by Brook Wilder
“No,” I growled.
“Okay, okay,” he laughed. “I got it. She’s all yours but the moment she’s uncomfortable, I’ll pull your ass.”
“Fair enough,” I answered. “We done here?”
“No,” Rex said. “I’m gonna send Elisa to the safehouse with Sabrina and Joaquin. I don’t like her being visible to anyone, not even the club, and Sabrina says she’s opened up to her. You got a problem with that?”
I shook my head. It was actually a pretty damn good idea really. “I’ll take her over there.” I had to face her eventually and this would give me a chance to pull off that band aid.
It had festered long enough.
**
An hour later, I knocked on her door. While I had wanted to go on and get it over with, I’d had to plan shit first in the event that Voodoo contacted me regarding the hit. Even now, Chains had some of the guys doing inventory on the guns and ammo, something I would normally do. It was comforting work.
Here I was very uncomfortable. Hell, I didn’t know what to say to her or what she was going to say to me either. She could cuss me out, I suppose, or slam the door in my face and threaten to kill me for abandoning her and her family when they needed support the most.
I had my reasons and I was willing to tell her given the opportunity. I would be opening an old wound, but Elisa deserved the truth.
When the door didn’t open, I knocked harder, the first spurt of fear creeping into my belly. I had run into Sabrina and she told me Elisa had gone to her room ten minutes ago. She had to be in there. I hadn’t seen her come out. I was going to try and break the ice by offering to get her something to eat from wherever she wanted, giving us a buffer between us.
If I remembered right, she loved Chinese food. Hell, there was a lot I remembered about Elisa.
She hated sappy chick flicks.
She loved football and constantly talked about how she would be going to the Longhorn games when she started college.
She hated pickles, and how they were just cucumbers in disguise.
The list was longer than she probably realized, but I had spent more time in her house than in mine. My parents, though they were married, fought like a divorced couple. On the outside, we were the perfect family, but behind closed doors, it was a war zone. My dad slept around on my mom while she spent her time sucking down any alcohol she could find.
When I had returned from overseas, everything changed.
I wanted to say that it was because I had come home and Will hadn’t, giving them the damn wakeup call they needed. My mom went to AA and my dad got rid of his girlfriends, vowing to work on his marriage or what was left of it. Today they were still together and when I did see them, it was weird seeing them getting along with each other.
Not that I visited often. My mom had smothered the hell out of me when I returned, to the point that I had escaped to the club and joined it to give me a reason to leave home. They hated that I was a biker, both of them well educated and CEOs.
That wasn’t me.
When the door still didn’t open, I was tired of waiting. Using my shoulder, I forced it open, finding the bedroom empty. One bed had evidence that someone had been in it, but the other wasn’t touched, with folded clothes sitting on the comforter.
Frowning, I walked toward the bathroom when the door suddenly opened and I found myself staring at a towel-clad Elisa, the steam from a recent shower leaking from the bathroom. Her eyes widened and dammit, I couldn’t help but give her a long look, suddenly wishing I was that towel wrapped around her body.
“W-what are you doing in here?” she finally asked, her words coming out in a near whisper.
Embarrassed I started to back away. “I’m sorry. I knocked and I thought something was wrong.”
“Normally people lock the door for a reason,” she said, finding her voice.
“Yeah I know,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “I’ll just let you get dressed then.”
She clutched the towel in her hands, and I backed out of the room, shutting the door behind me before sagging against the wall. Dammit. That was not how I wanted our initial conversation to go. Now she thought I was some sort of pervert trying to catch a peek.
But I needed to talk to her. I couldn’t just very well back off again. I had promised Chains I would get her to the safehouse and I wasn’t about to go back on that promise.
I would never live it down from Chains if I did.
He was right. I was acting like a damn fool around Elisa. She had me rattled, more than she probably realized, and now I had a mental image of her in a fucking towel.
God, when had she grown up? She was nothing like the girl barely out of high school we had left behind. I was dealing with a woman.
One I was suddenly attracted to again. Yeah, I’ll admit it. I had been attracted to the nineteen-year-old kid who kissed me the night before I shipped out. There’d been something about her, something that was a mix of the qualities that made me get along with Will so well, and something else, something that had me curious to learn more.
But she’d been Will’s little sister, and because of that, she was off limits. Besides, I wasn’t good enough for her and with my future up in the air, the last thing she needed was something to make her second guess her college plans.
So I’d played it off like the kiss hadn’t affected me and that she was nothing but my best friend’s little sister. Even when she sent care packages to both of us, I was careful to keep the emails short and light, and only give her a short wave or one or two words on the webcam when Will would called her. There had been women, yeah, and I hoped Elisa would realize I wasn’t good enough with the time apart.
