by Freya Barker
This is a damn sweet ride, but I’m not enjoying it half as much as I should, seeing how nervous the boy is.
He knows we’re on our way to Aztec, and why, but he doesn’t trust it. Explaining to him, without going into detail, I’d been hurt too when I was young, and was seeing a therapist myself, helped a little. He does keep glancing sideways at my face.
Stopped at a traffic light, I turn to him. I was in an accident yesterday. And I got banged up, but I was lucky.
He doesn’t respond, just turns to look back out the window, and I need my hands to drive, so for most of the trip, we’re each lost in our thoughts. It’s not until I park in front of the clinic, that he taps my arm and signs.
Was he there?
Jesus. Had I known where his head would go seeing my face, I’d have made an effort to cover it up with makeup.
Who? Ouray? No, Cody—this was a car accident. My Jeep is totaled. Ouray wasn’t even around, I quickly explain.
Ahiga. My name is Ahiga.
APPARENTLY NOSH IS grilling tonight, and he’s doing it big.
I can smell the meat smoking from the road and by the time Ouray backs the bike into his spot, my mouth is watering even though I got the kid and me some donuts for the drive back.
He had been mostly quiet, although he did mention liking his therapist, and conceded to going back in two weeks. I wasn’t going to push it, because I know only too well how emotionally taxing these sessions can be. I doubt she dug very deep, his first time there, but her thumbs-up at me when we left was encouraging.
“You look hot,” Ouray says appreciatively, looking me up and down—again—when I get off the bike.
I almost killed him when I found him outside in his driveway, rubbing gravel on my new boots. “Makin’ them look authentic,” was his explanation. Apparently this is something he does with his own stuff. He doesn’t like new, not even his bikes, the one exception being his Traverse. He also had my chaps out there, but those I snagged before he could mess those up.
I’m wearing the boots, one of my new pairs of jeans—those were already artificially ripped and roughed up, not Ouray’s doing—and I have on one of the shirts he got me. The Harley one, I had to draw the line at the tits shirt. My hair is in two braids, and he tied that do-rag back around my head. I’m looking the part and I have to admit, I like this.
The only annoying thing is the bruising on my face that I didn’t quite manage to hide with concealer.
“Quit rubbing your face, you look great,” he tells me when I take off my helmet.
“People are gonna ask.”
Apparently that’s funny, because he snorts loudly. “Fat chance. Even if they were visible—which they’re not,” he emphasizes with a sharp look. “Not like they’ve never seen a woman with bruises before. You may have noticed we try not to get into anyone else’s business.”
I’m not quite sure I like the implication of that, but now’s not the time to argue. Cody—guess I really should start calling him Ahiga—is running up, already moving his hands at warp speed.
Nosh is cooking lots of meat, but it won’t be ready for another two hours. Can we go practice?
I throw a quick glance at Ouray who shrugs. “Got your stuff here?”
“I think I left my gym bag here last time. Should be in your room.”
To the boy he says, Give us fifteen minutes. Gonna say hello and Luna has to change. You can go on ahead.
Ahiga gives him a thumbs-up and runs in the direction of the garage.
“I know it’s too soon, but it’s almost like he’s a little easier around you,” I observe, looking after him.
“Had a talk with him yesterday morning. Damn kid, at first he wouldn’t come into my office, just stood in the door. It took me almost half an hour to coax him inside, and only then with the promise the door would stay open. I had to ask him if he wanted to stay, if I could make that happen. Goddammit, Sprite, you shoulda seen his face. I don’t wanna disappoint him.”
If I wasn’t already falling for this man, that glimpse of vulnerability would surely tip me over the edge.
I slip my hand in his and follow him inside.
IT’S DIFFICULT TRYING to instruct Ahiga with my gloves strapped to my hands, but luckily he can read lips.
“Lift your hands, keep your face covered, even after you land a punch. You’re dropping them.”
