Never Enough: The Vipers MC (3 page)

Chapter Three

Grayson

“Oh, no, you don’t.” She tried to run, but I grabbed her by the arm.

“Let me go, damn it!” Jess struggled. It was all so damned surreal. All I did was stop my bike when I heard a woman scream, and the next thing I knew I was holding on to the woman who left me seven years before. It didn’t take much effort to keep my grip on her. She was still small and light.

“I don’t think so. You think I’d let you go after seven years with no word from you? I finally found you, and I’m supposed to let you run off again?”

“That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.” She jerked her arm and almost got away.

“No way. Keep dreaming.” I yanked her, pulling her to me. She wore the same perfume.

A sound by the trashcans made us both turn to look. Jess’s attacker was on his feet, running away. My instinct was to let her go and stop him, maybe kick the shit out of him a little more. I couldn’t give in. I had a hold of her for the first time in years. I wasn’t letting go.

“Come on.” I pulled her with me, heading for the bike. “We have a lot of shit to clear up.”

“Oh, no. No way. I’m not going anywhere with you!” She kicked my shins. I cried out, rubbing one of them with my free hand. She always knew how to hurt me when she wanted to.

“Is this a fucking playground? You’re coming with me, and that’s final. Unless you want me to hand you over to whoever the hell is after you.”

That stopped her. “What makes you think somebody’s after me? He was a mugger.”

“Bullshit. He would’ve had your purse by the time I got there. He wanted something else. Now get on the goddamned bike.” I threw one leg over it, then pulled her behind me. She knew she didn’t have a choice and finally gave in.

I told myself it didn’t matter when I felt her arms slide around my waist. How many times had she ridden behind me? Hundreds? That was when I loved her. Before I spent seven years hating her guts.

I sped off in the direction of my apartment. How the hell had this happened? All I was doing was going home after a long day. There was construction and a big jam-up on my normal route, so I had taken the detour through a neighborhood I didn’t usually ride through. There she was. The whole time I’d been looking for her, and she was only ten minutes out of the way.

I had stopped looking for her after the first six months, then started hating her right after that. Around the time the divorce papers came in. All she left behind was a letter. Just a fucking letter. And the ring I gave her on our wedding day. I still felt like she punched me in the gut when I thought about it, years later. It was all I could do to keep riding the bike, instead of pulling over and screaming at her for all the shit she put me through. Seven years of it.

I couldn’t wait to hear the excuse she gave. She had enough time to come up with a good one. For a long time, I was sure she was screwing around on the side. She must have run away with another guy, somebody from another MC, maybe. Definitely not one of my guys. I would’ve known if that were the case.

“Slow down!” she screamed over the wind. I sped up, instead. She cursed me out. I pretended I didn’t hear her. I knew it drove her nuts.

She’d find out what happened to people who screwed around with a Viper.

“Where are we going?” she asked as we stopped at a red light. I didn’t answer. “I’ll get off this bike right now, Grayson. Tell me.”

“To my place,” I said, before pulling forward again. She let out something that sounded like a cross between a scream and a curse. I didn’t laugh, but wanted to. It wasn’t a nice laugh, either. Not the kind of sound you make when you’re happy.

I wasn’t happy. I wanted to kill her. I’d imagined seeing her again so many times. The things I would say to her. The way I’d make her sorry for leaving me, making a fool of me. Making me think she loved me right up to the end. Right up to when she ran away.

What the hell was she doing with the loser I found her with? And she left me? What, to get in trouble with people worse than me?

I made a left, in the direction of my apartment. The building used to be a factory, but when I moved in it was a bunch of new loft apartments. I liked it because it was rough, with the original brick walls and wood floors. And it was big, with plenty of space. I was always sorta claustrophobic, ever since I was a kid. Probably why I liked riding my bike better than driving a car. I needed the open air.

We pulled into the garage. Jess was quiet, which was the right choice. I didn’t know what I’d do if she kept fighting me. Seven years of anger weren’t something to screw with.

I waited for her to climb off. I turned to her. She didn’t try to run away—probably because she had nowhere to go.

“I can’t be here,” she muttered.

I was still sitting on the bike, looking her up and down. She looked damn good. Almost too good. She was wearing a coat, but I could tell her body still looked great. She was still thin, like I remembered her. The only thing that changed was her eyes. Same color, just older looking. Her whole face looked older, actually. Circles under her eyes.

“Were you just sick?” I asked.

“What?” Her eyes bulged.

“You look like you’re getting over being sick, or something.”

“Hello to you too, asshole.” She put her hands on her hips. “Thanks a lot.”

“So you always look like this?” I moved my hand around my face. I loved how furious she looked. Her face turned red, the way it always did when she got good and pissed off.

“Is this what you brought me here for? To insult me? You could’ve done that over the phone.”

