TWENTY-FOUR
Throttle
The back door crashes against the wall as Chain enters with a thunderous sound. Nothing is more frightening than a six-foot plus giant with tattoos who exhales fire.
“Church! All of you. Now!” The ground beneath us shakes as he takes the stairs two at a time.
We exchange looks.
Trembling in our boots, we march behind our President as Tank slides a hang-around off him. It's been a while since I last had sex with a woman. Tequila caught her leaving my room. I have to be honest with myself, the only one who gets me hard anymore is off limits.
Guess I’m in for a lonely future.
We enter church and take our usual seats, except for Hush, who leans against the wall. He maintains a blank expressionless face.
With a piercing stare, Angel sits beside me, glaring at Charger. We didn’t include her because we needed the circle small and sometimes, she likes to run her mouth.
I shift in my seat as Chain's silence becomes more intimidating than any words he could say.
In a menacing manner, he leans back into his massive chair, lighting a cigar with annoyance. Or does it resemble a repressed fury?
We wait with bated fucking breath. Tick. Tick. Tock.
“I'm this close to taking your goddamn patches.” He inhales then exhales, letting the smoke swirl through the room like the pits of hell.
He locks eyes with Charger. Then everyone of us. Tank. Me. And Bullet. Especially Bullet. “You.” He points to our Vice. “I should demote you right now.” Which technically he can’t do without a vote. But if he claims he would, I believe it.
“Chain…” Bullet battles, shifting uncomfortably.
“Shut the fuck up.”
Our Vice surrenders, arms in the air, as we brace for what lies ahead. It's been enjoyable. Having a family. There wasn’t a second option for me. I guess I opt to look for a job at another bike shop. Travel down the coast. Never see Tequila. My aching chest tightens at the thought.
“Did you Neanderthals at least get any information? Or pissing me off and almost getting killed again was for fucking nothing.” Chain puffs a second cloud our way.
No one answers. But we relax. At least it didn’t sound like Chain was canning us.
“Fucking speak. Jesus Christ.”
Shifting in our seats, we clear our throats.
“Uh, that’d be me, boss,” Bullet announces, hoping not to get his ass chewed out again.
“Fine. Go.” Chain waves a hand in the air.
“The van circled back to the warehouse but hasn’t moved since then. In my opinion, they got nervous when they spotted Throttle and realized we were trailing them. It's also likely they dumped the unfortunate person off Caden Bridge. Just to be safe.”
It's a reasonable assumption.
“Not that I fully trust Pipe and his guys, but none of you took his warning seriously?” he asks. We don’t answer because damn. “I have a goddamn headache.” Chain pinches the bridge of his nose. “If this happens again, I'll remove your patches. There ain’t no rule book. I built this club from the very beginning. I put every single one of you here and I’ll take you out. Get me?”
We nod. The tension has vanished, and I’m confident everyone shares my happiness in not being kicked out.
“Can’t fucking hear you.” Chain cups his ear.
"Aye," we say together.
“Good. Now get out of my sight. Bring me any information related to that tracker.” He bats us away like flies. “Oh, and Throttle. Stop playing games with your woman and tell her already because, honestly, we're tired of your shitty, moody behavior.”
Heat rises, starting at my neck. Guess he was on a roll. “Everyone knows?”
Bullet gives me a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Yeah, brother. Everyone knows.”
Laughter erupts, and I’m stunned. Was I that obvious? Were my emotions for her so fucking clear?
“It’s for her own benefit,” I spit out to no one specific while they get up from their seats.
“Sure, dumbass,” someone mumbles amongst themselves.
That’s the reality. I keep telling myself.
We file out. Hush first. Myself, Tank, and Charger last.
“Fuck, I about pissed myself.” Charger rubs the nape of his neck.
“My balls shriveled up inside me,” Tank jokes, readjusting himself.
I assumed we were done, my patch gone forever. My chest tightens with emotion because this proves how loyal Chain is to this family.
Downstairs, disappointment hits as I see our temp bartender working on Tequila’s shift. I wonder if she's sick or avoiding me. What a pompous ass I am to assume it's because of me.
