Chapter Seven
Ryatt
Prickles teased the flesh at the nape of my neck, sending a shiver skidding along my spine. I kept my head down and took a direct path to the club exit. I had an unfortunate misunderstanding with a couple of Kings.
When I’d walked with probation, I figured I’d finally gotten off lucky.
Foster care was fucked up, but prison scared the hell out of me.
Probation kept me from being locked up but put me in the crosshairs of the guys I used to score my weed from.
They wanted the narc that had given up the names of their heavy lifters.
According to them, I’d gotten off too easy, and my math wasn’t mathing.
People lingered in the parking lot, but the line had trickled to just a few people. I’d prefer a crowd. Safety in numbers. Except when those numbers included McKelle. I couldn’t risk being seen with her and making her a target.
In the glow of the streetlights, at least I’d see them coming. Not that I’d be able to avoid getting my ass handed to me once they caught me alone. I’d rather take prison than a beat down from the Kings.
Gravel crunched beneath my boots. Once I was away from the thump of the music, and the line of sight of the big bouncer, Hammer, at the door, I quickened my pace.
I wasn’t alone in the parking lot. Three guys leaned against the bumper of a Subaru. One put a thin cigarette to his lips, glared at me, and inhaled, lighting up the cherry. The pungent scent of weed wafted on the air.
My gut clenched, and yeah, I was worried, closing in on fucking terrified. I wasn’t sure if the Kings recognized me, but they sure as fuck would once I climbed onto my bike.
I scanned the darkened corners of the parking lot. With my ignition key in my hand, I flipped up my plate to catch the magnets under the seat and then threw my leg over my bike.
“Hey, Ryatt. We want to talk to you.” Two of the guys approached. Now that they were closer, I could see their faces with their neck tattoos. A W for Washington Street with three dots at the top points for the Kings.
“Another time,” I said and hit the ignition. No way was I hanging around. Nothing I said would change my fate with the Kings. I lifted the stand.
“Get him!” They closed the distance between us fast. “You’re a fucking narc.”
I rolled the throttle and sprayed a bit of gravel as the rear tire fishtailed and finally gripped asphalt. The Subaru’s tire squealed. The two jumped into the car. I hunched down behind the windscreen and switched my gaze between what was in front of me and the Subaru giving chase behind me.
A little traffic would’ve been helpful. Instead, I had open road and green lights.
No way was I going to lose them around here.
I couldn’t head downtown, or I’d have the whole fucking gang of Kings looking to take my head.
My best chance of putting distance between me and them was on the Interstate.
Slowing to take a sharp right, gave the Subaru the chance to catch up. While doing deliveries, I’d discovered a few shortcuts to getting out of the city. Wind whipped against my face, my heart was redlining, and adrenaline burned through my veins.
The Subaru was still behind me. As soon as I hit the onramp, I rolled the throttle. The bike surged forward and merged into light traffic. The Subaru followed, nearly taking out an SUV in the center lane. Weaving in and out of traffic, I started putting distance between us.
Glancing in my mirrors, headlights began to merge together.
I couldn’t tell which vehicle was the Subaru.
I tucked in tighter. Rode faster. Up ahead, a line of cars signaled to exit.
I illegally split the lanes, racing to the front of the line.
Without waiting for the light to change, I blew through the red, took a quick left, and merged back onto the Interstate in the opposite direction.
Five miles down the freeway and there were still no aggressively pursuing headlights in my mirrors.
It wouldn’t take five minutes for every King in the area to be out looking for me.
If I hadn’t before, I looked guilty now.
I had to run. There was no defending myself with the Kings.
I wasn’t one of them, and I wasn’t stupid.
They’d make sure I was punished in other ways.
I needed to lay low for a couple of hours, maybe a couple of days. I didn’t second-guess my decision. There was only one place I wanted to be and one girl I needed to be with. I could only hope I hadn’t sent her back to the one person who could keep me from her.
Stars and the moon lit the long road up to McKelle’s house. The windows of the main house were dark. I rode quietly to the garage and parked my bike. When Cruz brought her home, if he brought her home, I wanted her to know I was here.
Add breaking and entering into my laundry list of transgressions. I pulled on the door handle, and the barn-style door swung open. Technically, not breaking, but still entering. I slipped into the garage and pulled the door closed.
I felt my empty pockets for my phone. What the hell? I ran my hands over my ass, my hips, and my front pockets. Where was my phone? I rushed back out the door and scanned the area around my bike. Nothing.
