18. Here’s to chasing your dreams in

the cutest pair of shoes you own.

- BossBabe

Now that I’m coming off of the spike in my adrenaline, thinking there was a chance I wouldn’t be able to protect Chevelle in a room full of that many men, I’m livid. She never should’ve been put in that position in the first place. Who the fuck do these jokers think they are, coming heavy at her like that? She’s one fucking woman for heaven’s sake!

I see the Prez’s point, not wanting to attack right this minute to retaliate. At the same time, I’m with Nightmare. I never want Chevelle to be frightened again. She may have put up a brave front, but I felt her trembling next to me on those stairs when we watched those filthy dicks shoot the cop. I know she thinks she’s strong, and to a point she is, but this is too much for her. She’s a rough woman, trying to make a good life for herself, and if it wasn’t for these fuckers, she’d be doing just that.

Her hold on my ribs loosens as I pull my Harley to a stop at the compound. Dropping the kickstand, I swing my leg over my seat and then grip her waist to help her off too. She’s more than able to do it on her own, but I can’t stop myself from touching her. Placing my arm over her shoulder, I tuck her into my larger frame, and we walk together inside. “You okay, sweetie?”

She sighs, her dark hair floating out of her face as the air conditioner hits us crossing the threshold. “There’s no way I can fix the track in time for Saturday, and I have to race. I don’t like leaving my cars there without me, either.”

“No, you don’t. Besides, it’s not safe right now. As for your cars, I already told you, the brothers will bring them here for you.”

Golden embers burn in her irises as they meet mine. She’s wound tight, ready to argue with me. “Yes, I do. I told you that’s how I pay the mortgage for The Pit. I can’t afford to miss a chance to win, but I also don’t have the cash for what it’ll take to fix everything in time. I’m screwed.”

Releasing her, she turns her body my direction. My hand reaches up, and my thumb trails over her bottom lip then along the curve of her jaw. She’s upset, and I don’t know what to do with a woman who’s melancholy. Pissed off, yes...turned on, yes...hungry, yes...but not like this.

“I’ll fix it,” I promise before thinking it through.

“Thank you, cupcake, but you’re already letting me take over your space and time to help keep me safe.”

I shrug. “It’s no big deal.”

When my hand drops away, she leans forward, placing a tender, chaste kiss on my mouth. It’s so insignificant that it means way more than any touch she’s shown me since we’ve met. It’s tender. Nothing is coaxed or heated about it. It’s full of real feelings.

“It is to me. Not many men come around who give a shit; they all want something in return.”

“I’ll fix it,” I repeat. This time I know exactly what I’m saying, and I mean it one hundred percent.

She offers a sweet smile, so non-Chevelle like. I think the craziness has her a bit shaken up. Whatever it is, I have to keep my guard up because kisses and smiles like those will have a man falling all over his own two feet. They’re the type that’ll have a man planning his future out.

We’re interrupted by Blaze. He’s back behind the bar, polishing the top until each bit shines. “Merc, everyone okay?”

“Hey, brother. Yes, they made it through okay.”

“Thank God.” He releases a heavy breath, and I tug Chevelle with me to sit on the stools in front of him.

“You here with Princess?” He’s Vikings cousin and the Prez’s ol’ lady’s personal guard. After the stories I’ve heard about what she’s gone through, can’t say I blame him for putting a steady man with her all the time.

“Yeah, you know with their past, Viking told her what was going down. Prez doesn’t keep anything from her anymore to keep her safe. Anyhow, she gets worried about shit like this and she starts cooking like crazy.”

“Cooking?” I cock an eyebrow as he gestures to his beer. Chevelle and I both nod, wanting a cold drink.

He grabs two longnecks, pops the tops and places them in front of us on coasters. “The first time shit went down with her, she’d been making a bunch of food to welcome the brothers home off a run. She and Vike were barely fucking back then. Anyhow, shit hit the fan, and it’s been a way to ease her anxiety since then.”

“Hard to imagine P having any sort of anxiety.”

He nods. “She does and pretty badly when shit like this goes down. Probably a bit of PTSD mixed in with it too. She’s really good at bluffing. We better drop it. If Viking catches any of this convo, we’ll be missing skin for it.”

With a chuckle, I throw back a hefty gulp. “You hungry, Chevy?”

“I could go help,” she offers.

“You don’t cook,” I reply, puzzled.

Blaze smiles at her warmly. “Go on back there, darlin’. Princess will be happy for the company. Take your beer, and I’ll fix a pitcher of frozen Margaritas.”

