11. Crow
CHAPTER 11
CROW
One step forward, and two steps back.
“I’m not getting on that thing.”
Scowling at Addison, I grab her arm and urge her closer to my Harley. She doesn’t resist, which is a step in the right direction, but she isn’t eager about her movements either.
“Yeah, Ace, you are.”
She looks at me incredulously. “Do you have any idea how dangerous motorcycles are? I’ve been at the scene of several crashes, and let me tell ya, it’s not pretty.”
“I’m aware,” I snarl, not wanting to discuss safety with her.
“If you want me to go with you, we’ll take the truck,” she insists.
“The fuck we will,” I snap.
“Why not? Jackyl didn’t have a problem with it this morning.”
“Because I wasn’t about to let him take you on the back of his bike!” I take several deep breaths before continuing. “And if we take the truck now, Jackyl will have to ride my Harley home, and that’s not happening. Now, get on the damn bike.”
Addison stares at me for a moment as if considering whether or not arguing with me will be futile. She must realize that it is because she frowns as she throws her leg over the seat.
Once she’s situated, I pull a helmet out of my saddlebag and hand it to her.
“Need help with that?” I ask.
“I got it,” she bites out, and she does. For someone who claims to not like motorcycles, she seems to be a pro at strapping on the headgear.
After I climb on in front of her, Addison tries to scoot back, but I settle a hand on her thigh and shake my head.
“Stay close,” I instruct. “And keep your arms around me.”
She groans loudly but does as she’s told. Her body heat seeps into my bones, and my dick twitches at the way she feels straddled against me.
This is gonna be a long fucking ride.
“You good with Italian food?” I ask before starting the engine.
“Yeah,” she replies. “I could make a nice pot of spaghetti at my place.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “Nice try, Ace.”
I’m careful not to tear out of the parking lot, aware that Addison might not be used to riding. She keeps her arms firmly around my waist, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s simply following orders or if she wants them there.
Get your head outta your ass, Crow. She doesn’t want you.
It doesn’t take long to arrive at Carino’s. I park on the street out front of the little mom and pop joint, then help Addison off the bike. She shakes her hair out after handing me the helmet, and grumbles about looking like crap.
“You look beautiful,” I assure her.
At the look of shock on her face, I immediately want to call the words back. Instead, I plaster a smile on my face and lead her inside. A hostess I don’t recognize ushers us to a table in the back, leaving us with menus.
“You can’t say shit like that,” Addison bites out once we’re alone.
“Like what?”
“You can’t tell me I’m beautiful.”
“Why?”
That seems to throw her off. “Because…” She huffs out a breath. “Because I’m your hostage,” she whispers.
I grin like a fool, desperate to tease her a bit. “A stunning hostage at that.”
“Stop it,” she gripes. “I haven’t even showered today, and I’m in someone else’s clothes.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. You’ll have stuff of your own by the time we get home. I had Sunny go shopping.”
“Trace, my boy!”
Addison swivels toward the voice so fast I swear she’d have fallen off her chair if she hadn’t grabbed the edge of the table.
I stand and give the older man a hug. His wife comes out of the kitchen and pushes her way in for a hug of her own.
“And who do we have here?” he asks me.
“This is Addison. Addison, these are my grandparents, Enzo and Lucia Carino.”
“I, uh…” She rises from her chair to shake their hands, but they both ignore the gesture and wrap her in a hug. “It’s nice to meet you both,” she says when she returns to her seat.
“Trace,” Grandma says. “It’s been a while. We miss you.”
“I know, Grandma. How about next Sunday I come over for dinner?”
“Just bring some of your friends along,” Grandpa states. “I love hearing them tell stories.”
I chuckle. “I’ll bring Journey, Poker, and Screamer.”
“And Addison,” Grandpa says with a wink at her. “Bring her, too.”
“Oh, I…” She shakes her head. “I don’t know that I’ll be available.”
“Nonsense.” Grandma lightly swats her with the dish towel in her hand. “You’ll join us for dinner.”
