Cole (The Ride Series) (4 page)

Before I knew it, I was being gently
lifted and carried. “Hmm?” I muttered.

“Just putting you to bed sleepy girl,”
his low voice answered me. I didn’t have the energy to protest or to wonder
where I was sleeping. The night’s events had completely worn me out. The last thing
I knew, I was being tucked into a warm, soft bed and I fell into oblivion.

Chapter Three

I woke up entirely too hot. It took me
several moments to place where I was as my eyes adjusted to the weak light
streaming in through the blinds. There was a warm wall of man tucked behind me
with a strong arm around my belly. All of last night’s craziness and the fact
that I was in Cole’s bed came rushing back. It had been a long time since I’d
been held, especially while I slept, and I allowed myself a few moments to appreciate
it before I shifted.

He muttered something in his sleep,
but he let me slip out from under his arm so I could take the sweatshirt off
that I’d fallen asleep in. I lay back down on my back without touching him and
took in the high-beamed ceilings of his bedroom and the simple bed, nightstand,
and dresser that made up the room. I looked over at the man beside me and tried
not to audibly suck in my breath. He was shirtless with a muscled arm now
thrown above his head. His body was more beautiful than I’d imagined, with
tanned skin, firm pecks, and a six pack. My eyes turned to the inviting trail
of hair that began past his belly button and led to places I couldn’t allow
myself to contemplate. A large tattoo spanned across his chest, some type of MC
insignia. It was the profile of the head of a medieval knight wearing armor.
The knight was black and white with red flames that burst out from behind it. I’d
always loved tattoos and this one was particularly unique. I forced my eyes
away before I did something mortifying like lick him. His bed was comfortable
and I realized I’d slept fairly well considering I’d slept in my clothes. I
carefully slipped from the bed to use the restroom. I brushed my teeth with my
finger before heading out to the kitchen. The least I could do was make him
breakfast to thank him.

He emerged not long after, looking
gloriously groggy with tousled hair and sleepy blue eyes.

“Hi,” he said, while giving me a panty
dropping smile as I turned the bacon on the stove.

“Hi,” I said and smiled back.
“Coffee?”

“Please,” he yawned as I poured him a
cup.

“You didn’t have to make breakfast,”
he told me, accepting the cup I offered him and drinking it black as I
suspected he would. He leaned against the counter, still shirtless, watching me.

I shrugged, “I don’t mind. You have a
surprisingly well stocked fridge for a bachelor,” I commented with a teasing
grin as I flipped the pancakes I’d whipped up. I needed something to keep me
from staring openly at his gorgeous torso. He really needed to put on a shirt.

He chuckled. “I like to eat,” he said,
mischief in his eyes.

“Ah, I knew there had to be a reason.”
I smiled wryly and put a heaping plate of pancakes and bacon in front of him as
he sat down at the bar.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” he asked
after swallowing his first, very large bite.

I shook my head and wrinkled my nose.
“Not too hungry this morning. But I don’t typically eat a big breakfast
anyway,” I said, sipping my coffee and turning to clean up the mess I’d made.

“Did you hear back from Kat?” he
asked.

I nodded. “She texted me, she’s fine.
We’ll meet back up at our place later and go from there,” I told him.

“How’d you two meet?” he asked. “You
seem really close,” he observed accurately.

I smiled and nodded in agreement. “We
met at a coffee shop. She worked there at the time. I would go in every morning
and she was so damned friendly.”

He laughed at my expression.

“And we just became friends,” I said
with a shrug. I left out the part where I was going into the coffee shop because
I had nowhere else to go, and I was desperate to get out of the flea bag motel
I was staying in. I started working at the coffee shop along with her soon
after we met.

“You
workin
’
today?” he asked.

I nodded. “Not till later though,” I
said as I remembered that I told him briefly last night that I waited tables at
Jupiter.

“How about you?” I asked carefully. We
had yet to delve into his line of work.

