Chapter Five
Cruz
I leaned against the wall of the snack shack, smoked a cigarette, and watched her. As if she’d pulled a loaded gun and fired, she’d blown a fucking hole in my chest when she’d cut me off.
I’d made mistakes. Fucked up when she probably shouldn’t have forgiven me. Not this time. Not with Bullet and Jinx. That shit wasn’t the problem. I hadn’t fucked Jinx. I hadn’t touched her.
My chest was tight, and my guts were coiled into a hard, heavy knot.
Maybe I should’ve known she’d be pissed.
I did know. That’s why I hadn’t told her I was one of the seven bikers.
I’d been in the room, with my dick in my fist, my eyes closed, and imagining McKelle on her knees in front of me.
Camera angles made it appear I was involved, but when I came, it wasn’t my jizz on Jinx’s tits.
McKelle approached her dad’s pit with Romeo’s friend, Ryatt. If he touched her, I’d break his fucking arm. The guy was just like McKelle, completely amped up on fast bikes and talking about getting a knee down in the corners. McKelle was smiling and laughing.
Once in the pit, her dad rested a hand on Ryatt’s shoulder and led him over to a group of guys. Good. Keep him the fuck away from my girl. I doubt her old man would tell her I’d been here for the last couple of hours.
I’d expected him to give me a bunch of shit. Either for being late or for showing up at all depending on what McKelle had told him. He’d just said they had enough volunteers.
I’d watched the sessions, but she hadn’t been on the track. No way was I leaving without seeing her. She sat next to her sister. I couldn’t hear what they said, but Cece must have said something because McKelle scanned the crowd. A slow smile curved my mouth.
She was looking for me. Jumping from her chair, she spoke a few words to her dad and Ryatt. She headed toward the spectator stands, crossing paths with where I stood in the shadows.
Once she passed, I fell into step behind her. Focused on what was in front of her, she failed to notice me following. She said hi to a couple of people, but she didn’t pause. Scanning left and right, she weaved through the crowd.
As she neared the end of the pits, she turned along the backside of a blocked garage. Orange cones marked it as out of service.
I moved quickly, coming up behind her. “Looking for me?” I whispered, banded my arm around her waist, and propelled her into the empty garage.
She sucked in a sharp breath but didn’t try to break my hold. “Yes.”
Once inside the shadowed garage, I loosened my grip on her. She spun in my arms as I backed her against the wall. I braced my hands against the cinderblock wall, caging her, and I closed the space between us.
The scent of engine exhaust and sweet sweat blended with her perfume. Her pulse fluttered wildly at the base of her throat. I trailed my lips against her slightly salty skin, breathing her in. “You can’t fucking shut me out,” I whispered.
“I can do whatever I want, just like you.” She braced her hands on my chest, but the slight pressure did nothing to dislodge me. We were going to talk, probably argue, and at some point, figure us out.
“Nothing happened,” I repeated. “I fucked up. But not with us.” I took a step back but not enough to give her room to escape. “I swear to fucking god, I didn’t lie to you.”
She sighed and sagged against the wall. “You didn’t lie about fucking her, but you might as well have because you’ve lied about everything else.”
I was trapped in my fear that she wouldn’t believe me. That I’d finally fucked this up between us. A prickle skated along my flesh.
My fingers trembled as I touched her cheek. “I know. I’m sorry. If you’ll let me explain.”
“I don’t care anymore. Nothing you say will change that you’re a Heller,” she said. “I can’t compete with Bullet, the club, and the patch.”
I curved my hand around her nape. “There’s no competition. I care about you.”
Tears slipped onto her cheek. “Then you’re lying to yourself, too.” She covered my hand. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Don’t give up on me. I need you, baby.” My hand tightened on her throat. “I know you need me.”
“I do.”
She inhaled a sharp breath just before I slanted my mouth over hers. A soft whimper slipped from her lips as our tongues touched.
My heart raced. Heat surged through my body as she kissed me back. My tongue was in her mouth, and I wrapped her braid around my fist.
But her arms hung loosely at her sides. Her mouth was mine, but something had shifted between us, something was broken, and it was my fault.
“Don’t do this,” I whispered against her lips. “Please.”
For a moment, she didn’t speak as tears fell from her beautiful eyes. “I do need you, but I’m not enough for you.”
“Micki, you’re all I want.” I wiped the tears from her face with a brush of my thumb across her cheek.