Addison smiles, and for the first time since she showed up at the clubhouse, it reaches her eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, we better get back to cooking,” Grandpa states. “I’ll bring you both out a plate of lasagna. How’s that sound?”
“Perfect.”
“Delicious.”
Addison and I speak simultaneously which sends Grandma into giggles. When they retreat behind the swinging door, I sit back down and lock my eyes on Addison. She’s staring at me as if trying to figure me out.
“What? You didn’t think I had family?”
“You don’t have the slightest hint of Italian in your features, but those two,” she says, nodding toward the door. “They’re Italian through and through.”
“My mother was adopted, and my dad, well, he was a mutt.”
“Oh.”
“My mother was a Bangin’ Betty at the club. That’s how my parents met.” I watch her reactions as I talk. “Grandma and Grandpa never knew the extent of her interactions with the club, but they loved my dad. With both of them gone, I’m all they have left.”
“How’d they die?” she asks. “Your parents.”
“Mom had ovarian cancer. She died right before I started at public school.” Sympathy flashes in her eyes. “Dad died a few years ago… motorcycle crash.”
“Yet you still ride?”
“Absolutely. Riding is my life. And Dad’s accident wasn’t because he was on a motorcycle. He died because he laid his bike down to stop an enemy from hitting Fudge. He died because he was loyal.”
“Wait a minute…” Addison leans forward. “Did that happen four years ago? Just on the outskirts of town to the west?”
An image of my dad lying on the pavement, bloody and broken, flashes in my mind. I wasn’t there that day, but that doesn’t stop my brain from forcing me to think about what he looked like.
“Yeah.”
“Damn.” She whistles. “That was a bad one.”
“You were there?”
“Yeah. And there was nothing to indicate that there was anyone else involved besides your dad.” She narrows her eyes. “Wait… there were skid marks that weren’t linked to your dad’s bike, but we never could tie them to anyone else.”
“I know.”
We clean up our own messes. Always have, always will. And it wouldn’t have done a damn bit of good to have the cops trying to sort out exactly how the crash happened. It would’ve brought them into the orbit of our drug business, and that couldn’t happen. Besides, law enforcement knowing the particulars wasn’t going to bring my dad back.
“I did CPR on him until the paramedics arrived.” I perk up at this bit of information, and sensing my interest, she continues. “Even managed to get a pulse for a few minutes.”
“Did he say anything?”
Addison scrunches her forehead in thought. Then she snaps her fingers. “Yeah, he did. He said, ‘ride or die’. He died a few seconds after that.”
I bark out a laugh. “Sounds like him.”
My grandpa brings our food to the table and sets the plates in front of us. “Enjoy.”
“Thank you,” Addison says as she takes a whiff of the steaming hot lasagna.
“Thanks, Pop.”
When she takes a bite, she moans with pleasure. “This is good. Damn good.”
“It is,” I agree. “No one cooks better than Lucia Carino.”
“I hate to admit it, but I’d have to agree with you.”
After a few minutes, I decide to dig a little into her life. She’s asked her questions, and turnabout is fair play.
“So, I know your dad is the Chief of Police.” I smirk. “We’ve met on a few occasions.”
“I’m sure you have.”
“But what about your mom? She still around?”
Addison’s relaxed manner disappears and is replaced by an icy cold shield. She calmly sets her fork down and stands.
“I’m ready to go,” she says without looking at me.
“Uh, you haven’t finished eating.”
“And I’m not going to.”
I lift my napkin and wipe my mouth before standing. After tossing down a couple of twenties to cover the tab, I reach out to guide her out of the restaurant, but she avoids my touch.
“What happened in there?” I ask when we reach my bike.
“Take me back to the clubhouse,” she demands hotly.
Her eyes are bright with unshed tears, and for some strange reason, I feel like a dick. Upsetting her was not on my agenda, and that’s exactly what I did.
“Okay,” I mutter.
Clearly, I touched a nerve about her mom. And I was making progress too. At least, I think I was.
One step forward, and two steps back.