I snorted. “Yeah, if I had your number. Or address. Or if I knew you were in the country, or alive.”

Her eyes moved away. “Right.”

“Right. What about that, huh?”

She folded her arms around her waist. I waited for her to say something. When she did, it wasn’t what I thought I would hear. “I’m freezing half to death. Can we go inside or something? Please?”

“I thought you couldn’t stay for long.”

“I don’t have the time for word games, Grayson. I mean it. I have to get home, soon.”

“Why? Is your boyfriend waiting for you? I know it’s not a husband, since your hand is empty.”

She scowled. “So observant.”

“Is it a boyfriend? Or maybe your cats?”

“Shut up.” She looked around, found the door that led into the building and walked to it.

“You don’t know which apartment is mine,” I called out.

“I don’t care. As long as I’m inside. If you feel like joining me…” She kept walking. I shook my head, smirking behind her. Still acting like she was in charge. She had no idea.

I got off the bike, following her. I clenched my fists at my sides. My blood pumped so hard, I could barely hear over the roar in my ears. I had dreamed for years about seeing her again. What I would say. How I would make her pay for what she did to me.

She stood waiting for me by the elevator. She even tapped her foot. “Sorry. Am I not going fast enough for you?”

“Considering how fast you went out on the street? No.”

“But you didn’t like it when I went fast, did you?” She let out a sigh and turned away.

I hated how much she was still in my head, after all that time. We stood next to each other, waiting for the elevator, and it sorta felt like we had never been apart. That’s how much of her was still with me. I couldn’t stand it.

I looked at her from the corner of my eye. She was looking at me. I wondered what she was thinking. I knew I still looked as good as I did when we were together—maybe better. I put a lot of the rage I felt into kickboxing. I was sure I didn’t look as old as she did.

Old, young, it didn’t matter. I couldn’t ignore the way it felt to be close to her, even though we weren’t touching. There was an energy, like if we did touch, there would be a spark. Did she feel it, too?

If she did, she hid it pretty well. “This is a nicer place than I thought you would live in.” She walked into the elevator when the doors opened. I told myself not to let her get me mad.

“Yeah, once I learned how to use my thumbs, life got a lot better for me.” I thought she might have snorted, but wasn’t sure. She always thought I was stupid, an ape. That was one problem we had for years. I wondered if she had finished college.

“I thought you would live at the clubhouse. You spent so much time there.”

“I split my time,” I smirked. She rolled her eyes.

We got off the elevator, and she followed me to the door. I watched when she walked into the apartment. She looked impressed. I asked myself why I cared. My life wasn’t sure her, or about her. It hadn’t been for a long time.

“Sit down,” I said, pointing to the couch.

“Excuse me? Do I look like a pet?” Her hands were on her hips again.

“Sit.” When I got that tone in my voice, nobody said no. Including Jess. She sat hard, crossing her legs. I watched as the one on top swung back and forth. She would do what I asked, but she wouldn’t be happy about it. I got the message.

“You want something to drink?” I asked.

“No. This isn’t a social call, Grayson. Why am I here? Why don’t we get down to it?”

I took my time about it. She sighed when I went to the bar in one corner of the big, open living room. “I’ll have a beer,” I said, cracking one open.

“Be my guest.”

“Thanks.” I took a long drink, watching her the whole time. She looked around at the walls, the high ceilings.

“It’s a big place,” she said. “It’s nice.”

“Thanks,” I said again. It was the biggest compliment I would get from her, and I knew it. I walked across the wide floor, sitting at the other end of the couch. She moved away from me. I thought of a scared animal. That was what she was.

“Why am I here?” she asked.

“That’s all you have to say to me, after all this time?” I could hardly believe it. She was unreal.

“I don’t understand why it was so important for you to bring me here. That’s all.”

I sighed, wondering the same thing. The beer was a way for me to stall, and I took a long drink. By the time I finished, I had an answer.

“Why don’t you try telling me where you went, and why? And who the fuck that guy was, the one I pulled off you?”

Chapter Four

Jess

I couldn’t believe it. I absolutely could not believe it.

How many times had I dreamed about this moment? Being with him again? It hadn’t seemed possible, and for good reason. He was all wrong for me. I couldn’t let him back into my life. When I left, I was terrified. I didn’t want to go back to that place in my life again—who would?

I was still terrified. My palms wouldn’t stop sweating, even after I took off my coat. I felt like I might overheat, maybe even pass out. It was like some surreal dream. Or nightmare. I couldn’t decide which.

