Long Ride: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Black Sparks MC) (Whiskey Bad Boys Book 1)

by Kathryn Thomas

  “I didn’t—that’s not—” Nick look frantically from Tryg to Liana to Jack.

  “Look, I don’t care who said what. Jack’s offering us what we need, and we’re making the deal. Now. Tonight. You’re either with us or against us.”

  “But what happens if we let him walk out that door with Liana?” Nick demanded. “We’ve got no proof he’ll do what he says he will. For all we know, he could be plotting against us with the Vipers.”

  “You have my word. After, you won’t hear from me again. Of course, I can’t say the same for Liana—but she wouldn’t be your concern anymore… Of course you could decide to be a knight in shining armor and ‘save’ her. You could put the entire operation in jeopardy by bringing the Vipers down right on your head. You could leave your own M.C. to twist in the wind. I’m a patient and forgiving man,” said Jack, “but I’m not that patient.”

  “No,” said Nick slowly. He saw Tryg’s jaw drop slightly, his eyes narrow. Nick forged ahead. “Liana can walk out that door if she wants to, but if Jack threatens her, I won’t leave her alone. I can’t. And if that’s what the club decides—” The rest of the Black Sparks took a step forward, like a row of black-clad priests, ready to burn him in fire as a heretic. He didn’t care. He rushed ahead. “I’ll turn in my patch if it comes to that.”

  “And the tattoos?”

  “I’ll burn them off.” He balled his fists. Already hot, he could feel the flames licking at him; the idea of ridding himself of the only thing that had ever mattered to him was that painful. But for Liana, he would walk right into the fire. He’d left her to suffer once before; if there was one thing he knew, it was that he could never do it again.

  “Nick, listen to what you’re saying,” rumbled Tryg, as the other Sparks stepped forward, murmuring their agreement. “These are your brothers – your family.”

  Nick felt his whole body clench. He knew it was true. He stood in the clubhouse, in the closest thing to real home he’d ever had. They’d welcomed him in out of the rain; put his picture up on the wall, called him and a son and a brother. But looking at Liana, he saw the only peace he’d ever found. He saw the only way to set things right for fucking up the way he had, for not being able to protect her all those years ago, for being selfish and myopic and refusing to forgive her, when they could have so many good years together that they’d missed.

  He wouldn’t miss out on any more. There was only one voice that could speak against him. “Nick.” The young woman swallowed and continued. “Stop. I know what you’re trying to do. But this is for the best, don’t you see? Not just for me, not just for the club – for you. If this can save the club—if Jack can do what he promises—”

  “But, Liana, he won’t. You said it yourself, he’s a liar, he ‘s a cheat, he—”

  “I’ve caused enough trouble,” she cut him off. “You wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for me.” Liana seemed to speak robotically, as if the voice she was using was not her own, as if she were reading from a script in one of her plays, just playing a role, the tragic selfless heroine riding to her doom for the good of her people. “Think of my dad, Nick. I always knew the day would come when I’d be able to prove myself – to prove I’m worthy of the legacy he left.”

  “Liana, you’re being ridiculous. This is insane. Your dad loved the Sparks, sure, but he wouldn’t have wanted you to do this. Not for him. Not for me. Not for anybody.”

  “But I love him,” she said robotically, squeezing Jack’s arm.

  “You heard the lady,” Jack rasped, looking directly at Nick with the eyeless, soulless gaze of a corpse, daring him to challenge him further. “It’s done.” Then he turned to Liana again. “I’ll leave you a couple days to get used to the idea. Meanwhile, I’ve book us two flights on Wednesday morning to New York. Don’t worry, princess,” said Jack, rubbing her back in a slow, deliberate, circle, and Nick flinched to see his hands on her.

  He also used a pet name Nick knew Liana must have hated, because it was the exact same one her stepfather had used to refer to her, sardonically, tauntingly. Did Jack know? Did he even care? Or did he use it deliberately to torture her?

  Liana stood stiffly, her fingers curled at her sides.

