A Step from the Edge (Tough, yet Tender Book 2)

by Loretta Palmer

  “I don’t want to get into what Taleb was about to do to me—I still have nightmares about it. Suffice it to say, Taleb had tied me up and gagged me and was starting to undress me with his switchblade when your stepbrother came up the stairs with his beer in one hand and the other on the butt of his gun. Soon as he saw Clem and Lew guarding the door, he knew something was going down, and he got this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach about what it was.

  “Asher knocked the bottom out of the beer bottle, glassed Clem in the right eye, and brought the butt of the pistol down on Lew’s skull. He rushed in and, seeing Taleb with his knife, knew he’d have to act fast to avoid me getting hurt. He ran up to Taleb and tackled him from the side, squeezing his wrist at the same time to make him drop the weapon.

  “When that motherfucker came down, he came down hard. He hit his head against the corner of a television set and knocked himself out cold. Asher figured Taleb would come to in half an hour or so along with the other two, but he never woke up. The impact shook something loose in his brain, I guess, and he died on the spot.

  “The cops got called and your stepbrother was taken into custody. Meantime, the rest of Lucifer’s Claque was scrambling to deal with the fact that one of their members had killed a rival club’s second-in-command. The Seraphim had more manpower, resources and general clout than the Claque—still do—so we didn’t have much room to negotiate. It was more a matter of eating shit and groveling in hopes the Seraphim wouldn’t want blood for blood.

  “Cal Amity, the President of the Seraphim, took mercy on us. He offered peace on a few conditions: Nobody’d mention anything about Taleb’s attempted sexual assault on the witness stand, or say anything else that would incriminate any of the Seraphim. Asher also had to leave Lucifer’s Claque for good.

  “The Claque put their best team of lawyers behind Asher. Ultimately, they were able to get him a reduced sentence by spinning it as a crime of passion. Ash ripped the L.C. patch off his kutte, put his bike in storage and went to the penitentiary.

  “So, there you have it: he got punished for defending me, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it without starting an all-out war between the clubs.” The tears started to well up in her eyes again.

  “Wow, uh. That’s… a whole lot to take in.” I didn’t know what to think of the whole crazy story, but it sure as hell changed the way I looked at Asher.

  “Yeah.” She rubbed a couple tears from her right eye with the side of a finger. “Sorry, I’m a fucking mess today. Just understand that Asher’s the best person I know. I owe him my life. So it tears me the fuck up not knowing where he is right now.”

  I nodded. “Carly, there’s something I should probably tell you. That guy he stabbed in the face with the bottle—“

  “Clem?”

  “Yeah. I think I saw him today.”

  Carly’s mouth dropped open. “H—how? Where?!”

  “He was driving me to school this morning and these two bikers came up from behind on either side of us. One of them was blonde, with jagged scars all around one of his eyes. They didn’t do anything, just stared in the windows in a really fucking creepy way. But they really scared Asher. He made an illegal turn to get away from them, then drove around for like another 10 minutes trying to make sure they weren’t on his tail.”

  Carly was as white as a ghost. Anger crept into her expression without displacing the fear that was already there. “Shit! Fuck! So that’s where Asher went! Adam kept telling me he didn’t know where Asher went. I know Adam—my boyfriend—was lying to me when he said he didn’t know… motherfucker thinks I can’t handle the truth about MC business.”

  “Wait, what are you talking about?” I wasn’t following.

  “What Lew and Clem pulled is a clear violation of the peace agreement between the clubs. He went to Haskell’s to talk to Cal Amity. To make sure you and your family weren’t gonna be Seraphim targets.”

  “Oh…”

  “Cal may be a skinny weirdo, and he may have shown the Claque mercy three years ago, but he’s a dangerous man. Volatile, well-protected. It was stupid of Asher to do what he did.”

