14. Emery
Emery
Hayes snags my hand as he leads me through the group crowding the door. His calloused palm fits perfectly against mine as he walks me outside, and I try not to think about how good he feels. How calming it is to have his hands on me.
He keeps me close, pushing us through the guys laughing and drinking. At first, they’re too distracted to move. Until they spot Hayes and part like the Red Sea.
Knowing he’s the club’s vice president and witnessing the respect the members show him are not one and the same. He commands the space without so much as saying a word, and like everyone else, I can’t take my eyes off him.
At least, not until the roar of engines pulls my attention again.
We reach the edge of the patio, and the desert opens up ahead of us. At a distance is a large dirt hill that was clearly put there on purpose. A ramp winds up one side, and dirt bikes idle beside it.
“For the record, this is a bad fucking idea.” Havoc stops beside Hayes with his arms crossed over his chest. “How did you convince Steel to let you build this shit anyway?”
“You built this?” My eyes widen, darting from the ramp to Hayes.
He shrugs. “I said it might be fun, and the guys rolled with it.”
I eye the setup again. The hill is taller than he is.
“Is this safe?” Worry knots my eyebrows.
“No safer than anything else.” Hayes glances down at me, placing a hand on my lower back and leaning in. “Don’t worry, the only guys who are going to jump that thing know what they’re doing.”
“You said it was your idea,” I point out. “Does that mean you know what you’re doing?”
Havoc chuckles from Hayes’s other side. “There isn’t a damn thing this fool hasn’t done on a motorcycle.”
I’m about to ask what that might entail when cheers thunder through the group.
One of the members revs the engine, lining up with the ramp.
He waves an arm, and the crowd gets louder, until he barrels forward so fast my heart nearly stops in my chest. His tires reach the ramp, and silence settles as his bike shoots upward, floating.
It feels like the bike hangs for minutes before it finally touches down on the other side.
A roar of cheers bursts from the group as someone shoves Hayes’s shoulders.
“Ready, brother?”
I turn to see Chaos standing with Willa at his side. He’s grinning at Hayes in a challenge.
“You’re doing this right now?” I ask.
Hayes looks from Chaos to me. “Unless you don’t want me to.”
Do I want him to?
Hayes doesn’t strike me as the type of man to ask permission for anything, so that simple question catches me off guard. His green eyes watch me without judgment as he waits for my answer.
I glance at the ramp in the distance, and my heart is racing. There’s no way this is safe, and I don’t want him to get hurt, but it’s clear he wants to do this. One of the reasons I fell for Hayes was because he wasn’t scared to take a risk. Would I want that to change now?
Turning back to Hayes, I bite my lower lip. “Do it.”
His smile grows. “You sure?”
“Just don’t get killed. Charlie needs you.” I need you.
More than I can ever admit.
“Promise to not get killed.” He winks, walking away.
As he heads to the dirt bike, Willa slips out from under Chaos’s arm and moves to my side. She sticks close in a show of support.
“Wow, I think Soul would have actually not done it if you asked,” she says.
“I think so too.”
And that is so fucking hot for some reason.
Hayes’s muscles flex as he climbs onto the bike and slips his helmet overhead. He’s a god in the flesh. But the fact that he actually cares about what I have to say is the reason I can’t stop staring.
This far away, I can’t see his eyes. But when he turns his face to the crowd, I feel his gaze like a physical presence reaching out to me. I give him a thumbs-up, embarrassed the second I do it, so I shove my hand into my pocket.
“He’ll be fine,” Willa says, clearly noting my tension. “He does stuff like this all the time.”
“How reassuring.” My nose scrunches, and she laughs.
From the corner of my eye, I spot Steel stepping through the crowd. He finds a spot to stand between Havoc and Chaos, just as Chaos cups his hand on either side of his mouth and yells, “Try to look like you know what you’re doing.”
That makes Steel laugh.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile before.