  “In a few days, you’ll be back in Brooklyn where you belong. Not in that shitty roach-infested apartment you were living in, but in a real home. With me.” Jack looked at Nick as he said these words, and it took Nick a minute to figure out why. Suddenly, ashamedly, he thought back to where Liana had spent last night: in a filthy, grease-spattered garage, under a borrowed blanket, on a couch with broken springs he’d found sitting on someone’s driveway. She deserved so much more than that, and it pained him that he was incapable of giving that to her.

  But she also deserved to feel safe. Maybe Nick couldn’t give her that either, but Jack Camus certainly couldn’t. All it took is one look into the blankness of Liana’s face, the mask she had pulled over like the good actress she was, to hide her terror. Nick realized he recognized that look; she’d worn it Noel Richardson’s house when he’d gone into one of his rages, as if she were just shutting down, playing the part of the perfect princess, who always did her duty. He wondered if that was why she had been drawn to acting, if that was where it had begun. Nick had never been able to act like that—and it was what had always gotten him in trouble. When he was angry, when he was upset, it showed all over him. It was the way he was born.

  “Liana—” He couldn’t help it. He rushed toward her, reaching out. Jack turned, and Nick expected him to fight him, to growl at him like an attack dog. But he didn’t have to. Liana did it all with her eyes.

  Nick froze under her gaze. Her lashes fluttered silently over a gleam that could have been tears. There was something in it that was deliberate, that meant something only he could understand. A message? An apology? In any case, it meant, don’t follow. Before he could even come close to figuring it out, she was gone. Slowly, Nick left the meeting room and entered the bar. He needed something—advice, a plan, a cocktail or ten.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Kirrily dashed out from behind the bar, wiping her hands on a towel. Her eyes were manic. “Tryg, what in bloody hell was going on back there? Why did Liana just walk out with that man?”

  Nick looked at Tryg, wondering what kind of story he’d come up with. “Kirrily, it’s okay. It’s over. Liana’s okay,” he said, rubbing her arm reassuringly. “Why don’t you go home and get Kizzy ready for your trip?”

  Kirrily looked at Nick, hands on hips, eyes flashing, demanding an explanation. She wasn’t buying for a second what her husband told her, but Nick couldn’t even begin to explain.

  “Tryg Ryan, don’t you dare lie to me. That is not an explanation. I have to go pick up Kizzy, but if I can’t get it from you now, I’ll get it from Nick later.” She spun on her heel, picked up her handbag, and marched out of the bar.

  “What trip?” Nick asked Tryg. Nick’s eyes darted to the array of crystals spread out behind the bar, which Kirrily used to, as she described it, promote a positive energy around the place. What a joke, Nick thought.

  “She needed a vacation,” responded Tryg from behind him, “so I sent her to Cincinnati to meet with some guys from the Australian chapter of the club.”

  “Sounds sketchy. Who are these guys?”

  “Relax, Nick. Suspicion will kill you if you let it. I know these guys from when I was in Australia. So does Kirrily. It’s like an extended family reunion for her. They can be trusted.”

  “Who’s looking after the bar?” Nick asked, glancing behind him as if that held the answers. He eased himself down on a stool, facing away from the bar.

  “I am,” piped up Cora’s voice from the back room.

  “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

  “There’s a shotgun behind the counter,” she called.

  Nick turned away for a second, letting out an exasperated sigh as the petite woman placed a Wild Turkey on the rocks on the bar. He stared dow
n into its depths, craving alcohol, knowing it was only a bandage for what ailed him. He felt the urge to smash it against the wall.

  “You make it sound like I sent them into the Sarlacc pit. Kirrily knows these guys.”

  “I think you sent her away because you knew that if she were here, she’d call you on your bullshit for letting Liana leave with Jack. You know damn well Jack Camus is a fucking scumbag, but you’re willing to throw your own niece under the bus because you think it will help you get to the Vipers. I’ve seen a lot of shit go down in this club, but this is by far the most despicable.”

  “I’m despicable? This coming from the guy who was willing to throw us all over for a woman mere days ago?”

  “I turned him down, which is more than I can say for you.”

  “You heard her,” said Tryg, as Cora busied herself wiping down glasses. “She admitted she lied about everything she said about Jack. What else am I supposed to think? That’s she’s lying now?”

