Resurfaced Passion (Renegade Souls MC Romance Saga Book 6)

by V. Theia

  “He’s fine. You got anythin’ to say, or gonna sit sulking?” Rider turned to his father. It wasn’t easy having him around, having him back inside the clubhouse. It was downright fucking hard at times to even acknowledge his father was in Armado Springs at all.

  “Don’t fuckin’ push it, son.”

  That was their problem. It had always been push and pull between them. Habits were hard to break, and Rider wanted to push his buttons. He took a swallow of coffee, caught Hawk’s eye, his stern face appeared to say for Rider to reel it in and get on with shit.

  “I think Reaper’s idea could work. I don’t just wanna kill Rex. I wanna take everythin’ from him. Every last piece of real estate he has. I wanna buckle all his businesses so even his grandkids can’t pay for shoes. I want every fuckin’ cent before I destroy him.”

  “Here fucking here,” rippled around the table, punctured with knuckle knocks on the table.

  Mad-dog didn’t say a word. Rider was much like his old man, though it pained him to admit it. It was dog who’d taught Rider never to show emotion.

  “If we need a reminder of what my fuckin’ uncle has done…”

  “He tried to use Gia, gave her up to the Russians.” Preacher supplied and Hawk hissed so loud Rider switched his head to the right to warn Hawk to calm down and not go wrecking ball inside the church.

  “The fact he’s working with the Russian’s at all. Lousy fucker.” Sneered Arson. “Man, there’s no family loyalty anymore.”

  The boys listed all of Rex’s crimes and they were plenty going back years.

  And then. “He’s trying to kill my son.” The tenor of dog’s voice was so corroded in anger that Rider barely heard him at first. His father hadn’t moved an inch, his salt and pepper head still bent over his hands. But when he raised that head and Rider saw his own blue eyes staring back at him, it was evident how pissed Ajax was.

  Really. Fucking. Pissed.

  Rider felt something crack in his chest, and heat poured in to mingle with his own anger. He was so done with this Rex shit, he wanted to take the old fucker to his knees and have him know it was his own nephew who wrecked his life before putting him in the ground.

  His predominant worry had been his father. Would he go behind Rider’s back and side with his elder brother after all?

  But looking at him, really looking, Rider saw clearly … and maybe for the first time since Rider was a boy, they were both on the same page, same sentence, same fucking exclamation point.

  They’d work together. Take down Rex any way they could.

  Rider’s jaw tightened and he nodded at his father who jutted his chin. He didn’t care about an acrimonious father-son relationship at this point. He just wanted to clean up this family ball-ache and go on with life.

  “So we’re agreed?” He asked his table of men.

  He got a lot of grunted agreement.

  “Right. Capone, you wanna go grab Juicy? Let’s see what the southern kid has to say about being Rex’s little bitch boy.”

  The plan would be dangerous, for Juicy most of all.

  The kid wanted the patch.

  There was no better way to get it then by putting your life on the line for the club.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Forget me not.” – Paige

  Paige once led a very complicated …sometimes tumultuous life through no fault of her own, up until she came to Colorado and found a town called Armado Springs to settle down in. She found the diner job, the apartment over the bakery, all very easily—too easily she figured later—like they’d been waiting for her.

  And now as she ate up Reaper’s prowl through the restaurant doors, ignoring the hostess insisting he needed a booking, there was a sick churn of recognition for the man coming towards her, with his eyes only on her. Déjà vu made her dizzy.

  For a brief moment, his eyes met hers through the tables of diners. Like, direct eye contact, strong enough to make her shiver and freeze on the spot. Soft, rich and warm tawny eyes looking at her unashamedly.

  It provided feelings of serenity and comfort...and a lot of lust coursing through her poor veins.

  The biker affected her in ways that was detrimental to a woman’s health.

