Aiden: The Lost Breed MC #8

by Ali Parker

  “What a fucking dick.”

  Axel threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah. I knew you’d think so. I won’t be accepting his business again I can tell you that.”

  “What about all his rich friends? Don’t you want more pompous misogynistic ass hats like that coming around your place hitting on Ellie and Jamie?”

  “Watch it,” he warned.

  “Are you telling me you wouldn’t love to watch that happen? Ellie would eat guys like that for breakfast.”

  Axel nodded with a little chuckle. “You’re not wrong there.”

  Poor Cheryl. What was she doing wasting her time with an arrogant waste of space like Price?

  As I stood there watching his SUV disappear down the road I knew one thing for certain. I would see her again and when I did, I’d be trying to figure out what she was doing with that loser.

  Chapter 6

  Cheryl

  With enthusiasm I didn’t feel, I spritzed the kitchen counter with lemon scented disinfectant spray and ran my cloth over it. I’d cleaned the same patch three times over and I would keep cleaning until I sorted through the tumble of emotions scattered through my head.

  ‘It would be a shame to damage a body like that.’

  Those words danced around in my brain like intolerable ballerinas all morning after Vince left for work. Every time another thought came in, it inevitably returned with an even fiercer vengeance, leaving me feeling a little hot and bothered. And terribly confused.

  I loved Vince. I wasn’t supposed to blush and suffer from a rush of butterflies in my stomach when I thought about another man.

  This couldn’t possibly mean I was attracted to the biker, could it?

  I hadn’t expected to see him outside the auto body shop yesterday. His appearance was dramatic in my eyes. He stepped out from the shadow of the shop where I hadn’t even noticed him standing and sauntered over to us without a care in the world. I had no idea what to say to him or how to act, so I clammed up, looked at my feet, and silently pleaded that Vince would want to leave right away.

  Then he’d sent me off without him and hadn’t come home for another two hours.

  I wasn’t stupid. I knew something was afoot.

  This was how it all started last time.

  At first I excused his late returns from work in the evening as him assuming a bigger workload to better our future. I denied any chance that it could be something akin to betrayal, and told myself lies night after night until I genuinely believed them.

  And then I found proof that he was sleeping around on me.

  It was so cliché, too.

  Panties under the bed. A bright red lace thong with a jewel hanging from the straps on the back—right above the ass crack. They were cute, two sizes smaller than mine and unlike anything in my panty drawer.

  These were panties you wore to fuck a guy. And this chick wore them to fuck my guy in my bedroom on my sheets.

  When I confronted him about it he walked out on me. He told me I was full of shit and just insecure because of my weight gain. The catch was that part of it was true. I was insecure. And in the three hours he was gone I let those words sink into my head and I rolled them over and over until I agreed with him. So when he walked back through the front door to find me halfway through a bottle of wine, draped over the sofa and choking on my own snot, I apologized for my behavior.

  For the weight, for my insecurity, for doubting him, and for the way I had obviously pushed him into looking for what he needed in someone else—literally.

  We talked for hours and agreed to put it behind us and move on.

  And in the morning when I woke up he was in the kitchen. He prepared breakfast and coffee and was sweet to me. There was a blue velvet box on the kitchen counter beside the coffee pot, so when I poured myself a cup he pushed it toward me. I opened it to find the diamond bracelet I’d worn every day since.

  A token of regret, love, and second chances.

  At least that’s what I wanted it to be.

  Things were good for a few months. Hell, they were great. It was the way it used to be when we were young and desperately in love. We had a lot of sex, we kissed a lot and he complimented me. He held my hand in public, we went on dates and we shared desserts.

  But soon after our move here I started to notice that he was withdrawing from me again. We’d fallen back into our old routines and he was snappy with me rather than patient, kind and gentle. We didn’t go to bed at the same time and no matter how sexy I dressed he didn’t notice.

  He’d found another woman.

  I wondered who she was.

  Was she blonde like me? Or did he prefer a girl who was my polar opposite?

  Tall, lean like a supermodel, brunette, dark eyed, dark skinned, confident, intelligent. Was she a high power executive who spent most of her day in her own office wearing three thousand dollar power suits? Was she young, naive and innocent? A barista or university student or dental assistant?

  Either way she was real. She was out there.

  Who knows? He might very well be between her thighs right now, pulling her panties aside with his teeth and tasting her—

  I shook my head and threw my cloth down. “Fuck Cheryl. Enough.”

  This wasn’t helping. It was just making me feel angrier.

  Leaving all my cleaning products out on the kitchen counter, I stomped upstairs to change into my jogging leggings and oversized gray sweatshirt. I strapped on my arm band and slid my phone into it before popping in my wireless earphones. Then I selected an upbeat music playlist, put on my running shoes, and marched back out of the bedroom without looking at my reflection in the mirror.

  I knew what there was to see there.

  Absolutely nothing.

  This was why Vince was tempted by other women. Their bodies, all tight and firm—and what mine was before I lost my parents—were all around him and he had to return to me. His plump, squishy, soft girlfriend.