My attention returns to Hayes, who is riding slow circles around the ramp and hill. He leans like he’s one with the dirt bike, which is different from his motorcycle. It’s slimmer, but that doesn’t seem to bother him. He rides it like he’s more comfortable on two wheels than he is walking.
On his final lap, he swings wide to start farther back. And then, he’s shooting for the ramp so fast my lungs turn to lead.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t tear my eyes off him.
Hayes glides up the ramp, and then he’s flying. It’s breathtaking.
Terrifying.
Seconds stretch as he’s suspended in the air, and it’s absolutely exhilarating. Only when his tires hit the dirt do I finally take in a breath. A rush thrums through my body. It pulses in my bones. Hammers through my blood.
I pull out of Willa’s grip to clap and cheer with everyone else. Hayes made it look so simple when I know it isn’t.
How is it possible for a motorcycle trick to be seductive? Because that might as well have been foreplay. My body burns.
Hayes strips off his helmet and climbs off the bike, grinning as he walks back over.
“Good job not dying,” Steel says, smacking him on the shoulder as he walks past.
“Thanks, Prez.” Hayes turns to me, grinning. “See, piece of cake.”
“Clearly.” I bite my lower lip, and my cheeks are on fire.
The next member is already on the bike, ready to go, but Hayes tugs my hand, pulling me back inside. I give Willa a quick wave as I follow him.
“That was something,” I say, dipping my hands back into my pockets as we stop in the empty clubhouse.
Everyone has found their way outside by now, so the only break in silence is the click of the fans overhead.
“Do you do that kind of thing often?”
“Not so much lately.” He plants a hand on the wall, which brings us closer.
“Because you’re busy?”
“That and Charlie… and you,” he admits, surprising me. “I didn’t use to give a shit what happened to me, but I can’t really think like that anymore.”
“That’s surprisingly sweet.”
He shrugs like it’s nothing. Maybe he wishes it were. From the glimpse of his life, it’s clear he’s spent it doing whatever he wants, living it to the fullest. It must be an adjustment to have that change so quickly. For him to suddenly have someone dependent on him.
My gaze roams his cut. It’s littered with patches. Proof of a life he’s lived with the club—of the risks he’s taken.
“Why do they call you Soul?” I ask, my stare settling on the letters stitched above his vice president patch.
He lifts off the wall, tucking his thumbs into his pockets.
“It started as a joke from my dad. He used to say I was too soft, that having a soul wasn’t gonna do me any good in a world like this.
He said there were good guys and then there were guys like us, and to never forget that.
The name stuck. It reminded me that I might be a shit person who has done terrible things, but at least I wasn’t him. ”
I lift my palm, hesitating a moment when my hand hovers at his chest, then daring to plant my hand on it. His warmth radiates through his thin T-shirt as I look up into his eyes.
“You’ve got a good soul, Hayes, no matter what your dad told you. And you’ve got a big heart; I’ve seen it.”
“That tends to get guys killed in my line of work.”
“At least those guys die for something real.”
He swallows hard, his eyes locked on me. I’m terrified of him dying, but I’d rather he be a man who cares than a man like my uncle or Eli.
Hayes is an enigma in leather. Danger written in his eyes, but comfort in his smile. Every time I think I have him figured out, he shows me another side of himself.
The back slider opens as a few bikers step through. They tip their chins to Hayes in passing but leave us alone. Still, the energy in the room shifts when it’s not only the two of us. He’s no longer mine—he’s theirs.
Not that he’s mine at all.
“I should get back.” I wring my fingers together, stepping sideways to create some distance. “Charlie’s going to wake up soon.”
“I can drive you.”
“I’m good.” I force a smile. “I’m sure you’re busy.”
Disappointment has his smile falling at my rejection, but I don’t give him time to argue as I turn, cutting through the crowd now filling the room. I weave between bodies, avoiding whispers and quick glances.
I disappear like I’m good at, and it’s for the best.