Authors: Kaylee Song
Thrash (11 page)
He shook himself out of it, said, “I thought you’d like it. I love Ohiopyyle. It’s one of the few places I can come and just feel like I’m completely alone.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me to him.
“Like you are alone?” I asked softly. “Or like you are completely yourself?”
He looked down at me, quiet for a second, and I wondered if I had been too blunt.
“Both,” he finally said.
His answer left me feeling sad. “Well, you aren’t alone now,” I replied.
“Yeah, but I’m alone with you, and somehow that is so much better.” He was so close, his breath hot against my lips as he dipped down. For one moment he hovered, his warm fingers against my wind-chilled cheeks. Then he did what I had been waiting for.
What I needed.
He kissed me. The warmth of it went straight through me. Electric. His lips met mine with a softness that caught me by surprise. Then it deepened, and I felt his need melting into my own. He overwhelmed me as he pushed his tongue past my lips and tasted me.
I groaned, and gasped, embarrassed by the sound. I wasn’t – I didn’t –
His fingers caught my jaw softy as I withdrew, gently drawing me back. I shuddered as he kissed my lower lip, slowly going deeper until I… I tasted him. I wasn’t just the recipient. I wanted this man.
Instead of just reacting, I acted. I tasted him, my fingers clinging to the leather of his vest. That kiss was sweet and deep and unlike anything I’d ever experienced. And it made me want more. So much more.
When I finally drew away, it was only to catch my breath, and I immediately leaned into him again for another kiss, and then a third.
He was so warm and strong, and I could feel him, his arm against me, but he wasn’t just showing of. He was strong. I don’t know how, but I knew he would use that body exactly how I wanted. But I didn’t just want to ride… I wanted to drive.
But I wasn’t entirely sure how.
The boys I had been around – and the women in my life who had been meant to mentor me – had never thought of me as more than a receptacle for whatever a suitable man wanted.
This was genuinely different situation, and I wanted more.
I might have come across a little strong. “Slow down, Nora,” Thrash finally spoke up. “We have all night.”
I leaned back on my tiptoes, blushing a little in the starlight. “Do we?” I asked.
“If you want it.” The way he said it, so soft, as if he understood me better than I did, was humbling.
One thing was certain: I knew I didn’t want to walk away from him, not yet.
“Walk with me.” He laced his fingers between mine and walked along the sidewalk that looked out over the bubbling river, the gush of water flowing over them shaping the rocks with time.
“I used to come here as a kid, you know?”
I shook my head.
“My dad would pack us all up and take us out camping for a week. In a tent. My mother would be bitching by the end of it, but we all had a great time.”
I couldn’t imagine. “I never went camping. Never went on a vacation, actually. It was always school, and then camp after camp, but not the kind where any tents were involved. Horseback riding, painting, science camp, volleyball camp.”
If he smirked a little, who could blame him? “Sounds absolutely miserable.” There was only a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
I shook my head. “It wasn’t bad, it was just… lonely.” I stopped and leaned against the railing, looking out at the river as it glinted in the moonlight. “Very lonely.”
Thrash wrapped his arm around me and pulled me into his chest. “You are lonely. I like being alone.”
“I’m not lonely,” I murmured, holding his arms around me. “Not now. Not lately.”
I could feel his breath on the back of my neck as he spoke, his voice soft. “I’ve always had my family with me. We fought, we still fight, but they are always there.”
I pulled away a little bit. “I know, I know, boohoo, poor rich girl, mommy and daddy didn’t spend enough time on her.” I shook my head, my limbs stiff and my back starting to ache again suddenly.
Pity the poor right girl, huh? No way bitch!
It was an argument I’d heard a million times before. I had learned to keep my mouth shut. I had never had the words to describe what was wrong with where I had come from, so I had painted it. At least on canvas, people didn’t spit on how I felt. They might ignore it, but that was their right.
I was like anyone else. I needed a way to speak, to share my voice, preferably in a way that didn’t hurt anyone else.
Thrash seemed to catch something in my words, because when he spoke, his tone was a little lighter, and a little more serious, too. “I was teasing you. But I wouldn’t trade my time with my family for anything, Nora.”
He looked me over. He might as well have asked.
Why don’t you like your family?
But I was glad he didn’t. I didn’t know how to explain it to myself, much less to him.