  I needed to seize control of this situation. Just cutting back on my food wasn’t working. Sure, I’d lost a bit of fat around my stomach and dropped a cup size, but it wasn’t enough and the change wasn’t happening as fast as it needed to.

  I was running as soon as my feet hit the driveway.

  This was my future. My dream. I’d be damned if I let some tramp roll in and take everything that was mine out from under me.

  Over my dead body.

  The sweatshirt had been a bad choice. It was hot as sin outside and within five minutes I felt like I was literally going to melt into a puddle on the sidewalk, then drip off the curb into the street and then the storm drain, only to be swept away and never seen or heard from again. Maybe that would make Vince happy.

  I ran faster to run away from thoughts such as that one.

  By the time I’d gone two miles my lungs were on fire, my thighs burned, and I was covered in sweat. I came across a coffee shop with a sidewalk sign out for iced drinks and decided I could get an iced coffee without any sweetener or milk for my walk home.

  If I could keep up with habits like this I’d be slim and trim in no time.

  I pushed in through the front door. A bell chimed above my head and one of the employees looked up from where she was wiping tables and smiled at me as I joined the back of the line.

  We inched forward slowly.

  I wished I could call my mom.

  She’d know how to handle a situation like this. She’d know what to say, what to do, and whether or not I needed her just to listen or if I needed her advice. If I lived back in Georgia she’d come over with a basket of her famous cinnamon apple muffins and we’d make tea and eat at least two each while we talked about everything going on.

  The only version of Vince my mom and dad ever knew was the faithful and trustworthy Vince. The Vince who made me laugh harder than anyone I’d ever met and who never let me pour my own glass of wine.

  My dad wanted me to marry him. Mom wanted me to make babies with him.

  And I still
wanted those things, too.

  But at what cost? Was I fighting for a relationship that would never fulfill me? Would I always be second rate to some other younger, prettier, thinner girl?

  The line inched ahead a bit more. I was dreadfully thirsty.

  If I could lose the weight and keep it off, Vince would be happy to come to bed to me every night. And if he was happy to come to me in our bed, he wouldn’t be looking to hop into that of another woman. He would be mine, as he used to be, and we could focus on us and our future. Maybe then a proposal would be soon to follow.

  We loved each other. I knew that in my soul.

  This was just a rough patch. Every couple had them now and then. They made people stronger.

  Someone tapped me on the shoulder.

  Pulling out an ear bud, I turned around.

  And there he was.

  The biker.

  He stood behind me with a smug smile playing on his lips, then he lifted a hand and scratched at the dark blond stubble along his jaw. “Fancy seeing you here, Benz.”

  It took a moment for me to make my tongue work. It sat heavy and thick in my mouth until I managed to say, “Benz?”

  “You know? Mercedes Benz? Benz, for short,” he shrugged.

  “It’s Cheryl.”

  His smug smile stretched into a positively devilish grin. “I know.”

  I rolled my eyes and put my ear bud back in.

  What were the chances that he’d end up here in this coffee shop right behind me in line? This had to be my third streak of bad luck—car crash, boyfriend cheating on me, ruggedly handsome bad boy biker stalker follows me into a cafe. I’d checked all the boxes. It could only go up from here.

  I made it to the front of the line and ordered an iced coffee. I was about to pay when the biker pushed me aside, ordered himself a hot coffee and two scones, and covered my bill for me.

  “What was that for?” I asked.

  “You’re welcome,” he said as we moved down the line to collect our drinks from the barista.

  “Thank you,” I muttered, even though I didn’t feel very grateful at all.

  He lifted his chin. “You looked like you needed a win today.”

  I blinked at him.

  He chuckled. “Am I wrong?”

  “No. No you’re not wrong at all.”

  “Didn’t think so. Come. We can sit and have a drink together. What do you say?”

  “I really should be going—”

  The barista handed off our coffees and he picked up both. “Just fifteen minutes. I was supposed to bring some iced coffees back to the shop but they can wait. I’d rather spend a bit of time getting to know you, Cheryl. You intrigue me.”

  I licked my lips and glanced at the door. We were in a public place. He was a bad boy, sure, but I didn’t get genuinely bad vibes from him—just rebellious vibes. I shrugged. “Fifteen minutes couldn’t hurt.”

  “That’s the spirit. Let’s grab that window seat before some cafe elitist with their laptop claims it as their own for the next three hours.”

  I giggled and instantly wished I hadn’t.

  I didn’t need this guy thinking I liked him. And I certainly didn’t need him thinking I was attracted to him.

  Because that simply wasn’t true.

  Chapter 7

  Aiden

  Cheryl pulled out the seat opposite mine, adjusted her sweatshirt, and sat down with her knees pressed together and her fingertips pressed to them. She stared out the window as I slid her coffee and scone toward her.

  She glanced down at the paper bag the cashier had given me the scones in. “What’s this?”

  “It’s for you,” I said flatly.

  “Oh. Thank you.”

  I pulled my scone out of the second bag along with the plastic knife and little container of butter and began spreading it on the scone.

  Cheryl pulled the scone out of her bag and nudged the butter container to me. “Use mine if you need more. I don’t eat butter.”