He shrugged. “I make my own hours, one
of the benefits of being in the family business,” he explained. I fought the
urge to roll my eyes. I knew the aspects of “family business” all too well.

Not wanting to know more, I ignored
his vague response and finished cleaning.

“Thanks, that was delicious,” he said,
patting his firm stomach. “I can’t remember the last time someone cooked me
breakfast.”

My inner cynic rolled her eyes. I was
pretty certain that Cole had his fair share of bedmates and I’d be surprised if
one or two of them didn’t try to charm him with breakfast now and then.

I felt mildly depressed at the
thought. “Do you mind taking me home now?” I asked quietly.

He eyed me thoughtfully for a few
moments before he nodded. “Let me just throw on some clothes.”

He emerged shortly after bearing the
same hoodie I’d worn the night before. “You’ll probably be more comfortable
wearing this on the bike,” he explained.

“Thanks,” I said, appreciating the
thought.

“I just have to swing by to give
something to my Pop and then I’ll take you home,” he surprised me by saying.

I had no choice but to agree, I was
pretty much at his mercy and he’d already done a lot for me. But meeting his
father wasn’t high on my list of things I wanted to do, especially when I was
trying desperately to keep my distance from him.

We were soon pulling up to what I
assumed was the MC clubhouse. I was shocked that he would bring me here.
Typically only old ladies hung around the club, or loose women who slept with
the bikers. I was neither, but I tried not to think much of it. I hadn’t been
inside a club since I’d left my father’s eight years ago when I turned eighteen.

“This’ll be quick,” he assured me as
he led me into the front room that smelled like leather, beer, and men. It took
my eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light of the expansive room where every
shade was drawn, most likely to keep the heat out. Despite that effort, it was
warm, and I wished I could take the sweatshirt off that covered a large amount
of my body. My eyes continued to span the room finding a fully stocked bar in
the right corner and a pool table sitting in the middle. There appeared to be
offices off to the left and I knew from experience that only seasoned club
members would occupy one of those. The floor was dark hardwood that squeaked
underfoot. The feel of the place along with its décor reminded me swiftly and
reverently of home. I was shocked when a lump formed in my throat that I
desperately forced down. I missed my father every day, and this place reminded
me so fiercely of him, it felt like he was about to walk through the door.

“Cole, that you?” a gruff voice
hollered from an office to the right.

“Yah, Pop,” Cole called back.

An older man emerged who bore a
striking resemblance to Cole. His hair was grayer and he had the telltale lines
of age surrounding his face, but his eyes were the same bright blue. His graying
hair was held back in a long ponytail. He had a mustache and a goatee that
suited his handsome face.

“Who’s this?” he asked, gesturing to
me with a lift of his chin.

“This is Scarlet. I’m giving her a
ride home, but it sounded like this couldn’t wait,” Cole replied somewhat
impatiently. “Scarlet, this is my Pop, Cal Jackson,” he introduced. Something
about the name was familiar but I ignored it and waved shyly feeling ridiculous
wearing Cole’s giant sweatshirt and undoubtedly looking like some floosy he’d
brought home the night before.

“Nice to meet you,” I said. Cal eyed
me for several moments. It seemed like he was trying to place me, but then he
snapped out of it. “You, too. We won’t be but a minute,” he responded, leading
Cole toward the back and leaving me standing alone in the room.

I took a deep breath trying to push
down the strong emotions this place was bringing out in me. I wandered to the
wood paneled walls and looked at the various photos framed throughout the room.
Many of them boasted pictures of Cal when he was younger, and I immediately
surmised that he was the MC President. There were a few of younger children, a
beautiful boy I picked out immediately as Cole when he was around five-years-old.
They were all similar to the photos I’d grown up around.