  “Shit.” I put my arm around Carly as she sobbed and chain-smoked. We sat in silence. I couldn’t think of anything to say to soothe her, and she was beyond words for the moment. After no more than three minutes of this, we heard a rumble off in the distance. Carly and I jerked our heads in the direction of the sound, which grew louder and louder. Three bikers came into view: it was Asher, flanked by two men I didn’t recognize. Asher pulled into the driveway and his escort rode off into the distance.

  He hopped off his bike and leaned it on the kickstand. “Well, stepsis, you’re full of surprises. Never expected to come home and find you two in each other’s arms.”

  Carly’s eyes flashed with anger. “How could you run off like that? We were fucking worried sick about you!” I was surprised at her use of ‘we’ in the first sentence, but I didn’t feel the urge to argue. After all, I had been worried sick. Granted, my concern was mostly for my and my mom’s safety… mostly.

  “I’m sorry, OK? I’m sorry. There was just something I had to do. Something important—like, life or death important.”

  “Don’t bother bullshitting us, Asher,” said Carly. “We both know you were at Haskell’s talking to Cal.” There was that “we” again.

  Asher looked at me, then at Carly, then at me, as if trying to figure out who spilled which beans to whom, and how angry he should be about it. Finally, he gave up. “OK, you got me. I was having a friendly conversation with Cal Amity. A friendly conversation. He wasn’t any happier about Lew and Clem’s behavior than I was, and he assured me that, so long as I was out of the club, neither I nor any member of my family would be a target. In other words, everything is just peachy.”

  I surprised myself by chiming in, “Oh, really? If everything went so peachy keen, why weren’t you home by the time I got back from school, like you said you were going to be?”

  “Well, after talking business, Cal likes to wind down with a little 1980s karaoke. And he’s the kind of man who, if he invites you to sing Bill Medley’s part in (I’ve Had) The Time of My Life, you don’t say no ‘less you’re looking to lose your life.”

  “You’re saying that, for all that time, you were singing karaoke—with the President of a vicious motorcycle gang?”

  “Motorcycle club,” he corrected me. “But yeah, that’s more or less the shape of it.”

  I shot Carly a glance as if to say, “Does he really expect us to believe this line of bullshit?” To my surprise, her expression indicated that she was taking Asher’s spiel seriously.

  “I told you Cal was a weirdo,” she said. “Wait’ll you hear about the haircut, and that tattoo—“

  Asher cut her off. “Sounds like you’ve already told her a lot more than she needed to know. Well, stepsis, you can forget all that now and go back to hating me, because it won’t be affecting your life in the slightest from here on out.”

  “Good,” I said. Then I did something that shocked everyone—me most of all. I hopped off the front stoop, walked up my stepbrother, stood on my tippy-toes and planted a kiss on his cheek, just above where his stubble ended.

  Then, blushing furiously, I spun on my heels and dashed inside, leaving him and the equally stunned Carly in my dust.

  Chapter 6

  Asher

  Carly and I stared at each other goggle-eyed, neither of us quite able to wrap our heads around what had just occurred. That chaste kiss was as inscrutable as a postcard in Egyptian hieroglyphics; it was obvious my new stepsister no longer despised me, but beyond that I could only guess as the message she was trying to send.

  “Well,” I said lamely, just to break the silence.

  “What was that about?”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  Carly rubbed her chin. “All of our emotions have been running high lately. At times like these, it’s easy to get carried away. Anyway, I
think you two are kinda cute together.”

  “Cute? That’s what you’re going to call this? She’s my stepsister, for Chrissake. It’s fucking weird, is what it is.” I plopped down on the stoop beside my longtime friend and let out a big sigh.

  “Not really, dude. You’re just two young, attractive people suddenly living under the same roof, expected to feel some kind of affection for each other. And that affection sometimes comes out in non-familial ways. Right now, I don’t think Leah even knows how she feels. But it’s a hell of a lot better than her hating you, right?

  “I dunno, Carly,” I said, with a slow shake of the head. “Us hating each other made things a lot simpler.”

  “People’s emotions are never simple. But there’s nothing complicated about what you need to do: just try and be a big brother to her.”