  He appeared exactly the same as he did the day she met him. Her second day in Armado Springs, and she’d turned around while she’d been wandering down main street, A giant straw tote on her shoulder, blue flower flip flops on her feet and her hair newly dyed to a deeper pink than she’d had a week previously, acquainting herself with the stores, and there he was. Tall, so very tall, and gazing at her wearing his backward baseball cap as if he’d appeared out of thin air just to stare at her. She remembered distinctly the jeans and the TSU football shirt tucked into the waist. Big black boots on his feet, hair brushing his chin and eyes so broody she nearly took a step back.

  He took her breath that day and did now as he walked forward.

  The vicious stare he gave Newton could have not only curdled milk but killed the cow that provided the dairy that morning.

  It looked like he wanted to cause Newton so much pain.

  Any ordinary human being would be disgusted in knowing that.

  Violence was never the answer, not after she’d grown up in a household where violence and raised voices were the norm. She’d learned at an early age that if someone was yelling it was her cue to hide in the closet right at the very back with her dollies, until it got quiet again.

  Sometimes the quietness was worse.

  But seeing Reaper … coming to her defense, with a scowl so etched deep in his handsome face, giving Newton a stare-down to rival all stare-downs … she didn’t feel disgusted. She felt very blessed to know him.

  Oh, my days. He was beautifully mad, and she didn’t know if an ounce of that anger was directed toward her when he pinned her with his stare.

  She wasn’t sure why her heart started picking up speed, but it did. With each step, it got faster and faster.

  Storm clouds rolled into his golden eyes, darkening them to a color of dominance and warning and all Paige could think about was how handsome he looked with his tightly set jaw.

  This was a man through and through.

  The type of man who would walk over hot coals for his woman and bring her breakfast in bed, not just for her birthday or Mother’s Day, but any day she wanted pancakes after sex.

  This was a powerful man who would lay down his coat in a puddle and watch the sappy movies, hold her while she cried, who gave her support at home while she climbed the corporate ladder and still be the bossy over the top possessive alpha in the bedroom.

  This was a protective man who would fight for her honor and defend her with his last breath.

  And poor Newton snapping his gaze between them just didn’t match up. At all. Because Reaper was in a universe of his own. Where the gods sculpted him with her ideal man measurements in mind.

  “Come on, baby.” He held out his big hand and without thinking, Paige pushed back her chair, practically jumping to grasp his hand in hers. Now she felt safe.

  Newton, with his rimmed glasses and checked shirt and filthy, drunken mouth gaped. “Paige? What the hell is going on here? You’re married? You used a dating app to hook up with me. What a fucking slut. And to think I was gonna take you home with me!”

  Fat fucking chance, teach. Ugh, Paige cringed at the thought of those clammy hands on her body.

  “Sir, we’re going to have to ask you to leave, you’re disturbing the customers.” The red-haired hostess said, and Paige turned to see the woman behind them. She wanted to tell her to leave Reaper alone, he hadn’t said a damn word to disturb anyone. Ever the diplomat, Paige smiled. “Sorry, ma’am, we’re just leaving.” She gripped Reaper’s warm, calloused hand in both of hers, squeezing gently.

  The slut comment had flown right over her head until she caught the tail end of Reaper’s growl. He dropped her hand and slid into the privacy booth next to Newton the teacher.

  That should h
ave been Paige’s first clue the guy was a total creep when he insisted they have a booth. She didn’t need privacy to eat penne pasta and a cheesecake. It was so he could say his lewd things and try to inch his disgusting hand under her shirt.

  She’d been so creeped out by his whole lecherous perv vibe, especially when he described the car she’d came in even though she’d parked down the block, he must have been watching her and it was then she got the chills, excused herself and called Reaper. Overkill? Maybe, but she’d learned to listen to those danger vibes.

  The restaurant was busy, a lot of noise, so she barely caught Reaper say in a dark voice. “Yeah, you feel that, don’t you, you piece of shit? It’s a 9mm in your ribs.”

  Wait, WHAT? Was he holding a gun on Newton? Nerves held her hostage, her feet concrete. She looked around frantically, fearful others may have heard too.

