Burning to Ride

by Michele De Winton

  Cole walked over to his other desk and sat down. “We’re not talking about my depression. We’re talking about a vindictive woman blackmailing me, threatening to take me down, and if I go, the company goes.”

  “Okay, fair enough. Blackmail is shit, but are you sure she’d go through with it? Because that’s not the impression I got from Pop.”

  “Pop doesn’t know she’s hooked into the Raising Hellfire Gang.”

  “Yes, he does.”

  Cole slapped his hand over his face and rubbed at his eyes. “What?”

  “You said they’ve talked. I think they’ve talked talked. Pop thinks you’ve met your match. Finally.”

  His pop knew about her full-blown biker connections, and was still going along with the development? Cole wondered what else his father knew and how far he was willing to let this whole thing go. Then he sighed. “Well, like I said. It’s over. Pop had better prepare himself for some heartbreak. If you’re giving up on Lucy, I’m sure as hell giving up on Briony. Let me know if you’re coming out here. I’ll get someone to pick you up. We can be bachelors or some shit together.”

  Cole hung up the phone as a thousand thoughts rushed through his head. His pop knew who Briony was? Who she really was? And didn’t care? And his brother had been jealous of him? Everything he thought he knew suddenly started crumbling in front of him and the dark edges of the room tried to creep toward the center. “No.” This was not the time to let depression back into his life.

  He walked over to his sketch desk again and picked up a pencil. Once he’d discovered it, being able to draw had always helped chase the dark shadows away. As he doodled, an idea came to him. Putting down his pencil he tipped his head to the side and looked at the building he’d drawn. It was more of a messy nest than a building. That’s it. The idea slapped him like a wet fish and he sat stood back from his desk. The idea was still there, right in front of him. He didn’t want to be a bachelor anymore. His time with Briony had been messy, disjointed, and raw, but it had made him feel alive, more alive than he’d been for a while if he was honest with himself. What he’d drawn was for her. Everything in his head was for her now, every sketch and thought had her imprint on it.

  His relationship with other women, including Martha, had been more about passing the time than building anything, and yet with Briony all he wanted was to share ideas with her. Reinvent structures, plan buildings. Make things. “I want to make a life with her.”

  If he’d fallen off the back of his Ducati he couldn’t have been more winded. The idea that a woman who had blackmailed her way into his life could have a place in it, a real place, was ridiculous. And yet . . . What was it his pop always said? Sometimes things happen for a reason. Everything about being in L.A. had been fast and furious. Getting the initial buy-in from the board when the land came on sale. Grabbing it fast. Acquiring everything that was in his way, setting up the office here. Planning the development. It had been in his head for years and then when it started happening it was like a ride he hadn’t been able to get off of. Going so fast had been a little to get away from Martha, but mostly to build something on his own terms. All his own terms. On a whim he’d visited Wilde’s Hotel on a filthy dark night. And then . . . “Briony.”

  He wanted her. He needed her. She was part of the ride and he didn’t want to get off. He was falling for her. Filthy temper, red leather, and all.

  And now it was over. She’d told him as much, but what had his brother said? Almost anything is fixable. It’s not like she had another man’s baby.

  No, it wasn’t. Not yet.

  Pulling out a new sheet of paper, Cole began sketching furiously, pulling in lines of green, red, and brown as well as black ink into his piece. When he looked at the clock, two hours had passed and his leg was aching in earnest, but the darkness had dissipated. He was happy. Scanning through his cell for his contractor’s number, he hoped he could make Briony happy, too. She just had to forgive him for what he was about to do.

  Chapter Ten

  Briony stared at the wall. The color was still wrong, wasn’t it? She walked toward it and held the paint chip up against the new paint.

  “It’s only paint, Bri. Give it a rest.”

  “Easy for you to say. This is it. The last bit. If I don’t get it right this whole shit-storm of a fake engagement will have been a waste of time.” She tore the paint chip into tiny pieces and kicked at a paint can. Luckily it was empty.