He was eager to go a round in the ring, so I fit him with my sparring headgear. He was grinning from ear to ear as he started throwing punches. Landing one in my ribs, where I already had a nice sized bruise, the grin only got bigger, but it evaporated when I tapped him easily on the side of his helmet.
“Why don’t you go clean up,” I suddenly hear Ouray’s voice behind me. “I’ll take him through a few steps with the blocking pad until it’s time for dinner.” I hadn’t heard him come in.
I strip off my gloves and turn to the boy. You okay with that? Ouray taking over for a bit? I’m a little sore. You’ve got a mean jab.
He does his best to hide the smug grin at the compliment, but fails, nodding his agreement. I do a little internal fist pump at his easy capitulation. It’s a pretty big show of trust.
“I’ll help,” one of the cubs, Wapi, who must’ve wandered in behind Ouray, offers up. “I can hold the pad, so you can use your hands,” he suggests to his chief.
I slip between the ropes and drop down from the platform, planning to sneak out, but Ouray catches me for a knee-buckling kiss.
“Make sure you lock both the bathroom and office doors before you have a shower,” he mumbles, his lips still on mine.
“Why your office?”
“Don’t wanna run the chance of anyone barging in on you, and I don’t want you to walk out on anything. Gonna need to fucking fumigate that room before I’ll ever sleep in there again.”
My confusion shows on my face. “Not sure what you mean.”
“Let’s just say, Red and his woman like to go at it all the motherfucking time, and seem to enjoy extra players on the field.”
It takes me a minute, but when I clue in a heated blush spreads over my cheeks.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
It’s not until much later—after another noisy clubhouse party, complete with fisticuffs between one of the Mesa guys and Paco that had to be broken off—that I have a chance to satisfy my curiosity.
I’m straddling Ouray’s lap, who’s leaning with his back against the headboard. My breath is shallow and my skin is sticky from the explosive orgasm he just gave me. He held me up with his big hands on my ass, and with his heels planted in the mattress, powered up inside me. That was after he’d made me come the first time with his mouth.
I could shoot myself. So many years I’ve let myself be robbed of this fast addicting feeling of utter bliss. Although I’m pretty sure it’s all about Ouray being the one to introduce me to all these wonderful carnal pleasures.
“So, Red and his wife, they’re into threesomes?”
“Christ, now you come with that? I’m still inside you.”
“I’m just curious.”
“Apparently,” he says with a shudder. “Can’t unsee Yuma come out of that room naked as the day he was born, his fucking dick still half-mast. Gonna need to bleach my brain.”
“Really?”
He pushes me back with his hands on my shoulder and dips his head to look in my eyes. “You’d be into something like that?”
“Me? Two guys? Jesus, Ouray, I—”
“Fuck. Sorry, Sprite, wasn’t thinking.”
“Are you?”
“Hell to the no. Don’t want any guy even near my junk.”
“What if it was another woman?” I push. I know he’s had way more experience than I’ll probably ever have in my lifetime, but I ask anyway.
He lifts his hands and cups my face. “Lord knows I’m not a choirboy. Yeah, I’ve done some crazy shit in my younger years, experimented plenty when I was mostly too drunk to care. I can barely
remember any of it, but I can promise you, I’ll never forget the first taste of your lips.”
His words warm me, but still I shiver lightly as my damp skin cools down. Without moving us, he pulls the covers up to my shoulders.
“Still cold?”
“No. This is nice. Unless you want me to get off? Am I getting too heavy?” I can feel the vibration of laughter against my ear.
“Hardly. I may be gettin’ up on fifty, but I’m pretty sure I could strap you to my back and carry you around for a day.”
“Mmm. Mind if I pass?”
I listen to his heartbeat slowing down in his wide chest, as his hand strokes down my spine. I shift a little, hoping to hold onto his softening cock a little longer.
“Let me take care of the condom.” He lifts me off him, which I’m not particularly happy about, and swings his legs out of bed. “Which is something we need to get fixed soon. I called a clinic in Farmington yesterday. Got us the first appointment Monday mornin’. It’s a twenty minute ride from the diner in Bloomfield where were supposed to meet up. We’ll head out an hour before the others, get me a test, and you a shot at the clinic, and be in time for breakfast.”
