A Ride or Die Kind of Love

by Chelsea Camaron

  For some reason, he’d yet to get a tattoo on his chest—as far as I knew—but he did have the Lucifer’s Saints insignia on his back: a sneering skull with six horns while the body was a motorcycle surrounded by licking flames.

  What was he doing here?

  I knew he was one of her regulars but I was surprised she’d brought him home to her place. She usually entertained her whole clientele list in Reno at one of the luxuriously built, designated hotels. I suppose he was considered special, and therefore received the royal treatment.

  I turned around and my eyes wandered toward hers. They met her gorgeous face and her olive skin immediately turned crimson in color as her amber eyes widened in surprise and the shame became palpable as her shoulders slumped and she began to play with her long silky dark hair to hide her face from me.

  I quickly looked away, embarrassed by the awkward encounter myself, bent down to retrieve me keys and quickly slid the key into the lock but not fast enough.

  Chiara whispered, “Night. See ya next time,” and closed the door in his face before he could say anything further.

  I was too drunk to do anything with any grace and I immediately smelled him before I sensed him behind me.

  He’d showered and smelled of expensive body wash for men and Camel cigarettes. My heart thudded in my chest and my breathing became erratic. I didn’t want to be this close to him. It’d been a long time I’d been this close to him at all.

  This sucked and there was nothing I could do about it especially when his hand touched mine and I snatched it away as if he’d burned me. Cillian easily turned the key and opened the door to my condo.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled as he took the key out of the lock and held my keychain in his hand.

  He wouldn’t give them back until I faced him and I didn’t want to do that. I couldn’t do that and hope to live with myself. There was too damn much history between us and we’d both caused one another pain. Why did he want to fuel the fire? Did he enjoy hurting me—and himself in the process—that much?

  I tried in vain to calm myself down as I whipped around to face him and my chignon, barely holding itself together, drooped. Cillian reached out and undid the pins from my hair before it fell around my shoulders and back in long waves.

  “Where’re youse comin’ from at this time of the night, Ms. Jackson?” he inquired in a brogue Irish accent he’d picked up from the five years he’d stayed in Belfast.

  It was actually kind of funny because Belfast changed the both of us but his was much more apparent than mine. He’d gone from a lanky, all-American teenager to a grown man with all the mannerisms of a genuine native to Belfast.

  “Kyra’s,” I explained though I didn’t owe him any explanation at all. “I had one glass of Pinot Noir too many but I’m fine. What the fuck are you doing here with Chiara? Don’t get me wrong—I know you’ve been seein’ her on the sly for a while now. What? Are the Saint slappers not doin’ it for you anymore you have to pay to get laid, Mr. Cox? I honestly never thought I would see the day you would have to pay for pussy. It’s quite funny in a twisted, ironic way.”

  Cillian filled my doorway with his presence as he looked me up and down with clear crystal blue eyes. “She knows what I like and I enjoy her company. I’d actually be with any woman—no matter the cost—if she helped me forget about you for five fookin’ minutes and Chiara does that quite well.”

  I’d suddenly gone from being hot and bothered to ice-cold within two seconds flat. “How nice for her. What do you want and can you please vacate my condo so I can close the door?”

  He leaned in closer to me and I looked at the rings on his fingers that were an “L” and an “S” in sterling silver, one on his middle finger and one on his ring finger. He’d never worn a wedding ring though everyone knew he had an old lady and a skanky one at that who should be a Saint Slapper instead of married to the VP. However it wasn’t any of my business and everything between us was murky, dark, diseased and polluted water under a sagging, dilapidated bridge.

  No use trying to change the past now when it is etched into me like the silly tattoo I have left like a scar on the small of my back.

  “I would love to get out of your space but one, I’m not in your condo and two, I need you to invite me in.” His blue eyes searched my face though I refused to look at him directly because to be honest, I couldn’t.

  My short, manicured nails dug into my palms as I balled my hands into fists. “Just…leave it alone and go home, Cillian. You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Listen, I would go home and I realize you hate me but…we have to talk.”

  The tone of his voice pulled my eyes back to his face and it’s only then I witnessed the pain and anguish within him. He looked miserable as hell and although I despised him with all my might, I knew I never had a choice to begin with if I was being honest with myself.

  “Fine, come in,” I reluctantly said before I turned my back on him and walked to my bedroom as I heard the door slam and the deadbolt click into place.

  Chapter Three

  Cillian

  Cillian knew how odd Gisela found it for him to be in her condo but he needed to get all this shit off his chest because if everything went down the way he thought it would, he would need a good attorney. He’d have to convince her beforehand to represent him and that in turn made her an accessory to his future crime.

  He hadn’t gone to law school like she had but he knew enough about the law to know what he was doing was highly dangerous for the both of them. This was a seductive game of cat and mouse and he wanted her so badly, he would have her anyway he could get her, even if it was under the worst circumstances.

  The position he would place her in couldn’t be much harder than worst case scenario and he hated what it would do to her but she needed to know.

  Cillian looked around her condo and noticed the hard wood floors with liberally spread Persian carpets, understated yet elegant furniture and a view to die for though there wasn’t much to see at the moment except the twinkling of lights that barely illuminated the McMansions on this side of the lake.