  “Of course she is! She’s lying because she’s still terrified of him, and now she’s terrified of you, too. She’s trying to buy herself some time, the best way she knows how. “

  “Do you really believe that, or are you only hearing what you want to hear?”

  Nick paused, words stranded on the tip of his tongue.

  “You know she’s capable of lying. She’s done it before. Maybe she only came clean because she knew we had her cornered. You know,” Tryg said, tipping a glass to his mouth, his eyes still fixed on the younger man, “You said you haven’t forgotten what she did to you, but I’m really starting to wonder.”

  “I wish I could forget, Tryg. I’ve tried. But I can only forgive.”

  “Forgive?” Tryg tipped his head back, wiped his mouth, and slammed his glass back on the bar as if it were too much for him to take. “There’s no such thing as forgiveness. Not in this business. There’s only revenge. You get them as good as they got you.”

  “You can’t possibly believe that.”

  “My brother believed that.”

  “Trace? I don’t buy it. Liana’s dad may not have been a saint, but I know he put his family before anything. And you’re corrupting the very thing he built. Trace would be ashamed of you,” said Nick, feeling the whiskey burn inside him, fueling his rage.

  “Nick, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, but you better get your shit together fast. Nobody else is in your corner. We’re the only guys who ever believed in you. That girl sent you to prison, and it was only by the skin of your teeth that you made it out alive. I don’t think I have to remind you that I picked you up at the fucking bus station, trying to pick my pocket after some jagoff had robbed you of the last thirty bucks you had in the world.”

  Nick had never been able to figure out why he had chosen the president of the Black Sparks to steal from, of all people. Even if he hadn’t seen him around town, he would have known from the gigantic logo on the back of his jacket. Maybe it was a suicide mission—or maybe he just wanted to get his attention. In any case, it had worked. “I was just there to pick up a paper. I could have ripped you a new asshole, and I wanted to. Instead—”

  “Instead you took the bill out and gave it to me.” Nick swallowed, suddenly ashamed.

  Tryg nodded. “You looked like you needed a friend, and you got a dozen of them. Remember that, kid. Nobody else in the fucking world would do that for you except a Spark. Except me.” The side of Tryg’s mouth turned up in a smile that was almost warm. “And then when I offered you a ride, you asked if you could drive.”

  “I thought I’d give it a shot.” He looked up into Tryg’s face, and suddenly felt five years younger. He reached up to touch a piece of his hair that had fallen in front of his face, and he looked at his own hand, suddenly feeling very awkward. Tryg could do that to him sometimes.

  “And that’s when I knew you were one of us.”

  Tryg was right. By the time he had gotten out of Circleville, he was eighteen – too old for foster care, too old for the social safety net that had been the only barrier between him and rock bottom. And as much as he hated to admit it now, it had been Liana, and his love for her, who had put him in that position. Tryg and the Sparks had been the ones who pulled him out. Any idiot would know where his loyalties should—and must—lie.

  And yet, in the past few days he had spent with Liana, seeing the woman she had become, and the kind, generous girl she had been when he had first known her and continued to be, he knew the story was going to be different from the way everybody thought it would be written. There was a brand new book waiting for him to turn the page, and when he thought of Liana, he could only imagine the beautiful things written there. “I’m done with this,” he said, slamming his glass down, hopping off the stool while he still had his wits about him. If there was anything that trip down memory lane had taught him, it’s that he could no longer be that lost boy he once was; he could no longer be the one who relied on others to make the hard decisions. He didn’t know what the message in Liana’s eyes had been as Jack escorted her out, but he had to find out. “I’m going to go find Kirrily. We’ll—”

  “Nick.” Tryg’s voice rumbled, deep in his chest “Think very, very carefully about what you’re about to do. If you make the wrong choice, you will not recover from it. You want to see Martin Malone take over for you as Vice President? You want to see your own club burned to the ground by the Vipers? You want to see us driven out of our own territory? You know what they’re capable of—the proof is that bullet hole on your shoulder. That was in our own territory, Nick. These guys have no qualms about murder, and you’re damn lucky they stopped where they did. Because it can happen. Jack Camus can make it happen.”