“Margaritas?”

He nods, his smile growing. “Yeah, trust me, it’s a P thing.”

I press a kiss to her temple and point in the direction of the kitchen.

“She ever meet Princess before?” He turns back to me.

“I don’t think so unless Viking took her to The Pit or something. You sure she won’t care about Chevelle going back there?”

He shakes his head, refilling the plastic square container off to the right of me with a stack of bar napkins. “No, she needs the distraction.”

“It doesn’t piss the Prez off that you know his ol’ lady so well?”

His gaze grows weary; he rakes his hand over his face. “In that first attack when I met her, I nearly killed her.”

My eyes grow wide. That was definitely not what I was expecting from him. I know he was part of the group that came for Viking and Princess was attacked, but everyone left out the part of Blaze being one of the attackers. “Fuck.”

He blows out another breath, busying his hands further by filling a container with straws. “I’ll do whatever I can to make her happy and keep her safe. She’s become a little sister to me, and the thoughts of what I was planning to do to her will haunt me for the rest of my life. If making her pitchers of margaritas, helping her cook, and keeping her safe makes her forgive me in some small way, well then it’s all worth it.”

“I get it. I’m trying to keep Chevelle safe too, but these dicks just won’t stop.”

“That’s the Iron Fists for you. Those motherfuckers nearly killed me. I can’t wait until the club snuffs the life from every single one of them.”

“They trashed The Pit. I need to figure out how to fix it for her. She can’t afford to hire anyone, and I don’t want her there in case they show back up and try killing her again.”

“What exactly needs to be done?”

“Mostly asphalt and concrete work, I think. The main entry has to be redone too.” I finish off my beer while he blends the tequila mixture.

He pours the frozen strawberry tequila concoction into a plastic pitcher and grabs a few of the colorful plastic cups we’ve used in the past for barbecues. “Odin has an in with the City,” he mentions, moving around the bar to grab everything he needs. “He may know someone who can help with the asphalt. Torch knows how to pour concrete. I think Nightmare might, too. If you give them a hand, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind helping you.”

“No shit? Appreciate it, Blaze.”

He taps the bar top with one of the plastic cups. “Bartending isn’t just making drinks…you hear everything. You ever want to learn about the brothers around here, jump back behind the bar and mix shit up for a night.”

“I’ll stick to racing and motorcycles.” I shrug, and he nods, heading for the kitchen.

A week passes quicker than I’d like it to. A few of the brothers and I have been keeping busy at The Pit. Blaze was right about Odin knowing someone with the City. Turns out it’s the manager who owed Odin a favor. My brother called it in, and one evening a handful of workers showed up to patch the asphalt that one of the bombs had blown to shit.

Torch knew how to pour concrete like it’d been his profession in another life. Nightmare helped, grumbling the entire time that it’d get one more thing out of the way, so he could have his revenge. Saint showed up one day with an old gate. He’d found it out at the pig farm by the compound. Viking welded some hinges on it, and a brother named Spin from the other charter sanded the metal and painted it. Once we repaired the concrete up front, we turned the gate sideways, so it was long enough to cover the open space and secured it. Chevelle now has a steel barrier to help keep unsavory folks from breaking in the front entry.

Over the week together, Chevelle and I fell into an easy routine. It was like she was an extension of myself. She has no clue about anything we’ve done to fix up The Pit. I got ahold of Ace, and he’s been handling everything as far as the races and business deliveries go. I’ve led Chevelle to believe we’ve been watching her business, but it’s too dangerous for her to be there right now. Surprisingly, she’s listened, and I’m guessing her seeing the Fists in action up close has put the severity of the situation in better perspective for her.

I think the only thing that’s kept her sane through the time away is that we brought her cars to the compound with us. She’s had full use of Viking’s garage and the tools he has in there is no joke. It’s a mechanic's wet dream and Chevelle has been tinkering with her own vehicles and any other that’s been near the garage. It’s kept her busy and distracted enough not to notice my lack of presence.

The nights, however, I walk in filthy, covered in sweat, while she treks in full of grease. It’s hotter than hell seeing her all dirtied up from working on vehicles. We shower, and she lets me wash her body until every speck is clean. In return, she does the same for me, and it’s become my favorite part of the day.