“Why am I telling you all this?” I asked, a little, not-so-nice laugh in my voice.
He just shrugged, took it in stride. “Because you need to. And because I’m a good listener.” When he grinned at me, I smiled back. “We all have different experiences in life,” he went on. “But that doesn’t make yours’ trivial. I got to spend a lot of time with my family.”
“Did you? Where did you go?” I asked, curious.
He thought about it for a minute then smiled.
“We went to Ohiopyle a few times, Lake Pymatooning, even a little place out in the middle of nowhere, Woodcock Dam. I remember it because I made fun of the name for ages.”
“So you had a good childhood?”
“Yeah. We had the club, and we had each other, and then –” Thrash cut off abruptly, looking up at the sky and turning away from me.
“Until what?” I asked, my curiosity peaked. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, maybe I should’ve just walked along with him, but I couldn’t help myself.
I wanted to know.
Who are you?
every bone in my body screamed.
That conversation was done, though.
“We better get back to your place. I’m sure you have a lot of work in the morning.” And just like that the spell we had been drifting through was broken. We were back to reality, still strangers, staring at each other. We belonged in two totally different worlds. The difference was that I wanted to escape mine. He seemed firmly entrenched in his.
“One more bike ride?” he offered. “I’ll even take the long way.”
I nodded mutely.
“You know, I thought you didn't like my bike.”
“I didn’t, at first.” I blushed. “Turns out I do, but…”
“What?”
Maybe I was an idiot, but I pushed the words out before I could think twice. “I – I don’t just want to ride it. I – maybe sometime – would you mind if I drove? It? Your bike, I mean?” My cheeks were as bright as Christmas lights and twice as hot.
He just laughed. I thought he would say “hell no!”
Instead, he thought it over. “We’ll see about that. Another time.”
Oh. Okay… I couldn’t believe my luck. At least I knew there was going to be another time that he wanted to see me again.
Even if we were two strangers.
12
Because something wasn’t right.
I hadn’t been able to put my finger on it then, but when I stepped away, I realized: she didn’t fully understand what she was promising. No one had ever cared to find out what she could give.
If I knew anything about other men it was that it took most a while to figure out how to do more than take. Most of us figured it out eventually, but sometimes it took us a while. And some of us made a fucking mess of it along the way.
I’d been lucky enough to figure it out early.
A happy lover made me a happier man.
Another way to put it was this: I liked fucking as much as the next man, but I also liked liking who I was fucking. And I liked knowing she liked it, too. Maybe it was crazy, but watching a woman writhe under me got me hard, got me in. Hell, it got me off.
Nora certainly had enough to let loose. Just thinking about the little moan that had escaped from her lips last night was enough to get me hard. That woman needed a real man, someone who knew what the fuck he was doing. And I wanted to watch her discover what she wanted to do.
I gripped my handlebars tight and tried to screw my head on straight because the hard length between my thighs and the saddlebag almost caused me to round my turn too tight and lose control. Almost.
Fuck, I wanted that woman.
I remembered the way her face fell when I cut off our conversation and scowled. She hadn’t meant any harm with her curiosity, but I wasn’t ready to talk about it, not to her, not to anybody.
It was hard enough thinking about what my family had been, but to talk about it? I wasn’t ready for that. All I could see was my father lying dead on a cold slab. I had gone with my mother to identify him at the coroner’s office. I thought I was man enough to see. I felt I needed to step up, be a man, make my father proud. Well, I’d done it, but I had nightmares for years after.
He had been caught in a drive-by. Not a heroic death, or a blaze of glory; he had just been a bystander. Back in those days the club had flown straight, stayed out of trouble. My father had been a good man. He had been just another victim of Braddock’s violent history.
That was when my innocence died.
These days, Braddock was a ghost town, and we kept it that way. Me and the guys, we made sure in the motherfucking gangs stayed out of the area. For all the rules we broke, we did what we could to ensure that kids didn’t have to see their parents gunned down for stupid shit.
We drove out problems and used our weight with the mob to keep the area as safe as possible. We did patrols, too.
I was on a patrol tonight, and if the memories were a little more vivid than usual, it was courtesy of Nora.
I pulled up to a red light just before the Rankin Bridge and looked over across the street.
A bunch of teenagers were standing on the corner, acting like they thought they were hot shit, talking to one another with emphatic gestures. Likely small time drug dealers, the kind that were used as cannon fodder by the bigger gangs.