He looked just as good as ever—maybe better. It made me intensely conscious of the way I looked. I wasn’t exactly dressed up—I’d gone out to the store in a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and a pullover sweater. I realized I hadn’t even put on a bra before leaving the house, figuring my coat would cover me up. Nobody wore a bra at home if they could help it. I couldn’t remember the last time I washed my hair—The fear of when Joe Green’s thugs would be coming for me was too much. I’d been distracted. Nearly sleepless. No appetite—my clothes nearly hung off my already thin frame.

It was just great. He probably took so much pleasure in seeing me looking so thin and weary. I hoped he didn’t read too much into it. What was I thinking? He didn’t read anything into anything. A meathead, through and through.

Don’t let him see how scared you are. I couldn’t help it. I felt like I needed my arms wrapped around me, shielding myself as I had on the street. My groceries. Oh, hell, Cindy.

“I have to make a phone call,” I said, pulling my phone from my purse.

“So you do have a boyfriend?”

“None of your business,” I snapped. His eyebrows shot up. I ignored him, dialing Cindy’s cell. I turned myself from Grayson. Not that it mattered—he could hear every word, of course.

“Where are you?” Cindy sounded frantic.

“I’m fine. Really, no worries. I ran into an old friend on the street, and I’m catching up. I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay. Can you not talk?” Her voice dropped to a near-whisper.

“Right. I’ll tell you about it later.”

“I’ll put David to bed.”

“Thanks so much. See you soon.” I hung up, turning back to my ex-husband. “All right. What was your question?”

He snickered. “You remember my question. What did you do? All this time, I mean?”

“I’ve been living. So have you. It’s not any of your business, Grayson.”

“Bullshit, it’s not. You don’t walk out on your husband without talking to him about it.”

“Why not? You did a hell of a lot during our marriage without talking to me about it. Or do you still suffer from a selective memory?” Just the thought of his past sins was enough to bring it all back. I couldn’t keep the anger and pain out of my voice, though I did try. I didn’t want him to see how much he’d hurt me. It would give him power I didn’t want him to have.

“This is the same old shit you gave me back then,” he muttered, drinking his beer. He leaned back on the couch, legs splayed in front of him. He practically oozed masculinity. My heart picked up a little speed.

“Because it hasn’t changed. No amount of time will change the past, Grayson.”

“So that’s it? I was the big, bad wolf and you were the fucking victim. Of course. That’s what you’d been telling yourself for years, isn’t it?”

“Among other things.”

“Such as?”

“Such as the fact that I’ve been better off without you.” The words came out of my mouth like bullets from a machine gun. It felt good when I said them, too…but not so good once they were out. Silence hung heavy in the air. I turned red, my cheeks burning.

“Is that true?” he asked, careful to keep his voice neutral. I knew him too well for him to fool me. I knew I’d hurt him. I hadn’t meant to, not really. I just had to have a comeback. Wasn’t that the way our fights had always started? With one or both of us saying things we didn’t really mean, just to talk over each other? To get the last word in? How stupid it all seemed, in hindsight.

“In a lot of ways, yeah.”

“So that was it? You didn’t wanna be with me anymore, what, because of the club? You knew who I was when you married me. That’s not an excuse.”

“I was young. I was stupid. I should’ve thought harder about whether or not we should be married. It was doomed from the beginning. You know it was. We were too different. I had goals. You had the club, and the club always came first. Don’t pretend it didn’t. How many nights did I go to bed alone?”

“How many nights didn’t you?” His voice was low, a sensual growl. My body responded, betraying me, warmth spreading between my legs before I could help it. I blamed it on the lack of a man in my life for years, but I knew it was more than that. It was the effect he’d always had on me, from the day we met.

He felt it, too. I could tell. He couldn’t hide anything from me. He only thought he could.

He lounged, watching me. There was a little smile on his face, like he was reading my thoughts. Remembering what we’d done together, what we’d been to each other. I pushed it aside, remembering what was important: getting home to my boy.

“Is this what you brought me here for? To dredge up the past? Congratulations. All we’ve done is rehash our problems. By the way, I outlined my reason for leaving in the letter I left you. None of this is anything new.” I stood, taking control of myself. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Stop trying to tell me what to do.” I held up my left hand. “See this? It’s blank. You don’t get a say in my life, Grayson.” I picked up my coat and purse, ready to make a run for it. I could get a cab if I had to.

He stood, towering over me. “Sit. Down. Jess.” Each word burned through me like fire. The breath caught in my throat. His presence, his strength…it was all too much. I didn’t want to obey him, but there was no choice. I sank onto the couch once again.

He didn’t sit down, remaining on his feet. He was in power and wanted me to know it. My hands shook, hidden by the coat over my arms.

“Who the hell was that back there? The guy threatening you?”

“He was nobody.” Crap. I’d nearly forgotten about him. It seemed like there was only room in my head for Grayson.

“Stop lying,” he growled. “We both know he wasn’t nobody. He was gonna hurt you, wasn’t he? You screamed. It was the reason I stopped. I heard you scream.”