  The last thing she needed was to go on the run across country, she didn’t even have any of her tights with her.

  “You ever speak about my girl like that again and I’ll take great joy in blowing holes in you until you bleed out.”

  Wow, so much to unpack from that one statement, Paige felt the heat of being called his girl and then the immediate blast of cold following with the very graphic threat.

  Could he seriously do that?

  She’d never seen this side to him.

  The biker side.

  She didn’t entirely hate it.

  Newton looked at her like he thought she’d help. Think again. She was with the biker.

  “Don’t look at her. If you see her anywhere you better cross the fucking street, because trust me when I tell you, fucker, I’ll destroy you for even glancing at her wrong and you can take it as a promise, I don’t lie. Do we understand each other? Good.” Reaper didn’t give Newton a chance to reply. He just put his hand behind him… oh my god, a flash of metal tucked into the back of his jeans, it was a gun! And he got back to his feet, took her hand and he led her through the restaurant.

  “You have a gun,” she whispered when they were outside. He glanced down silently. “I think you might have made Newton piss himself.” Paige chuffed a little laugh. “I think I might pee too. Wow. That was…wow, Reaper. You were so totally biker badass in there, like Clint Eastwood… but his better-looking son. God. I think my heart stopped there for a second.”

  Reaper leaned down into her space. “Breathe, Paige.”

  Inhaling his scent it didn’t help at all with calming her down, but he smelled incredible. He was still holding her hand and that was making her wobbly. Jeez, she was in one of those slow-burn romances, where the hero doesn’t make a move until the second from last chapter and the heroine gets all horny.

  “I’m breathing. I’m breathing. But really, a gun, Reaper? You could shoot your eye out.”

  She couldn’t help it, she dissolved into hysterical giggles right there on the street with a gorgeous man frowning and holding her hand.

  She’d volunteered him to watch that movie just this past Christmas and he’d sat silently passing her popcorn and chocolate coated almonds.

  “Why the fuck are you doing this?”

  She frowned and though she felt the stab of his scowled judgment, she answered honestly. “Because I want to, okay? We’re not all an oasis in the desert, Reaper. I get lonely.”

  His sigh could have blown her over.

  They were at her car before she knew it. “Follow me home.” He instructed.

  Huh, what?

  “Follow you home?”

  “Yeah. My place.”

  His place.

  The slow-burn just upgraded to a Harlequin with boob action…under the sweater.

  He was always so unreadable, just once she wanted to know what emotion he was feeling when he looked at her.

  “Your place? But why?”

  Seriously, Paige? The first time she got invited over and she was questioning it? She needed to shut her damn mouth.

  “Your apartment doesn’t have the pain pills I need. Follow me, okay?”

  She frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  “Headache.”

  “You go on, Reaper. I can get myself home. Thank you, really. You were my hero.”

  “No. Follow me. I want you with me.” And then. “That piece of shit might know where you live.” Oh, okay. That made more sense. Her hope deflated a little.

  Looking closer at Reaper, she noted he had strain around his eyes, and he was clenching his teeth. He was in pain. “Okay.” She agreed, just to get him home and to his pills. “Is it far?”

  “Not far. Climb in, Paige.” He waited until she was behind the wheel and the engine switched on before he strode back up the street to throw a leg over his bike. God, that was hot as hell, she could watch that exact move all night long and then have a few orgasms over it later.

  Pictures of Reaper, dressed differently and with his hair tied in a knot at the back of his nape, flooded through her mind in a series of flicks, but it wasn’t the same image she was looking at. Soon as they were there, they disappeared.

  Weird.

  It made her feel funny, fingers tingling, and the fine hairs on her arm all lifted up off her skin.

  Reaper roaring past on his beast of a bike brought her out of her head and she pulled out after him.

  He lived in a cute little condo complex on the first floor in the corner apartment. He led her in and inside was just as cute and very clean, if not a little bare, with hardly any furniture and nothing personal anywhere that she could see. She wondered if this had been his marital home.