“Do I get any say in this?” I sputter, trying to hold onto my temper and not slap at his hand when he palms the back of my head, pressing his forehead to mine.
“I shoulda checked. Just assumed you’d want to feel me inside you as much as I can’t wait to feel your wet heat against my skin.”
Well. Doesn’t that just deflate the head of steam I was working up?
CHAPTER 17
OURAY
“Elk.”
I turn my head in the direction Luna is pointing and sure enough, a small herd is grazing off the side of the road.
Early morning rides in these mountains are the best. There’s no traffic outside of town, the air still smells fresh, and if you’re lucky, you see some wildlife. With overnight temperatures dropping as summer moves into fall, your chances are better, as they slowly come out of the cool shade of the trees to find food in preparation for winter.
I used to prefer taking off by myself, but having Luna’s warm body plastered against my back as the wind hits my face, is fast becoming my preferred way of riding.
Earlier, we dropped off our bags at the clubhouse. Momma was already up and cooking, insisting we at least have a bite before hitting the road. Luna had driven over our stuff in the pickup, so Momma or Nosh could use that since the club truck would be coming to Ruidoso with us.
I gave instructions to the guys, leaving Kaga in charge, but I’m not sure how much of what I said registered—both because of the early-for-them hour, plus Luna seemed to provide a bit of a distraction.
I have to admit, she looks hot as fuck in her leathers. Hard to believe that only a month ago, she was dressed to minimize her appeal, and yet all decked out in black leather, she looks badass and more beautiful than ever.
The drive to Farmington is just over an hour, and we get there a little before nine. The wait isn’t long before we’re called in.
“The shot is effective immediately,” the nurse says, after injecting Luna with the contraceptive. “But your test reports will take two or three days. I can mail them to you if you leave me your address?”
“Do you give results over the phone?” I ask, eager to get my all-clear. My question makes Luna shuffle uncomfortably beside me.
The nurse smiles a knowing smile, looking from one to the other. “You can call Wednesday afternoon to see if they’re in yet.”
I snatch up a card and shove it in my pocket.
“Obvious much?” Luna hisses under her breath as we walk out of the clinic.
“Sprite, it’s fucking Planned Parenthood. It was obvious the second we walked in the damn door.”
The effects of the muffin Momma fed us this morning are long gone, and I’m starving as we head over to Sonya’s Diner in Bloomfield. We’re about a third of the way there on Highway 64, when a couple of police cruisers with lights and sirens, speeding toward us, suddenly cut across traffic and into the parking lot of a small industrial building. Just as we turn south on the 550, another cruiser and a fire truck fly by. Clearly something’s going on.
The parking lot of the diner is nearly full—mostly bikes. I’m guessing the Shiprock crew’s rolled in as well. We walk in to loud greetings and shoulder claps in the crowded diner. The only available spots are a couple of stools at the counter.
“Wanna sit there or should I kick a few guys out of the booth?” I ask Luna, who looks a little overwhelmed by the sea of facial hair and leather. Much like the poor waitresses, who already look frazzled with the demand.
“There is fine.”
Luna takes the stool next to Lea, Kaga’s old lady, and the two immediately start up a conversation, leaving me free to look around the diner. Wheels catches my eye and motions me over. I hold up a finger for him to hang on, and quickly place my and Luna’s breakfast orders, before making my way over.
“What’s with all the bacon out there? I can still hear the sirens,” Wheels asks quietly, leaning over the table.
“Not sure. Saw two pulling into a strip mall along the 64 when we were coming from Farmington.”
“That on the south side? Not the Ace Hardware was it?”
“The one before that.”
“Shit. That’s old Eddie Burchfield’s Gun Emporium. Fire?”
“Didn’t look like one. I didn’t stick around to see.”
Wheels chuckles. “Prob’ly smart. Wouldn’t mind knowing what’s goin’ on, though.”
