There You Stand

by Christina Lee

  Safe? Was he calling the motorcycle club safe? Or this town?

  I sucked in a breath. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I can tell he’s trying fucking hard not to like you,” he said. “And it’s goddamn painful to watch. You’re a good kid and so is he.”

  Shit. If Vaughn noticed, did that mean everyone else did as well?

  “Is he a good person?”

  He stared at me a second more, blinking several times, as if startled by my question.

  “If you didn’t believe that you wouldn’t be trying to get to know him, yeah?”

  I shrugged and thought back to the jerk who’d left me with Chopper. “Haven’t been the best judge of character lately. Just know that for some reason I want to understand him.”

  Right then, the back door opened and Malachi strode out with two other men, one of whom he bumped shoulders with. I couldn’t help noticing that it was the same guy I’d seen with Jude that day at the park. I spotted the outline of his gun holster this time. I was pretty darn sure parole officers didn’t go around carrying loaded weapons.

  The man briefly made eye contact with me as he headed out the door and I looked away, fearful of staring too long. I decided to wait another minute before leaving the bar. Didn’t want to come into contact with him in the back lot.

  Vaughn’s shoulders tensed briefly as if reading the situation before pulling out a shot glass and filling it with whiskey.

  Sliding it across the bar top to Malachi he said, “What’s up, Prez?”

  The president of the Disciples now stood next to me and my back became rigid, which made it hurt like a motherfucker, but I kept my reaction in check.

  Malachi considered the drink and then clapped me on the back. “Get Cory a shot as well, yeah?”

  I tipped my chin but my heart was thrashing in my chest. Vaughn immediately filled a glass of the amber liquid and slipped it over to me. What in the hell was happening here?

  Malachi raised his glass in a toast and I attempted to control my shaking fingers as I lifted mine as well.

  “All good?” Malachi asked, looking me straight in the eye.

  “Sure.” I wasn’t certain what kind of answer he was looking for or why he was asking me in the first place. But I needed to roll with it.

  “To honesty and loyalty,” Malachi said and I paused before I downed my drink, unable to understand what the hell he was getting at.

  He roughly gripped my shoulder, then turned and walked back to his office.

  A concerned look momentarily crossed Vaughn’s face before it turned thoughtful. But I guess the message was clear.

  Don’t screw Jude or the Disciples over.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I sank down on my bike and considered riding the fuck out of there. But it was obvious that it didn’t matter where the hell I was or what I did; these guys already knew my business. I was made their business because of Jude—of that I was certain.

  I rode out of the lot and drove around the block. I parked on the side street before heading to the back door of the skate shop on foot.

  Jude was tangled up in the Disciples’ business? I should’ve turned around and left but I couldn’t even force myself to go. Vaughn’s words about Jude bolstered my resolve.

  The screen was locked but I could see the length of the hallway to the storefront. The lights were turned low because the shop was closed and there was a soft glow coming from what looked like the back office.

  I rapped my knuckles lightly and when Jude rounded the corner toward me, my heart crashed to my ribcage. This guy disarmed me every single time and I had only just seen him a few minutes ago. But something about knowing we were going to be alone again made my head spin.

  “What’s up?” I asked when he opened the door for me to enter.

  He looked over my shoulder to the lot and to the surrounding storefronts. “Where’s your bike?”

  “Side street,” I said.

  Suddenly I felt restless. On edge. “L . . . look. Maybe I should just go.”

  “You should leave if that’s how you feel. I don’t even know if this is a good idea,” he said, his voice laced with uneasiness. “Ah . . . fucking hell. It’s just that I thought I’d show you something.”

  “O . . . Okay,” I said, stepping inside. He released a breath as if relieved I’d stayed.

  We stood staring at each other in the dim hallway with only a sliver of space between us.

  “It’s really fucking hard to fight this attraction I have for you, Jude.”

  He tensed his fist as if he wanted to touch me, and my dick throbbed in response.

  “I just wish I knew something more,” I said. “I know you don’t want to tell me anything, but hell, I’m already here. I’m already into you.”

  His bit his lip and dropped his head.

  I sighed heavily. “So what is it you wanted to show me?”

  “Something that might help your back.”

  That wasn’t what I was expecting to hear. “I’m listening.”

  “Skaters get lots of injuries from falls and I’ve got a couple of tricks up my sleeve.”

  I smirked. “Tricks, huh?”

  He motioned over his shoulder for me to follow.

  It was strange to see the shop from this angle because I had really only appreciated it from the front view. And merely from passing by the window where all the boards hung in neat rows.

  The Board Room not only carried skateboarding and snowboarding wares but also some other odds and ends for summer and winter sports.

  I’d been inside the store once a couple of years ago when I needed some snow equipment for a weekend trip I’d taken with some guy named Andrew. A guy I’d now like to forget. But at least he didn’t leave me with his damn dog as a souvenir.

  Jude grabbed something off a low shelf and then headed to the back room, where I noticed a table of deconstructed skateboards. “Is this where you work?”

  Jude nodded as he rummaged around in the desk.