“She’s out.” Angel bumps my shoulder. Hard. And it knocks me out of my thoughts. “With Caleb.”
A wave of jealousy washes over me, causing my stomach to plummet.
I’ll kill him.
“I didn’t ask.” But now I want to murder the prick. There's a chance he’s the right man for her. Maybe he’ll make her happy. And because I'm a complete jerk, the need to break every bone in his body at the mere idea of him touching her is tempting.
“Your nostrils are flaring.” Angel glares, pointing at my face.
“She’s a grown woman. She can go out with whoever she wants.”
No. She cannot.
“She wants you. You moron. My God. What the hell is wrong with you?” Angel follows me as I stomp out front to my Harley. I got to get out of here.
“Leave it alone, Angel. I mean it.”
“She’s my best friend. You’re her best friend. That is until you literally fucked her over.” She shoves my shoulder again. “Let’s go.” She slides off her leather jacket, setting it on the hood of her car and ties up her long blonde hair.
Was she serious right now?
“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, without a chance in hell I’d fight her. She’s a female and my sister.
“I’m serious, Throttle. I will kick your ass.” She holds up her fists. “What? Afraid of losing to a woman.”
“Go back inside, Angel. I’m not fighting you.”
Venom comes stomping our way, possibly to beat my ass. Charger might not have fully accepted him, but the rest of us have grown fond of the guy, and if he wants to attack me right now, I'd allow it. I deserve it.
Maybe I should surrender and let her punch me to a bloody pulp.
At the exact moment I'm about to tell her to take a shot, Venom grabs her and tosses her over his shoulder.
“Ugh! Venom. Put me down!”
He slaps her ass, turning toward me. “Sorry man, sometimes I just can’t let her out.”
“You’re so dead!” Angel pounds at his back.
“Come on, peach. Let me take you home and put that sass of yours to good use.”
Now that they're gone, I prepare to leave, but pause for a moment. She’s with this Caleb guy. I walk my pissed off self back inside to round up whoever will help because tonight, my girl is coming home.
Tequila
With Caleb by my side, he gracefully secures a strand of beach waves behind my ear as we make our way to my car, the soft night breeze around us.
“I’m glad you called me.” He smiles.
Sure, I was too. It was fun having another friend. We should be friends, not because of Throttle. There were never any sparks from Caleb. No heart thumping out-of-control nervousness when he looked at me. No Earth-shattering kiss. It was just comfortable. Easy.
I suppose I was someone who craved chaos.
“It was a good time.” I smile as he holds my hand.
We stand outside the restaurant. His favorite. Not mine. Which could have been a red flag. Did I seriously give Caleb a deduction point because he didn't pick a place we both liked? Assuming that he's selfish is just plain dumb. Yet here I was, ignoring every made-up neon flashing sign imaginable, pointing to a certain biker boy I can’t get out of my head.
Caleb faces Brass, who stands by his motorcycle, exuding an intimidating presence with his arms crossed and a deathly glare. I needed a good reason for being stalked by a MC member but could have done better. Could have just said I was involved with a biker family who doesn’t trust you, but that wouldn’t do.
“I have a feeling your cousin from Tennessee is scheming to murder me.” His guess is valid. He clears his throat. “Next time, ditch the bodyguard and we go back to my place. I’ll make dinner.”
I contemplate my answer, not wanting to hurt him. “Caleb—”
“Just give me one last chance before you reject me and suggest we stay friends. A guy needs another night with a woman like you.” My face reddens as he places his finger to my lips. “Say nothing. I’ll text you in a few days.” He raises my hand to his mouth and lays a gentle kiss on it. “Goodnight, beautiful.”
He drives away and Brass glances at me. “I don’t like him.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“He’s too persistent.”
“Yeah, well. It’s good he’s honest with me and knows what he wants.” We both knew who I’m referring to.
“Fair enough.” He starts up his motorcycle, and I pull out of the parking lot first. We both head back to my apartment.
It's dark when we arrive. Another con of living here. Lights are unnecessary to them. It simplifies the process of drug deals. I suppose having Brass around isn’t a terrible thing.
