TWENTY-THREE
Tequila
I've avoided Throttle by using every trick in the book for the past two days. Though I think he was avoiding me as much as I avoided him.
Every shift I had at the bar, he was MIA. Brass took over escorting me to my car at night. Whenever I went to the gym to exercise with Angel, I never bumped into him. No passing each other at the bike shop. No pit. No club. Even with the stab to the chest, I can't help but admit I miss him. It's odd to break the habit of talking to him every day. But I have the right to be angry and confused. We’re in a weird place and only time will tell.
It's unbelievable that everything unfolded because of our lack of self-control. I should have turned down that kiss. And choosing silence as punishment can be cruel, yet possibly necessary.
Working out at Tank's gym seemed ideal. Since it's late, I didn't expect to see anyone. Especially Throttle. Throughout my entire workout, I was by myself. Except now as I sling my bag over my shoulder to leave, he and Tank were moving this way on the sidewalk.
I never expected to lose my best friend over one night. One incredible night. Let me tell you, it hurts.
In front of the gym, I'm frozen, not due to the weather. My heart is in my throat when Throttle passes, and we lock eyes. I try to pull away, but there’s an invisible magnet. A strange sadness is lingering over him, making it impossible for me to avert my gaze away. Was he hurting because of us?
Tank slips his weapon into his waistband while they both come to a halt at their Harleys. I wouldn't worry if they didn't appear to be avoiding attention. I can't stand the jobs that they decide to take on. It was always too risky.
“Hey sweetheart. You headed out?” Brass catches me off guard and I flinch. He's glued to me, and it’s sometimes suffocating.
“I guess it’ll be silly to ask if you'll be joining me, right?”
He shrugs. “You know the drill. Part of the job.”
“Fine. Let’s get going.” I sigh as he guides me to my car with his imposing figure.
“Mind filling me in on what Tank and Throttle are up to. They’re both acting conspicuous.”
Brass opens my door for me. “I can’t do that, Tequila.”
“I'm not an ol’ lady, so there’s no rule breaking. In fact, I’m basically a nobody.”
His brows narrow. “You being a nobody is bullshit. And even if I could tell you, I’m not positive about the details. My eavesdropping skills are rusty.” Brass flexes his jaw. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
Oh, but you did.
“Do you think it’s unsafe? Whatever they’re planning?”
“It's always dangerous, babe. It comes with the territory, but it’s not my job as a prospect to ask questions.” He sighs, the tension softening. “Don’t worry, your man can take care of himself.”
I tap my fingers on my car's roof, searching for Bullet's motorcycle. Not here.
Brass grunts. “No matter what you’re thinking inside that pretty little head of yours, just stop. Throttle will have my ass if you get yourself into trouble because I ran my mouth.”
“But you do know whatever him and Tank are doing isn’t safe. So… shouldn’t we help them?”
“No. We shouldn’t. Come on.”
“Can I have Bullet’s number?”
“Tequila… Let. It. Go.”
“All right, fine.” I whip out my phone, texting Angel for her Vice’s address instead. He’s involved. Brass spilled the beans after admitting him to eavesdropping.
She sends it to me less than thirty seconds later but reminding me I didn’t get it from her.
With a smile, I tuck my cell into the back pocket of my yoga pants. “Okay. I’m ready. Let’s go.”
Brass squints at me in question. “What are you up to?”
“You going to follow me or not?” Without wasting time, I jump into my car and speed off to Bullet’s.
I could have tracked Throttle and Tank, but they would have noticed me instantly. Not to mention, with Brass following me, he would have obviously known.
You should trust your gut instinct, especially if it's a bad feeling. I'm willing to risk everything for Throttle, even if it puts me in harm's way. That's how it will always be. Him doing the same for me.
He has done the same for me.
I’m not losing Brass, but I figured as much.
Observing the few homes on the street as I follow my GPS's directions, I am left stunned when I reach Bullet's house and see the number. I didn't realize he was living such a luxurious lifestyle.
An angry prospect is right on my heels. “Throttle will have my genitals on a platter. You get that?”
“Oh, calm down. It’ll be fine. I’ll tell him it was my idea.”
“Fuckin’ stubborn woman,” he mutters.
Like earlier, I can sense that something is about to go down tonight. That's why I'm standing in front of Bullet's enormous house, attempting to persuade him to reveal Throttle's whereabouts.
I knock. Then knock again. “Come on, Bullet. I know you’re home. I see your sparkling unscathed motorcycle parked right outside!” Nothing. “Brass is here, and he mentioned he spotted you and the guys discussing something.”
“So much for not bringing me into this,” Brass grumbles, but I ignore him.
“Either you tell me where Throttle is, or…” I have nothing but my desperate plead. I sigh in defeat, placing my hands on my hips, staring at his pretty wooden front door.
Bullet opens it with a groan, his handsome and rugged face scrunching as he rubs a hand down it. “You are one persistent lass. Throttle’s going to slaughter me.”
“Get in line,” Brass whines. “He’s… is this actual oak?” He touches the wood in admiration.
“Oh, yeah. Had it put in myself. I know a guy who—”
“Can we focus here?” I demand.
