Chapter 20
20
Melody
Rogue is sitting in the waiting room again when I finally get to leave work at about two AM. He’s sitting off in the corner, cradling his face in his hands, bent double over his knees, the leather of his jacket stretched taut over his arched back.
“Is something wrong?” I ask as I approach.
He unfolds before me, smiling, which makes his eyes glow like green jewels every time. But he looks tired.
“Nah, everything’s great,” he says as he stands up and lays his hands on my waist. “I just thought we could go for a ride before bed.”
His full meaning behind the word bed hits me with all the force and heat of a raging forest fire. But his eyes are cool and peaceful.
“I’d like that,” I say. “After today, I need a ride to clear my head too.”
He takes my hand and leads me out of the hospital into the cool, windless spring night. His bike is parked by the entrance, two helmets hanging off the handlebars. He hands me one of them.
“I borrowed this for you,” he says. “But maybe it’s time we got you your own. If we’re gonna make this a more permanent pastime.”
I swallow hard as I take the helmet and can’t find my words. Or voice. I could tell him I have my own helmet sitting in the trunk of my car. I could tell him all he needs to know about my past so he’ll actually have all the info he needs before he starts saying things like this and mean it. But all I really want to tell him is…
“I think we just might have to make it a regular thing.”
He smiles again, brighter this time. Fuck my past. Maybe I’m just overreacting about the whole thing. Maybe he already knows I was a club girl for the last decade. Maybe he won’t care.
Every biker I ever met cared. But everything about Rogue has already been so different to what I expected, why shouldn’t this be too?
“So where are you taking me tonight?” I ask as I put on the helmet and shut those other doubts into a very dark corner of my mind.
“The beach, where else?” he says and mounts his bike. “Get on.”
I don’t need telling twice. And as soon as I wrap my arms around his waist, press my thighs against his hips and get a good nose full of his fresh, hopeful scent as I lean against him, most of my doubts just pop and disappear like soap bubbles.
The ride, the fresh air on my face, the rumbling of the bike beneath me and his strong and steady breathing take care of the rest.
We stop at a burger place for takeout and a couple of beers and are sitting at the end of an old wooden pier within half an hour. It’s not the same pier where he kissed me for the first time. Not the same beach as far as I can tell either. We’re alone here, and of the many lamps lining the pier, only one at the very beginning of it and the one over us still work, casting a pale yellow light over us. His lips are as soft as the first time we kissed, as tasty, and the kiss is better than any sunrise I’ve ever seen.
This wooden pier is very old and it creaks, groans and shakes as the ocean waves hit its pillars. But I just know I’ll always be safe as long as he’s kissing me, as long as he’s holding me, as long as we’re together.
“Let’s eat before it gets cold,” he says and grins apologetically as he pulls away from the kiss and reaches into one of the bags.
“Let’s,” I say and grin too. “I’m starving.”
I take my grilled chicken sandwich from the bag and by the time I take my first bite he’s already finished half of his cheeseburger.
“Clearly not nearly as starving as you are, though,” I say as I watch him eat.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and washed down the bite he was chewing with a swig of beer. “After we found those women tonight, I didn’t think I’d eat for a good long while. But then you fixed them up.”
“For now,” I say. “But they were all in a very bad shape.”
I don’t want to burst his bubble with the cold, dark reality that all the five women might die yet. But I am a doctor, trained to operate in facts first and foremost. Or maybe I’m just not very strong on hope.
“They have a chance now, that’s the important thing.”
He takes another bite of his burger and for a while, we both eat in silence.
“You do great work,” I tell him after a while. “Those women you saved tonight… you were probably their only hope and you came through.”
“Yeah, tell that to my cousin,” he says.
“Who’s your cousin?” I ask after he doesn’t elaborate.
“An LAPD detective,” he says. “I spoke to him before I came to get you and he’s very reluctant to go after the bastard who’s responsible for what you saw today.”
“Why?” I ask, shocked.
“Reasons,” he says. “One of them being that he can’t trust my information anymore. Like it’s suddenly not clean anymore just because I had a couple of conversations with Devil’s Nightmare MC.”
“The Devils aren’t just killers and gun runners though,” I say. “They do good things too. They run women’s shelters, foster a lot of children and do stuff for the underprivileged. And they never went after anyone that didn’t have it coming.”
“Yeah, I’m starting to see that, but my cousin never will,” he says. “I hoped for better from him. But he’s part of the law enforcement machine. And the machine’s primary goal isn’t always justice, no matter what it claims.”
“That’s why the world needs men like you,” I say. “And the Devils, for that matter.”
“Still, my cousin kinda disappointed me today,” he says. “Our dads were brothers and they were both cops. But they also belonged to a biker club, The Lawmen MC. Manny rides with them now.”
“But you branched out on your own?” I ask.
He shrugs. “They do more community service type of stuff. Like watching over victims, trying to be in the right place at the right time to prevent bad things from happening. All within the strict confines of the law. The members are all law enforcement and judges and such. I wanted more. I wanted to actually catch bad guys.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” I say. “I bet your dad’s real proud of you.”
He shrugs. “I think maybe he would be. He died when I was ten years old. Killed in the line of duty. Some tweaked out meth head stabbed him while he was trying to stop him from robbing a gas station.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say.
“Yeah, me too,” he says and grins sadly. “The docs did the best they could, kept him alive long enough for all of us to get there so we could say goodbye. But the injuries were too severe and he died. At least that’s what the docs said.”
He’s reciting part of the speech we are trained to give to the bereaved after we fail to save their loved one’s lives. It’s the speech I got when I was told none of my family survived the car crash. Hearing it always, without fail makes my stomach clench into a painful ball. But I’m glad to know that the words helped ten-year-old Rogue process and accept the cold hard fact of his father’s death.
“I’m sure they did,” I say. “That must’ve been tough, growing up without a dad.”
“My uncles stepped up,” he says. “But yeah. It wasn’t great.”
He wraps up the rest of his burger and tosses it back in the takeout bag like he lost his appetite.
“But come one, let’s talk about something less depressing,” he says.
“Let’s,” I put my sandwich in with the leftovers of his burger and wrap my arm around his waist, leaning against his side.
“Or better yet,” I say and smile at him. “Why don’t you take me back to your place?”
He grins too. “What’s wrong with right here?”
“Nothing at all,” I say and giggle as he lays me down on the vibrating wooden planks of the pier and towers over me, gazing deep into my eyes.
What I said isn’t just something I said. It’s the complete truth. Nothing at all is wrong with anyplace where he wants to make me his.
And I know I’m rushing into this kind of thinking at breakneck speed and I know it’s probably because I’m afraid it will all end too soon. But none of that makes it any less the truth.