When I park in my spot, I'm breathless as I see Throttle on his Harley waiting next to me. What is he doing?
Every time I lay eyes on him, my mind fails me. With his slender jeans hugging his muscular thighs, his poised and tall body stands strong. He wears this stupid shirt under his club cut that really stresses his muscles. It’s a losing battle.
“I'll take it from here,” he informs Brass, who nods and rides off, leaving me and my former best friend alone in the empty, unlit apartment complex with only the moonlight for sight.
His hair, up close, appears tousled by the wind, making me want to run my fingers through it and its softness.
“Get on.” He holds out a helmet for me, and my eyes widen.
I've never ridden on the back of his motorcycle, and I try my best to mask my response. It's like a mix of a giddy high school girl and an angry ex-girlfriend. It was a big deal to ride on a club member's Harley.
“I’m going inside, Throttle.” I go to leave, but he reaches out, holding onto my wrist. The spark hits me instantly, and the vibration between us is electrifying.
“You don’t live here anymore. Now get on, my rose.”
My eyebrows narrow, trying to understand. “What are you talking about?”
“I had a conversation with your landlord. Your lease is done. This isn’t your home anymore. It never was.”
I stare at him. It's not desire, but unexplainable anger that is making my body heat. “You’re lying. Tell me you’re joking.”
“Does it look like I’m joking?” His face is still, and eyes are cold.
“My landlord would never agree to that.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“I can be very persuasive.”
Oh my god. He evicted me.
“Your things have been moved. Clothes. Furniture, not that awful couch, but even Nemo. You are never coming back here.”
My overwhelming shock and rage prevent me from smiling, even though he mentioned my fish by name. I try to speak, but there is no sound.
Son of a bitch.
“You removed my things?” I anxiously grind my teeth, expecting this to be a stupid joke.
“Yup.” His lips form a straight line, and his eyes hold mine.
“You have lost your damn mind. Where the hell am I supposed to go?!” Now I’m shouting, but I don’t even care. Tears are about to spill out as my anger builds up inside me.
“You’re coming home with me.” He grips his handlebars.
Home. With. Him.
“I am not leaving with you, Throttle. You best undo whatever you’ve done. Right now.” I point a finger his way. That stupid handsome smirk on his stupid handsome face.
Move in with him. Above the clubhouse? I’m violated.
The parking lot spins.
It’s as if he reads my mind. “We’re not going back to the club. We’re going to my house.”
Huh?!
“I’m sorry. Come again. You have a house?” I question with confusion, and he acknowledges with a nod. “Oh, my God. I’m going to be sick.” I hold my stomach because the nausea has risen from the pits of hell.
What else don't I know about him? I suspected he had secrets, but he never told me he owns a house outside the club. It was a punch in the gut.
“You can be sick after we get home because there’s two guys eyeing us from the other side of the street.”
I follow his line of sight. There are, in fact, men peering over in our direction, and I tense when one of them moves toward us.
Crap.
“Tequila…” He revs his bike. “Get. On.”
But… Oh hell.
“Dammit,” I groan, but snatch the helmet from him and quickly buckle it. Next, I wrap my arms around his sturdy waist and nuzzle my cheek against his back. “What about my car?” I’m barely able to shout loud enough over the rumble of the engine.
“The guys will come pick it up tomorrow.”
I tighten my grip as we escape the parking lot. As he zooms down the road, my anger fades away. Adrenaline surges with the wind against my face. It's a thrill I didn't realize I was lacking. I ignore the fact that my dress is flying up, almost exposing too much.
“You good back there, babe?” He watches me through the mirror as I nod.
With a grin, he strokes my bare thigh in gentle, sensitive circles. I want to push him away, but I'm too scared to remove my arms from him. Besides, I don't have a strong dislike for it. The humming my body does from his contact is erotic.
We speed past trees in a blur, with the moon shining above. With no one else on the road, it’s private and intimate.
As he decelerates and turns onto a street, I realize just how much it’s deserted, wondering if this is where his house is. Throttle has a place, a home he refers to that isn't the club, and I never knew.