“Would you give up the Hellers? Give up the patch?”
Besides McKelle, I’d never wanted anything more than being part of the MC. “Is that what you want?”
“No, because you’d hate me if I asked you to leave.” She dipped her head. “But I’ll hate myself if I stay.”
When she lifted her face again, I felt the hurt in her eyes deep in my chest. My gut clenched, and a poisonous fear tainted my blood. My throat tightened, and my knees weakened.
No. Fuck this. We weren’t done. The thought of losing her knifed through my heart. The last twenty-four hours had gutted me. She needed to be reminded of how good we were together. I backed her against the wall, split her legs with my thigh, and crashed my mouth onto hers.
I claimed her, sucking her tongue, biting her lips, and grinding my thigh against the heat of her pussy. My fucking pussy. Every part of her was mine, and I wasn’t letting go, not without a fight.
Fighting was what we did best.
She rocked her hips, grinding her pussy against my thigh. The kiss turned feral. Her piercing glided along my tongue, teasing my memory and my dick with the way it always was between us. I couldn’t kiss her deep enough.
Together, we were fire.
With desperation, she ate at my mouth as her fingers clawed at my shoulders, climbing me like a wild tiger. But then her hand was on my chest, pushing me away.
“Micki, I’ll do whatever you ask.” I rested my forehead against hers.
She gasped for a breath and touched her tongue to her upper lip. “Cruz, this is where we’re good. It hurts to say, but this is all we have.”
Her words slipped like ice through my veins. A prickle at the base of my skull was a warning. I was losing her. She was my oxygen, my gravity, she was the only person on the whole fucking planet I cared about.
“I want you to leave.” She stared into my eyes. “I want you to leave me alone. I can’t…I can’t see you. I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Micki—”
“Cruz, please.” Her voice was whisper-quiet and broken. “It’s the only way I’ll get over you.”
I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and released a shaky exhale.
“If you want me to go, I’ll go.” The bitter aftertaste of the words clung to my tongue.
I needed one more kiss. I grasped her braid, running the silky strands through my fingers.
I brushed a soft kiss against her lips. “I promise, I’ll give you space.
But don’t shut me out. Unblock me, yeah? ”
With a barely a nod, she agreed. “But don’t call me.”
“Can I text?” I needed something, a lifeline to her.
“Only if you don’t blow up my phone.”
“Whatever you need,” I said. “I’m not giving up on us.”
I started to spin away, but she grabbed my hand.
“Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”
“I already did.” I turned, took two steps, and locked eyes with the guy who wanted my girl. I walked out of the darkened interior of the garage and into the bright sunlight. “I’m leaving because she asked me to, but don’t fucking touch her. She’s mine.”
I lied to her again. I didn’t leave. I couldn’t. I felt as if I’d run my Harley into a brick wall. I’d grown numb, and at the same time, everything fucking hurt.
I could still taste her kiss. My throat thickened, fighting the emotions choking me. I couldn’t lose her.
I grabbed a soda and a bag of chips from the snack shack then made my way up to the spectator seats. No doubt she’d see me in the stands. I sat up front, my cut and patch causing people to keep their distance.
From my position, I could see the opening of the hot pit.
Ryatt—I wanted to hate him—stood next to McKelle and her dad.
She had changed into her leathers, but the suit was folded down at her waist. A thin white base layer clung to her torso.
Every other dickhead on the track could see the sports bra molded to her tits.
Gesturing with her hands, she pointed to the track, clearly giving Ryatt instructions.
I braced for the pain of seeing her kiss him for good luck. With a big smile on her face, she bumped his fist with hers, then stepped aside with her dad.
A lead bike took the group of riders onto the track.
This wasn’t my first track day. Not that I hated sportbikes or their riders.
It wasn’t my scene. But I hated the atmosphere.
Like a neighborhood block party of thrill seekers.
Dozer had it right. Family was a foul fucking F-word. McKelle couldn’t understand.
I couldn’t relate. Not that her family hadn’t been through some bad times. I cast a quick glance at McKelle. Her dad had his arm around her as they watched Ryatt ride onto the track.
For two laps, the lead bike set the pace. And then the bikers were brought back through the pit. For the first session, a few bikes at a time were allowed onto the track to stagger the riders.
Ryatt looked good. Body positioning was pretty good. He was shifting his position on the seat, leaning into the curves. He blasted down the front straightaway. He was flying. I snapped my gaze at McKelle.