He was the same man he’d always been. The type would who kill another man without thinking twice about it, but who would drop everything when a woman was in trouble. It never ceased to amaze me, his duality.

I sighed. My shoulders slumped. “Yes. He wanted to hurt me.”

“Why? What are you into? And don’t lie to me. You know I have people who can find shit out.”

“Really? But they couldn’t find me, could they?” I couldn’t help myself. His eyes hardened even further.

“Maybe I didn’t try very hard,” he retorted. That stung a little. I couldn’t tell whether or not he meant it.

I looked up at him, maintaining eye contact. His blue eyes. God, how many times had I seen those eyes when I closed my own? More than I could count. Could I believe he didn’t try to find me? I wasn’t sure. Maybe I had hurt him that badly.

“Tell me,” he demanded. “I won’t let you go until you do.”

“You don’t scare me,” I muttered.

“More lies.” Our eyes were still locked, and I didn’t know about him, but I could barely breathe.

“I don’t need to tell you anything. Damn it, I don’t owe you anything.”

“Sure you do.” He laughed bitterly. “I saved your ass out there. You owe me.”

“I didn’t ask you to help me,” I insisted. I wouldn’t have asked him for anything in the world, no matter how horrified and panicked I’d been. If he had offered to help, instead of throwing himself into the situation, I would have said no.

“I did, though. You owe me a little gratitude, instead of being such a bitch.” He pulled a chair over, sitting right in front of me. I couldn’t leave if I tried—he blocked the door. I knew how fast he could move, too. He would’ve taken me down in a heartbeat with those cat-like reflexes of his.

“I see your opinion of women hasn’t changed much,” I said drily.

“Only women who desert me.”

“Oh, spare me.” I shook my head. “Stop playing the victim. If the MC hadn’t gotten so damned violent, things might have been different. You know it.”

I saw the truth of my words hit him hard. Something changed in the way he held his face, in his eyes. He backed off ever so slightly. I pounced on that, building my argument. “You remember that night, don’t you? The night you came home with blood all over you. You didn’t even have the sense to clean up before you left the clubhouse.” He averted his eyes, staring at the floor. “I couldn’t live like that.”

“You could’ve said something before leaving.”

“You wouldn’t have changed. Not for me, or anybody else. The club was your first love.” And he was mine. My first and only love.

Silence hung between us again. I took the opportunity to look at him, while his head was tilted away from mine. I longed to touch him. Being so close to him again, it all came rushing back. I remembered our first kiss, out behind the high school. How old was I then? Sixteen? My whole world had changed in that moment. He wasn’t the first boy I’d ever kissed, but he might as well have been. I’d never felt anything like it before, and hadn’t since.

I remembered the way his hair had felt under my hands, hair that still looked as golden blonde, thick, soft. I used to run my hands through it all the time, even when we weren’t kissing or doing anything else. I loved touching it. Touching him.

And the first time we made love. My heart skipped a beat at the memory. How scared I’d been—he was my first. I knew I loved him even then. I’d sneaked him into my bedroom, my parents already in bed, and we’d strained to stay quiet so we didn’t wake them up. It wasn’t easy. I had wanted to scream, shout, let the world know how incredible it felt. How incredible he felt. It was everything I’d imagined it would be—maybe a little painful at first, but beautiful. Bigger than him or me. It was us, together. I knew then and there I’d never want anybody else. When he held me in his arms, as I shivered and cried a little afterward, he’d soothed and stroked me until I relaxed. It might have been even more beautiful than the act itself. Absolutely breathtaking.

It hadn’t been easy to cut myself off from him, no matter what he thought. I couldn’t have talked it out with him. I had to run away. Otherwise, he would have talked me into staying with him—it wouldn’t have been difficult, either. I loved him so much. It had torn my heart out to walk away from our life together, as miserable as I had been from time to time. As scared as I’d been that he might never come home after a fight. When he’d come home with blood all over his shirt, kutte, fists—blood that wasn’t his—I’d known I was time for me to go. I’d left two days later, only the issue of finding a place to stay holding me back from leaving the morning after that horrible night.

I couldn’t ignore the way my heart swelled, just being so close to him. The way my hands twitched, wanting to shoot out to tangle themselves in his hair, to grip his shoulders and stroke his stubbled cheeks. I almost couldn’t stand it. I needed to leave before I did anything I’d regret.

The only problem was he wouldn’t let me leave until I gave him the information he wanted. He wanted to know who threatened me. I didn’t want to tell him, naturally—it would mean admitting what a mess I’d made of things. I didn’t want him to think I needed him. I didn’t.

Or so I told myself.

“Why are you so damned stubborn? Why not tell me what’s going on with you? If you’re in trouble, I wanna help you.”