Bullet coughs. “Right. Anyway, was this your idea?” he asks Brass, who’s standing there like a toddler in trouble.
“Seriously? Hell, no, but have you seen this woman angry with determination? It’s scary, man. Besides, she came here on her own.”
As Bullet raises an eyebrow, I can't help but smile.
“Damn. Fine. Give me your phone.” He takes it, plugging in an address I’m unfamiliar with.
“And you guys let him go alone?” I shoot a firm glance toward Bullet. He’s the Vice, so the blames on him.
“Tank is up there with him, in case anything should… fuck, never mind.” Bullet stops himself.
Throttle would prefer to handle this solo. Act independently and make sure no one gets hurt. And this sounded more dangerous by the second.
“Anything should what? What’s he doing at this place, Bullet?” I demand.
He holds onto the door, with a bow of his head in defeat. “There is a possibility that this warehouse is associated with a trafficking operation. Your boy is there to plant a tracker on the van.” His words sink in as I stare. “That’s why you need to stay the hell away from there. It’s dangerous and you could get hurt.”
I heard enough.
What will I even be able to do? But if Throttle gets into trouble, I have to be there.
I quickly turn and dash to my car, then speed toward the warehouse. Bullet and Brass call my name, but I’m unbothered. Thinking the worst is crippling.
I tear through the streets, the sound of a motorcycle close behind. At least Brass will be there. The more back up, the better. I realize that I'm being stupid by doing this.
So be it.
Throttle
I'm realizing that this was a dumb and idiotic decision. The first challenge was attaching the tracker to the van, which felt like a mission impossible that I was too confident about. The building had men coming and going at some point. Today, of all days, the foot traffic here was more. What was the reason for not devising a better plan?
If I don't make it through tonight, Tequila will never find out that with a mere look, she turns my world upside down. Her hair, her body, her smile, that infectious scent of hers. It makes me mad. How much she means to me—how much the other night meant. She’s the only woman I give a shit about over my damn life.
Fuck.
The opportune moment has arrived as the two guys shut the van doors and return inside.
If I'm able to succeed, we’ll learn their next moves. Sounds like a good idea in theory, but nothing has worked out for us yet and my healing ribs can attest to that.
While going down the hill, I snag my boot on uneven ground, but successfully avoid a face plant. Wearing black jeans and a hoodie, and with no lights to illuminate the area, it's easier to be sneaky.
I stay close to a tree, keeping my back against it, just ten feet from the van. When silence surrounds me, I persist in approaching the vehicle.
Don’t mess up.
I maneuver around the all-white van, briefly pausing, then sliding beneath the rusted underside. Grabbing the tracker from my pocket, I weigh my options where the fuck this thing should go.
I decide to stick it underneath by the back bumper. Got it.
There are only a few things that make me tick, but being trapped under here makes my heart race. In a rush, I shimmy to break free, desperate to get the hell out. That’s when the warehouse door opens.
Dammit.
The coldness of the night doesn't stop me from breaking into a sweat.
The gravel is being crunched by boots. I observe them entering the van, one on either side. If I'm going to be a sitting duck, the least they can do is provide some information.
The engine starts. Let's hope they move forward instead of backward. But I couldn’t be that lucky. The headlights light up my entire body like a spotlight and the passenger notices me first, then yells to his buddy who’s driving.
The van halts, and unfortunately, that's some bad luck.
I place my palms on the ground above my head, then spring up, landing on my feet, and take off running. Less than thirty seconds later, shouts and gunfire echo around me. A bullet flies past my head, just missing me.
I'm constantly being shot at.
Fuck.
I trudge through the wet grass toward the nearest road, not seeing if they were tailing me. I leap over a fallen tree trunk and keep going as if my life relied on it, because it did. Tonight, my stamina was on point.
I continue to run until the road comes into view, with my heart racing and my breathing growing heavy.
A familiar car zooms around the corner, halting in front of me, and anger and worry consume me.
What the fuck?
“Get in!” Her voice of silk and seduction sounds from the driver's side.
My adrenaline is at its peak and my vision turns red as I peer into those hazel eyes.
“Hurry!” she repeats.
Swiftly opening the passenger door, I close it just in time as Tequila speeds away.
“Jesus. Are you okay?! I was so worried. Are you hurt? Please tell me you didn’t get shot. If you did, I would kill you for this… I swear—”
“Tequila.” I put a stop to her nervous babble.
“Right. Sorry.”
“What are you doing?” I demand, still almost breathless, but mostly from the fear of her being here.
“Yeah, yeah, you can scold me later. Right now, I’m rescuing you from being splattered all over the place. What the hell were you even thinking? They were shooting at you!”
In silence, I count to ten, hoping to regain composure and reduce my rapid heartbeat. “Tequila. What. Are. You. Doing. Here?!” I slam my palm on the interior.
“I already told you. I’m saving your ass. Regardless of the state of our relationship, seeing you die isn’t on my bucket list.”
I analyze her profile, watching her long lashes flutter as she speaks. Christ, I am so infuriated with this woman but so fucking turned on my dick is trying to free itself, pressing against the zipper of my pants.