There was no way in hell I wanted them here.
I roared my engine and came up beside them.
“Hey, assholes, get the fuck off of my block, hear me?” I yelled.
They took one look at me and the patch on my back and ran up the fucking hill. No posturing, no argument. They just got the fuck out of there.
Still, they shouldn’t have been hustling on our streets like that.
The bigger gangs knew to stay out of our territory, but they’d happily used idiots like that to test our resolve from time to time. Made me wonder who was spreading shit about us. This crap was the first sign of trouble coming. We’d need to keep it sharp for a while, keep our streets covered. If one gang thought we might be wavering, others would try, too.
Fuck. I needed to talk to Rage, add this incident to the long list of problems he needed to know but would ignore if I didn’t push.
I chuckled to myself as I watched the little shits duck behind a corner. One glanced out around the corner at me, as if to gauge whether I was the real deal.
I was. Period. I glared at him, and he ducked away, eyes wider.
I was so focused on the kid that I almost didn’t notice the tail end of another motorcycle turning onto my street. But the paint job got my attention, as did the stance of the guy riding.
Holy fuck. It was Bones.
The old bastard was crossing the Rankin Bridge, heading into Munhall. I might hate the man for what he did, but I had to admire his nerve. Munhall was our territory. Always had been.
It was like he was trying to get our attention.
Well, he had it, and I wasn’t going to let him get away from me.
I should’ve called Rage. Hell, I probably shouldn’t have followed the jag-off, but I couldn’t help it.
He had been our leader, the man that we looked up to. He had raised us when our fathers fell, and they did, one by one: to prison, six feet under, or both.
Of course we had trusted him. And he used us to get power. And when his plans blew up in his face, he took off like a coward and left us to scrape through the mess.
The part that really pissed me off was that, for all my observation and caution, I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t even suspect he intended to toss us aside like old garbage. Sure he had been getting drunk and a bit power-hungry, but loyalty had always been his mantra. And for years, he really had meant it.
When he betrayed us, he really hit us hard. As hard as it got.
I’d never let anything like that happen again.
I kicked my bike into gear and took off down the road, speeding until I was right up behind him, daring him to notice me. The traffic was slow and tight as a result of everyone heading to the waterfront for shopping, but we were both driving Victories. Bones was older, but he had taught me how to ride my own chrome beauty. There was no way he had lost it this bad.
He was letting me catch. Which made me wonder: why? He had to know I had beef with him. I reached back to check my pack as the traffic caught in a lull. The Derringer was there, loaded, safety on. It would be out of reach while I was driving. But no one outside of movies actually tried to shoot one another while steering a moving vehicle. I’d be safe from anything he was packing, at least while we were riding.
I rode up beside Bones at the next red light, and for a split second, I thought he was going to turn to look at me. Instead, he blew through, just missing the surge of crossing traffic. I hesitated just long enough to spot a gap, then I recklessly blew through the intersection after him.
I chased him across Munhall and though Homestead. He took a left and I followed. He knew I was following. He took a short right and then another, weaving through a nest of alleys so complex that I knew I was screwed. This was a maze and he was the only one familiar with it. Worse yet, I couldn’t turn around. Even if I could get out, I was willing to bet the exit had been blocked off by Bones’ boys.
There was nothing for it but to follow through. My heart suck into my hips, pounding dully. I was afraid – what sane motherfucker wouldn’t be? But I kept going. I kept my head up and my eyes narrowed, and I faced him head on as I came into a lot outside an old loading bay.
He didn’t pull out. He didn’t mock me. He just cut off his bike and waited.
I looked around. I could turn around here but not easily and not quickly. If this was a trap, he had me exactly where he wanted me.
I stopped, bracing the bike upright with splayed legs, my face inscrutable and my eyes dark. We looked at one another, the rumble of my engine echoing in the enclosed space.
When he took off his helmet, I was surprised to see the weariness in his face. His eyes watched me sadly.
I turned the engine off.
“DeMarcus,” he said. His voice was low but I didn’t miss a syllable.
“Bones,” I ground out. The muscles in my arms were corded, straining as I suppressed the urge to climb off and fight this man.
He wasn’t interested in fisticuffs, though. “I just want to talk,” he called. “I promise.” He held up both of his hands and got off the bike, taking great care to show me he wasn’t going to try and be slick.
