THIRTEEN

Dog

A semi breezes past us, headed in the opposite direction as I stretch my fingers out on the bars. Mel sits perfectly balanced behind me, her hand only touching me lightly on the shoulder when we take a bend—and there’s been fuck all of those.

Breakfast was awkward and quiet. I gave up waiting for the bitch to say something and took my staple of coffee and nicotine outside when she made it clear it was never going to happen.

She even managed to steer clear of me so fucking well afterward that I needed Callum’s help to track down where the fuck she was when I was ready to leave.

When King asked me to take her home last night, both my cock and I jumped at the chance. Now I’m counting down the hours until I can get this pretentious wench off my bike and head back to Lincoln.

She thinks she deserves better than me? Well, good luck trying to find it amongst the rough-as-fuck rednecks in Fort Worth.

They aren’t known as the asshole of the family for nothing. If you charted the club’s infractions and incarcerations on a goddamn bar graph, their tower would sail way above the rest of us.

And she thinks she’s too good for me …

Her flattened palm taps my right thigh as we sail past another exit. I catch her eye in the side mirror, and she mouths what I assume to be “bathroom.”

Bitch can wet her pants for all I care … then again, I must care some, otherwise, her attitude toward me wouldn’t piss me off so much.

I take the next exit and pull up outside a row of shops with a sign for public amenities. She dashes off toward the blue and white logo, while I saunter into a convenience store to grab a bite to eat.

The guy behind the counter watches me with a scowl as I open a Hostess pie and take a large bite. What I assume is his daughter, given the resemblance, eyes me as I peruse the aisles, a can of goods held paused in her hand.

I round her aisle and slow down as I approach, taking another bite while I watch the kid damn near shit herself. She has to be all of nine, ten at the most. Finishing my mouthful, I lean in close and ask, “Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“Hey!” comes booming from behind me. “Don’t you talk to my daughter, you fuckin’ animal.”

Bingo. Called it.

“Hey, I’m bein’ polite,” I protest, hands raised, pie and all.

The fucker comes at me with his gut swinging, and a—presumably loaded—shotgun at his side. “Get out of my store. We don’t need your kind of trouble around here.”

I arch my hands over my head to point at the half-eaten pie. “You want me to pay for this?”

He knows I’ve got him on this one. Assholes like this would just as likely kick you out anyway and then call the cops to report a theft.

“Make it quick.”

“Sure.” I drop my hands and take another bite, saying around a mouthful, “Just gotta get some other shit first.”

His face is contorted in one hell of a storm as his nostrils flare. “You talk to my girl again”—the end of the barrel is jarred under my chin—“I blow yer head clean off.”

He holds his ground as I slowly suck my lips into my teeth with a hiss. “See, now, I wouldn’t start that kind of trouble if I were you.”

The kid takes two hasty steps back as the gun digs painfully into the soft flesh beneath my jaw. “You threatenin’ me?”

“Dog!” I swing my eyes left and find Mel hustling her way across the store. “What the fuck?”

Damnit. She’s going to go and get herself shot rushing the guy like this. “Mel, stop would you?” Not to mention the fact a dead girl shouldn’t be getting herself recorded on security tapes.

The storeowner whips the shotgun from under my head and swings it toward Mel. I see red; every fucking shade there is on the spectrum. Like fuck he’s going to aim at her too.

“Hey, asshole. Put that away before you fuckin’ kill someone.”

I’ve got seconds to prepare as he twists it in his grip, and sends the wooden stock sailing toward my head. The butt of the gun strikes me in the forearm, glancing off and bruising my collarbone before the fucker stumbles back with the force of the impact.

Mel ducks, slipping around the side of our skirmish to shield the kid who now openly cries at what’s going down. She turns her hate-filled stare on the guy as I rub the ache out of my arm. “Nice.” She shakes her head, lips pursed. “Way to make an impression on a kid, jackass.”

I stand stunned as she shepherds the girl down the adjacent aisle and back to the front of the store.