I was still browsing the walls when my
eyes stopped and opened wide on a photo of Cal with a wide grin and his arm
draped around none other than my father. I sucked in an audible breath and
swallowed hard. It must have been taken at least ten years ago, if not longer,
and my eyes filled with involuntary tears at seeing the warm smile on my
father’s face. My fingers drifted to the frame as I tried desperately to get a
handle on my emotions. Both men wore their respective club patches proudly on
their jackets as they grinned at the camera. The “Sinners” club patch adorned
on my father’s jacket was one of the most familiar images from my youth. My
father loved that club and he raised me to love it, too. It was the only family
I’d ever known. The club believed in community and brotherhood, until all that
changed.

“You’re Ray Malone’s girl aren’t you?”
Cal’s gruff voice asked from behind me, sending me whirling around in shock. I
hadn’t even heard him come in.

I couldn’t seem to get any words
around the lump in my throat as Cole came up behind his father and eyed my
tearful expression with surprise.

“I’d know those green eyes anywhere,”
Cal continued, smiling fondly as I stood rooted to the spot unable to speak. “I
met you when you were just a little thing, I’m sure you don’t remember. Your daddy
was so proud of you. Called you his Scarlet Rose,” he remembered fondly,
sending the tears that filled my eyes spilling down over my cheeks. I wiped
them away as quickly as I could.

“How did you know him?” I finally
managed.

“Our clubs supported each other from
across state lines. Whenever we had business in California we’d stay at your dad’s
club and vice versa,” he explained.

It wasn’t uncommon for clubs to be
aligned from such a distance, but it explained why Cal wasn’t immediately
familiar. I’d probably met him very few times during my childhood.

“Over the years we became like family,
your father and I. We were a lot alike. Both single fathers. You and Cole
played together once or twice when you were little,” he explained, and I looked
over at Cole whose surprised expression matched mine.

“Never thought the world could be
quite this small,” I muttered.

“Damn shame about your daddy, honey,”
he continued. “He was a good man and that club went to shit without him,” he
muttered angrily.

The circumstances surrounding my
father’s death were still somewhat of a mystery. He lost control of his bike on
his way back from a visit with a neighboring club. He collided with an oncoming
car and died on impact. Upon closer inspection, Henry, my father’s right hand,
had discovered that the brakes had been tampered with. Anyone close to the
situation knew that Jake had somehow been involved, but they couldn’t prove it.

Jacob and I had grown up together in
the club. We’d been best friends since toddlerhood, often driving my parents
crazy with our antics. When my mother died of cancer, Jake was a source of
unfailing strength for me. He seemed to know just how to get me through those
terribly dark days. Years later we became a couple, though I never felt
passionately about him. I gave him my virginity and my love, but I was never in
love with him.

Then, Jake started to change. He
became brooding and removed. His attitude toward me became commanding and
aggressive. He was set on having a position of power within the club, but my father
didn’t like his leadership style, or lack thereof. Jake used force and
intimidation to get what he wanted. The men didn’t respect him or want to
follow him, which served to drive him deeper into anger.

I broke it off with him and I tried my
best to stay as far away from him as possible, until he drove me to leave altogether.
Even though I had witnessed truly cruel behavior from Jake, and had been a
victim of it myself, I still had trouble grappling with the fact that he could
have taken my father’s life. And though there were times that he had made me
fear for my own life, the part of me that remembered him as a dark haired, wide-eyed
little boy still couldn’t rationalize it.

I stood staring at Cal, a man who
could tell me so many stories about my father—someone who could make him
feel alive to me through the history they shared. But I couldn’t risk the
exposure of opening myself up further to him.

“I don’t know what your relationship
with the Sinners is like now, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone
that you saw me,” I told him, trying to keep any fear out of my tone. I wasn’t
entirely successful and he didn’t miss it.

“You got trouble?” he asked, his eyes
sharpening like a hawk’s.

Great. I’d gone from flying under the
radar to getting the attention of an MC president. “I can take care of myself,
but I left home for a reason and I’d like to leave it at that,” I requested
firmly.