Being around her like this is almost too easy, and it’s a bit disconcerting. Of course, I want a woman. Every man with half a brain wants one, especially a female like Chevelle. Doesn’t mean I was expecting to start imagining her on the back of my bike every day or keeping her things here or staying with her permanently at The Pit. When I came across her lithe body the first day, those thoughts were the furthest from my mind. I wanted to fuck her, to make that smartass mouth of hers scream my name while I made her climax. Now I’m finding out that I don’t want to stop.

“Ready, sweetie?” I grumble watching her pull on her jeans. They’re so tight the damn things mold to every curve from the waist down. She needs a pair with my name across the ass so fuckers won’t stare.

I’m doing a man pout thing right now because she told me we have to eat food before I can be inside her again. I offered to grab the peanut butter, but she said no. My babe wants tacos so, of course, she’s getting them. Little does she know we’re actually going to The Pit. It’s Saturday. We’ve fixed everything, and the brothers have done a full sweep of the property.

I don’t have to worry about her cars because they’ve been parked at the club under our watch. She’s been so busy spending time under their hoods that I know she has them all race ready, just waiting for the chance. I feel like a fucking chick, excited inside because she’s going to get to race, and rather than being a bitch or pain in the ass thinking she wasn’t going to, she’s taken it in stride. I can’t wait to see her face when she realizes what’s happening tonight. Not only that, but Ace has rounded up three sets of racers tonight. The Pit will make more money than it usually does on an average weekend.

“The weather’s starting to change; it’ll be a nice night on your bike.” She smiles at me in the parking lot, and I lean in to kiss her.

“Which is your favorite car?”

She snorts. “Please cupcake, you don’t ask a girl that sort of thing.”

Jesus, I love this woman and the way she thinks—she’s so different.

“Okay fine,” I throw my hands up wearing a grin. “Not favorite, but if you had to pick one just for tonight, which would it be?”

She turns, gazing at her classic beasts all parked in a row. They’re nice and shiny from the fresh washes she’s given them the past two days. “I’m going with the Chevelle.”

I grunt.

“Not because of why you’d think.” She backtracks, and I stride toward the vehicle in question.

“Then why?”

She follows. “Not because it’s my name, either. Although that’s one of the reasons, it’s always been my favorite.”

“You’re such a girl,” I mutter, and she laughs.

“Not because she’s the fastest...” She trails off, and I spin around, pulling her into me.

“So, tell me why.”

“Because of the hood.” Her face flushes and my gaze flicks to the hood. I was so far gone with her that night, furious at her for racing and also the guy hitting her and then burying my cock in her for the first time. The car escaped my mind.

“This is the car?” I stare at her, catching the way her breathing comes in little pants, her flushed skin and how her breasts suddenly seem too heavy for the bra she has on.

She rolls her eyes and copies me. “You’re such a man.”

With a cocky smirk, I yank her into my body, my cock ready for action. “A fact you can’t deny.” I take her mouth with mine again, this time turning her and laying her on the hood as my tongue makes love to hers. Her stomach grumbling breaks the spell, and I pull away, leaving her breathless.

“You’re hungry babe, and I’m going to drive your favorite car.”

“We’re not taking the bike?” she asks after gazing at me for a few beats.

“No, you’ve been a good sport about riding it all week; we can take this pretty lady.” I stroke the smooth, buffed paint. She no doubt waxed it this morning when I took off. It doesn’t have any small flecks of dust like the others.

“I’ll drive.”

“Nope.”

You know that saying you catch more bees with honey? The alpha in me hasn’t quite figured that out yet, and I still find myself arguing and barking orders like she’s a submissive.

“It’s my car,” she hisses.

Swallowing my pride to get her to let me drive so I can surprise her by going to The Pit, I momentarily tuck away the bossy attitude. “Please, sweetie? I haven’t driven this one yet.” I trail my fingers along the column of her neck, attempting to distract her from kicking my ass. I need to learn to just open up with words like this rather than demands. But she likes my bossiness in some shit, I can tell.

“Ugh,” she groans. “Fine. But once you drive her, that’s it. You’re not keeping her, and I drive after that.”

I chuckle. “Sure slugger. If that’s what it takes right now to get you to give up the keys, I’ll agree. Not saying I’ll agree in the future, but one day at a time.”

She rolls her eyes, her lips breaking out into an amused grin. “So charming.” She tosses me her keys. It’s a plain silver ring with a key for each vehicle.

“Hey,” I point in her direction, rounding the car to the driver side. “You’re welcome,” I reply sarcastically with a pleased smirk.

“Oh lord,” she sighs and climbs in to the passenger seat.

“That’s what you were calling me earlier.” I snicker with a wink and crank the engine.