  “Allergy?”

  “No.”

  “Oh,” I said. I left the second butter on the table between us and watched as she broke her scone apart into small pieces on top of the empty paper bag. Then she ate them, picking it apart like a little bird.

  I buttered mine and took big bites which I washed down with gulps of black piping hot coffee.

  “So how long have you lived in New York City?” I asked.

  Cheryl covered her mouth as she chewed and swallowed. Then she pushed the half eaten scone away and crossed one leg over the other. “Only a few weeks.”

  “What do you think so far?”

  “It’s busy.”

  I laughed. “Yes. It is. But aside from that. Do you like it?”

  She nodded slowly. “I do. I haven’t had much time to leave the house. Vince is working full time and I’ve been working on unpacking the house. I only have a few more boxes to go. But the last ones are always the hardest to unpack.”

  I leaned back in my chair and brought my coffee with me. I ran my eyes over her.

  She looked uncomfortable. Her shoulders were drawn inward, her knees still pressed together, and her gaze fell everywhere but upon me. I worried that I intimidated her.

  “Did you ever find out who drove the truck that hit you the other day?” I asked.

  Cheryl nodded. “Vince reported him and the cops called us last night to let us know they tracked the driver down. Vince is walking me through pressing charges for the hit and run and we’ll be reimbursed the money for the repair job your friend did for us. He did a great job, by the way. I can’t believe it’s the same bumper.”

  “Axel’s good at what he does.”

  “Do you work there too?”

  “Sometimes,” I admitted. “When the mood calls for it.”

  “Then what do you do for work?”

  I considered lying. For the most part telling a girl like Cheryl that you were in a biker club didn’t go well. But she was taken anyway so I had nothing to lose. Not really.

  “I’m in a club.”

  “A club?” Cheryl asked with an arched eyebrow.

  I nodded and sipped my coffee.

  “What sort of club?”

  “Have you heard of the Lost Breeds?”

  Cheryl narrowed her eyes. “The motorcycle gang?”

  “Club,” I corrected.

  “Bullshit.”

  I snorted. “What? Do I contradict what you think of when you hear biker?”

  “No.”

  “Then why the disbelief?”

  Cheryl pursed her lips over her straw and sipped her coffee. It was impossible for me to look anywhere but at those pillowy lips as she sucked the dark liquid up the straw. Damn her and what she was unwittingly doing to my cock.

  “A biker is one thing, but you hardly seem like the type to be in a gang.”

  “Club.”

  “Sorry, club.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  She shrugged one shoulder and the collar of her wide neck gray sweatshirt slid off to the side, exposing a bright pink sports bra strap. “I don’t know. You helped me after the accident. You offered a referral to save us money. And you bought a scone for crying out loud.”

  I snorted. “So, let me get this straight. No self-respecting biker should ever be caught dead buying a scone?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “You amuse me,” I chuckled.

  She studied me. Her body language suggested she was relaxing a little bit. Maybe that was because she thought I was lying, and whatever I was into, it couldn’t possibly be as bad as me being in a gang.

  “Can I ask you something?” She cocked her head to the side when she spoke.

  “You can ask me anything.”

  She gave me a coy smile before leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table. “What’s your name?”

  She knew she’d tricked me, and here I was thinking she was about to ask me something naughty.

  “Aiden.”
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br />   “Aiden,” she said, like she was rolling my name around and over her tongue. I had other things she could roll her tongue over if she wanted. But I sensed she was a loyal girl. The sort of girl who had your back in a crowd even when she knew you were wrong. Then she said, “Vinny wouldn’t like me being here with you right now.”

  “Is he your boss or your boyfriend?”

  “Boyfriend.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “He’s a nice man,” she said a little defensively.

  “If you say so.”

  “I do say so. And I would know. I spend the most time with him.”

  I shrugged and drank more of my coffee. “I suppose you would know. I found him intolerable in the five minutes I spent with him outside the shop yesterday. But hey. Whatever floats your boat, right?”

  “You don’t even know him.”

  “You’re right.”

  Cheryl sighed and looked out the window again. Her eyes flicked back and forth as she watched pedestrians go to and fro. I watched her watch them and found my gaze exploring features I hadn’t noticed during the other two occasions we’d met.

  There was a small corner in her right eyebrow. You could only notice when you looked quite closely. The sliver of skin where no hair grew was in the shape of a crescent moon. She also had two dark freckles under her right eye. There were shorter hairs around her hairline that were curling from sweat from her workout.

  As she stared outside one thing became very clear to me. The girl was lost. She gazed outside like she was searching for answers. Little did she know, she was looking in all the wrong places. I’d already searched everywhere out there to answer my own yearnings for more and come up empty time and time again.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  She tore her gaze from the world passing by outside and looked me right in the eyes for the first time since we’d met. Her stare sparked a flame in my chest. “Sorry for what?”

  “I can come off a little abrasive.”

  “You think?”

  I smiled. “Yes. And I didn’t mean to offend you or overstep. It seems that everything I say is the wrong thing. And there’s only reason why I can think I’m floundering like this.”