by Jaci J
Pulling down the long straight stretch, bikes parked on either side, and a shit ton of people standing on the sidewalk, I pull up front and park.
Hang arounds look at us, watching.
Cutting the engine, I give Mia my hand, helping her off. “Up and off, baby.”
She crawls off, smiling up at me as she takes my hand.
“You like that shit,” I note when she can’t seem to wipe the smile off her face.
“Probably more than I should.”
“I’ll take you again.”
“Soon?”
“Whenever you want, Angel.”
I notice a group of females standing off to the side watching us when I pull her into my side, tucking her under my arm. They’re whispering, eyeing her.
Muffler bunnies.
They’re looking for a quick ride and hard fuck. They’re looking for an old man. They’re looking in the wrong direction because they’re not getting shit from me.
But they’re gonna try.
Mia notices them too.
Shit.
Her back stiffens and she curls into me. “Those girls are looking at you with those eyes.”
That makes me laugh. “What kind of eyes are those?”
She rolls her pretty green ones. “The ones I was giving you an hour ago.”
“Baby, the eyes you give when you’re riding my cock are nothing like the eyes those nasty females are giving me.”
“Really?” Mia blushes. “Jesus, Cruz, you’re crude.”
Stopping, I pull her face up to mine, kissing her roughly. “No. I’m fucking real.”
We find a picnic table and Mia sits down. “Want anything?” I ask, motioning to the food truck they’ve got setup in the grass.
“Water, please.”
“You got it. I’ll be right back, babe.” I make my way over, hitting the beer stand first.
That didn’t take long. Maybe fifteen minutes.
“Hey, baby,” a chick purrs, walking up next to me in line, her hand circling my waist, touching my cut.
My lip curls in disgust.
“Don’t touch the cut,” I warn her, taking the beer from some grunt standing next to a couple of coolers.
Popping the top, I take a hearty pull.
“Sorry.” The bitch laughs. “Cruz, huh?” she asks, eyeing the patch on my chest. “Nickname or real name?”
Jesus, these desperate ass females. I wish they understood motherfuckers like the chase. Desperate and easy is fun for a night, but that shit isn’t fun forever. I want a goddamn challenge.
“None of your fucking business,” I tell her truthfully.
She doesn’t need my name. She doesn’t need my backstory. What she needs is to get gone.
She doesn’t like that. Her smile slips, her bravado wavering.
I can’t be mad at her game because this is what they do. They hitch themselves to the nearest man willing to give them some cock and a ride, and suck him dry. Follow him around until he can’t take anymore and kicks her ass to the curb.
But that shit isn’t for me.
I can see Mia sitting a few feet away, arms crossed, watching me. She looks uncomfortable.
“Lookin’ for a good time?” the bitch asks, giving a last-ditch effort. “Because I’m good at having a good time.”
I wish these bitches weren’t so damn pathetic.
“Nah,” I tell her, walking off and back toward Mia.
I can feel the bitch watching me, watching me wrap Mia up in my arms and kissing her.
Stupid bitch.
“Who was that?” Mia asks, frowning up at me.
“Some bitch.”
Her eyes widen. “Do you know her?”
“Nah, baby. She’s a muffler bunny, looking for an old man.”
I love how innocent she is. She looks so confused. “An old man?”
“A man. Husband. What we have.”
“Oh.”
That shit’s common at things like this. There are always hang arounds and hoes. It’s just part of the life, a life Mia is new to. “She’s a nobody, baby.”
Lifting a shoulder, she seems to agree. “That’s kinda sad.”
“That’s life. Their life. No one makes them come here. No one makes them suck cock for a free ride.”
Taking a drink of her water, Mia damn near chokes on it. “They suck dick for rides?”
“Angel, they suck dick just for the fun of sucking dick.”
She laughs. “I suck your dick, so what does that make me?” She raises her eyebrow, waiting for me to slip up and say something stupid.
I fucking know better.
“My girl. My fucking world.” That’s the truth. Mia’s nothing like those females. She’s better than them, better than every single person in my life. If her lips come anywhere near my cock, I’m the lucky fucker, not the other way around. Hell, I’m lucky she even looks my way.
“That was the weirdest, most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I’m a romantic kind of guy.”
She rolls her eyes, walking off, me in tow, following her like a lost puppy, my dick practically in her hand.
Mia
How we’re in the middle of downtown, on a closed down street, and not being harassed by the cops is a little shocking.
Cruz has my hand, not letting me go as we walk around.
This would be open season for any power-hungry police officers, what with the party and the chaos.
There are people and bikes everywhere. On the sidewalks, in the grass, standing in the road. Loud music. Someone’s even lighting off fireworks.
I don’t know which way to look because there’s so much going on.
I’m standing next to Cruz and he’s standing next to his friends. The five of them are talking to an even bigger group of guys, with a couple of women peppered throughout.
They’re a scary group. Intimidating.
“Heard you took some lead to the gut,” a big guy with the name of Rocky on his chest says, laughing. “Surprised you’re up and movin’.”