If only the outcome had been different.
Pushing off the wall, I knew I wasn’t going to go anywhere until she opened that door. Things were different now. There were ten years I didn’t really want to discuss with her. There was Will, cold in his grave. There was this whole cartel business Elisa had found herself in, that I was determined to get her out of.
And an unsettling feeling at the thought of seeing her without any clothes on.
“Shit,” I muttered, raking a hand through my hair again. Why did I suddenly want to rip that towel from her and lose myself in her body? Why was my cock so hard that I was gonna embarrass myself if she opened that door in the next thirty seconds?
This was Elisa, hands off Elisa, who Will would have kicked my ass for touching in any form beyond platonically.
But Will wasn’t here. We were. And though the pain in my chest still ached at his death, we did still need to push on, to live the life he hadn’t been given.
No. I couldn’t even be thinking this way. I wasn’t about to have a relationship with Elisa McDermott, no matter how badly I suddenly wanted to.
But when that door opened and she stood framed in the doorway, I knew I was gonna have a hell of a time reminding myself of my own plan.
Chapter 7
Elisa
Damian was still there.
My breath caught as I forced myself to meet his gaze, my body flushed from something other than the hot shower I had taken. “Hey,” I forced out, trying to act nonchalant about the entire encounter.
“Hey,” he said. “Sorry about that. Can I come in?”
He could come in and take his clothes off this time. That’d be the only way I might feel comfortable about this situation.
And he would likely do it just to make this better. Suddenly I was picturing him without his long-sleeved shirt and jeans, how his body would be more than just the body I had lusted over ten years ago.
Yes, I had lusted. On more than one occasion Damian would show up in gym clothes or without a shirt and I would feel every fiber in my body freeze at the sight of his well-formed muscles, wanting to run my hands over his body. He had always kept in shape, and by the looks of it, he was still doing it.
Ugh, this was going really well. Now I was afraid to move in case the wet in my lower reg
ion spilled out onto the floor.
But I did move. “Yeah sure, come in.”
I stepped aside and he brushed past me, something spicy and exotic hitting my nostrils as he did. He smelled delicious and sinful at the same time. Quickly I shut the door, gesturing toward one of the beds. “Sorry. There’s nowhere to sit.”
“It’s fine,” he answered, turning to face me. “I, hell Elisa, I don’t even know how to start this conversation.”
Thank God he felt the same way, though I was surprised at his obvious discomfort. We had been friends, nearly family once upon a time, and not once had he ever shown anything other than confidence and swagger.
“Why don’t we just start over?”
He eyed me and I took a step forward, holding out my hand. “Hi. I’m Elisa McDermott. I’m a nurse for a mission group that provides free clinics for the poor.”
I regretted my plans the moment his hand wrapped around mine, sending electricity shooting through my veins. “I’m Damian Gibson,” he said in a low voice with a hint of sultry. “Or Machine Gun depending on who you talk to. I’m the trainer and armory in charge for the Rough Jesters.”
I didn’t want to let go of his hand. Every fiber in my body wanted to pull him closer so I could see if he still had those flecks of gold in his eyes, or to examine the way his nose looked like it had been broken and then reset crooked.
I wanted to run my hands through his shoulder-length hair, to feel its softness, or dance my fingers along his broad shoulders while his muscles moved.
My brain clicked in and I realized Damian stood watching me intently, his gaze dark and penetrating.
I released his hand, taking a step back. “So, Machine Gun. What does that mean?”
He recovered as well, dropping his arms to his sides. “Just a name. Everyone has one. It’s part of the initiation.”
“Sabrina doesn’t,” I answered, curious. “Isn’t she part of the club?”
He nodded. “She hasn’t had one come to her yet. Sometimes it takes a couple months. Once you got one, you can’t just change it.”
“What name would you give me?” I asked, wanting to know what he saw when he looked at me. Did he see the nineteen-year-old with a major crush on him, or the woman who had seen far more than she should at twenty-nine?
He looked at me, those eyes almost turning golden the longer he stared. “Fighter,” he finally said.
Eh, not my first choice, but it did tell me what he was thinking about me now. “Interesting.”
A slow grin spread over his face, transforming him more into the Damian I remembered. “You hate it.”
“I do not.”
“It’s written all over your face. I can tell when you hate something.”
Then maybe he could tell that I hated he could read me like a book. “Why are you here, Damian?”
His grin faded and the moment was broken. “I thought you might want to get out of here for a while.”
That was a surprise. “Really?” I was tired of being cooped up in this club, but too afraid to go against anyone’s rules. “But what about my safety?” More importantly, what if my parents or any of their friends saw me? That would cause a big problem.
