turned to stare at the steel-faced Bear.
“Can you cook? Our prospect had to abruptly leave us.” Bear’s cracked and aged face broke into a dry smile. Everyone at the table breathed a sigh of relief.
Nick could only nod. Bear smiled wider. “You’re gonna kick the habit, too. Aren’t you?”
Again, Nick could only nod. His eyes were still wide. He was terrified, and I loved it. Maybe Bear was the father figure that Nick needed. Our dad had been nothing but a drunk and a worthless man. Bear was terrifying and hard, but I think it was just the ticket to get Nick clean.
“Well, this whole thing has been fun, but it’s eight in the morning, and apparently I spent the night on a sheet of plywood?” Trask sounded exhausted, and I had to change his bandages again. “I need a real bed.”
“Brother, you stay safe.” Bear gave him another strong look.
Trask smiled. “No worries.”
Bear stood up. “But more importantly, you keep this one safe.”
I froze when he threw his big arms around me. I stood there, looking at Trask, as if he would help me. I had no idea what to do. I brought my arms up and eventually put them around Bear’s broad shoulders. It was awkward, to say the least.
He whispered, “Thank you,” before breaking the hug. No one said anything, probably because even though he was old enough to be Trask’s father, he was still ripped.
Trask took my hand and we headed for the door. I leaned in and asked, “What was that all about?”
He shook his head. “I have no idea, but I’m not about to ask him.”
We walked out to the parking lot. The chilly air of the California morning hit me hard, and I realized just how tired I was. Trask started to head toward the Harley that had brought us to the club.
He stopped right in front of it. It was the first time I got a good look at it. It was black with a dark purple skull across the gas tank. Dark flames traveled down the side of the bike all the way to the back. I was prepared to get onto the bike, even with Trask in the condition he was in. I trusted him, and I knew I had no choice.
When he grabbed my hand and walked past it, I asked, “What are you doing?”
“Hope,” Trask gave me a clear look, and the over-confident smile I’d come to love, “I’m in no shape to be driving a motorcycle. I’ve been shot, lost a lot of blood, and stabbed a man this morning. I think we both know it’s best if you drive.”
Layne’s car was sitting there at the far end of the parking lot, right where I’d left it Thursday night. I laughed and fished the keys out of my pocket and went to unlock Trask’s passenger side door, just to rub it in his face a little more.
***
Back at Trask’s post-modern shipping container home, I changed the bandages in his bathroom. I stripped him naked and washed him carefully, keeping his shoulder dry. It was slow, quiet, and sensual, the complete opposite of the previous day’s shower.
After I had finished up, he looked at me. “That shirt fits you well.”
“What are you talking about?” I looked down at it, pulling the hem forward to show him just how baggy it was.
“That’s not how I meant it. The Rising Sons logo looks good on you.” He pulled me to his hard body with his good arm. My heart skipped a beat. Despite being tired as the grave, I was dying to be close to Trask again. Washing his body had only gotten me more turned on.
He kissed me hard, and I avoided his shoulders by wrapping my arms around his waist. It wasn't long before we danced our way into the bedroom. We made love again, taking our time and minding Trask’s shoulder.
It was slow and powerful, and we fell into a deep sleep afterward that lasted into the evening. I woke up first and checked to see if Trask was still running a fever. It had broken during our sleep, and I was certain that his gunshot wound wouldn’t get infected. He’d have to take great care of it with peroxide for a long time, but I knew he’d be all right.
I was back in the kitchen making coffee again when he came out. He looked worse for wear, but I wouldn’t expect anything less from my biker. He’d heal better than new. He kissed me and poured himself some hot coffee.
On his porch, we watched the sunset.
“So, what are we going to do?” He looked over at me, his five o’clock shadow getting darker by the minute.
“What do you mean?”
He smiled. “You know what I mean. You and me. Or was this just a ‘come down to save my brother and dig a bullet out of my high school sweetheart’ type weekend fling?”
“No, it’s not a weekend fling, but—” I hated that there was a but. “But I’ve got two more years of med school, and then residency.” My voice quivered. “Trask, I just don’t know if this can work.”
