Chapter 7
Seven
Dax rides further out of town, hugging the edges of Mountains Road, which is notorious for sharp bends and winding curves. I keep my helmeted face planted against Dax’s back, barely opening my eyes. However, they’re forced open when I feel the bike descending.
“Huh?” I mumble as the bike skids down a dirt track.
I hug Dax tighter, and he wheezes in response. I want to apologize and loosen my arms, but fear keeps me locked. I relax only once the motorcycle comes to a stop.
Dax turns off the engine and pats my hands, which are still intertwined around his gut.
“You can let go,” he teases.
I squeak and unlatch my hands. I yank off the helmet and slide off the motorcycle, giving him room to move.
When he gets off, he takes one look at his bulky jacket bulging around me and sniggers. “Looking good, Sassy.”
I sigh and unzip the jacket. “You can have it back.”
He lifts a hand, shrugging. “No, you keep it. It gets pretty chilly out here at night.”
Dax moves to the rear of the motorcycle and retrieves my purse from the trunk.
He hangs it on the handlebars, because I’m mesmerized by the view.
He has brought us off the road and closer to the ravine.
There are no streetlights or headlights to brighten the area, instead leaving the job to the bright moon and magical stardust above.
They highlight the striking mountain edges, casting shadows in navy, gray, and forest green.
Further into the ravine, the lake reflects the spectacular view.
“Wow,” it breathes out of me. “I haven’t admired a view like this in such a long time.”
Dax takes a seat on a clump of rocks. “This is my favorite place in all of the mountains.”
I smile, but it quickly fades when Dax habitually checks his pocket.
He looks at me and beckons me over. “Hand me a cigarette, would ya?”
I wince, not budging. “Must you?”
“Must you give me a hard time? You’ve already complained twice when I’ve lit up. Do we need to do this a third time?”
I cross my arms, feeling the cigarette pack press against my ribs. “I just don’t know how you can do it when they’re proven to kill people.”
Dax leans forward, resting his forearm on his bent knee. “Maybe if I lived in a mansion and was swimming in enough cash to have anything I wanted, I’d make better choices.”
“I’d feel this way about cigarettes whether my family had money or not.”
“But they do,” he says bluntly. “And that gives you access to things I don’t have.”
I step forward and point at his scorpion tattoo. “So, because you’re part of that gang, that means you have to smoke? I’m not buying it.”
“First of all, it’s a club, not a gang.” Dax stands, dusting off his trousers. “Second of all, don’t pretend to know anything about my life.”
He steps toward me, reaching for the jacket zip. I gasp, jolting in place as the zip lowers down my body. I seize up when he reaches inside and retrieves the pack.
Dax moves back to the clump of rocks, plonks down, and pulls out a cigarette. His eyes move up and down my body, and I hastily pull the jacket zipper higher.
He smiles. “Are you comfy in that?”
I frown, yanking at the collar of the jacket. “Actually, no. It smells of ash and smoke.”
He twirls the cigarette between his index and middle fingers. “If you’d prefer to freeze, I won’t be offended.”
I can’t take his attitude any longer, and a groan thunders out of me. I unzip the jacket and let it fall off my shoulders and hit the ground.
I step away from the jacket. “I wouldn’t call this temperature freezing.”
He blankly stares at the rejected jacket. “Aren’t you going to pick that up and give it to me?” His gaze lifts to me. “I thought you rich kids were taught manners.”
My gut squeezes. Ordinarily, I’d never discard someone’s personal property like that. But this is no ordinary situation. Dax Malone is pushing all the buttons no one in my community does. I’m usually twelve steps ahead of everyone I meet. But with this guy, I have no idea what will happen next.
I look down at the jacket, and then back at him. “What will happen if I don’t pick it up?”
Dax stares at me for a long beat. Nervousness squirms inside me. I’m about to cave and pick it up, when Dax startles me with a sizzle of laughter.
“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head as the laughter dissipates. “Nothing will happen if you leave it there.”
My eyebrows knit together. My teeth graze my bottom lip, curiosity getting the better of me. “And what if I pick it up? Will something happen then?”
The unlit cigarette twirls between his fingers. “No. I’m not planning to do anything either way.”
With no clue what that means, I pivot between Dax and the jacket. I lower and scoop up the jacket, asking, “Any chance I can use it as a seat cushion?”
Dax runs a hand through his scruffy hair and shuffles along his rocky seat. “Sure. Take a load off.”
I move toward him and place the jacket on the bumpy surface. “Thanks.”
He shrugs a response.
I motion to the view. “So, you come here often?”