  “Do you enjoy it?” I asked propping my bicep against the doorframe.

  “Only second to actually skating.”

  “Do you compete?”

  He looked up and thinned his lips. “Nope.”

  “You hear about the extreme sports event coming to town?”

  Distress flitted through his eyes for a brief moment but I couldn’t figure out why. Skating was the one area I figured he’d feel most confident. “Sure. I plan to check out the show.”

  “Maybe I’ll see you there,” I said. “Raw Ink is a sponsor and we have free tickets.”

  The other side of the office was messy because there were random boxes strewn about in front of a large black couch and small refrigerator, which were next to a countertop with a microwave oven. Obviously this space doubled as an employee break room and I wondered if Jude ate his lunch sitting on those oversized cushions.

  “So what’s the plan you have?” I said, now looking at some signed and framed professional skateboarding photos on the wall. He held up his finger and brought out the tube of tennis balls he’d just swiped from the front of the store.

  He tore open the package and then reached for the duct tape he’d yanked from the drawer. He pulled out a strip, intent on his project as he began winding it around three green balls.

  “You can lie down on that couch as soon as I relocate that box.”

  I looked over at the black cushions where one side was free and the other had a box labeled wheels. “I can move it.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Trying to pull your back even worse?”

  “Dude,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Pretty sure I know by now how to properly distribute the weight to my legs to lift heavy objects.”

  His gaze darted to my thighs and I saw him swallow thickly.

  Holy Christ this guy was hot. And he wanted me to lie down? At this point I’d do anything he asked.

  He used his teeth to rip the tape, securing the last piece in place. I co
uldn’t help but stare at those red lips that he wouldn’t allow me near the other day.

  What was it that he’d said? That people only wanted things from him. The thought of that made a tremor travel along my neck. Maybe that’s why Vaughn had said that he was finally safe.

  But what in the hell did that mean? And why did I have this overwhelming desire to be the one to make him feel secure and protected, locked up tight in my arms all night?

  I was so lost in my fantasies about this guy that the movement of him walking to the couch, lifting the heavy box, and placing it on the floor startled me.

  “On your stomach, Cory.”

  My eyebrow shot up and a blush crept across his cheeks.

  “If that’s the way you want me,” I mumbled, not wanting to meet his gaze because my erection was now lengthening against my zipper. The only saving grace was that in a prone position, I’d be hiding the evidence.

  As he stood over me, I pictured him touching me in all of his naked splendor, and Jesus, I needed to think about other things like lying on a bed of nails or something.

  My back was on fire but being in close quarters with Jude had kept my mind off of it for a good several minutes. In fact, it had been hurting for so many days in a row; it merely felt part of my daily routine.

  But the pain had now transitioned to a dull ache, similar to the way it felt lately at night. Usually I’d just take a muscle relaxer, and it would make me drowsy enough to fall right asleep.

  “Have you heard of tennis ball therapy?”

  I shifted to stare at him. “Tennis ball what?”

  His lip tilted upward and he looked like the devil. An extremely sexy and naughty devil. Jesus fuck.

  “I know it sounds dodgy, but it’s not.” His eyebrow raised in a challenge. “Trust me?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “You’re asking me that question when I’m lying here in pain,” I said, cringing as I tried adjusting myself on the cushion. “When you hardly even trust me.”

  He shut his eyes momentarily. “Trust is hard for me.”

  “And you think it’s easy for me?”

  “Easier, yes,” he said and I let out an exasperated breath. “And what things don’t I trust you with, anyway?”

  As soon as he said the words he cringed. He had caught himself and was already waiting for the fallout. He scrunched up his nose, expecting my comeback.

  “You don’t trust me enough to tell me your story,” I said. “And then let me decide whether or not I want to stick around.”

  He sighed. “There’s more to it than that.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as safety.”

  “Safety,” I said and I felt like we were talking in circles again.

  I got it; I was worried about that, too, especially now that I figured out he was involved with the Disciples. But I knew where this conversation would go and I’d end up frustrated and maybe even walking out. And right now I just wanted this alone time with him. Because these moments were few and far between. And Jude had actually invited me here because he cared. He definitely cared.

  “How about the safety of my body parts?” I tucked a smile in the side of my cheek.

  “Your body parts?” he said, trying to keep the smirk off his face.

  “Yeah, Doc. Maybe I should be concerned,” I said. “Maybe you’ve got some Cracker Jack operation going on back here. The other night with my foot and now you’re trying to fix my back.”

  He bit back a grin. “I do worry about that.”

  My eyebrows rose. “Worry how?”

  “That if I’m not gentle you won’t let me care for your body parts again.”

  I let out a bark of laughter. “Glad to know you think so much about my body parts.”

  “All the time, you cheeky bastard,” he deadpanned.

  I chuckled because I’d been called a bastard but never in my life had I’d been called a cheeky one.

  “Any other parts of me?” I whispered.

  His gaze scaled the length of my body, landing back on my eyes. “Do you even know how sexy you look waiting there for me?”

  “About as sexy as you look lying on my table at Raw Ink?”

  He pulled back and gulped openly. “Pure torture.”