Facing a two-story house with a wraparound porch, he comes to a stop. It resembles the place I've always dreamt of living. It bears a striking resemblance to the one I grew up in.
My heart swells at the odd and overwhelming comfort that warms my chest.
Standing in front of his large oak door, the reasons for being upset come rushing back to me. I shake off the earlier thoughts leading to this, and frown.
Taking my hand, he leads me inside, and for a second, I give. "The construction isn’t done yet," he says, closing the door behind us and rubbing his chin stubble.
I survey my environment, absorbing everything around me.
Just as he attempts to reach for me, I slap his cheek, leaving me in shock. I gasp because I can’t believe I slapped him.
“Damn. That was good. I'll have to teach you the proper way to throw a punch, though.” He rubs his red skin. “Can’t say I didn’t deserve that.”
“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have done that, but you secretly took my belongings to a house I didn't know you had and assume I'll be okay with living here. Are you out of your mind, Throttle?”
Lust blazes in his eyes. “Yes. I am completely out of my fucking mind.” He engages me, not stopping until my back hits the door, and I’m left without an escape.
He places his hand beside my head, trapping me, while his other rests on my waist, causing my hips to press against him. “The power you have over me drives me to madness. Like moving you out of your shit hole-apartment so you’re not with people who can hurt you. I want you here because I’m a selfish bastard who can’t stand living a minute without you—a selfish bastard who wants to find this Caleb guy you were out with tonight and tell him to stay the fuck away from you.”
My heart races and a warm sensation envelops me as he inches closer. I stare up into his deep brown, but light reflected eyes. “You did this because I was with some guy?”
He denies it, shaking his head. “No, that’s not why. I mean, fuck, maybe a part of the reason, but like I said, you hold something over me.” Throttle’s gaze moves from mine to the floor.
Without conscious consideration, I reach out to him, touching the cheek I've just hit. “Be honest with me for once. I need to hear the words. I need you to tell me it’s more.”
His eyes lock onto my own, desperately clinging, and there’s a glimmer of hope. Perhaps this is it. He can’t pretend anymore. Secret is out, but he has to say it. The truth.
His jaw twitches, and the vein on the side of his neck throbs. But nothing.
I wait a little longer. And still nothing.
My heart plummets and I’m desperate for his confession as I close my eyes.
“Can’t this be enough?”
Wrong answer.
The audacity.
I maneuver under his arm, eager for space to breathe. The once regret I had for slapping him is gone.
“Tequila—”
“Where is my room?” I interrupt him before he could start spewing more bullshit. “Since you moved me here without my permission, I’d like to know where I’ll be sleeping.”
He sighs. “Everything is in the main bedroom.” Why wasn’t he in there? “Upstairs on the right.” His voice is tired. He shouldn't be when he's the one who keeps playing this exhausting game.
“Cool. Now if you’ll excuse me.” I turn on my heels because leaving him seems like the right thing to do, considering what he’s done is rip my heart out and stomp on it.
“If it could be different. If I could be different.” There’s sadness in his voice.
I twist my body to see him patting his chest, resembling a wounded soldier. “Did you ever stop to think that I don’t want different, Throttle? You were all I ever wanted.”
It will be only this. It’ll never be enough because he can’t have pieces of me. I’m all or nothing.
Not anymore.
At the corner of the large living room, Nemo is swimming in his tank. At least he made it safe and sound and is enjoying himself here.
Traitor.
As I ascend, my hand subtly glides along the intricate woodwork. His home is beautiful and reminds me of Bullet’s.
I may not know every detail of Throttle’s life, but I can’t fathom him keeping it a secret. Why? There are reasons I told no one of where I was living. This being the perfect example. Him thinking he’s saving me. I didn’t need him to do that.
Despite the burning sensation in his gaze at my back, I keep forward.
Before going to my new room, I peek at what must be Throttle’s. It’s his style. Black sheets. White walls. In the corner, there's a leather chair and a bookshelf. Manga and classic literature neatly stack each shelf. He seems to spend more time here than I've realized.
I rush past, locating the main bedroom, and as I switch on the light, my heart skips a beat. It’s spacious with blush pink walls. More like a rose hue, not pink.
