All of a sudden, his radar pinged loud in the back of his head. He swung around in time to see the redhead with the fake tits sliding into his booth with a sly grin on her gloss-covered lips. Great, the Instagram queen hadn’t taken the hint. He bristled inwardly and scooted away so she wouldn’t have any doubts about his level of interest.
“Wow, nice leather.” Painted fingertips reached out and stroked his cut. “I bet that badass Harley is yours in the parking lot. Am I right?” She cocked her head to the side. “Who’s your gang?”
Irritation pricked his skin. She acted like she had him all figured out and was ready to sign up to be his old lady or some shit. Not tonight, not any night. Flux wasn’t having it.
He caught her wrist with one hand and cleared his throat. “MCs are clubs—not gangs. You’re wasting your time. Move on and find someone else.”
Their eyes met, and then she blinked back at him as that high-glossed mouth opened and closed a few times before he let her wrist go, leaving her hand suspended in the air until it fluttered back down into her lap.
“Come on, baby,” she said, sliding closer to him. “Do you want me to play hard-to-get, is that it? I know what bikers like.” She arched her back, thrusting her tits out even further. “Don’t you like what you see?” She giggled, the sound cutting through him like broken glass.
Fuck … she’s a trashy redheaded Barbie.
“Buy me a drink and you can tell me about your club.”
Flux hailed Cassie over to the table with a sharp wave.
“A shot of Jack.”
The waitress shifted from foot to foot and looked at the grinning biker groupie who wanted to take a walk on the wild side that night. Cassie threw Flux a questioning look.
“She’s leaving.” He drained the last of his beer and handed it to her. “Bring me another one of those too.”
“Will do.” Cassie walked away.
The redhead huffed. “I can’t believe you! There’s not one man in here who wouldn’t kill to be with me.” She slid out of the booth.
“Yeah there is, sweetheart—me. Why don’t you peddle your wares at that table?” He pointed to Chet and the other bull riders.
“You’re a jerk—a real asshole.”
Flux stared straight ahead. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
The woman shoved the table at him and stalked away then headed straight for Chet’s.
Flux snorted and banged down the shot of whiskey.
CHAPTER TWO
Flux
Flux ignored the dagger-like stares the redhead kept throwing at him. Being rude wasn’t his go-to method with chicks unless they didn’t catch-the-fuck-on that he wasn’t interested. He’d told the groupie he wasn’t, so it wasn’t his damn problem if she thought he was simply talking out of his ass.
He shifted his gaze back over to the jukebox and saw that Blondie was still standing there, moving her hips in rhythm to some country song. He’d have preferred some hard-hitting music from Five Finger Death Punch, but having grown up in a house where country music was the norm, he loved the music from Alan Jackson, Brad Paisley, and a number of other country-western singers.
At that moment, all his attention was hyper-focused on Blondie’s swaying body. The song ended, then a country ballad came over the speakers and swallowed up all the other sounds in the joint. Flux recognized it but couldn’t remember who the hell sang the song. He slid out of the booth and made his way over to her when another guy swooped in and tipped his cowboy hat at her, which made Flux bristle and scowl. There was no way in hell he was going to let this guy near Blondie—at least for that night. She took a couple of small steps backward, and Flux saw his opening, so he didn’t hesitate.
“You wanna take a spin?” he asked, coming between the frowning dude and the woman who’d been teasing his dick since he’d first seen her earlier that night. Flux tipped his head toward the small scuffed-up dance floor that was packed with couples. “Looks like we’ll have to compete for space.”
While the guy walked away, Flux couldn’t take his gaze off the woman in front of him, who was boldly eyeing him up and down while rubbing a finger across her chin as if she was considering it.
“Sure, why not?” She laughed, a sound so big and bold that it made him grin, which was something he rarely did in earnest.
Up close and under the soft overhead lights, she was a knockout, and Flux stood still and took in her beauty.
“So are you just going to stare at me, or are we gonna dance? You did ask me, right?”
Her sauciness caught him off guard; at the same time, her boldness turned him way the hell on. Now, here was a chick with some balls.
Without answering her, Flux took her hand and led them to the dance floor. The second their fingertips brushed, a tugging line of awareness pulled taut along every inch of his body. It must be the booze and the weed. He ignored the other option that it might have been her altogether and wrapped his arms around her tiny waist and stared down into her eyes as his pulse quickened. Even through the haze of the damn fog machine, her eyes were stellar. They were grayish blue and sparkled like storm clouds right before lightning hit. Her features were delicate, regal even: high cheekbones, small nose, short and narrow jaw, clear and smooth skin. And her lips were so full and pink. Fuck …
“What’s your name, Duchess?”
She laughed and shook her head, then rolled her eyes.
“If you can mock me, you can at least have the guts to admit who’s doing the ball busting.”
She grinned up at him like the cat that ate the canary. When her hands tightened along the back of Flux’s neck and she leaned slightly closer to him, he did his best to keep the smirk off his face. She wasn’t in the bag yet, and something told him she wouldn’t be his typical catch and release. She held herself poised in his arms as her soft scent wrapped around him. It smelled like a cotton shirt that was fresh from the dryer, and it was playing havoc with his cock.