  Rocco held up his hands. “Easy now, tiger. You’re almost done and you’ve got Armani-pants out the way. Things can go back to normal now.”

  Briony looked around for something else to kick and slumped in a chair when she couldn’t find anything that wouldn’t ruin the newly polished concrete floor. “Shit.”

  Rocco cocked his head. “You don’t want things to get back to normal?”

  “Oh, no, of course. You and me and the boys. That’s what this was all about. It was all I ever wanted.”

  “Was being the operative word.”

  “What?” Briony frowned at him and rolled her eyes. “No, I’m just tired is all. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” Zero sleep was more like it. Every time she felt sleep approaching, an image of Cole would flicker in front of her. His mouth twisted in a sardonic grin, his naked torso begging her to touch it, his hands . . . She shook her head as the thoughts circulated there again. She’d tried having a cold shower, but that hadn’t helped. Remembering what he’d done to her in there . . . But more than that she missed having him around. Bouncing ideas off him, listening to him get excited about design, building her vision into something even better with him. She missed . . . she missed him.

  “Hi.”

  Briony’s head snapped up. “Marnz!”

  She ran at the biker, but he warded her off. “Not so fast Bri-bird. My ribs are still sore as shit.”

  “Still?” She reached up and gave him a peck on the cheek. Did he just puff out his chest a little? Rather than being flattered by the reaction she caused in the biker, Briony’s heart constricted. Again. Wrong guy? No. She shouldn’t be thinking about Cole. At. All. This was where she belonged.

  But later that night while she was behind the bar, Briony saw Cole everywhere. In the shadows of the newly refurbished darts area, Cole stood with his back to her. His hair was longer, but his shoulders were broad, firm, perfectly placed to engulf her. Then he turned and a stranger’s dark gray eyes checked hers. He smiled. She turned away. Wilde’s was safe. That’s what was important. Wilde’s and her family. But when she saw him again when she was changing a keg, and again, pulling into the parking lot outside, Briony admitted defeat.

  “This isn’t enough anymore.”

  Rocco smiled. “Knew it. He got to you.”

  Briony turned to the biker, her mouth an O. “You knew? Since when?”

  The biker waved a hand in the air. “Since ages ago.”

  Briony punched him in the arm, then sighed. “Not that it matters. He never wanted to be here in the first place. He only came in the bar that first night to check out what he was about to knock down, and then he only stayed ’cause we blackmailed him.”

  “You didn’t blackmail him back into your bed though. And you didn’t blackmail him into sticking up for you in front of Marnz.”

  “And landing him in the hospital.”

  “Martinez is a hothead on the bike. It was time he got knocked down a peg. Lucky he hasn’t before now.”

  “So let me get this straight,” said Briony. “You think Cole is going to welcome me with open arms? All is forgiven, let me give you my credit card and we’ll walk down the aisle for real?”

  “Maybe not quite like that. Question is, if he would, would you go after him?”

  Briony bit her lip. Would she try and make the engagement work with Cole Knight? For real? If he could show her that he thought more of her than a warm body on a cold night, yes. If he could show her that the glimpses she’d had of his heart, of his true generosity, were real. She’d
be with him in a heartbeat. “It doesn’t matter, because he won’t ever accept me after what I’ve done. For who I am, leather and all. Can he?”

  Rocco snorted. “You’re asking me for romantic advice?”

  Briony finally smiled. “True. Stupid idea. Where’s Hade? Maybe he’s got some advice.”

  Rocco whistled and about twenty-five heads turned. “Someone go get Hade. Bri needs his advice.”

  “I was kinda joking,” she said.

  “Too bad.”

  Briony bit at the corner of a nail. Last thing she wanted to do was ask for advice. From anyone. Ever. But Hade had worked things out with Lee in the end, didn’t he?

  Hade walked into the bar and sat next to Rocco. “So, what’s up?”

  “Bri here’s in love with Slick.”

  “Figured as much.”