He scoffed. “I think I can keep you safe.”
“I’m sure you can,” I said slowly, itching to get out for a while.
“Besides,” Damian continued, reaching into his back pocket. “I’ve got a disguise for you.”
He pulled out a ball cap, shaking it out from being partially folded. It was a Longhorn’s hat, our white longhorn symbol visible on the front. My heart slammed against my chest as a thousand unanswered questions ran through my mind. Damian wasn’t a Longhorns fan. Never had been.
But yet, there was this cap. “Here,” he said, thrusting it toward me. “This should help as long as we stay at a distance.”
I took the hat, still warm from his pocket. “Thanks.”
He nodded and headed toward the door while I tucked my ponytail into the slot on the back of the hat, adjusting it on my head. I doubted my parents would recognize me anyway in these clothes, a form-fitting black shirt and jeans, complete with solid black boots that fit my feet a bit snugly. I preferred color when I wasn’t wearing scrubs.
Bright colors.
Drawing in a breath, I followed Damian out the door and into the main room where I had eaten breakfast this morning, keeping my head down as he walked through the small crowd likely ready for the next party. Once we were outside, he directed me to a motorcycle in the corner.
“Oh no, I can’t,” I started as he turned the key in the tank. It looked like him, all black right down to the handlebars.
He looked up. “You still haven’t ridden one of these?”
I shook my head. “I tend to stay away from anything dangerous.” Including him.
Damian chuckled. “Yeah well, you can’t say that anymore about your job. Trust me. I won’t let you get hurt, Elisa.”
But he had already hurt me more than he realized. Not coming to me after Will’s death had devastated me and now, just the way he was acting dug up old wounds I had long ago buried.
“Maybe I will just stay here.”
“Not an option,” he said, his voice rough. “I’m starving and you are my responsibility, so you have to come with me.”
This was the last thing I wanted to do. “What if I fall off?” I asked lamely, knowing full well he wouldn’t let that happen.
Damian swung a leg over the seat and settled onto the bike. “Get on, Elisa.”
With an inward frustrated sigh, I forced myself to slide in behind him. I was starving. Plus, Damian was talking to me now. Was I really going to let this opportunity pass me by?
“Wrap your arms around me or you will fall off.”
Oh.
Carefully I did as he asked, feeling his body shift when my arms looped around his waist and pulled me closer to him, to his scent driving me crazy with need.
This was a very bad idea.
Damian fired up the bike and we took off out of the yard and onto the road, the bike vibrating under my legs. At first, I wasn’t so sure about it, clenching Damian tightly as he made the first turn with my head tucked into his back so I didn’t have to look where we were going. I trusted him, even after all this time, but the feeling of not being in control was terrifying.
Gradually, I loosened my grip, the wind threatening to tear off my hat as we roared down the highway. I had no idea where he was taking me, but it had to be better than being in that club, staring at those four walls.
We rode for what seemed like forever before he pulled up behind a cluster of buildings in the middle of nowhere, killing the engine. I dropped my grip on his waist immediately and he chuckled.
“You had a death grip on my innards.”
“Sorry,” I said nervously, fiddling with the hat to put it back in place. “It’s different.”
“I’m going to need for you to get off first.”
Oh right. I used his shoulder to brace myself as I awkwardly got off the bike, feeling his steely strength under my grip. Yeah, I had so called that. He was still obsessed with working out.
Finding my footing, I felt like I was still on the bike as Damian got off effortlessly, wiping his hands on his jeans.
“Where are we?” I asked, looking up at the non-descript building.
“You’ll see,” he answered, walking up to the screen door and opening it. “Come on.”
Growing more curious by the minute, I walked inside and found myself in the midst of a busy kitchen, the smell of Chinese food heavy in the air.
No way. There’s no way he would remember I loved Chinese.
“This way,” Damian was saying, edging around me and walking through the kitchen like he owned the place.
I followed him, my stomach growling loudly as I walked past heaping dishes of lo mein and fried rice. It had been so long since I treated myself to either of those, but right now, I felt like I could eat the entire pot full.<
br />
“Chang,” Damian said as we passed through a beaded curtain, revealing an empty restaurant front. A small Chinese man looked up from his phone, his face breaking out into a wide smile. “Damian! I did not know you were coming by.”
“We need a discreet table,” he said, greeting the man with a warm handshake.
Chang looked over at me, waggling his eyebrows. “For that, you will have to go upstairs.”
I blushed, knowing exactly what he was thinking. Was it so bad I wanted his insinuations to be warranted?
“No, just out of sight, man,” Damian sighed. “Get your ass out of the gutter.”