Interesting.
I search through each drawer and discover my clothes folded. When I open the next one and find my panties and bras, my cheeks warm.
On top was a note:
Don’t worry, I took care of these. None of the guys got their grubby hands on your personals. Not to mention, Throttle threatened anyone who went near them. We love you, girl. And we’re happy you’re safe. Xoxo. Mags.
Safe, sure, but my heart wasn’t. My smile vanishes as I realize that everyone now knows about everything. And how did they move my stuff so fast? Even my secondhand end table was next to the bed.
When I opened the closet, I found my clothes inside. He is serious about this. That sneaky bastard moved me out of my apartment and into his house. But when I replay it in my thoughts, it’s not as unpleasant as it was earlier. Still not the point. He went behind my back. We agreed to compromise, and this was not compromising. Holy shit, I live with Throttle.
I put on my sleep shorts and a tank top.
Curse him and his attractive face.
I collapse onto the bed, which is crazy comfortable, and gaze up at the ceiling. I gape at the stars. There are stars on my ceiling. The moon roof shows the night sky and wow… this can’t be real.
I lost track of time while lying there, gazing, and sleep overtook me as soon as I closed my eyes. Washing away the night.
I jolt awake, hastily searching my surroundings, and forgetting where I am. The open ceiling allows the morning sky to shine in the room. Oh yeah, Throttle’s house.
Home.
Checking the time, it’s almost six am.
Finally, I woke up pain-free after a full night's sleep. This mattress is an improvement from mine.
Because I was on the verge of dehydration, I let go of my pride. In hopes Throttle remained asleep, I exit and head to the kitchen. When I round the corner, my face smacks into a wall. I raise my arms to steady myself, finding out it’s not a wall, but Throttle’s bare chest. My hands were trying to fight a losing battle of not wanting to rub them down and over his muscles.
He secures me by clutching my upper arm. “You good?”
My face isn’t.
“I thought you’d be asleep. I’ll go.” When I try to spin, he doesn’t let his hand go from me.
“You stay. I’ll go.” He sets down his water.
“That’s ridiculous. It’s your house.”
He shakes his head. “It’s yours now too.”
“Do you know how insane that sounds?”
“It doesn’t. Not to me.”
“Throttle. I can’t live here with you.”
“Why not? You needed to be out of there. And I have the space. It’s big enough for ten people to stay here if I wanted. So, no. It’s not insane. It makes sense.”
“I didn’t ask you to do this. You went behind my back,” I say.
“I won’t apologize for getting you out of that dump. I admit, I could have done things differently, but it made me sick to my stomach knowing you slept there every night. Here. It’s safe. You’re protected.”
I close my eyes, because yes, I’m safer here with Throttle. It's a feeling I've waited for, for a long time.
I drop my shoulders. “Let’s call it a truce for now. It’s too early and I haven’t even eaten yet.”
His eyes soften.
I take a glass and fill it with filtered water from the fridge. “But don’t think this conversation is over.” I direct a finger at his chest.
“How about this?” He backs up, leaning into the counter behind him. His forearm veins and tattoos on display. “Consider me a roommate. That’s it.”
The words tug at my heartstrings. How did we go from us to roommates? Right, I forgot. Sex. Damn good sex.
I study him a beat. “Really?” I cross my arms to my chest.
“I swear.”
“Fine. A roommate. But I’m paying you rent, or I’m looking for a new place.”
“You’re not paying me rent. But I have an idea.” Oh, how I love his ideas. “Since I suck at cooking. You can make me breakfast every morning. That’s our deal.”
“That’s a terrible compromise.”
“Guess I’ll starve then. And to think what a miserable way to go. Unless it’s my punishment.”
“Ugh. Fine. You’re a disgrace.” I bite my lip to hide a smile.
“I’m glad you’ve agreed.” He smirks with his dimple and my insides dance.
“Whatever.”
“Coffee?”
“Sure.” I sneak into the chair and watch as Throttle brews coffee using his fancy maker.
His hips and torso are so enticing, and it’s hard resisting the urge to reach out to him. Being his roommate will be utter torture.