  “Did you just move in?” She asked, glancing around the bare white walls. Two black couches, no pillows, a TV unit with all the stuff that came with it. There was a large rug over the tiled floor and two end tables either side of the couch and that was it.

  “No, four years ago.”

  Huh. About the same time she’d moved to town.

  “Are you in the middle of redecorating?”

  “It’s shit, I know.” He said quietly, shrugging off his jacket to show wide shoulders in a plain gray cotton shirt. That same shirt rode up on his belly as he shook his arms to free the leather vest. He hung up both in a closet and then bent down to unlace his boots. He placed them by the wall. All very neatly. The living room connected to a large kitchen, also clean and sparse. Handsome as hell and could keep his place tidy. Reaper’s appeal just went through the ceiling.

  Ah, who was she kidding here? She would have climbed on him had he been a contender for the hoarders TV show. If he’d had a wall of ferret cages she still would have loved being here, because it meant he trusted her to invite her over.

  “Nooooo. It’s lovely, Reaper. I guess… I guess you live alone then?”

  Subtly wasn’t her strong point and she blushed to high heavens when he glanced over. It was all she could do not to turn pinker. “It was my crap way of asking if any women come by… because they’d definitely want a million cushions on that couch, Reaper.”

  He let her ramble; he always did. And then he came at her, one stride at a time and she braced ready to be in his orbit again. The man smelled good, so good in fact she held her breath a little to combat the effect.

  All he did was take her light jacket and her purse, he put those away neatly too on a hook by the door. God, she loved a domesticated man. It did something funny to her insides.

  “Did you get a chance to eat?”

  So … no women or cushions then? Guess he wasn’t answering. She tried not to have her feelings hurt for his lack of response.

  “No, the main course wasn’t served before I called you, but I’m fine. You needed your pain pills, remember?” He grunted, unmoving. “Do you get headaches a lot?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let me get you some water, you grab your medication.”

  He was right behind her when she turned around with a glass. Startling her into almost dropping it. “H-here you go.”

  “Not taking them yet.”

  She
frowned. “Reaper, you’re obviously hurting. Take your pills.”

  “No, they knock me out.”

  “A good night’s sleep is what you need. I can go home.”

  His expression got cloudy. “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “You in the mood for pizza? A burger?”

  Paige sighed, hands went to her hips, looking up at his beautiful eyes. “Why did I not know how stubborn you are?”

  “Because I always give you your own way.” He announced and pulled open a drawer, brought a bunch of menus out and dumped them on the island.

  Oh, my god. She flushed hot and cold and then scorching.

  He was right. He did do that.

  How had she not realized?

  With his forearms braced on the island top and his butt stuck right out, he glanced over at her and a tingle started at the top of Paige’s spine and traveled all the way down until her panties were damp.

  “What do you fancy?”

  You. God. So much.

  “Erm.” Words failed her. “Anything, whatever you want.”

  “Burgers.”

  “That sounds good. Then you can take your pills.”

  He grunted and made the call. Then he took a quick shower while Paige kicked off her shoes and curled her feet under her on the couch to watch an episode of House Hunters, she was addicted to this show. She was determined one day to buy a scrappy little house, with a porch and a big yard, four bedrooms, three bath and a basement big enough for a little crafting room. She loved old houses with character, one she could fix up herself even though she was useless with a hammer.

  Just another dream on her long list.

  A knock at the door startled her and she jumped up. “I’ll get it,” from behind her.

  Nothing more entered Paige’s brain from the moment Reaper walked by her, opened the door, paid the young boy for the food and then closed the door. And you know why? He was shirtless. He was flipping shirtless. Hair wet, jeans hanging on his lean hips and no shirt covering his golden body. Nothing.

  He strode by her so fast to dump the food sack on the counter that she missed seeing up close the tattoos he had on his torso and by the time she came to her senses, he was already pulling a black wifebeater on over his head, clinging to his upper body, covering all that gorgeous and leaving a lot still for her to die over.