“You know it’s gonna take more than a couple slugs to knock me on my ass.”
A pretty woman, curvy and voluptuous, approaches me, probably because I look a little lost.
She looks me up and down, slowly, like she’s trying to read me.
“Hi, honey. You Cruz’s old lady?”
Cruz answers for me. “Yeah. Take care of her for me?” he asks the woman, giving her a funny look before turning to me and kissing me on the lips. It’s a possessive kiss.
Ownership.
“I’m El,” she tells me, taking my hand from Cruz’s and walking away with me, another woman following after us. “And that’s Sam.” She points at a pretty blonde catching up to us.
Sam smiles.
“I’m Mia.”
“We know.” They know?
I don’t know these girls, but I follow them, trusting Cruz.
We walk over to a table in the middle of the road and sit down, where a couple of other women are already seated. They all apparently know each other.
They’re all so pretty, and they introduce themselves, all smiling at me.
I’ll never remember everyone’s names.
They ask me questions, like where I’m from, what I do for a living. If I have kids, if I want kids. Questions about Cruz and me. By the time I answer them all, I’m thirsty.
“Here, babe.” A woman named Lil hands me a red cup filled with something pink.
I look at it, and then at her. “Liquid courage?” I ask, giggling when she laughs at my expression.
“We call it the pink lady. A little bit of vodka, a little bit of pink lemonade, and a little bit of this and that.” She winks.
I drink.
There’s a group of guys a few feet away playing beer-pong. Girls are dancing, bike engines are revving and racing.
It’s a party.
“Where are the guys?” A pretty dark-skinned girl asks El, plopping down next to me at the
table.
She’s fucking gorgeous. Exotic.
“Talking shop. Guy shit,” El tells her, lips pursed.
The girl nods, and then turns to me. “Who are you?”
She’s not hostile, but she’s curious.
“That’s Cruz’s old lady,” someone answers for me.
“Well shit. Never thought I’d see the day.”
I know exactly what she means by that. There have been plenty before me, and possibly more after me.
The idea makes me ill.
I drink more of my pink lady because I need it. The idea of Cruz with someone else hits me right in the chest, leaving me feeling a little breathless and winded.
“I’m Peaches,” she introduces herself, smiling when I swallow the giant mouthful of alcohol I’m chugging.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, you too, pretty girl.”
The girls fall into gossip and loud laughter, trading insults and bad sex stories. They’re obviously close.
But the laughter and fun doesn’t last long.
Something changes, I can feel it.
The air shifts.
People start to shout and the music cuts out.
“Oh shit,” El breathes, getting off the bench and crawling onto the table to see over the crowd that’s gathered a few yards away from us.
She cuts a quick look at me and I catch it. I know exactly what she’s looking at.
Cruz.
I’m out of my seat in a heartbeat and pushing my way through the crowd in a panic.
Cruz is in the middle, people all around him. All the guys are watching, but none of them are doing anything.
I step through the crowd, just in time to see him lay some guy out.
A body with a bloody face falls to the pavement, hitting the ground hard in front of Cruz.
He doesn’t see me, but I see him, and I’m shook by it.
Cruz kicks the guy, over and over, brutally.
I feel sick.
All I can see is Cruz, bloody, and the smell of gun smoke.
Feeling dizzy, I back out of the crowd, sucking in air.
Cruz
“All right...all right, motherfucker. No homicide in front of your girl tonight, yeah?” Zane barks, grabbing me and pulling me away from the piece of shit on the ground in front of me.
He knows who attacked Mia, and he wasn’t willing to hand over the information.
I lost my goddamn mind.
Breathing hard, I shake out my hand. The motherfucker took a couple to the mouth, and I took a couple of teeth to the knuckles. That shit fucking hurt, but not as bad as my side and stomach at this moment. I think I might have popped a couple stitches moving like that, but fuck, my fist hurts.
The guy on the ground is groaning.
Piece of fucking shit.
Looking up, my eyes connect with Mia’s.
Her eyes are wide.
Fuck!
Walking toward her, she steps back from me, seeming scared.
That shit fucking stings.
Mia looks at my hands and takes a few more steps back, away from me. Her head is shaking, her hands out.
“Angel.” I reach for her, and she moves out of my reach.
Everyone is watching us, and I don’t like that shit.
“Cruz.” She says my name with so much sadness, I can feel it. “What the hell?”
She’s shocked, and I get that, but what she doesn’t understand is that that asshole knows who those fuckers are. Who the two were that tried to take her, who wanted to do horrible things to her.
If she thinks this is bad, then she’s going to be fucking sick over what I’m going to do to those two little pukes once I get my hands on them.
“Let’s go.”
I reach for her and she pulls away. “No.”
“No?”
Turning around, she walks away from me.
I don’t let her get far.
“Don’t walk away from me, Mia.”
She throws her hands in the air, spinning around to face me again. “That was fucking horrible.”
She’s not wrong. “That was life.”
“Excuse me?” She gapes at me, her jaw dropping.