“‘Duchess works just fine,” she said with her lips pressed close to his ear. Her warm breath only added to the strain behind his zipper. “What else do you have for me, smooth talker?”
Flux pulled back a bit and let all the depraved things he wanted to do to her fill his eyes while they locked gazes, and a slow, lazy smile tilted up one side of his mouth.
“Duchess, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
“I bet I haven’t.” She ran the tip of her fingernail down the side of his face while she pressed closer against him. “I bet you’re a real regular with the ladies, aren’t you, Casanova? A little rough around the edges and that bad boy vibe makes all the women swoon and want to drop their panties for you. Am I right?”
Flux cocked his head. “Why do you assume I think every woman wears panties?” He stroked his finger across her lower back. “Although, if we’re going to go there, it would be better to get your name first, so I can write you a thank you note in the morning.”
Duchess laughed again, throwing her head back so her neck arched in a line that led his attention right to her perfect tits, where her cleavage showed through the neck of her baby blue tank top. His jaw clenched as a ripple of arousal shot right to his crotch and threw him so hard and so damn sharp, he nearly lost his footing. Fuck—this woman kept him on his toes.
The song wound down, but neither of them pulled apart from each other. Flux kept his fingers gently grazing her flesh through her tank top while she stared up at him as if she was trying to get a read on him. He wished her luck on that one; she would see only what he wanted her to see and nothing more.
“Buy me a drink, big guy.” She unhooked her arms from around his neck and crooked her finger at him as she cut through the gathering crowd and headed to the bar.
Normally, Flux didn’t take orders from chicks, but there was something intriguing about this woman. She sparked something in him that was pushed deep down inside. No one had ever done that in the past six years. He followed her delicious, wiggling ass until he was pre
ssed next to her with one of his elbows on the bar, the other against hers—skin to skin.
“Two Irish Car Bombs,” she said to the bartender, then turned to Flux and put her hand out for payment.
His eyebrows popped up and a deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Put it on my tab,” he shouted at the bartender above the noise. “Certainly think you’re entitled, don’t you, Duchess?”
She pivoted and leaned in close, so her tits pressed against his side and her lips brushed against his ear. “The secret is to go for what you know you can get. Everything after that … it’s cake,” she whispered.
The intimate contact nearly made him pull her hair back and claim her mouth as he ground against her. Her warmth seeped into his bones, and he kept his gaze locked on those plump lips.
“Oh, yeah?” Flux ran his hand up her back, and satisfaction coursed through him when he felt her shiver under his touch.
For a long pause they held each other’s gaze, then she drew back and reached for her drink. “You want to race?”
Her eyes shined with playfulness, and he found himself nodding as they downed and chugged their drinks like he was back, prospecting in the clubhouse. With a wince, he slammed his glass down on the bar. Her smile only grew brighter as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“I think that was a tie,” she said, right before a hiccup slid out of her mouth and she covered it with her hand. A deep red flush shot up from her chest and into her cheeks as she removed her hand, bit her lip, and trailed a finger on the bar in idle circles while she looked away from him. Duchess was clearly embarrassed, and it was fucking cute. Flux shook his head. When’s the last time I thought anything was cute? Then a memory slipped past his barriers and stabbed his brain, and he quickly motioned the bartender over and ordered another round of beers without asking.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” she asked as she looked up at him through her thick lashes.
“Nah … I’m trying to get myself plastered.”
Laughing, she moved away from him slightly, and he wanted to yank her back and relish the feel of her soft skin against his again. He’d bet all her curves were soft and supple, and his dick punched against his zipper again. Dammit! This woman intrigued the hell out of him. One minute she was bossing him around like she owned the place, the next, she was as charming as a southern belle with manners. The switch made his head spin in three-sixties. There was no doubt about it—she was definitely different than his normal catch, and he enjoyed the contrast a little bit too much.
She clinked her beer bottle to his, took a long gulp, then leaned into him again to rest her head on his shoulder; that was when he decided it was time to seal the fucking deal.
“It’s too damn noisy in here. Let’s go back to my place, Duchess. I’m staying at the Longhorn Motel.”
There was no point in being subtle since they’d both been flirting up a storm for the last couple of hours. They both knew the score, and she’d definitely given him the signals that she wouldn’t be adverse to having some fun behind closed doors.
“The Longhorn? What a coincidence … I’m staying there too. I just got into town today.”
“That’s great. So what do you say?”
“I had fun tonight.”
“Me too.” Flux put the empty bottle on the bar. “But tonight isn’t over yet.”
She smiled up at him as if she didn’t have a care in the world, polished off the beer that sat in front of her, then slid the bottle across the bar. “Thanks for the drinks and the dance, but I’m going to pass.” Then she gathered up her purse and walked away, her sweet hips swaying, without even a glance backward. What the hell? He watched her gorgeous ass and killer heels trot right out of the bar and out of his life. The rarity of the moment left him speechless.