  Briony looked between the two bikers, her eyes so wide she thought her eyeballs might fall out. “You figured as much?”

  “I saw the way you looked at him.”

  “I don’t know that I’m in love with him though.”

  Hade waved a hand at her. “Doesn’t matter anyways. What matters is what you’re doing about it. Seems like a nice enough guy.”

  Briony turned and grabbed a bottle of bourbon, pouring herself a shot and downing it before she felt able to speak. “A nice enough guy? What about the night of the race? You didn’t seem to think he was a nice enough guy then.”

  “Who says I didn’t? Marnz was jealous, we all knew that. And I didn’t want to get in the middle of that. You needed to sort it out for yourself.”

  Briony was still lost. Everyone had figured it out. Everyone except her. “So now what?”

  “You going to pour us one of those?” Hade said, pointing at the bourbon. Briony poured them each a shot and Hade knocked his back. “Suck it up,” he said.

  “That’s your advice? Shit, glad we sorted that one out,” Briony said.

  Hade grinned at her. “Love hurts. Like a bitch. But fuck it, Bri. So does falling off your bike, and you do that anyway. People die, all the time.” He paused and looked down, and Briony reached over and put a hand over his. She knew he was thinking about his brother who had been shot two years earlier. Hade looked back up and eyeballed her. “Us, we’re more likely to die than most, bunch of misfits that we are. So best that you risk it all.” He took a deep breath. “Okay. Lecture over.”

  Briony felt her shoulders dropping. If her closest friends thought going after Cole was a good idea, then fuck it, it was worth a shot. Still, she wasn’t quite sure how. Walking into his office and apologizing wasn’t going to do her many favors, not if she turned up on her bike in full leathers.

  “Sleep on it. You’ll think of something,” said Rocco.

  * * *

  Next morning, however, Briony didn’t get a chance to think much of anything other than damage control. A vanload of contractors were already on-site and the bar had a big KEEP OUT sign taped over the doorway.

  “What’s going on?” Briony asked a guy wearing a hard hat who was heading into the area carrying an armful of tools.

  “Inspection, possible contamination apparently. Best find the foreman.”

  “Contamination? From what?” Briony’s head spun. If there was something wrong at the hotel, something deeper than cosmetic, she was screwed. Anything big and Cole’s money wouldn’t cover it. Then all of this would be for nothing.

  All day she got the same answer whenever she asked anyone what was going on. But if she tried to get into the bar, even the storeroom, a worker nearly twice her size would step in. “You can’t go in there, miss. Taking your life in your hands and all that. You get hurt and it’s on me. Wouldn’t want that on your conscience, would you?”

  That she did not.

  The sounds of drilling and hammering echoed around the hotel, but the workers had closed off whatever work they were doing, putting a tarp over the outside front part of the bar so no one could see in.

  She reached for her phone at least ten times to call Cole, to check if it was his doing, but stopped herself. What, exactly, would she say? Hi, so apparently there’s a possible contamination here at Wilde’s. Got anything to say about that? She could see how that conversation would go. And she wasn’t ready to talk to him anyway, not after the pep talk from Hade and Rocco the night before, and not before she had a plan for how she was going to get him to see her as a woman he could build a real future with.

  She might have saved her hotel, but if she lost Cole, would sacrificing her heart be worth it?

  About eight o’clock that night, just as the clouds were rolling in again, the construction worker she’d first spoken to walked into the bistro where Briony was trying to distract herself by painting a wall. “All clear, miss. Sorry about the disruption.”

  “Did you find the problem?”

  “Best you take a look for yourself. If you give my men ten minutes they’ll have it all cleaned up for you.”

  Briony wasn’t about to wait another ten minutes, and wiping her hands on her paint-covered shirt, she all but ran to the bar. When she pushed open the door, she gasped and turned to take in the room. Walking over to one of the walls she put out a hand to touch it.

  “Wouldn’t do that if I were you. Paint’s still a bit wet.”