  I huffed out a laugh. “Tell me about it.”

  “I shouldn’t be doing this,” he mumbled to himself as if he’d suddenly questioned his own sanity.

  Screw this. I wasn’t going to lie here in this fucked-up position anticipating the moment he’d change his mind.

  “You’re the one who invited me here, not the other way around.”

  I propped my elbows on the cushion in an effort to stand up.

  “No, wait.” He took a deep breath and looked into my eyes. “I . . . I haven’t really been around anybody in a while. I mean, nobody I’d been so hugely attracted to.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Definitely,” he muttered.

  It was similar to what Vaughn had said, but what exactly did that mean?

  “And speaking of body parts, I honestly questioned whether a few of mine would get a workout again,” he said. “But then you’d come around with your dogs, and my stomach would get tied up in knots and my . . .” He looked down at his lap. “Well . . . you know.”

  My chest was throbbing as my gaze scaled down to his erection. His breathing was erratic and I was beginning to feel guilty for bringing all of this on.

  At least I wasn’t in this alone. But I wasn’t the one fighting it so hard. I thought about Vaughn’s words again and about Jude needing some company.

  “It’s cool, Jude,” I said. “Hey, man, no pressure. We don’t have to . . .”

  “I’m not saying I don’t want to, just saying I don’t know if . . .”

  “I get it, okay,” I said, letting him off the hook. “Let’s just move to the tennis ball magic.”

  He swallowed roughly and then nodded, edging closer to the corner of the couch.

  His trembling fingers stretched to my waist and I remembered how it felt to be skin to skin with him at the quarry.

  “Here?” he asked, putting pressure on my lower back. I groaned.

  “Is it okay if I lift your shirt?” His voice was low and smooth and such a stark difference to the assertiveness he showed in the water the other day.

  His fingers pulled the bottom of my shirt up and his hands felt so warm on my back. He placed the tennis balls firmly on my skin and once he applied pressure, my breath stole away from my body.

  “Give it a couple of minutes, mate,” he said low in my ear. “I think it’ll work.”

  I could scarcely breathe because the pressure was so intense. I fisted my hands and dug my head into the cushion.

  “I used to think I wanted to go into sports medicine,” he said and I could tell he was trying to get my mind off the aching. “I’ve taken some online courses here and there. Maybe I will again someday.”

  “I sure as hell hope you know what you’re doing, Doc,” I said, groaning. “You’re killing me.”

  I could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “Like I said, trust me.”

  After another minute more the throbbing began to lessen somewhat. I lifted my head from the cushion and turned my gaze to him.

  “So, did you grow up around here?” he asked.

  “Yeah, my grandmother still lives over on Barlow Avenue,” I said. “What about you? I know you grew up on a farm and you said you haven’t lived there since you were a teen. Are your parents still in the States? Your dad? Your mom?”

  Silence.

  “Dude, seriously?” I said, while panting through the agony. “You asked me, so I should be able to—”

  “I haven’t seen my dad since I was a tot and my mum’s dead,” he said in a rush.

  “Fuck, man, I’m sorry,” I said, trying to meet his gaze, but he was staring at the floor. “My mom’s dead, too. My grandmother raised me.”

  His gaze slowly lifted to mine, sorrow evident
in his eyes. “I’m sorry, mate. Bet you miss her.”

  “I was ten when she died from breast cancer. I remember some really vivid moments but then my grandmother became my whole world. And it kinda bums me out that she’s growing older now, too.”

  What in the hell was I even saying? Again with the motor mouth. To a guy who was hard-pressed to share anything with me. I was surprised I didn’t reveal my biggest fear of all—that pretty much everybody in my life leaves me. So would Jude. He’d already warned me, for Christ’s sake. And here I was falling down the rabbit hole.

  Jude’s gaze had softened and he looked pretty miserable.

  “You miss your mom?” I asked.

  “Fucking hell,” he said in a tortured voice. “Losing her completely gutted me. I miss her every day.”

  I couldn’t reach for him from this position and Christ, did I have the intense need to soothe him right then. Instead, I showed him with my eyes how damn sorry I was. “How did she pass away?”

  All at once his face turned dark. Scary dark. There was rage hidden beneath the depths of his eyes and I didn’t need to ask any further. I already knew.

  It was the same person who’d put those scars on his back.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Shit,” I mumbled. “Is he in prison?”

  Again there was silence; the only sound was Jude attempting to rein in his harsh breaths through his nose.

  “No, huh?” I whispered and he stared past me to the wall, neither confirming nor denying. “Damn.”

  Some things began lining up in my brain. Was Jude indebted to the Disciples in some way? Did it have to do with his stepfather? I stayed quiet thinking it through, because no way in hell was he was going to tell me anything more.

  And then I felt something give way in my back. It was like a knot of a rope that abruptly loosened. I arched my neck and breathed out in relief.

  “You felt that?” Jude asked.

  “God, yes,” I said, feeling overwhelming respite from the pain. “I can’t believe that worked.”

  He rolled the tennis balls along my lower back a couple more times and then removed them from my skin.