I didn’t trust that, not one bit, but I climbed off my bike, too.
The .357 Derringer had been a gift from Strike and his boys. It was standard cop issue and the identification had been scarred off. It was still tucked away in my pack, safe and secure and easy to reach.
I didn’t pull it out or wave it around. I didn’t need to.
Ironically, it was Bones taught me never to store a loaded piece in my belt. “That’s how you shoot your dick off. Or put a bullet in your ass. Don't be a dumb fuck.”
That was what he had told me, and I had taken that lesson to heart.
“What the fuck do you want?” I asked, glaring at him.
“I think you know what I want, Thrash.”
“You wanna talk?” If I sneered it a little, who could blame me? We were way past talking.
“I’m trying to,” he drawled, his voice rough and tired. He seemed worn out and I believed it like I believed in handouts – not at all.
“I’m not joining up with you,” I snapped.
He’d been trying to collect me ever since he left the club.
“But you’re thinking about it. Don’t lie. I know you are, or else you wouldn’t have followed me. You would’ve called for backup.”
He was wrong. I wasn’t thinking about it. I wasn’t even considering it. I just wanted to punch him in the face. I wanted to watch him bleed.
But I couldn’t. Not here. He had to have people here, watching, protecting him. He wasn’t that stupid. So what the hell was I doing here?
“I’m not interested,” I insisted.
He knew me better than I wanted to admit. “You aren’t an easy guy to get on his own. I know you. I always knew you. You had to choose it. So let me ask you a question, DeMarcus, did you even tell the club that I was trying to get ahold of you? It would’ve saved them the trouble of that manhunt they’re wasting all their time on. Think about it, kid. All that negotiating, just to find me. All those resources spent. You saw it. You knew. All you had to do was say the word and they’d have set me up…”
I narrowed my eyes and looked at him for a moment, then turned away. He was right. I should’ve told them. But a part of me thought that I could get him on my own, that I could meet him somewhere, convince him to trip up, do something to get my own revenge.
When I really boiled it down, that was what I wanted, after all. My own revenge.
I ground my teeth and considered what he was saying. I considered what I wanted. He knew me, but I knew him, too, and I was in a unique position…
I took a risk.
“Why should I leave the club? For you? You left us?” I let a bit of the childish resentment bleed into my voice, playing on his memories of me as a kid, following big bad Bones around. We’d made him feel like a big shot back in the day. Hell, we’d really believed in him then. That kind of hero worship went a long way for a man.
To my surprise, my hurt seemed to bother him. His voice stayed level, but I caught a note of guilt in it. Or maybe he was just that good a liar, now. Either way, he was as persuasive as ever.
“I moved on. Grew. I wanna bring you along with me.”
He wasn’t an idiot – and he wasn’t giving me anything to work with. He knew me better than that. I’d never just walk out. I never had. I needed something to make him really believe I’d come along.
So I took another risk. Trapped in a dead end, unable to turn and run, I hard-lined it. “You left me,” I said flatly, not budging.
He could have shot me. Instead, he let a few things slip.
“I trust you.” The way he looked at me then, I knew something big was coming. “I hear there’s a new guy up there,” he said. “What is he calling himself? Wrangler?”
“Wrath,” I growled. The reaction was surprisingly sincere.
Bones nodded, satisfied by the irritation in my voice. “Heard he’s Rage’s new favorite. That he runs it all now. Strategy. Weapons acquisition. He’s even brought in his own boys. Ex-military.”
I stayed silent, letting him fill in the gaps of his own story.
“Jag-off rose awful fast, didn’t he? Didn’t even have to earn his cut, I hear. Just walked right on in. Is it true he got in without a vote? Rage just promoted him?”
All that question required was a nod, but I couldn’t do it. So I looked at the ground and scowled. That was enough for Bones.
“Rage is replacing you,” he said, his ideas as poisonous as the shit he sniffed on the side. “And he’s an idiot.”
If my knuckles were a little paler, well, Bones was definitely playing on a few nerves. He’d always been good at that, twisting and using people’s problems to inspire them to follow.
Nowadays though, he was just dragging us all down with him.
I ground my teeth and played my part. “Rage doesn’t listen to me like he used to.” I admitted it reluctantly, as if it was a truth I resented but hadn’t dared to say before.
