Chapter Fifteen #2
Instead, he was walking away with only one woman on his mind. Casey. The way she’d kissed him back before she stopped him. The way her breath had hitched when he touched her, like she wanted to lose control and hated herself for it.
“Fuck,” he muttered again.
No matter how hard he tried to burn it off, Casey wasn’t going anywhere. She was under his skin, and that scared him a hell of a lot more than he’d ever admit.
Topaz came out of the room, her heels clacking on the linoleum floor.
“Rags! Wait up,” she said.
He sighed and stopped right before entering the main room. She brushed against him and smiled.
“I’m sorry that I wasn’t more understanding back there. I know you love to fuck so something must be bothering you. I’m here if you wanna talk about it.”
He nodded curtly.
“Rags, you sonofabitch!” a loud voice boomed.
Rags looked over and broke into a grin. “Saber! Did you just get here? How the hell have you been?”
He crossed the room and pulled the biker into a bear hug, clapping him hard on the back before stepping away. “What’re you drinking?”
Saber’s gaze slid past him to Topaz, assessing her boldly. “Coors draft.”
Topaz smiled and moved away from Rags, cozying up beside Saber like she’d already decided the night’s direction. “Hiya. I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Topaz.” She dragged a metallic silver fingernail down his arm.
“Fuck,” Saber breathed. “Let me hang with my brother here for a minute, then you and me can have some fun.”
“Sure,” she said, pressing into him. “Find me when you’re ready.” She sashayed away.
Saber watched her go, eyes locked on her swaying hips. “Fuck, I can’t wait to get a piece of that. She as good as she looks?”
“Pretty much,” Rags said. “I didn’t know you were coming through Pinewood Springs.”
“Didn’t plan it. Eagle and me were at the biker rally in Show Low in Arizona.”
“That’s beautiful country,” Rags said. “Those White Mountain rides are awesome. I didn’t know they started the rally back up. I can’t remember the last time they had one.”
“Five years ago. I was getting antsy, so when I heard about it, I packed up. Bonus was seeing Eagle, Goldie, and Paco. I haven’t crossed paths with them in a couple years. Do you ever get down to Alina anymore?”
“Not as much as I’d like. When we have blowout parties, which we’ve got one coming up, a lot of the Night Rebels show up.”
“They’re your charter club, right?”
“Support club. But we’ll have charters rolling in from Nebraska, Kansas, San Diego, and Iowa,” Rags said.
Local charters or chapters were affiliates of the mother club, based in Pinewood Springs, with Banger serving as national president.
“I’m gonna check it out,” Saber said. “Are you putting it on the website?”
“Nope. I’ll text you once we firm the date. There’ll be a lot of bikers. It’ll be a hell of a good time.”
“And a competition for pussy,” Saber said with a laugh.
Rags snorted. Outlaw parties always drew women chasing the wild edge of the lifestyle and its anything-goes thrill, but even then, the men always outnumbered them.
Rags challenged Saber to a pool game, and after several rounds, Rags grinned as Saber slapped four hundred bucks in his hand.
“This is killing me,” Saber muttered.
“You should’ve played Blade or Klutch if you wanted charity,” Rags said, pocketing the cash. “How long are you staying?”
“Couple of nights. Are you free to ride tomorrow?”
“I can make time. We can take Roaring Fork Valley. The roads are clean and the views are killer. Have you ridden it?”
“Nope. It sounds like tomorrow’s plan.”
“Damn straight. We’ll stop at McCoy’s for food and a cold one. We lucked out with this mild fall; otherwise, the pass would be closed.”
Saber motioned Topaz over. “I couldn’t believe how clear it was coming up from Alina. No snow at all.”
“Come January we’ll be buried and freezing our asses off,” Rags said. “I’m enjoying it while it lasts.”
He smelled Topaz’s cloying strawberry perfume before he saw her. She wrapped herself around Saber’s arm, her gaze flicking to Rags.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Rags said with a chuckle.
“Later, dude. I’m winning that money back before I head home.”
Saber pulled Topaz in, his hand claiming her ass as his mouth crashed to hers.
Rags turned away and threaded through the room, pushing out into the night. Cool air slapped his face and it felt good after the stuffiness of the main room. He pulled a joint from his cut, lit it, took a deep drag, held it, then slowly exhaled.
Casey stirred in his head. His gut. His groin.
This is bullshit.
He crushed the roach beneath his boot and stalked across the lot. One smooth motion, and he was on the Harley. He thumbed the ignition. The engine roared to life beneath him. The vibration settled deep in his frame—steady and familiar—in a way nothing else could.
He tore out of the lot, the road opening up ahead of him, wind cutting sharp against his face, but it still didn’t help. No matter how fast he rode, no matter how hard the engine screamed beneath him, there was only one thing in his head. Beautiful, infuriating, sexy Casey.
Rags opened the throttle and accelerated hard, letting the Harley unleash its full power as his speed climbed fast. The road unspooled beneath him, dark and empty, the engine’s growl vibrating straight through him.
The farther he rode from the clubhouse, the quieter everything inside his head got.
Wind tore at his jacket, cold and clean, stripping the smoke, whiskey, and frustration from his lungs.
Pines closed in on both sides of the highway, their sharp, earthy scent slicing through the night.
Fallen needles and leaves skittered across the asphalt, flashing in his headlight before disappearing behind him.
The cold breeze bit his cheeks, his breath misting in the frigid air.
The rhythm of the engine steadied him, each shift smooth, instinctive, the movements coming to him without thought.
The ride was the one thing that never failed him.
He leaned into a long curve, body and machine moving as one, the world narrowing to speed, balance, and control. Out here, he didn’t have to explain himself. He didn’t have to chase or want. Out here, his mind finally went quiet.
Riding had pulled him out of every clusterfuck life had thrown his way: bad blood, club wars, women who promised more than they meant. The ride always took him where he needed to go.
Casey began to fade. Her face blurred, her voice dissolved into the rush of wind and the steady roar beneath him.
He stopped replaying her kisses, her moans, the way she’d felt in his arms. The bike demanded all of him, and he gladly gave it.
Controlling the Harley consumed his focus; the movement burned the last of her from his blood.
This was why he rode.
When Rags finally eased off the throttle and let the engine settle, something tightened in his chest.
The road had done what it always did. It steadied him. It gave him distance… and control.
As the engine idled beneath him and the night pressed in close, he knew that the ride could quiet him, numb the edges, and burn off the worst of it.
But it couldn’t erase what he wanted.