“Fuck,” I cursed under my breath. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
Not wanting to wake up McKelle’s family by firing up the motorcycle, I jogged down the driveway on the slim chance I’d lost it from the road to their house.
Not likely. I was fucked. Without my phone, I couldn’t text McKelle and let her know I made it to her place. I wouldn’t be able to work tomorrow. No phone. No app for deliveries. Fuck. I spun on my heels and walked back to the garage.
Once inside, I climbed the stairs to the loft. My life was a mess. Kings thought I’d caught a lucky break with probation, but I was fucked over from go. I wasn’t a dealer. I wasn’t an addict. My ability to find trouble was the only consistent thing in my life.
Not knowing how long McKelle would stay at Chrome, I pulled one of the quilts from the stack, kicked off my boots, and stretched out on the couch. Even burrowed underneath it, the room was cold and empty without McKelle here with me.
As I lay in the dark, I listened to the quiet sounds of the ranch. Crickets chirped, wind whistled through the trees, and every now and then one of the goats bleated.
Dark thoughts rolled through my mind. I’d left her with her ex, a guy she admitted she wasn’t over.
A guy who wanted her back. I could imagine them dancing.
She’d grind her ass against his groin. I’d seen them together before, and it fucking sucked.
They looked good. His angry biker growl matched her fearless, badass sex kitten purr.
Why the fuck would she want me when she wasn’t over him? Eventually, she’d make her way here, and he’d be with her.
I didn’t have to wait long. A loud rumble, that could only be Cruz, roared outside the garage. Still in my socks, I hurried down the stairs. Before I could reach the bottom step, the door flew open.
“You’re here.” Her voice softened with a worried tone. She rushed around her dad’s bike and launched herself into me. I banded one arm around her shoulders, and the other fist tangled in her hair. Her arms roped my shoulders, and her lips crashed against mine.
I held her tight, parted her lips, and curled my tongue around hers. The kiss was hot, desperate, and over too quickly.
“Why didn’t you text me?” she asked.
Cruz stepped into the barn and closed the door. Still, McKelle clung to me with her palms pressed against my chest.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “My phone is somewhere between the parking lot of Chrome and here. It must have slipped out of my pocket.”
Her hold loosened, and she took a half step back. “What happened?” she asked.
Cruz leaned his ass against the Ducati. “Start talking.”
I stiffened at the demand. Fuck him. She was home safe.
Job done. “Thanks for getting her home,” I said.
“I appreciate it.” I might not like the asshole, but I wouldn’t minimize that he’d been there for McKelle tonight.
And he was here now watching her cling to me, witnessing her kiss me.
Wouldn’t that mean he accepted she’d moved on?
Cruz chuckled. “Is that how you want to play this? Hate to be the one to tell you this, but, nah, that’s not what’s going on here.”
“Wait,” McKelle said. She approached Cruz, rested her hands on his hips, and tipped her face to his. “We talked about this, but I haven’t talked to Ryatt yet.”
Well, I’d fucking misread the room.
“You promised me you could handle this,” she said to him.
Cruz nodded as he tucked her hair behind her ear. He touched her like a lover. Whispered their secrets. Why the fuck had she kissed me in front of him?
Time for me to bounce. I headed back up the stairs to get my boots.
McKelle followed me. Halfway up the stairs, she slipped her hand into mine. I glanced over my shoulder.
Cruz stuffed a cigarette between his lips, and his gaze narrowed on me. “I’ll be outside.”
Not a problem because I wasn’t sticking around. McKelle flipped on the recessed lighting over the wet bar. I sat on the couch, grabbed my boot, and tugged it on.
“Are you leaving?” She sat next to me.
“Yeah.”
She pivoted on the couch, crossed her legs, and faced me. “I want to explain.” The guilt on her face was a punch to the gut.
“It’s cool. You don’t owe me an explanation. Like I said, I’d rather know now than a month from now. You got history with him.” I smiled at her. “I think he’s a dick, but I’m not in a relationship with him.”
“I’m not either. Not technically.”
I raised one eyebrow.
A soft laugh slipped from her lips, but she wasn’t smiling. “After you left Chrome, we talked. I don’t know if we fixed us, not completely anyway. I’m not angry anymore.”
The night just kept getting shittier. “You don’t need me here when you’re trying to patch things up with Cruz.”