Page 11 of Crow

The other two servers couldn’t be more different. Chastity is currently over at the other end of the bar, basically sitting on the edge of a pool table, spreading her legs as wide as they can go without being obscene, for Reckless. He’s old enough to be her father, but maybe she’s one of those girls who enjoys her daddy issues. I’m not judging.

Fucking right you aren’t. You have enough issues of your own, sweetheart. She wants to get some from the big guy? Nothing wrong with that. At least he’s got somewhat of a normal brain.

I narrow my eyes, pissed off at Raven’s incessant chatter. Tarynn pauses, thinking that I’m displeased to see her. Fuck, I’m an idiot. I stop glowering and she resumes walking towards me.

“Hey,” she greets me casually. She hesitates for a minute, her smile faltering, but then her words flow out if her at an astonishing rate. “You were right. I need to make some changes. I want to move out. I don’t want to go to med school. I need to get my own place and my own ride. I want to get a bike. I have the money for something older and smaller, but I can’t afford private lessons. I wouldn’t know where to start with the learning. If you’re willing to give me some pointers, I could hook you up with as many grilled cheeses as you could ever want. Anything you can dream up, I’ll cook.”

Just like that, my foul mood evaporates. This woman has done something I didn’t think was possible. She’s shocked me.

I can’t help but stare, my eyes raking over her lovely hair, pulled into a high ponytail. She’s nearly makeup free again, her lovely features standing on their own. I should stop at her face, but my eyes keep going, lingering on the curve of her breastsbefore I tear them back up. Her forehead is furrowed, and I realize what I’ve just done.

My cock screams at me to accept her suggestion. Raven is oddly silent, leaving the decision up to me.

My body aches just thinking about how she’d look on the back of my bike. How her arms would feel wrapped around me, her breasts slammed up against my back. She’d need to hold onto me at first, terrified of the noise and speed of my bike beneath us, but gradually she’d realize she was safe. She’d feel that same exhilarating freedom that I do. The image doesn’t cut off. Instead, it goes further. Her hand releasing my waist and venturing lower, running over the bulge in my jeans, begging breathily in my ear for me to take her somewhere, bend her over my bike and plow my thick cock inside of her.

Fuck.

It’s worse because in my head, nothing’s accurate. She wouldn’t be wearing a helmet. Her red hair would be streaming out behind us like a glorious flag. She’d be incautious and unsafe, and I would never allow that. I’d never be able to hear a sultry whisper in the screaming wind and over the roaring bike.

In no world, would this woman ever touch me that way.

In no word, should someone like Tarynn ever get involved with someone like me.

I, on the other hand, would love to get involved!

“No.” The word is a gruff explosion that literally makes Tarynn take a step back. I hate myself even more than I normally do, but this is for the best. “It’s not a good idea.” I’m afraid of messing her up. Ruining her life. I could never allow someone to get close to me again. It’s not a mistake I’m goingto make a second time. “You shouldn’t have listened to that shit I was spouting the other night. What the fuck do I know about anything? I was wrong.”

I make sure to push that extra mile on the asshole front before I literally give her the cold shoulder, brushing past her to stalk out the door. I let it slam shut behind me. The night rushes up to receive me with sticky, humid arms.

I stomp over to my bike, in a hurry to be anywhere but here.

If I stay even so much as an extra second, I’m going to walk back in there and apologize. Maybe even do the unthinkable and explain myself.

I kick my bike to life, slap my brain bucket on my head, and peel out of the asphalt parking lot.

The night sky greets me, open and free, as I tear down the highway that would, within the hour, meet up with the outskirts of Seattle. I lean into the wind, letting it rush past me, the open sky just about the only luxury that I allow myself. The bike’s deep growl tears apart the silent night. I concentrate on that so I can lose myself. So many men are attracted to this life for the usual reasons. A club is a place that accepts them for who they are.

Damaged, broken, unable to function in mainstream society—our club trends towards that. We’re not a haven for criminals who want to live rough without consequences. We treat our women with respect, because that’s a club rule.

I got interested in bikes when I was in my early twenties. I didn’t know how to handle myself. Didn’t know how the fuck to deal with the incessant voice in my head, constantly pushingto shove me aside and take over. I was always torn, at war with myself. I was a piece of shit kid because no one wanted to listen.

After Raven busted us out of the hospital my parents put me in, I found work where I could, and most of it wasn’t honest or legal. That didn’t make it all bad. Some of it was just cash under the table physical labor. After years of bounding around, I got my GED. I was drawn to bikes from the first. I bought a shit bucket and fixed her up myself before selling it for a pretty good chunk of profit and getting another. I worked my way up, until I could buy my first Harley from new.

At that point, I got the hell out of California. I rode all the way north, stopping here and there in little towns to do work. I never stayed in one place long, but I did manage to burn two years doing it. I never stopped heading north, never stopped trying to outrun myself. Not until I reached Hart.

I would have kept going, except the first thing I saw when I rolled into town was a group of men in the Patterson’s parking lot, although it wasn’t called Patterson’s back then. Their rough, leather clad look appealed to me, but it was their bikes that sealed the deal. I pulled in for a burger and never left. Of course, those men were Satan’s Angels. They offered to take me around to the club and see about prospecting, if I was interested in joining. I guess I had that outlaw vibe about me even back then. That haunted look of a man looking for the only sort of family he’ll ever find.

Pushing thoughts of the past aside, I ride halfway to Seattle, but turn around and head back slowly, focusing on the ride, the wind in my face, the vibrations beneath me, the lights of Hart in the distance. They gradually grow closer, hazy like it’s foggy, even though it’s a clear night.

I mean to head straight past Patterson’s, but the closer I get, the more Tarynn’s face plays through my mind as I left her. Green eyes wide and sad. She looked crushed. She didn’t deserve the cruelty I served her like a goddamn four course meal. In just a few sentences, I filled her up with it. Shattered her.

You were just trying to keep her safe, sweetheart, no harm done.

I’m surprised it took the bastard this long to start antagonizing me.

You should pull in. She’ll be finishing up her shift right now. Impeccable timing, Crow. Wait for her. Explain to her in exceptionally vivid terms what it means to get on the back of a man’s bike. That alone should chase her away, but at least she’ll get why you’re such a total prick.

I expected worse advice.

---