  Beyond the lake were trees and the wind blew outside, bitter and cold. Soon, there would be snow and he wasn’t looking forward to that. It was a bitch to ride a motorcycle on snowy roads and he would have to rely more on his truck to get him around unless it was official Club business. However, even then it wasn’t safe to drive them and better to load his in his Ford F-150.

  He didn’t even have to turn around to know she’d walked back into the living room. She was barefoot and wore a pair of silk pajamas. Her breasts were freed from the bra; he could see her nipples harden as she avoided his gaze and grabbed an ashtray from the kitchen counter.

  “Take your shoes off and sit down. Obviously, it’s serious and this is gonna take a while.”

  He took off his shitkickers and left them next to the front door before he strolled to the wrap-around sofa and sat beside her but made sure he kept his distance. The last thing he needed to do was spook her.

  Her amber eyes looked into his own as she grabbed a joint out of her cigarette case and lit it. She dragged from it before she handed it to him.

  “When did you start smoking bud?” Cillian knew he didn’t have any room to judge her—he wasn’t known as “The Killer” for nothing—but something about her was different and it was the first time he’d been able to notice it up close and personal.

  It wasn’t like they never saw one another. There were various functions each year that brought them into one another’s vicinity but at the same time, neither went out of their way to talk to the other.

  Gisela wasn’t the angry and loud type. She’d always been quiet, innocent and so dangerously beautiful. He felt touching her, he’d tarnished her somehow because he wasn’t fit to breathe the same air as her. She was, without a doubt, an infinitely better person than he could ever hope to be.

  It never stopped him from fucking her every chance they’d gotten when they w
ere teenagers and he had to have every inch of her. He needed them to be connected in every way and they were whether they wanted to admit it or not. They shared a child and at one time, they’d been inseparable but that seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “Don’t worry about my chronic habit.” Her voice was feminine yet strong. “I don’t do anything harder and I’m not going about flashin’ my pussy to every available man so mind your own fuckin’ business. I already have a father—I don’t need a second one.”

  Cillian couldn’t help but smile before he dragged from the joint and held the smoke in his lungs as long as possible before he exhaled.

  “I didn’t mean to raise your hackles, darlin’. You were another person when we were together—”

  “Yeah that was long motherfuckin’ time ago, Cillian.” She smiled wryly as she mispronounced his name on purpose.

  The first time they’d met, she stared at him as if he were the devil himself and wondered out loud, “You’re Cillian Cox? My dad would kill me if he knew you were offering me a ride into Pine Bluff.”

  “My name’s pronounced Kill-e-an,” he’d told her. “It’s an old Irish name and I get shit from the teachers all day pronouncing it with a soft ‘C’ when it’s pronounced like it would be spelled with a ‘K.’”

  Those were fun times, innocent times but certainly not the present. He handed her back her joint.

  “Listen, I know you didn’t come here for sex because obviously you and Chiara did more than talk…what’s goin’ on?”

  Cillian needed to do something with his hands. He reached into his pocket and grabbed his pack of Camels. After he freed one from the pack, he lit it with his Zippo and dragged hungrily. “Are you sure you want to know? I mean…I don’t even know why I’m tellin’ you when…you could be disbarred.”

  “Then don’t tell me.” Gisela stood; he reached out and grabbed her arm with sheer instinct.

  Her skin was warm, soft and she smelled delicious, like vanilla and amber mixed together. Her scent was so palpable, he could smell it over the cigarette and marijuana smoke.

  “Spit it out, Cillian. Is it Club business?”

  He nodded as he exhaled cigarette smoke from his nostrils. “I gotta tell you somethin’ and I know you’re bound by attorney-client privilege—”

  “The Club employs Jackson and Hughes but I’m not your attorney.” She dragged from her joint and sat back down. “What’s up?”

  Cillian reached into his pocket and peeled off twenty one-hundred-dollar bills. “It’s all the cash I have on me.”

  “Fine, I’m now your attorney and whatever you tell me falls under attorney-client privilege.” Gisela glared at him with annoyed amber eyes. “So, what the fuck is goin’ on?”

  “Tomorrow night…I’m gonna kill a man…and eventually, his death will lead back to me. Promise me, you’ll represent me in court.”

  She dragged on her joint one last time before she put it out in the ashtray and ran her hands through her hair. “You don’t have to do it—”

  “Yeah, I do.” He took another drag on his cigarette before he stubbed it out in the same ashtray. “It’s the only way Dizzy will allow me to leave Brianna.”

  The look on Gisela’s face was priceless as she met his eyes with her own inquisitively. “You’re…leaving Brianna?”

  “It’s no secret she’s the biggest Saint Slapper and she happens to be married to me, Gisela. I look weak with her by my side. She won’t get the kids but she will be leaving Northern Nevada. I’ll relocate her ass to Vegas or L.A.—wherever the fuck she wants to go as long as it’s not around here.”

  For a moment, he thought he saw a look of relief in her eyes but it was short lived as she stood and began to pace. “Why are you telling me this if you want me to represent you? Is this some kind of emotional blackmail?”

