Aiden: The Lost Breed MC #8

by Ali Parker

  “Oh my God,” I laughed, rolling my eyes.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Take me to these glorious Panini’s of which you speak.”

  “As you wish, my lady.”

  Chapter 21

  Aiden

  The outdoor concert was a lot more organized than I’d initially expected.

  Tents and pop up fences marked the beer gardens; the perfect place to sit with a beer or cider while the music swelled in the background. There were food trucks stationed not far from the beer gardens, and pop up bathrooms built into industrial trailers set at the back of the open space of Central park being used for the show.

  The music wasn’t really my cup of tea, but that didn’t matter.

  Cheryl was having a glorious time.

  She and Ellie stood a good fifteen feet or so ahead of me and Axel, who were lingering at the back of the crowd of people engulfing the stage. The two women had their hands in the air as they obnoxiously sang the lyrics to each other over the roar of the guitar and steady beat of the drums. I had no clue what song this was, but they seemed to like it, and watching Cheryl bounce her arms like some sort of gangster was too entertaining.

  Axel nudged me in the ribs. “She needed this.”

  I nodded.

  Cheryl definitely deserved a night off. A night where she could let her hair down and not spend all of her time worrying. Worrying about serving the right pairing of wine with that meal, about what outfit she was going to wear, about her lipstick, nails, cheating ex-boyfriend douche bag of the year, or her damn fucking shaper.

  I watched, transfixed by the way her hips swung from side to side, as Cheryl spun Ellie around on the grass and then threw her head back with laughter.

  “It’s like her spirit came back to life,” I said, still transfixed by every move she made. “She’s a totally different girl than she was just a few days ago.”

  Axel snorted. “I never knew I was in the company of a poet.”

  “Shut up.”

  Axel’s response was interrupted by Ellie and Cheryl, who, hand in hand, came tumbling away from the crowd to join us.

  Ellie hooked her arm through Axel’s. “I think I’m going to treat myself to one more cider. Any takers?”

  “I’ll join you,” Cheryl beamed. Then she looked over at me. Her smile lit her face, which was flushed from dancing. Her hair was a bit damp around her face where sweat matted it down and I thought it made her look sexy as hell. “Want to have a drink?”

  I shook my head. “Nah. I’m driving after. But I’ll sit with you.”

  The four of us made our way across a patch of dry grass to the beer garden, where we showed the security guard at the entrance the stamps on our wrists from the last time we came in for a drink. He waved us through, his perfect scowl never breaking, and we made our way to a table near the edge of the fence that still had a view of the stage.

  After securing our seats Axel went up and ordered me and him a bottle of water and two ciders for the girls.

  Ellie ran her fingers through her hair, shaking it out and airing out her scalp. “I haven’t danced this much in ages. My legs are going to be so sore tomorrow.”

  “Me neither,” Cheryl said.

  “You’ve got moves,” I told her.

  “Stop,” Cheryl giggled.

  Ellie leaned forward while fanning her face with one hand. “He’s not just trying to blow smoke up your ass, Cheryl. You can move that body of yours. I caught a couple guys checking you out. Thought for a minute I was going to have to pretend you were my girlfriend.”

  “That would have been hot,” Axel said upon getting back to our table with the drinks. He set them down before dropping into the open chair between me and Ellie.

  Cheryl immediately reached for her cider and tipped her head back to take a sip. A bit escaped the lip of the can to trickle down her chin and onto her neck. She hurried to wipe it away but it wasn’t before my cock twitched in my pants.

  Everything the girl did was sexy to me.

  I’d been paying attention to the way her lips formed her words. How she sometimes walked toe first, like a ballerina who forgot she wasn’t in class anymore. How she blinked more than most people and chewed her bottom lip when she thought nobody was watching.

  Ellie stole a moment to message Jamie and check on everything back home. Jamie reported back that all was well and that she and the kids were watching the last half hour of a movie before bed time. With peace of mind that her kids were comfortable and having fun, Ellie set down her phone, downed the rest of her cider, and got to her feet.