  “What if I don’t feel like a big brother?”

  “You play the part till you do. Keep everyone’s best interests at heart. I don’t need to tell you this, Ash. You know right from wrong, and you’re not going to cross any lines you shouldn’t.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Thanks, Carly.” Her words were comforting, but something deep inside me doubted what she was saying. Did I really know wrong from right? Where were these alleged lines, and was I strong enough to stop before I crossed one? Was it possible that, without even knowing it, I’d already stepped over the invisible threshold separating harmless fantasy from forbidden love? The thought was too disturbing to contemplate.

  Fortunately, Carly interrupted my thought process before I tumbled too deep down the rabbit hole.

  “Look. I’m happy you and your family are safe, Asher, but I’m still pissed about you running off like that. You know, after what you did for me. If you went and got yourself killed, I don’t think I’d ever forgive myself.”

  “OK, OK, I understand. Two things. Numero uno, a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. I never wanted to make you worry, but I had to use my own best judgment. I thought this little pow-wow with Cal was gonna be easy-in, easy-out. And it was—except for having to sing karaoke for four hours. And number two, numero uno is a moot point, because I’m out. I’ve gone legit. That’s what the agreement between the Seraphim and the Claque said, and that’s how it’s gonna be, as long as they uphold their end of the bargain. I’ll risk starting shit between clubs for my family’s safety, but I won’t do it for my foolish pride.”

  Carly nodded slowly. “Well, I don’t like numero uno too much, to be honest, but number two suits me just fine. If you stay out of the game, you and I won’t have anything to argue about.”

  “Good. Thank you for trusting me.” I felt the tension fade from my body, now that I knew she and I were on the same page.

  Then, just like always, my big mouth broke in and fucked up this nice little moment. “What about Adam, Carly? You’re so concerned about me staying out of the line of fire, but Adam’s your fiancée. He’s still part of the Claque. Matterfact he’s next in line to become President. Aren’t you worried about what’s going to happen to him?”

  Carly took a deep drag off her cigarette. “Yeah, Ash, I worry about Adam. But numero uno, he didn’t get me out of hot water the way you did three years ago, so I don’t feel the same debt to the world to keep him alive.”

  I was waiting for the second part of her explanation, but it didn’t arrive. “And numero duo?” I asked.

  She dropped her head into her hands, and her body shook a couple times. She was sobbing. She pulled herself together, lifted her head. “I was hoping you weren’t gonna ask me about that numero, Ash. But here it is: I’ve known for too long that Adam and I weren’t going to live to a ripe old age together. Somehow, some way, this club’s gonna be the death of him.”

  I scowled. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

  Carly put two fingers to my lips. “Stop, Ash. There are some promises that just aren’t yours to make. You just concentrate on keeping yourself alive. For me, and for Leah.”

  “What was that last part?”

  “I said, keep yourself alive. For my sake.”

  “Oh, I thought you said—“

  “Hush.”

  Chapter 7

  Leah

  Bet you were waiting for my chapter to come around, so you could find out what that kiss was all about. Well, sorry to break it to you, but I don’t know, either—or I didn’t, anyway, not for the next couple days. After I did it, I was just as confused as the rest of you must be.

  After that weirdness, I ran to my room and closed and locked the door. I curled up in my bed. My heart was beating double-time. I wanted to wind up and slap myself in the face for being so stupid, and I wanted to slap Asher, too, for manipulating me into giving a fuck whether he lived or died. I wished he’d never walked into my life, with his stupid bike, his weird friends and his “motorcycle club” melodrama.

  Seeing the lengths to which he was willing to go to keep me safe should have made me feel better, maybe, but in reality it just made me feel weird.

  Weird and warm. Hot. Maybe I really am sick, I thought. I shucked off my T-shirt, bra and jeans and climbed back into bed, hoping that I could sleep this off. But my heart was pounding. I felt like my whole body was overcharged with energy. More keenly than ever before, I felt the pressure of the bedspread against my sides, my arms, my legs. Its friction against my nipples.