This never happened to him … like never. Flux coughed into his fist. Shaking his head, he slammed his hand on the bar. Fuck him for wasting his time with Duchess. Flux looked around to see who he could score with, but all the faces were a blur. He blinked several times, yet everything was still fuzzy. There was no way that should’ve ended like that, their chemistry was insane. The idea that it might be one-sided went right out of his head the second he thought it. He wasn’t an idiot when it came to women, and Duchess had been giving him straight-shooting signals all night.
“Hey, baby. I saw your luck ran out with the stuck-up blonde. You wanna try again with a winner? Come back to my place for another drink?” The redheaded groupie’s voice slurred against the back of his neck.
There was no doubt that this chick was a sure bet, but he didn’t want her or any other woman—he wanted Duchess, plain and simple. Flux scrubbed his face as he tried to figure out why the hell they weren’t already fucking in his bed.
“So what do you say?” Black streaks sat under her eyes.
Flux clasped her shoulder. “Not tonight, but thanks for asking.” Her face fell, and for a split second he felt sorry for her, but he wasn’t the type of guy to give mercy fucks. “Good luck in here though,” he said over his shoulder while he paid his tab.
“You sure ’bout that? You’re missing out on a good time.” The woman swayed toward him and he stepped away.
“I’m sure.” Anywhere a biker went, cut chasers were a dime a dozen, but the idea of boning anyone other than Duchess right now didn’t appeal to him.
Redheaded Barbie stared daggers at him and he pretended not to notice. It wouldn’t be the first or the last time a chick had gotten pissed at him for not wanting to fuck her. It was the way it went. Hell, it had just happened to him with Duchess, and he wasn’t going to worry about it. The way he looked at it, it was her loss—he knew how to please a woman. She’s probably never had a real good fucking in her life. He tipped his head at Cassie, then slipped on his leather jacket and headed out into the dark desert night.
When he parked back at the motel, Duchess’s pickup was parked in the lot. He hated the fact that he had looked for it. Stupid, rookie move. He wondered if she was banging the asshole she’d been fighting with in the parking lot earlier that night. That thought made every muscle in his body tense, and he had the urge to break down her door and give the bastard a severe beatdown. What the hell’s the matter with me? She’s just a piece of ass and nothing more. I don’t give a damn what she does. Flux ran a hand through his hair, breathing out a raspy exhale as he mentally gave himself shit for thinking too much about a woman he didn’t even know and who probably had a jerk boyfriend, which was most certainly the reason she’d blown Flux off. Get your fuckin’ head screwed on straight, man. Flux slammed open the door to his room and rifled through the leaflets on the desk for a list of pizza joints in the area.
He snapped on the television then placed his order and leaned back against the headboard. While he stared at the screen’s images, golden hair and stormy blue eyes clouded his mind.
It was going to be a long night.
CHAPTER THREE
Flux
Flux scrubbed a hand down his face and took another sip of water from his bottle. The late afternoon sun beat at his back, and the idea of hiding out somewhere to take a nap seemed damn appealing, but then it wasn’t as if he ever slept anymore. Not with the nightmares—they were always there waiting to haunt him.
A shiver licked down his spine and his breathing hitched. Vague images pushed their way through the back of his brain and played across his memory like an old VCR tape. All of his muscles tightened on instinct, and reality wavered around him for a second.
No. Fuck, no. He was locking that shit down. Not here. Not now.
The memories threatened to swamp him as he screwed his eyes shut and tried to focus on his breathing. A steady rhythm of in and out—it was some meditative BS he’d picked up in passing, and sometimes it threw the deadbolt back on the stuff that haunted him second to second, heartbeat to heartbeat. His jaw clenched as he vaguely heard the water bottle crunch beneath his fingers.
The goddamn blood.
> There was so much red smeared across the countertops and on the hardwood floor. Pancakes were still sitting out. The griddle was smoking. He remembered thinking that the pancakes must be hard as bricks by now. A weird, detached fragment of a thought. More than a few of them were burned, which was typical for Alicia.
Emily’s toys were still scattered across the living room carpet.
She wasn’t in the room with her mother.
There was only one body lying naked and unseeing on the floor in the kitchen.
Flux grimaced and shook his head. Nothing cleared out the horror scrolling through his brain. Reality ripped into two pieces. He was somewhat aware that someone was speaking to him, but he couldn’t respond. As if he were someone else, he sensed his body lean against the rails of one of the animal pens, head down, while the reality of terror and agony from that day continued to play out before he could rub it away again.
Her limbs were bent at odd angles, her mouth open in a silent scream. One of her hands was formed into a claw, and he swallowed past the horror that prickled across his skin.
Someone’s hand landed on his shoulder, dragging him backward from the kitchen.
He flung himself at them, fighting to stay near Alicia. There were words, soothing at first, and then pissed, but he didn’t hear any of it as his brain snapped and he fired off words of rage and self-hatred. He became a tornado of hate, singularly focused on staying with his wife and their—
“Yo, Flux. You okay?”
The voice shot through him and he struggled to stand up straight and pay attention while the painful memories of his past still clung to him like cobwebs.
“Yeah. I’m … uh, solid,” he rasped out, stumbling as he blinked against the suddenly overwhelming glare of the sun. Bit by bit he clawed back to himself as memories faded into the background where they belonged, and he shoved the lock back on the evils of his past.
Forgiveness Page 2