The owner thrusts a thick finger my way as I nonchalantly take the last bite of pie. “Get out before I get your ass arrested.”

“What the fuck for, asshole?” I sneer as I drop the pie packet to the floor and pull out my wallet. He lifts the gun; clearly assuming I’m reaching for a weapon. I lift the leather billfold and pull a stupid face at him. “Here.” I rip out a twenty-dollar bill and toss it down with the wrapper. “Keep the change.”

Mel’s hot on my heels as I stride out of the store. Her heavy breathing as she bears down on me rivals the thud of my boots on the pavement.

“Do you have a fucking death wish?” she hollers, stepping in front of me and thrusting both palms into my chest.

“You think that was my fault?” I yell back, hand jutted toward the store.

She frowns, her mouth turned down at the corners. “You could have handled it better.”

“He pointed the goddamn gun at you!”

“So fucking what?” She throws her hands in the air.

“So,” I seethe. “He could have fuckin’ hurt you.”

Her eyes crinkle at the corners, just the barest twitch as she stares me down. “Why does that bother you, Dog?” she whispers.

The mid-morning breeze kicks up the ends of my hair as I stare deep into those fucking haunted eyes of hers and ask myself the same thing. Ten minutes ago, I couldn’t stand the fact she was on my bike, let alone anywhere near me. Now?

“Because …” I hesitate, trying to understand why my nose tingles the same as when I cry. “It fucking hurt my heart to think how that would feel.”

She swallows.

I blink.

A car pulls out of a park nearby.

And it feels as though the whole world waits for us to admit the truth of what we’re fucking denying.

She parts those lush lips, her frown pinching a little tighter, and I swear I hear her acceptance of how undeniable this is in the silence that hangs between us.

“Say somethin’,” I utter. “Otherwise I’ve got no reason not to.”

I don’t need to say what; she knows what as well as I do. She remains silent, the tip of her deep pink tongue peeking out to wet those fucking lips.

I’ve never known longing to hurt this much. My hands find her face, and she pushes into my hold as I take that lush lip between mine and close my eyes at the insanely amazing feel of it pinched in my hold. Her mouth moves against mine, and there’s no denying that her idea about giving us time is nothing but a fallacy, a lie we told ourselves to justify the intensity of what we feel.

A week ago I thought this girl was dead, gone forever, and that pain left a hole in my heart that needs fixing. I can’t think of anything sweeter to fill the space with, than her love.

Mel’s hands slip onto my waist, her fingertips pulse against the taut muscles in my back as I lean down and press into her, deepening, searching for more.

For everything.

Her tongue sweeps across the tip of mine, and I tilt my head to devour this twisted little woman. If I could consume her, encase her in how sure I feel, let that confidence bleed into her, fuck, I would.

I’d give her all of what I’ve got just to see her dance her way into a room and destroy everyone with a smile one more time.

She pulls away, panting, tears fresh on her cheeks as she ducks her chin to hide the force of her feelings. “I …”

I hold my breath as she swallows, waiting for her to find the words, praying they’ll be good.

“I what, Mel?” My hands tighten on the sides of her face, coaxing her eyes back up to mine.

She twists her head in my hold and lays a gentle kiss on my palm. “I don’t know what to do next.” She lays the most adorable, shy smile on me, her eyes searching for an answer in mine.

I’ve got nothing. This journey with her is so far off my well-worn roadmap of women, that it’s beyond a fucking joke.

“Don’t really know,” I say, releasing her from my hold and tapping an index finger under her chin. “But if there’s more of that involved I’m down for it.”

She rolls her eyes and grunts, clearly frustrated with the return to smartass Dog, but also a little tickled at the idea. Hell, she’s not the only one.

I adjust my jeans and clear my throat as I nod toward the bike. “Guess we should carry on then, huh?”

She smoothes her shirt down, eyebrows raised as she stares vacantly at the ground. “Yeah. I guess we should.”