  My hand was resting near the bottom of my ribcage. Slowly, inexorably, it began to move. My fingernails trailed down my belly, through the pale hairs around my navel, and came to rest on the waistband of my panties. I hooked my thumb underneath the elastic, feeling its tip brush against the spot where my pubic hair began.

  Totally unbidden, before my mind’s eye appeared my stepbrother just as I’d seen him this morning: clad in nothing but a towel, his sculpted upper body glistening, that stupid cockeyed smile on his face. I shivered. I pulled my thumb from my panties and replaced it with the tips of my four fingers.

  No, no, no! something inside me protested. This is wrong. You can’t do this. He’s your brother. Your stepbrother. Don’t go down this path.

  Was I crazy for feeling this way? Was I sick? I thought about what Sophia had said. About Jane Austen. She thought it was totally normal for a stepsister and stepbrother to feel attraction to each other. My rational mind said she was right, that I had nothing to be ashamed of. But I also felt like, by so much as considering the possibility of me and Asher… I’d overstepped a boundary that couldn’t be uncrossed.

  I was scared and confused. More than anything, I wanted to see his face again. No—I needed to detox. I knew I’d only be able to see the issue clearly if I could spend a couple days away from him, without risking running into him and having my crazed hormones run away with me.

  Being “sick” was the perfect excuse. I’d already told Mom I wasn’t feeling well, so I’d just say I was a little feverish after all, and that I think I should get some rest. I’d lie around, finish reading Godot, choke down some Sprite, saltines and chicken noodle soup and by Monday, God help me, I’d be back to normal.

  It’d work like a charm, as long as Asher and I didn’t cross paths between now and then. And I was going to make damn sure we didn’t.

  Chapter 8

  Asher

  Carly and I said our goodbyes and I went back inside, head swimming as I struggled to process the events of the day. Talking to Cal had stirred up old memories of my days in the club—a life I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss—but those bittersweet recollections were as pale as a handful of faded Polaroids next to the image that was really eating at me: Leah. Specifically, the way she’d looked at me in that split-second before she jumped up to give me that kiss on the cheek. What I saw in her eyes wasn’t hate. Was it…

  There was no sense in speculating. I’d simply have to talk with her about it. Once I was able to figure out what question to ask.

  “Leah, do you think of me as a stepbrother or something more?” Ugh. It sounded like something out of a r
omance novel, and it was creepy to boot.

  “Leah, where exactly do we stand—you know, as far as ‘you and me’ are concerned.” Too clumsy! We’d only just met each other. Who was to say we had to have made up our minds about each other already? I knew I was harboring some less-than-brotherly thoughts about her, and she had to know, too, if she was as smart as she seemed, but who’s to say she wouldn’t just deny it and leave me feeling like the creep I probably was?

  There was also the possibility of just winging it. Of dancing around the issue and spending a little more time with each other. Feeling her out, so to speak.

  On my way to the guest room, I crossed paths with Christine, who greeted me with a bright smile. “Hey Asher, how was your day?”

  “Not bad, thanks.”

  She frowned, gazing into my eyes. “You look a little down. I don’t mean to pry, but is everything OK?”

  “Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. Just dealing with a spell of insomnia. You know how it is.”

  “Do I,” she said. “It’s no wonder you’re not sleeping well, after, uh… such a dramatic change of scenery.” She grimaced, realizing she’d said something potentially awkward.

  I laughed. “It’s not that. Believe me, the bed in the guest room is a hell of a lot more comfortable than any prison cot I’ve ever tried to sleep on.”

  “Phew!” she said, and mimed wiping sweat off her forehead. “Well, I’m glad the accommodations are to your liking.”

  “You sounded a little like your daughter just then,” I said, with a grin. “By the way, do you know where Leah got off to.”

  “She was feeling a little sick, and lay down for a nap. It would probably be better if you didn’t disturb her, unless there’s something really important you need to talk to her about.”