I run a hand down my face. “This is so fucked. How did you know where I was?” I shake my head. “Never mind. I’ll take care of Bullet tomorrow. And where the hell is Brass? He’s supposed to be watching you.”
Tequila hooks a thumb over her shoulder. True to form, he rides closely behind us. At least I won’t have to tear his dick off yet. I call him up, telling him he can back off and retreat over to Tank.
I’ll be taking over from here.
Despite my seething fury and violent thoughts, I want her to ride me in this car. Straddling my fucking lap while I bury deep inside her. Because if she hadn’t come to my rescue, I may be lying in a pool of my own blood.
“I must say, I got an adrenaline rush and I like it. Not you getting shot at, but the saving part.” She chuckles. I don’t want her to save me.
“No way. Erase that notion from your lovely head right now, because you will never be involved in something so stupid again. Not if I can help—” I’m interrupted by Tank’s call. “Hold that thought.”
She shrugs.
“Yo, brother, you good? I lost you after you took off into the woods.”
“Yeah, I’m alive. Little miss Bonnie over here picked my ass up.” I eye her while she smirks.
“Who?”
“He’s referring to me!” Tequila shouts loud enough for Tank to hear.
He whistles into the phone. “Damn. Got yourself one hell of a woman, man. No wonder you two belong—”
I cut him off. “We’ll meet up at the club, but I want to make sure we’re in the clear first.”
“You bet. Stay safe. The both of you.”
I point toward the isolated cliff that is my special spot. “Pull over up here.” I’ve wanted to bring Tequila here for a while, and I wish it wasn’t under such circumstances.
“Oh, wow. This place is beautiful.” She gawks, putting her beater in park, and she seems… fine. Completely unfazed, she assisted a member of a MC in escaping a shooting.
“Kill the engine,” I demand.
When she's done, I take hold of the base of her neck, bringing her closer to me. She’s so close that a tiny movement forward would put our mouths together. Whether it's her candy perfume, body wash, or any captivating scent, my skin can't help but react. Her parted lips captivate me, but I refrain from adding to the hurt I've caused. “Listen to me, my rose. You are to never do something like this again. You hear me? I don’t care what dangerous shit I get myself into. This is club business. This is part of what we do, and you can’t be involved.”
“But I—”
“You can’t be involved.” With my thumb, I rub circles on her delicate skin.
Each time she swallows, I find myself captivated by the sight of her throat, torn between moving back and yet still holding onto her neck, aware that giving in to temptation is inevitable. I’m already at the top of the list for the biggest asshole ever to her.
She slowly blinks. “I hate when you play hero. It’s not fun for me waiting for the day you might not return.”
My eyes dart between her sad gaze, and my stomach churns. Her words are the precise reason I'll never move beyond being friends. A future holding nothing but misery, pain, and fear.
“Why?” she whispers.
“What?” I’m confused.
She stares at me. “Why don’t you want me? I’m right here. I gave myself to you. Take me, Throttle. And I don’t just mean now.”
A battle rages within as I resist the urge to confess my unparalleled desire for her.
I release her neck and surrender, lowering my head. “Tequila. Understand. I’m not that guy for you.” The words dripping with disdain.
“I don’t believe that. I don’t believe that for one second.”
“Look around us. Five minutes ago, I was shot at. You shouldn't be with a man who is nothing but trouble.”
Witnessing her eyes filling with tears, I realize I can't continue. I can’t keep doing this to her. What the fuck was wrong with me? I refuse to stay in this car any longer because my head is spinning.
I'm on the verge of giving up and pouring my heart out to her. Is it love? How else can I explain the knot in my chest when she's near? To want to reach out and touch her, yet I wouldn’t allow myself to taint her with my sins.
I can’t and I won’t.
But there’s no going back. I’ve tasted her. I’ve felt her. And Christ help me, it has left me absolutely powerless.
It will never be the same.
Her presence is near as she trails behind me, but then she stops. “Throttle. When I agreed to it just being sex. I lied. I wasn’t okay with it. And I’m not blaming you. I told you yes, but it meant the same for you, too.” She steps closer, her presence marking my back. “The way you look at me is not how friends look at each other. Tell me you feel it too. Tell me every time we touch, it’s not paralyzing.” The pleading in her voice and the warmth of her hand laid on my shoulder, cuts me like a knife.
The tranquility of the night envelops us. It too, waiting for a response. But I can’t give her one. I can’t give her the answer she wants, knowing that this would be what she lived for.
“Tequila…” My heart screams. Tell her, you idiot. Tell her! “It’s complicated. I can’t…”
Coward.
Her head tilts down with a sigh of disappointment. It's unbearable how many times I've caused her pain.
“Goodbye, Throttle.” Her voice quivers as if she’s on the verge of tears and I already hated myself. She walks to her car but returns. “I know you believe you’re protecting me from you, but you’re wrong. I’m safer with you than without you. And I’m the one who should be able to choose who I get to be with.”
It’s the worst form of torture. To desire for what's right in front of me yet refusing to embrace it.
I witness her exit, driving away and deserting me stranded on the hilltop.
I don’t blame her because I’d leave my ass, too.