He looked off for quite some time. He often got lost in his thoughts, leaving me to sit there and wait. I had gotten used to making sure my negative thoughts didn’t get the best of me.
When he looked back at me, there was determination in his steely eyes. “You know, the motorcycle club is my family—” I nodded, having heard that multiple ti
mes over the weekend.
I cut him off. “Yeah, I get the whole brotherhood thing.”
His smile widened, and I realized there was more to it. It was his “you poor thing” smile.
Trask grabbed my hand, tracing down each of my fingers. He looked at me with a warmth that made me sigh.
“I mean real family. Bear is my father.”
I probably looked like a fool staring at Trask. He’d grown up never knowing who his father was. From three years old, he’d lived with his aunt and uncle, rarely even hearing from his mother. Our situations had brought us together.
We had made it through a crazy weekend, but this bombshell seemed to top the cake.
“What?” It was the only thing that my brain could come up with.
“It’s a long story for another time, but Bear is my dad, Hope.” He said it with a pride that glowed almost as bright as the sinking sun. “It’s how I got involved with the Rising Sons. I know it’s not news you want to hear, but maybe this is: I’ve already talked to him, and he thinks a Rising Sons Motorcycle Club chapter up in Davis might be a good idea.”
I was still in awe, and I was speechless.
Trask leaned forward. “What do you think about that?”
I smiled and fought back the lump in my throat. Ten years before, we’d decided that we couldn't be together, and now Trask was willing to make that move for me. I felt supported and loved like never before.
As a tear fell from my eye, he stood up and pulled me to my feet. His arms encircled me as the tears of joy came down.
“Hey, hey. It’s all good. You and me, we’re all good now.”
His voice resonated from his large chest, and I felt warm and safe. I’d been searching for those feelings for as long as I could remember, and I almost hated that I had to come back to Bakersfield to find them. Trask and I had both grown so much in the past ten years. He had grown in ways I could never have imagined.
The packaging may have changed, but he was still the man of my dreams.
***
I took a few days off from school to tend to Trask. I thought of it as hands-on experience. His shoulder stayed free of infections, and we talked more about him moving up to Davis. By Wednesday, we both knew I had to get back, and we both knew he couldn’t just leave Bakersfield at a moment’s notice.
Trask’s eyes sparkled when he said, “But I could probably take a bit of a vacation.”
What little I had brought I’d packed into Layne’s car. Nick was staying with Bear while he kicked the drug habit. I was still trying to wrap my head around Bear and Trask. The story was crazy, but it made complete sense. I don’t think two members of the Rising Sons Motorcycle club would have it any other way.
As I followed his motorcycle up the Golden State Highway, I had four hours to marvel at the insane weekend that brought Trask and I back together again. As he weaved in and out of the traffic, I wondered how things would work between us. I was so busy with school, but Trask was a lone wolf; he’d find plenty of ways to occupy himself.
I, on the other hand, was going to have to fight to keep my mind on medicine and not the ripped, tattooed biker that would be waiting to take me for a ride on the back of his motorcycle when I got home. I couldn’t wait to taste that freedom again; I needed it.
I didn’t have a choice.
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Also by Davida Lynn
Brutal
Alicia didn't belong here. She wasn't looking for love or thrills. She wasn't looking for a biker. She just wanted to survive. Maverick was part of a different world. Smart and devastatingly sexy, he was a bad boy biker who walked unscathed through the valley of sex, crime, and death. He was her best chance at living to see another day.
They never expected to fall in love...
Davida Lynn grew up reading everything she could get her hands on, including books she had to hide. At nearly thirty, she has stories pouring from her fingertips. She loves watching trashy TV, reading pulp fiction, and daydreaming about her next travel destination.
Faith is Book #2 in the Virtues series. Raised in a family of religious zealots, she is looking for a way out. Instead, she finds Eddie; a bad boy with nothing to lose. After an incident with Faith’s father, they go out on the run as a modern day Bonnie and Clyde. Can they make it to California with only a Harley and a gun?
Can Faith bring virtue to the baddest of the bad?
Faith will be released November 30th, 2014.