  She turned wide eyed with excitement to Cheryl. “We only have about forty-five minutes left before the bands are done for the night. What do you say we make the most of it and dance our asses of?”

  Cheryl drained her cider, slammed it victoriously down on the table, and then sprang to her feet with a triumphant cry. “Let’s do it!”

  Axel and I exchanged a wary look.

  Then Cheryl turned her big blue eyes on me and held out her hand. “Are you coming, Aiden?”

  “Uh-”

  “Please?”

  I looked from her to her hand. Then I took it and stood, giving Axel an apologetic glance as I rose. “Sorry man. I’m going out there with the girls.”

  “No need to be sorry,” Ellie interjected, clapping a hand on Axel’s shoulder. “He’s coming too.”

  A few minutes later Axel and I found ourselves immersed in the crowd around the stage. Bodies swayed and bounced to the music, and although I wasn’t much of a dancer, I couldn’t complain with where I’d ended up. Cheryl had her arms draped over my shoulders. Her hands, which were currently hanging limp over my back, would occasionally wrap around my neck so she could sink her fingers into my hair.

  I held her waist and lower back and enjoyed how it felt to have her moving like this beneath my touch. Her hips moved from side to side, her stomach rolled, and she got her arms into the movement, which made her look very fluid yet controlled.

  She was beautiful.

  When she closed her eyes in the middle of a song and faced her head down to roll her hips in a wide circle I put a finger under her chin and lifted her face. She never opened her eyes, but her lips puckered for the kiss she knew was coming, and I pressed my mouth to hers and tasted her apple cider.

  She giggled and I kissed her more deeply, silencing her with my tongue.

  Her fingers plunged into my hair and she pressed her whole body to mine, crushing her breasts against my chest.

  I was aware of strangers bumping into my back. Axel and Ellie were dancing behind Cheryl. But I didn’t care about any of it. For a moment, just a brief moment, it was just me and her dancing to a song I didn’t know, feeling the pressure of each other’s bodies, kissing like we were kids without a care in the world.

  When we parted she held onto me. We were still swaying to the music, but we were offbeat and a little too slow. She smiled.

  We spent the rest of the concert like that.

  Dancing like fools and kissing and laughing. Ellie and Axel seemed to have a good time as well—especially Ellie, who flitted from dancing with us to dancing with strangers like a moth. By the time the concert wound down and the encore ended we were standing with a group of people whose names we didn’t know, saying goodnight and wishing everyone a safe drive home.

  Cheryl entwined her fingers with mine and rested her head on my shoulder as we joined the crowd of music lovers on the way out of the park. “I’m so tired.”

  “We’ll get back to my place and get you to bed.”

  She nodded sleepily and indulged in a yawn.

  Axel and Ellie were up ahead of us, also walking hand in hand.

  It felt nice to have what they had. Sure, it wasn’t as deep as what they had, not even close, but I had a girl nonetheless, and she made me feel alive. Happy. Like myself.

  It was the first time since Max died that I’d felt good and not felt guilty for it.

  Lov
e helped heal Rhys. Why not me?

  We escaped the park and said goodnight to Axel and Ellie, who took a right when we reached the parking lot and we took a left. Cheryl and I walked down the rows of cars until we found my bike. I helped her put her helmet on, checked the strap, and got on the bike before letting her climb on behind me.

  She gave my shoulders a quick little massage before leaning in close, squeezing my hips with her thighs, and wrapping her arms around my waist.

  I closed a hand over hers before pushing the kickstand up with the heel of my boot, starting up the bike, and lifting both feet off the pavement to pull out of the lot and out into traffic. We inched our way to the exit, clogged up by all the other concert goers trying to leave in their cars.