  “What?” Cillian watched her body as she continued to pace before she stopped and looked directly at him with tear-filled amber eyes.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about!” she exclaimed before she threw herself against the sofa. “I have to save you because I have no choice. You are our son’s father after all, even if we don’t have him. What kind of…biological parent…would I be if I allowed my own kid’s father to go to prison for the rest of his life?”

  He scooted closer to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He expected her to pull away from him but she didn’t; she held her face in her hands and shook her head repeatedly.

  “I’m not doin’ this ‘cause of Conan, Sela.” It was his pet name for her and he hadn’t used it in over thirteen years but he thought it was fitting now. “He doesn’t know us therefore all we were…all we are in his eyes are sperm and egg donors. Kian and Alannah are his parents—not us. I would never guilt you into doing something you didn’t want to do.”

  Gisela buried her face in the crook of his neck. “Then why did you tell me? I would have defended you if you said you killed Christ himself and I hate myself for that…but I hate you more.”

  Cillian didn’t know what to say as the wetness of her tears felt warm before they quickly cooled and felt cold against his skin. “I know you do, darlin’…and you have every reason to…doesn’t mean I don’t love youse with every bone in my body. I would still take a bullet or catch a fookin’ grenade for you, baby. That’s how much I still think about ya and love ya.

  “I know…I use women. I just got done fuckin’ Chiara but I would take it all back to spend just one night in your bed. You know I would. You’re the one who made it clear to me you wanted nothing to do with me—with us. I did what any sixteen year old kid would do. I moved on and Brianna was there, wantin’ me and seducing me with those gorgeous gray eyes and that dark ginger hair. How was I supposed to know you’d ever speak to me again when I betrayed your trust?”

  “We hurt each other.” Gisela pulled away slightly and he felt her eyes on his profile. “I can’t let you take all the credit. I just wanted out…I thought at one time that it was possible. I was stupid and naïve. I didn’t want to live this…life…and I sure as hell never wanted it for my children. I wanted to live what I thought was a normal one with parents who were executives and respectable. The problem is our way of life enables white-collar criminals to skate by and they never pay for their crimes but our kind always do.”

  “What do you mean by our kind?” He turned toward her and though he didn’t move his arm. Who knew when she would be vulnerable enough to ever let him hold her again?

  “I mean people like your dad and my father. We’re considered the scum of society because of what we do. I release drug dealers, murderers, pimps and gang members back into society. I am actively fighting against the war on crime, and I don’t see anything wrong with my job what so ever. You’re more than an ‘ordinary decent criminal,’ Cillian. You are part of an MC and murder people like you take a dump. In fact, do you ever think about the lives you’ve ended?”

  Cillian’s crystal blue eyes stared into hers and with coldness and precise calculation, he said, “No, never. If I did, I’d drive myself mad. I have to think if there is a…God…maybe I’ll get what’s comin’ to me one of these days. But until that day happens, I’ll do what I do best and whether you believe me or not, Sela, I’m the best. There is a reason why they nicknamed me ‘The Killer.’ I am one and I have no qualms about what it is I do. It’s not on me to fix what’s fucked up with society and yet, I don’t see how I personally make it any worse either. The people I’ve murdered…most were infinitely worse than me and the world doesn’t mourn them. They got what was comin’ to ‘em.”

  She smiled slightly. “I always did love your honesty.”

  “So, about tonight…”

  “What about it?”

  Cillian yawned out loud. “I’m mighty tired. Please don’t make me drive all the way back to Birch Tree tonight. I don’t think I can stand to see Brianna…not now.”

  “You can stay over and I won’t even put you on the sofa if you do me one fav
or.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Take another shower and brush your teeth. I have some extra toothbrush heads in the cabinet for my Sonicare toothbrush and there should be some spare men’s boxers around.”

  Cillian opened his mouth to object as she stood and held her hands up. “I don’t give a crap if you showered over at Chiara’s house but I am not sleeping in the same bed as a man who just crawled out of a whore’s bed. Sorry, it’s not how I roll, Cillian, and you oughta know that.”

  “Chiara is an escort—a highly expensive one at that—and she’s one of the cleanest women I have ever met. If I were you, I’d be more worried about me sleeping with my old lady.”

  Gisela stopped walking and turned around to face him. “If you’d come from fucking her, you wouldn’t get in my bed, no matter how tired you were.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Sorry, love, you know how I’m all about the truth.” She smiled before she disappeared into the bedroom.

  Cillian approached her hallway bathroom and closed the door behind him.

  He thought it was sick how he’d just finished fucking another woman less than two hours previously and his cock was ready to go again.

  How could he not have these thoughts when he was about to crawl into bed with the beautiful and untouchable Gisela Jackson? His first love and the woman who’d obliterated his heart until he didn’t think he’d ever be capable of loving another person again?

  To this day, although he had love for his brothers and sisters, he only loved his children as much as he loved Gisela and this was a major transgression on his part.

  The Club came first before everything. Love the man, you have to love the Club—no ifs, ands or buts; and the old ladies got that.