Motorcycle Man (42 page)

“I’ve got my cut, I’ve got the gavel and you’re my woman. Those were recruits. You call and they don’t haul their asses outta bed in the middle of the fuckin’ night to do your bidding, they might answer to me. They know they don’t wanna answer to me. You gave them zero choice and swung their shit out there a lotta ways. Silver linin’ for you, the boys, even the recruits, save Shy who’s sharper than the rest of them, think that stunt you pulled is the shit. But those brothers do not have the cloud of the possibility of you permanently suckin’ your food through a straw still hangin’ over them. They can think it’s the shit. I do not.”

At that, I strongly suspected it was Shy who called in the boys.

I didn’t ask for confirmation though.

I didn’t say anything.

When I didn’t, Tack asked, “Now, are we clear?”

“We’re clear,” I answered softly.

He held my eyes and he did this a while.

Then the dragon went to sleep and I knew this because the hard went out of his face, it softened, the air lightened all around us and the edge was gone from his voice when he said gently, “All right, baby, now come here.”

“No,” I whispered.

“What?” he whispered back.

“We’re clear,” I repeated then continued. “Very clear, Kane. So right now I’m going to bed and I’m doing it on the couch. Tomorrow, I want to be here in case Tabby’s not still pissed at me so I can look after her. And tomorrow, after I sleep on it, I’ll decide what I’m going to do about you.”

He lifted a hand toward my neck but I jerked my head away and stepped swiftly to the side and out from the wall.

He pivoted with me, his hand dropping.

“Red, baby, what the –?”

“I told you, I needed time,” I whispered. “You’re going to give it to me.”

“I just laid that shit out,” he reminded me.

“Some of it, yes,” I agreed and his head jerked slightly but I kept talking. “And I need to process that. I’ll tell you my decision tomorrow.”

“Babe –”

“Tomorrow, Tack.”

The softness shifted out of his face right before he declared, “You are not sleepin’ under my roof on the fuckin’ couch.”

“Okay, then, I’ll go home.”

“You are also not goin’ home.”

I held his eyes.

Then I whispered, “Fine,” tore my gaze from his and walked to the unmade bed. I flipped off my flip-flops, pulled down my jeans, stepped out of them and shoved my hands under my shirt to yank my bra off with my tee still on.

Then I climbed into his bed, pulled the covers up and settled on my side, my back to him.

I heard nothing for a while then I heard movement. I saw him round the bed and rolled to my other side, away from him. The bed shifted when he sat on it and I heard boots dropping. The bed shifted again when he got up and I heard the whisper of clothes and a belt buckle hit the floor. And last, the bed shifted again when he got in it.

Then the room was plunged into darkness.

About a second after that, just as I expected he’d do, he rolled right into me and pulled me snug and tight to his front, his body curving into mine, forcing mine to curve with his.

I let him do what I expected he’d do anyway and stared through the dark at nothing.

“What else you need laid out, Red?” he asked the back of my hair quietly.

I didn’t reply.

“It is not cool BeeBee got to –”

I cut him off, begging, “Please don’t say her name in this bed.”

“Fuck,” he muttered. “She say somethin’ else to you?”

I again didn’t reply.

“It’s clear she marked you, babe, what else did she say to you?”

“She was bleeding,” I whispered.

“That bitch was bleeding?” Tack asked.

“Tabby,” I pushed out then my breath hitched.

“Fuck,” Tack repeated and his arm got tight as his body pressed closer.

I felt the tears fill my eyes but I took deep breaths through my nose to fight them back and while I did this, Tack’s hand searched and found mine. When it did, he forced his fingers through mine, lacing them and he pressed our hands close to my chest.

“Took care of my girl,” he murmured.

I deep breathed.

“She’s safe, you’re safe, he’s taken care of, baby. It’s all good now.”

I kept deep breathing.

I felt his face in the back of my hair where he whispered, “Tyra, it’s all good now.”

I wasn’t so sure about that.

Still, I whispered back, “It’s all good now.”

“Sleep, we’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Goodie. Something
not
to look forward to.

Tack’s fingers tensed in mine as his arm gave me a squeeze.

He relaxed both and urged, “Sleep, baby.”

I sighed.

And, surprisingly, I fell asleep before Tack.

But I didn’t have good dreams.

Absolution

I woke draped on Tack, smelling his musk.

I opened my eyes and saw Tabby’s tat under where my cheek was resting on Tack’s shoulder. Somehow in the night we’d repositioned to our usual sleeping arrangement.

And as usual, it felt good.

Then a sharp stab pierced my heart as the day before washed through my brain.

Damn.

Right. One step at a time and my first step was, bathroom. Second, as ever, coffee. And then check on Tabby. And then…

I didn’t know.

But when that step came, I’d figure it out.

Super carefully because I
really
didn’t want to wake Tack, I lifted my arm that was lying across his flat belly and started to roll.

The problem with that was that Tack started to roll with me. He was bigger, more powerful and his roll took me to my back with him mostly on top of me.

Great. Awake half a minute and already my day wasn’t going according to plan.

His head came up and my eyes caught his alert, totally not sleepy ones.

“Where you goin’?” he asked softly, his gravelly, early morning, warm in bed rumble drifting over my skin.

“Bathroom,” I answered, ignoring my body and heart’s response to his rumble.

His eyes drifted over my face as if he was trying to ascertain if I was lying about heading to the bathroom and instead intended to make haste to my secret chamber that would beam me to Fort Lauderdale.