  Spinning, Briony took in the tall, rumpled figure of Cole, dripping wet in his black jeans and blue shirt.

  “You? How did you . . . ?”

  “You like it?”

  Briony’s mouth opened but nothing came out. Like wasn’t a word she’d use in this situation. The bar had been transformed into an almost living, breathing family tree, but one that benefitted the Hell’s heritage of Wilde’s Hotel. Her renovations in there weren’t due to start till the next week, but the contractors had redone the place, top to bottom in only a day.

  The walls were painted black like she’d wanted but the room didn’t feel dark. With the white ceiling and new windows everywhere, Briony could tell the place would be flooded with light during the day. The smooth, dark tones made the place sleek, a little dangerous, and very modern. But it wasn’t the paint job and new windows that got Briony’s attention. It was the giant tree sculpture that had been worked into the new bar and the array of photographs in a giant styled and framed collage that had her heart in her throat. The sculpture they’d both sketched from different angles independently.

  “Are you going to say anything? I’m dying here.”

  “Where did you get the pictures? How did you?”

  “I called Rocco. He had plenty of stuff in a big box somewhere. I got them scanned and graded and, well, you can see the result.”

  Briony walked over to the bar and put a hand out. “I can touch this?”

  Cole nodded.

  The timber felt as smooth as the polished chrome on the tank of her bike, but it wasn’t cold. Rather it had an innate warmth. A piece of timber had been turned so that the bar top it formed was super even, but the edges had been left raw so the full form of the tree was visible. Up the wall, branches tangled and tumbled, making the bar seem even more alive, a real tree growing in the very heart of the bar.

  “I wanted to make you a family tree, something to grow at the heart of Wilde’s, something that would show you I understand you care about family. And that I do, too. I get that the gang are your family, that they are a part of you.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Briony was lost for words again as she walked over to the wall of pictures, and she gasped at the photo in the center. “My dad!”

  “Rocco found that one.”

  All the time she’d been inspecting the bar, Cole’s presence so close had her hairs on end. But now he came closer and her skin reared up, too, trying perhaps to get closer to him of its own accord. She turned to face him.

  “Hey,” they both said at the same time.

  “You go first,” he said.

  Briony took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I blackmailed you
. I was desperate.”

  “I know.”

  “And I’m sorry I said you’d never be able to grow anything. I know that’s not true. I just, you just . . .”

  Cole took three steps and closed the gap between them, but having him so close made it even harder for Briony to say what she needed. She could smell his dark, clean scent, and see the hard outlines of his chest under his wet shirt. A clap of thunder sounded overhead and made her jump.

  “It was raining like this when you first came in here.”

  “It was,” said Cole. “I remember wondering what the hell I had walked into when I came in here. There was this girl behind the bar about to kneecap a guy almost three times her size and broken glass everywhere.”

  “You must have thought the place was a real dump,” she said, finally plucking up the balls to look into his eyes. What she saw there gave her the courage to continue. “But you came in anyway. You even tried to help. I never thanked you for that.”

  “You didn’t need to. I would have done that for anyone.”

  “And all this? You’d do this for anyone?”

  “No,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers. “Not just anyone.”

  “Do you think we could maybe start again?” Briony asked, her voice small, even to her own ears.

  “No.” Cole said and every muscle in her body contracted as if he’d slapped her.

  “No? Then why do all this? Why bother? Or is it because this is your investment still?” All the softness she’d been feeling threatened to ebb away and Briony tried to stand up taller. “It’s still my bar, my hotel, my life.”

  “It is,” he said and put a hand on each of her arms. The contact made her skin burn even hotter, but cooled the flash of temper that threatened to leap into the room and mess things up. Again. “I’m not taking your hotel away from you. I just said no because there is no way we can start over, not after what I’ve seen. What I know about you. When I first saw you, everything about you screamed tough love. Your leather vest, your big mouth, your fast temper.”

  “If you’re trying to make me feel better, it’s not really working,” she said.