A murmured laugh puffs out of Dax. “Sounds like a pick-up line.”
A hot blush attacks my cheeks, and I duck my head, covering my face with my hand. “Oh my gosh. I totally didn’t mean it like that.”
Dax’s body language softens beside me. “Relax, I’m teasing you. Anyway, yeah. I come here anytime I get away from the clubhouse without someone giving me a job to do.”
“What kind of jobs do they give you?”
Dax shuffles further back on the rocky seat. “Mmm. Never mind that.”
I turn my face away from him. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s not that,” Dax says. “You just wouldn’t want to know.”
I rest my hands in my lap and kick my feet out, letting them dangle below. “It couldn’t be as mind-numbing as the tasks my family has me doing. Planning parties is all I’m good for.”
“You’re not a party person?”
“I just don’t want to be doing it for my whole life.”
“Does that mean you won’t be taking over the family business one day?”
I scoff indignantly. “Like I have a choice. I’m the first born, but I was born the wrong gender.”
Dax rears back. “What does that mean?”
I take a moment before admitting what I’m not supposed to say aloud. “My dad has no interest in taking me under his wing because I’m a girl.”
“Geez, what is this, the stone age?”
“My mom had a little bit to do with it too,” I say with a shrug. “She wants me as her pet and to continue her legacy. Either way, I don’t have a choice in my own future.”
“So, your brother will get taught the business stuff?”
“My brother tells me I’m lucky not to be included,” I reply. “He’s so uninterested in the family business. But at least he has options.”
“Well, you could have it a lot worse than planning parties,” Dax says, hiking a leg up and resting his elbow on his knee. “You wouldn’t want to be a woman in my neighborhood.”
“Why? Are girls not allowed to ride motorcycles?” I tease.
Dax’s expression grows stony. “No, they can ride. They’re also used as punching bags.”
Breath hitches in my throat, turning my voice raspy. “What?”
Dax gives a slight nod, running his fingers over the pendant hanging from his neck. “That’s why I wanted you to leave the clubhouse right away. It’s no place for women.”
I pick at my manicure, thinking about the bruises I saw on Dax at the hospital. “They treat women worse than they treat the men?”
Dax shifts uncomfortably, anger heating his face. “Women are treated like they’re worthless.”
My heart aches. This sounds personal.
“Did…” I stammer. “Did someone close to you…?”
Dax huffs, kicking his leg down. “It’s nothing.”
He lifts his cigarette to his mouth, and flicks on the lighter.
“Don’t,” I blurt, placing my hand over his. My fingertips touch the red rose running below his thumb.
He sighs, taking the cigarette from his lips. “Vanessa.”
“Can’t you go a little longer before lighting it?” I ask, swallowing the bulge of my leaping heart.
When he looks me in the eye, there’s a softness in his gaze. “You don’t quit, do you?”
“I overheard Dr. Harris talking with the nursing staff,” I say with a timid rattle to my tone. “Your body’s not as strong as you might think.” I gesture at the cigarette pack. “These things aren’t helping you.”
“I’m not stupid,” he says bluntly. “I realize they’re bad for me. But I have nothing else.”
I sit back. “What does that mean?”
“It’s not like I fell off my bike today and that’s when my life became crappy,” he replies. “I’ve had years of crap to get through.”
I wince at the cigarette still in his hand. “And you’ve been smoking those for years?”
“If you found something that made the days easier to get through,” he says in a gravelly tone, “wouldn’t you take it?”
“But there are other things that can help you,” I say with urgency.
“Dr. Harris can identify what’s wrong with you and prescribe medication or other treatment.
” I leave the rock and reach for my purse.
I retrieve my phone and open a search browser.
“I’ll look up what I remember him saying about your chart. ”
“Forget it, Vanessa,” he says with irritation. “I don’t need medical treatment.”
“You don’t know that,” I say, sitting beside him, continuing to search the web. “Dr. Harris sounded serious when he talked about your white blood cells.”
“My what now?”
I scroll through a promising article and tilt my phone toward him. “See, there are options to fix a low blood cell count. It’d take away your fatigue and dizziness. It’s safer than…”
He interrupts me with a groan. “Vanessa.”
“No, Dax,” I insist. “You need to look into this stuff.”
“Will you stop?”
I lean in closer with the phone. “No, you stop. Why are you ignoring the issue?”
“I don’t want to deal with it.”
“But I can…”
I can’t finish my sentence because Dax rushes forward. In a sweeping movement, his lips press against mine. His pressure is hard, completely muting me. My thoughts go blank as his head tilts, using his mouth to keep me quiet.