Then his eyes came back to mine. “After, come back to bed.”

I shook my head. “After, I’m starting coffee.”

He gave into that but ordered, “After that, come back to me.”

“No,” I denied. “After that, I want to check on Tabby.”

“She’s good,” he muttered, his forearm that was in the bed beside me sliding up so his fingers could glide in my hair at the side of my head. “Got up after you drifted off last night, checked on her. Sat with her a while ‘cause she wasn’t findin’ sleep. Got her a couple Tylenol PMs. She went out, checked about half an hour ago, she’s still out.”

There it was. He might not win father of the year but he’d had his blowout then it was all about looking after his little girl.

Not a surprise. A relief, but not a surprise. Also sweet but I ignored that too.

Tack finished, “So after coffee, you’re back here.”

Whatever. I’d agree and do what I wanted.

So I lied, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he whispered then dipped his head and touched his lips to mine where he then touched the tip of his tongue to my lips. His goatee tickled my skin and for some reason I felt his mouth, tongue and goatee more than I usually felt it and usually I didn’t miss it. But it was like I was trying to memorize it. As if somewhere in the back of my mind I knew, soon, it would be gone and I’d never have it again.

He lifted his head and said quietly, “Hurry back to me, baby.”

And usually him saying something like that quietly or even not quietly and just plain bossy would make me hurry back to him.

This time, I just nodded and that was a lie too.

He rolled off but did it with his hand sliding to my jaw, taking my hair with it and then I was free.

I rolled the other way and since I’d packed most of my stuff the night before, I went to my bag and dragged it into the bathroom. I did my thing, found a pair of loose-fitting, soft, elastic waist pajama shorts with a cute little frilly edge on the hem and tugged them on. They didn’t exactly go with my tee but, whatever. An outfit that matched was not, at that time (like it normally was), a priority.

I washed my face, brushed, flossed then packed my things back in the bag, ready for anything.

Then I walked out and I wanted to avoid looking at the bed but I couldn’t. Even undone by the events of the day before and uncertain of my future with my man, such was the power of his charisma, I couldn’t help but look.

Sheet to the waist, chest, tats, six-pack on display, up on an elbow with his head in his hand, probing sapphire blue eyes on me… all man, all beautiful, all hot.

Damn.

I moved quickly to the kitchen, started coffee then went to Tabby’s room. The door was closed, though not latched seeing as it was broken. I hoped Tack was as good with a screwdriver as he was with whatever tools they used in a garage (okay, so I wasn’t fucking up at work so much, still, I had no clue what they did – FYI, you could order parts without knowing how they were installed). Slowly, I pushed her door open and on quiet feet I walked to the bed.

Tack was right, Tabby was out. I was also right, she was sleeping on her right side so her left was visible in the morning light and she had a shiner. It wasn’t angry but it was swollen and it wasn’t a good look.

A seriously unfun lesson to learn at sixteen that guys could be dicks and some of them supreme assholes.

I pulled in a silent breath and leaned over her, cautiously shifting her long, thick hair away from her temple, cheek and neck. Then, it wasn’t my place, we had been building it (until last night) but it wasn’t where we were, still, I leaned down and kissed her soft hair at the side of her head.

Then I straightened, turned to the door and stopped dead.

Tack was leaning in it, arms crossed on his chest, leg crossed at the ankle, no shirt, no shoes, messy hair, faded jeans.

I swallowed.

“Couldn’t help yourself,” he whispered.

“No,” I whispered back.

He made no reply except for his lips twitching and his warm, beautiful eyes getting warmer and more beautiful.

Since I couldn’t stay in Tabby’s room forever, I walked toward him then went sideways to squeeze by him.

This effort failed when Tack’s fingers curled around my upper arm and he halted me right after I made it into the hall.

I watched as he leaned in and pulled Tabby’s door to. Then he came to me, rounding and shifting me so he was in front of me and I had my back to the back hall. His arms slid around me and he started walking forward thus I had no choice but to walk backward.

This seemed a theme in our relationship, Kane “Tack” Allen backing me into something.

I lifted my hands to place them on his chest and said quietly, “I’m going to get a cup of coffee.”

“Later,” he muttered, still moving.

Not a good choice of word.

I went silent.

Tack switched directions at his door, backed me in, stopped us to close the door with his foot, it latched then he started moving us again. Another switch in directions and I was down on his bed with Tack on top of me and my hands on his chest captive between us.

I stared in his eyes as they moved over my face and I steeled myself against how nice it felt when his hand framed one side and his thumb came out to sweep across the apple of my cheek.

“Quiet again this mornin’,” he muttered after he studied me for a while.

“Mm hmm,” I agreed but shared no further.

His eyes caught mine.

“She’s sleepin’,” he told me something I knew. “This mornin’, she and me’ll talk. I’ll see where her head is at, why she keeps doin’ fucked up shit and then we’ll see if we can get her over this crap.”

“That’d be good,” I replied.

“Right now, I wanna know where your head is at.”

“My head is thinking of coffee,” I lied.

“Bullshit,” he called me on it, speaking gently.

I pulled in breath.

“Talk to me, babe,” Tack urged.

“You back me up a lot,” I observed and his brows drew together.

“Say again?”

“You back me up a lot.”

His head tilted slightly to the side but he didn’t reply.

I gave examples, “In my office, last night in this room, just now down the hall and, um… also in this room.”

“Yeah?”