I don’t ever want to hurt her, but I can’t do that and keep her safe. It’s impossible. This life, she’ll get tangled up in it. Bruises and scrapes will happen. This is one of those times. “That guy knows who did this to me, to you,” I shout, waving at my stomach.
“So you beat him fucking bloody?”
“This is how we do things, baby.”
“Call the cops, Cruz. That’s how you handle something like this.”
That shit makes me laugh. “You know exactly who I am, the type of guy I am. I’ve never lied to you. I know it’s only been a week, Angel, but you fucking know what’s up. Calling the cops wasn’t an option.”
Cops are fucking worthless.
Mia shakes her head, a look of disgust on her face. “I never expected that,” she growls, pointing back to the group of people.
“What the fuck do you think’s gonna happen when I find those guys that came after you?” This is getting nasty, and I can’t stop it. “Do you think I’m gonna ask them to write you a nice little apology letter?”
Mia snarls, “That’s low, asshole.”
“That’s real,” I counter, arms crossed. Not everything can be solved with a sorry and a nice little note on some pretty stationary. “This. Is. Life, baby.”
“Not my life.”
“This is your life.” I don’t know what she doesn’t get. If she’s with me, then this is what she gets—the good, the bad, the ugly, and sometimes this shit gets real fucking ugly.
“No,” she growls, madder than I’ve ever seen her. “I’m not getting dragged into this, into your shit.” My shit? Jesus.
I can’t help but laugh again. That’s fucking ironic. “Here you fucking are, drug right into the middle of it.”
“I don’t want it.”
“That’s too goddamn bad because I’m gonna kill those motherfuckers, baby, and when they end up in hell, they’ll have you to thank for being there.” I hit her hard and low. I hit her with reality. She should have walked away when she had the chance. Now? It’s all fucking over, because this is her life now, with me, and all the bad that comes with it.
“Don’t put that shit on me. I don’t want them dead.”
“So what do you want?”
Mia chews on her lip, conflicted. “I want you to take me home.”
“That’s it?”
She looks fucking solid, like she’s never been surer about anything. “I’m done, Cruz. I can deal with your past, but I can’t deal with it creeping into my future.”
I won’t lie, that shit fucking hurts, but it changes nothing. Those motherfuckers’ time is running out, and that’s just the way it’s gotta be.
“Let’s go then.”
Mia jerks her chin up, her eyes glassy. “I’ll walk.”
Grabbing her, I pull her ass toward my bike. “Not on your fucking life.”
Mia
Standing on my porch, I watch Cruz walk back to his bike, his back to me.
I’ve never met a man like him. No remorse. No conscience. No right or wrong. Cruz does whatever it is he feels like doing, no matter if it’s moral, right, or wrong.
He’s not sorry.
And it hurts, the conflict burning in my chest. I want him, but I don’t think I can have him like this.
Watching him get on his bike and look back at me, I feel a tear escape the corner of my eye and fall down my cheek.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t understand why this hurts so much.
I’ve known him days—days. Not months or years. Not a lifetime. Yet it feels like I’m losing a piece of me.
Conflicted and torn, I fight the urge to stop him.
But I know better.
I can’t live with the things he’s going to do, I just can’t.
Firing up
his bike, I drown myself in the sound of the engine, letting it snuff out the voice in my head screaming at me to stop him, to make him come back and tell him that I’m sorry. That voice needs to shut the fuck up.
With one last look, he pulls away.
I watch him until I can’t see him anymore.
It fucking hurts.
Walking inside, I’m hit with a longing I haven’t experienced since meeting Cruz. It’s crushing.
My lights are off, my house dead quiet.
This place has never really felt like home. In the six months I’ve been here, I’ve barely unpacked, feeling like I was living here with one foot still back home.
Chucking my purse on the table, I go to the cupboard and pull out a cheap bottle of wine. Carrying it into the living room, I grab the first box I see and open it.
Dumping it out, I stand over the contents, drinking wine from the bottle and crying quietly. I decide now is the time to unpack, because why the fuck not?
I don’t know why I do it, but I unpack every box in my house.
Dishes in the cabinets. Pictures on the walls. Throw pillows on the couch.
And when I’m done, I sit down and crank out a text I should have written a week ago. Hell, maybe months ago.
Bryce,
We’re over. We’ve been over for months.
I love you, but I’m not in love with you.
I’m sorry.
Good luck in life.
Mia.
It’s a sorry excuse of a letter, but it’s all I can manage without spilling every gruesome and gory detail of my weeklong affair with a terrifying biker. The details are more for me anyway. He doesn’t deserve a cheating girlfriend, and I don’t deserve the weight of my cheating lifted off my shoulders by telling him everything.
Finishing the bottle, I leave it in the sink and wander down the hall.
At two in the morning I crawl into bed, still smelling like Cruz, feeling sad and sorry for myself.
I WAKE UP AND GET TO work.
I don’t think of Cruz.
I don’t think of anything but work.
“Hey, girl. You finally ready to teach a couple of classes?” Luna asks when I walk through her studio door.
I manage a smile.