14. Fox
FOX
Coming up with an excuse to ditch the after party turns out was far easier than I had previously thought. With the event ending tomorrow and my newly inked name on the no-fly list, I need transportation home. Thankfully, the closest rental car company is only a ten-minute drive from the venue hotel. The tricky part will be actually picking up Brea for our date and not getting spotted by one of Eden’s feral readers in the process.
“We’ve got a couple of options for you to pick from,” the guy behind the rental counter murmurs while pulling some sets of keys out from a drawer behind him. “I’m going to assume you aren’t interested in economy cars?”
“Do I look like a guy who fits into a clown car? I know you’ve probably seen them at the circus unloading like a party bus, but let’s be real, the only people who fit in those are about half my size and blonde.”
“SUV or truck?” he counters, laughing.
“Truck.”
“Good thing you’re here in Texas. Trucks we have in spades. Let’s go take a look at what I have ready to go.”
He leads me outside. The parking lot a mix of shiny new models and older and weather-beaten pickups that have seen better days. I scan the options, my eyes landing on a black Ford F-150 that looks like it could conquer just about anything thrown its way.
“Now that's a truck,” I nod, striding over to it. “I could practically haul a mountain with this beast.”
“Are you planning on doing some hauling?”
“Hauling ass back to Indiana,” I answer flatly. “I’ll take it.”
“Great! I just need your ID and credit card, and you’ll be on your way.”
A quick transaction later, I slide into the driver’s seat, feeling the leather wrap around me. I set the GPS back to the hotel. Getting there is half the battle but sneaking Brea out without anyone noticing is going to take some finesse.
As I pull away from the rental lot, my phone vibrates on the console. “Read me my texts.”
A robotic voice answers. “One text from Rainbow Devil.”
Where are you? The after-party is kicking off, and you need to get your ass here.
I use voice-to-text type out a quick replay.
Still working on my ride home. It’s taking longer than I expected. I’ll be back soon.
I laugh as I order my phone to send it. The last place I would be caught dead is that fucking after-party. Eden’s little kiss stunt was more than enough acting for her fans. If that didn’t sell her story, it’s on her. I deserve a little me time on this shit show of a trip, and I’m taking it with Brea.
The drive back to the hotel feels longer than it should, a restless energy buzzing under my skin as I anticipate seeing Brea again. I finally arrive at the hotel and immediately scan the lobby entrance for any signs of Eden's fans. Luckily, the few not at the after party seem preoccupied with their conversations and drinks, leaving me unnoticed as I pull in. At first glance, I don't see Brea anywhere. Did she change her mind about meeting up with a stranger?
But then, a car pulls up behind me, and Brea steps out of the passenger side. She looks stunning in a black dress that hugs her curves and high heels that accentuate her figure. Her long red curls are pulled up, revealing her elegant neck. She leans into the open passenger side door, talking to the driver. A female, I think. She glances around a few times before she waves to her friend, who pulls away from the curb. Brea walks towards the entrance. She stumbles over her heels but recovers gracefully. I wait, unable to stop watching her, until she passes by my truck. Rolling down the window, I call out to her.
“Where are you going, firefly?”
Brea spins around, her green eyes widening in surprise as a smile breaks across her face. It’s a hesitant smile, but it still makes my heart race.
“I thought we were going to go to the after-party?”
“Not a chance. Especially with you looking like that. Every man’s eyes would be on your ass, and the last thing I need to do is go to jail in Texas.”
Brea approaches the truck, her heels clicking against the pavement, and leans against the door. Her smile falters slightly, replaced by a teasing arch of her brow. “No one is going to be looking at me if I am there with you.”
“You must have no idea how fucking beautiful you look in that dress, Brea. Men would kill to just breathe the same air as you,” I smirk, trying to mask the seriousness of my intent to whisk her away from all this commotion. “Stay there,” I order her, slipping from the driver’s side and crossing in front of my truck until I am within feet of her. Every part of my being is screaming for me to take her into my arms and kiss some sense into her right now, but it’s too public. All it would take is a reader and their camera phone to ruin this for Eden’s little scheme. “Get in.” I step towards the passenger side door, opening it for her. Brea shifts to step onto the running board but stumbles backwards into my chest. My arm instinctively wraps around her waist to steady her.
“Whoa, steady there,” I laugh, the warmth of her body pressing against me, sending a jolt of electricity through my veins. “I guess those heels are a bit taller than you expected?”
Brea’s cheeks flush a delicate pink as she glances up at me through her lashes, her earlier confidence slightly wavering. “They were my friend's idea. I don’t normally dress up like this.”
I’ll have to thank her friend later. Just feeling her body against mine has my cock straining uncomfortably against the fly of my jeans. The last thing I need is for her to shift that plump ass of hers against me. I would blow my load right here on the sidewalk.
Keep it fucking together, Fox. You’re not a two-pump chump, even if it has been a while. Do not cum in your jeans like a fucking teenager seeing his first pair of tits.
She regains her balance and straightens up, meeting my gaze boldly. “Okay, so if we’re not going to that party, what’s the plan?”
I can’t help but grin. “That depends. Are you ready for a little adventure?”
“What kind of adventure?” she quietly questions me.
“You’ll see,” I challenge softly, stepping back to give her space to hop into the truck again. As she settles, I close the passenger door and head back to my side. I climb in and fire up the engine. “You’re a little overdressed for what I have in mind, but I’ll make it work.”
Brea lets out a laugh. “You’re not going to take me bungee jumping or something ridiculous, are you?”
“Not a fucking chance with you in that dress, firefly,” I grin as I grab the gear shift. “You’ll just have to trust me.” I pull away from the curb, slipping into the flow of traffic as I navigate through the city streets.