  When we reached the street I pulled out and opened up on the throttle. Cheryl held me tighter, which was exactly what I’d been hoping she’d do, and I wove gently between cars until we came out at the front of the pack and led the way through several empty intersections.

  We hadn’t been riding for more than fifteen minutes when I caught the bright flash of blue LED headlights in my side mirror.

  A luxury car of some sort was weaving through traffic the same way I just had. Not too aggressively, but insistently, and intentionally. The car came up on the right hand side but hung back for a few blocks before pulling in behind me in our lane. He couldn’t have been farther than three feet from my back tire.

  I didn’t like that.

  I really didn't like that.

  Three feet was not enough space if I had to make a panic stop or if they fucked up—and the first person they’d come into contact with was Cheryl. There was no way I was going to put her in danger like this.

  Before jumping to conclusions I switched into the right lane to go around a yellow cab. I cut in front of him and then moved back into the right lane to speed up a bit in an effort to put some distance between me and the tailgater.

  But he followed me.

  When we passed under a lit overpass I realized what was happening. The car was a pearl white Mercedes.

  It was Vince.

  I tightened my grip on the throttle and then reached back to put a hand on Cheryl’s knee. She leaned into my touch and I said, over my shoulder, “Hold on tight. We’re going to do some intense riding. Can you handle it?”

  Cheryl, completely clueless as to the threat riding our ass, nodded. Her helmet bumped my shoulder. “Punch it!” She cried joyfully.

  She let out a cheerful shriek as I opened up the throttle. The engine roared and rumbled and I swerved between cars, earning us more than a few annoyed honks from other drivers.

  And still the Mercedes followed.

  So I swerved right, drove over the sidewalk, and cut through a narrow lane between two tall business towers. We came spitting out the other side and I doubled back in the opposite direction to put as much space between us and Vince as possible before rerouting to head back to my place.

  The motherfucker was asking for a whole world of hurt pulling a stunt like that.

  Chapter 22

  Cheryl

  I was a little surprised when Aiden drove down his street at nearly triple the speed he’d gone when we left earlier in the afternoon. He pulled up onto his driveway and my ass lifted off the seat with how hard we hit the lip between the street and his drive.

  He rolled up to the garage door which was opening slowly. I assumed he had an automatic door opener somewhere on the bike or in his pocket. He looked back and forth as he waited, his fingers drumming the throttle, as if he was impatient. Or waiting for something.

  I looked back and forth too but saw nothing besides a neighbor pulling into their driveway and laughing with their passenger as they got out and walked up to the front door.

  The garage opened enough for Aiden to pull in. He parked the bike, eased his way off, and then turned to help me off. He practically lifted me right up and set me back down. Then his hand plunged into his pocket and I heard a click.

  The garage door opener.

  The door began to descend. Then it paused.

  “Fuck,” Aiden growled. He clicked the button again. The door rolled all the way up and stayed there. “Fuck!”

  “Aiden,” I said, confused by his impatience.

  He clicked the button again and the door began creeping down to the ground. When it got to about eye level Aiden bent with it, peering out beneath it to the street. As he bent he pulled off his helmet.

  I took mine off too, set it down on his bench, and swept my hair off my face. “What are you looking for?”

  “Someone was following us.”

  “What?”

  He straightened up and looked over at me. “Someone was—”

  Headlights lit up his legs as someone pulled into the driveway.

  Aiden snapped into action when a splintering crash split my ears. I clamped my hands over them as Aiden leapt toward me and tackled me down to the cement floor, knocking me aside as something came barreling through the garage door and slammed into Aiden’s bike, pushing it right to the back wall of the garage.

  Then everything went still.

  Aiden was over the top of me. He had his arms over my head and I could hear his rapid breathing.

  “What’s happening?” I breathed, disoriented.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No,” I said. Besides my aching ass from where I fell, I was perfectly fine.

  The garage was filled with the sound of a running engine. A high end, quiet, sophisticated purr of sorts. It was very familiar.