“Small town, I wanna bet we’ll know before we roll out.”
The old man holds up his mug at a passing waitress.
“Coffee?” she asks me after giving him a refill.
“I’ve got one getting cold over there.” I push off the table and turn to Wheels. “Don’t wanna leave her alone too long. Too many goddamn vultures here.”
I can hear him cackle behind me as I make my way back to where fucking Manny is leaning over Luna.
“Back off, Salinas.”
Ignoring me, he bends to whisper something in Luna’s ear and a red mist bleeds into my view.
“Easy, Chief,” I hear Paco behind me. Before I can take action, however, Manny suddenly bends over, mutters a few choice curse words under his breath, and backs into me. I shove him to the side, and note that he’s using both hands to cup his package. When I look up at Luna, she shoots me a jaunty wink.
Right. I’m the one with the woman who’s clearly capable of protecting herself.
“You oughta teach your bitch some respect, hermano,” Manny hisses, and I swing back on him, getting into his space.
“Only to those who deserve it. Didn’t take long for your true face to show, now did it?” I feel Paco at my back and sense a crowd forming around us. “And don’t call me your brother—you turned your back on being a brother years ago.”
With that I step past him and take my seat beside Luna, ignoring the scuffle behind me.
“Jesus,” Luna whispers under her breath. “He was going for his gun.”
“I know. There’s a real hothead under all that charm. The guys’ll calm him down. What’d you do to him?” I ask her, an eyebrow raised.
Her mouth twitches before she answers, “A sac squeeze ’n twist. Very effective for up close encounters.”
“I can see that.” I shake my head and grin into my cold coffee.
LUNA
That got tense in a hurry.
A diner full of bikers takes some time to look after, so when Ouray got the bill settled, I follow him outside. Don’t want to be at the center of another session of chest pounding.
He leans his butt on his bike and lights a smoke. “Sorry about that.”
“Not your monkey,” I tell him with a shrug. “Besides, it’s always kind of fun to watch the shock on their faces when they realize I’m not copping a feel.”
He snorts. “Jesus, Sprite, you’re something else.”
“What’s with the guy anyway? I mean, I get he’s a player, but I have the sense that scene back there had less to do with me and more with pissing you off.”
“Yeah. There’s some history.”
He’s not exactly volunteering information so I push. “I remember you called him Mico back in Durango?”
“His road name before he left the Arrow’s Edge. Wasn’t the friendliest parting of ways, but we’ve managed to stay civil. For the most part.”
“Was his beef with you or the club?” I probe, keeping an eye on the police cruiser slowing down and pulling into the parking lot.
“Same thing. Let’s just say he wasn’t happy with the club’s new direction.”
“You mean going legit?” My eyes slide back to the cop who’s still behind the wheel of his car.
“If you’re looking at Manny for the robberies, you should also look at Red—Yuma and he have been friends for a long time, and Red made no bones he was not happy when I took the gavel instead of his buddy. Even Wheels, he may look harmless, but he’s one of the most ruthless and feared MC leaders in the Four Corners area.” I have a hard time seeing the old man in that role, but I guess if I’ve learned one thing in my association with Ouray and his club, it’s appearances can deceive.
The sound of a car door closing has Ouray turn around and me look up. The officer is stalking straight for us.
“Morning, folks. Can I ask what y’all are doing here?” The tone is none too friendly.
“Breakfast,” Ouray snaps, his hackles up right away. I put a calming hand on his arm and turn to the cop.
“Morning yourself. As my boyfriend just mentioned, we stopped for breakfast, met up with some friends, and we’re off shortly to Ruidoso for the bike rally there.” My shy smile and slight ramble are as fake as a three-dollar bill, but will hopefully function as a lightning rod for the already charged atmosphere.
“I see. You wouldn’t happen to mind if I checked your saddlebags, would you?” He aims at Ouray again who bristles beside me. At this rate I’ll be pulling my badge soon, even though I’d prefer not to wave that piece of information around.