I watch her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress. There’s an unmistakable spark in her gaze that tells me she’s just as curious and eager as I am. We navigate through the dimly lit streets, and I sense her anticipation rising.
“You ever just want to do something crazy? Like, run away from where everyone expects you to be?”
Brea stiffens at my question, eyes narrowing slightly as if she’s deciphering a riddle. A fleeting moment of vulnerability flashes across her face before she plays it off with an easy smile that doesn’t quite reach her green eyes.
“Are you okay?” I ask without thinking.
Her gaze flicks back to me momentarily. She looks down to her lap where her fingers dance nervously over one another. She nods slowly but avoids locking eyes once again, trying to hide her feelings.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No, it’s just,” she stammers. “You asked about running away from it all, and I did that. I’m here in Texas trying to figure out my life.”
I nearly flinch at her admission. Of all the answers she could have given me, I could have never guessed this would have been it. I spot a park ahead and pull off into the empty parking lot, killing the engine.
“Tell me what made you run,” I nearly order her before lowering my tone. “Did someone hurt you?”
Brea shifts in her seat, the leather creaking as she turns slightly to face me. I don’t pull away. I need her to see that I mean every word. I may barely know this woman, but men who brutalize women are the top of my to-be-buried-in-concrete list.
“Not like that. No one hurt me physically,” she finally whispers, biting her lip as if she’s sealing the cracks of vulnerability just revealed. “It’s more… emotional, I guess. I was suffocating under someone else’s expectations and rules.”
“Is that someone looking for you?”
“No, I don’t think so. We’ve been down here for a few days. If he wanted to find me, he’d have done it by now.”
“He?”
“My stepdad.”
A tension wraps around us like a heavy fog as I process her words. The tightness in my chest hangs there, an unwelcome intrusion as I consider what tools and how many of the Bastard Boilers I would need to call to take care of this problem for Brea. My mind races, a maze of conflicting emotions swirling within me. I’ve always been fiercely protective, a trait ingrained deep within my being, but the strong urge to shield Brea surprises even me. It's not just about duty. It's personal now. I barely know her, yet the instinct to safeguard her is undeniable, a primal need that claws at my insides.
“What’s his name?”
“Why does that matter?” she fires back.
“So I know what to write on his tombstone.”
“You’re joking right?”
“Do I look like I am joking, firefly?”
“You have to be,” she answers, chuckling to herself. “You’re acting like one of the bikers in my books.” Her eyes look over to me as she leans back slightly against the seat.
“Well,” I say nonchalantly while shrugging off her jesting tone. “I ride.”
“Riding is one thing,” she replies as she crosses her arms over her chest defiantly. “But what you’re hinting at is something else entirely. I’ve seen you twice this weekend. You aren’t wearing a cut or colors. No club tattoos.”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, feeling like I should explain myself more but knowing that there are some parts of my life that I can't share with anyone. It's not just about secrecy or our safety as a club. It's also about protecting myself and those around me. However, the way she’s using our verbiage piques my interest. Either she’s reading books that have great details or she’s been around a club, but I can’t put my finger on which it is.
"I have them," I finally say, meeting her gaze head on. "There's a reason I'm not wearing them that I can't share."
Brea leans forward in one swift movement. Her green eyes never leave me. “You’re serious. You’re in a motorcycle club.”
I look into Brea's eyes and admit honestly, "Yes, I am a biker."
Brea's confusion is evident as she responds, "But real bikers don't come to biker book signings."
"I can assure you they do. My club president is here as well, there are likely more of us than you realize. But in a crowd like this, we don't wear our colors. It helps prevent turf wars and fights. Less mess to clean up afterward."
Brea still doesn't seem to understand as she asks, "But why would you or your club president come to a book signing? It doesn't make sense."
"The truth is, the last place I wanted to be was at this book signing. Though meeting you may have changed my mind about that," I say with a hint of sincerity. "I'm only here because I was hired to do a job."
"A job? Are you here to kill someone?" Brea's voice trembles slightly. Something flashes across her face. Fear, maybe, or recognition of the MC lifestyle, but it disappears too quickly.
I shake my head, trying to ease her fears. "No, I'm not an assassin for hire, Brea. I'm just here to help out a friend. That's all. The same goes for my club president. His fiancé happens to be one of the authors who signed today."
Realization dawns on Brea as she gasps, "The woman who helped me when I had my panic attack...that was her?"
I confirm her suspicions with a nod but quickly add, "I would appreciate it if you kept that detail to yourself out of respect for her safety."
Her expression softens, and for a brief moment, the tension hanging between us begins to dissipate. “I promise.” She takes a deep breath. “But this doesn’t explain why you're so…protective.”
“That’s just who I am,” I reply, steadying my voice. “Been like this my whole life.”
“Even before you joined the club?” She tilts her head, intrigued.
“Especially before,” I admit, feeling an unexpected surge of honesty bubbling up. “Had to look out for myself and my grandma while my parents were off doing their own thing. Sometimes, it feels like the world is filled with those who want hurt someone and those who don’t know how to protect them so I became the balance.”
Brea nods slowly, letting my words sink in. There’s a flicker of understanding in her eyes that stirs something deep within me. A connection that goes beyond just shared secrets or troubling family histories.
“So, what now?” she finally asks, the softness in her voice beckoning me to consider our next steps.
“I owe you a date. You still up for it now that you know my little secret?”
Brea bites her lip again before she nods. “Yeah, I think I am.”
“Well, then, let’s get back on the road,” I smile, pulling away from the parking spot and driving toward our destination.