  Aiden looked over his shoulder and I was able to look past him at the Mercedes he’d just spared me from being struck by.

  My Mercedes.

  “What the hell?” I mumbled.

  Aiden got to his hands and knees and then pulled me up to my feet with him. He pushed me back a few paces toward the door into his house. “Go inside, Cheryl.”

  I shook my head.

  “Go inside!”

  “No!”

  He grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me. Hard. “I’m not fucking asking you, woman. Go inside and lock the door behind you. I don’t have time to argue.”

  The sound of groaning metal reached my ears as Vince emerged from the driver’s side door. He had a gash on his forehead and he stumbled a couple steps forward before bracing himself on the crumpled, steaming hood. He pointed an angry finger at us.

  “You,” he spat.

  He began making his way around the car, keeping a hand on it to steady himself.

  “Vince,” I said. His name fell from my lips before I knew what I was doing. It drew his attention to me, and his angry sneer morphed into a terrifying smile.

  “Hi baby,” he said.

  My skin crawled. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m here to get what’s fucking mine.”

  “I’m not leaving with you,” I said, as firmly as I could manage. I was sure my voice sounded as weak and terrified as I felt.

  Aiden stepped in front of me. “You don’t want to do this man.”

  “Oh, believe me,” Vince balked, “I do. I really want to do this. You stole my woman. Bastard. And you’re going to pay for it.”

  “He’s so drunk,” I breathed.

  Just as I spoke Vince swayed on the spot and pressed a hand to his head. He mumbled something incoherent as Aiden spun to me and began forcing me backward toward the door. “Cheryl. Please. Don’t fight me on this. He’s dangerous. He’s hurt you before and you and I both know he’ll do it again if he gets the chance. Go inside.” His last words were a desperate plea for me to do as he asked. His brows were drawn together and I knew the expression on his face was fear.

  But not fear for himself.

  Fear for me.

  “I can talk him down,” I said, grabbing his wrists as he wrenched open the door and tried to push me inside his house. Vince had made it almost all the way around the car. His eyes roamed the shop looking for something.

  A weapon, most like
ly.

  “No you can’t. He’s fucked out of his mind. Go inside. Lock the door. Don’t open it unless I tell you to. Got it?” He shoved me over the threshold into the house.

  My chin trembled. My stomach flipped over. My fingertips tingled and my palms started to sweat, and my eyes darted over his shoulder as Vince stooped and picked up a piece of Aiden’s destroyed motorcycle from the floor. I swallowed. “But he’ll try to kill you, Aiden. Please—”

  “I can handle myself,” he said, and then he grabbed the door handle and pulled it closed. He yelled at me from the other side to lock it.

  I stared at the deadbolt. It stared back.

  Could I really do it? Could I twist that lock and trap Aiden in there with Vince when he was like this?

  I reached out with a trembling hand and locked the deadbolt.

  Then I backed away, staring at it like I’d sentenced Aiden to a terrible fate on the other side.

  I can handle myself, he’d said.

  I had to trust him. I had to have faith that he knew what he was up against and he could take care of it. There were other things I could do to help.

  Like call in reinforcements.

  I fished my phone out of my pocket. My hands were still shaking so badly and were so sweaty that I nearly dropped it on the floor. I let out a nervous squeak as it nearly slipped from my fingertips, and then scrolled through to find Ellie’s number. I lifted the phone to my ear and it rang.

  And rang.

  And rang.

  And rang.

  Until her voice filled the phone.

  “Ellie! Please, I need—” I stopped talking. I’d gotten her voicemail. “Shit!”

  I didn’t have any other numbers I could call. I knew nobody who could come to help us because I’d spent all my time in New York City agonizing over what I looked like and how good dinner was going to taste—a dinner I would restrict myself from even being able to enjoy. I’d been so consumed with creating a perfect life within the confines of my prison that I’d completely forgotten to look outside my tiny shoebox for fulfillment.