  “He said he wouldn’t.”

  “Now who’s being naive?”

  The room seemed to spin in circles. Nobody could be expected to make a choice like this. It was insane. It wasn’t just the matter of choosing between being with Liana and being with the Sparks—it was a matter of letting Liana go with a man who terrified her, who was capable of god knew what. And nobody but him seemed willing to stand between them. Liana didn’t have anybody to fight for her anymore.

  “You were nobody before, and we can make you nobody again. I don’t want to, but I will. You’re the best man I ever had, and I believe in you. I believe in your ability to think ahead, to make the right choice.

  “It’s not—” Nick faltered, feeling like a child complaining to his dad.

  “Not fair? Of course it’s not fair. What in your life has ever been fair? These hard choices are what our lives are all about. We chose this when we chose to be outlaws.”

  He’d sealed it the second he’d chosen to get on the back of Tryg’s bike in the bus station that night long ago, and later when he’d let the patch be sewn on his jacket and worn it with pride; anyone who looked at him would know that he would give his life for the Black Sparks, that he belonged. It was a feeling that meant everything to him, having never belonged anywhere, having been told he never belong anywhere, it was privilege, but it came with a price – a price he never realized the full value of until now.

  A long slow, vibration sounded from the top of the bar. Tryg slowly raised his cell phone to his face, reading a text message, his eyes widening, jaw clenching. He put it down. “And anyway, it’s too late.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She just ran.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  Liana just closed her eyes, pumped her fists, and beat it—heart pounding, breath ragged, trying to blink away the image of Jack’s cruel mouth, of the weight of his arm around her like a lead vest, dragging her down to the bottom of some dark, murky sea. The idea that she had fled hundreds of miles away, only to end up back in his slimy, eel-like arms, was heavy on her mind, and she ran to outpace it. A cold breeze whirled around her as she ducked down a side street, into an alley behind a hair salon, hoping to buy some time.

  She knew going back to the Ryans’ was impossible; Jack had infilt
rated the Black Sparks; he knew where they lived; he’d know to look for her there immediately. It was impossible to find her way back to Helena’s, and the older woman hated her guts. She could go to the bus station, but there her journey would end, too. Maybe she could get in touch with Kirrily and hope her aunt would take pity on her, find her a place to lay low for a day, a week, a year. Not that she could count on even that, given that she’d defied Tryg and Kirrily was a Black Sparks wife. Her loyalty lay with him. Her tolerance of Liana could only continue insofar as she didn’t go against Tryg’s leadership.

  And Nick—she didn’t dare think about Nick. She’d lied to him. Again. He’d never want to see her again, of course. But he’d have the Sparks, and that was what was important. His club was what he needed now, far more than he needed her. The best thing she could have done for him was giving him that. Even if it meant going back to Jack.

  After all, she thought, her back sliding down the brick wall, lowering herself into the grime of the alley, perhaps he was what she deserved. Perhaps she had already made her bed. She had made too many mistakes, had hurt too many people. Perhaps she had already sealed her fate six years ago when she had thrown Nick to the wolves. The only thing left for her was atonement – to ensure she would never be able to hurt Nick again, to give him back his life, and his family. Even if that meant taking herself away from him forever; even if it meant feeding herself to a different more sinister wolf, to baring her throat, leaving it to be devoured. She shivered as a gust of wind kicked some old leaves, swirling them around her shoes, catching up with cigarette butts and fast food wrappers spilling out of a nearby garbage can. She held back a sob, burying her face into arms, but even her own body could offer no warmth. She wanted to sink into herself, collapse into the ground and disappear.

  She should have admitted the real reason why she had come back to Prudence to Tryg, right from the beginning. If she had, there was a chance he might have been willing to believe her over Jack. But the fact that she had been so secretive sealed her fate. She didn’t want to play the part of the victim, or for anyone to know she’d put herself in the hands of a man who had hurt her, the exact same way her stepfather had. But now it was too late, and Tryg was convinced she was the selfish princess he’d always been convinced she had been. The only solution was to play along for now, and hope that she could buy herself enough time to find a way out, somehow.