Page 44 of Lady Sings the Blues

Love him? I never said I loved him. Even though I did love Beau years ago. But this new Beau, we had a connection. That’s all. Right? I couldn’t have been falling in love with him again, could I?

None of that matters now, anyhow. His arrogance needs to be taken down a notch. “No. That wasMark,” I say snidely.

The men stop moving furniture to stare at me.

“Elise, we’ve been over this. You got shit to say to me, you say it in private. We don’t air out our laundry in public.”

“Well Beau, since you’re too stupid to clue in that I won’t be going anywhere with you in private, public will have to do.”

“Dammit woman.” He grumbles. “You got this?” He calls to someone I don’t see because I turn to walk away. Total rookie move on my part. Never turn your back on the enemy, which in my case, happens to be six plus feet, two hundred pounds of solid muscled angry biker. Basic battle strategy. Yet I do and find myself being flung, once again, over Beau’s shoulder.

I, of course, start kicking and screaming, pounding on his back and ass. Rock hard ass.Focus, Elise. You’re being kidnapped.

He slaps my bottom. Hard. “Ouch!”

I scream even louder.

“Tried doin’ it the easy way. You apparently get off on doin’ it hard, so I’ll give you all the hard you can handle.”

“Beau, put me down,now.”

To my surprise, he does. He drops me on the back of his bike. Despite bikers freaking me out most of my life, I’ve kind of always wanted to ride on a bike. Just to see what all the fuss is about.

“This is nice,” I whisper. Forgetting for the moment to be upset.

“Well, so you know, you’re the only woman to ever ride with me.”

That’s actually really sweet.

“Thing is, I take ridin’ as seriously as breathin’. Other brothers might not be the same, but for me, only my old lady rides on the back. Only my old lady.Ever. And Elise, that’s you, darlin’. Always been you.”

That’s really very sweet, too. But, “I’mnotyour old lady, Beau.”

“God, Elise.” He kicks back the stand while starting the engine, revving a couple of times before taking off. I have no choice but to hold on, although I hold on to the edges of his cut instead of putting my arms around his waist and try to keep my thighs from pressing against him.

Part of me begins to melt into the sensation of his powerfully strong body molded taut against me while vibrating lightly from the powerful engine beneath us. It’s too easy to melt around Beau if I let my guard down. We tend to get pretty melty around each other. And I know some would say melty is good. But some would be wrong, way wrong, and this would be why I have to fight the melty, to get my guard up fully in place.

He doesn’t want me, he wants his revenge, and I’ll be damned if I’m just going to turn over, or in this case, melt, and give it to him. And with this last thought in my head, I realize the opportune moment I’ve been given when we slow for a traffic light, and I click that guard back up and lock it down.

“You’re a liar, Beau.” I leap from the back, pretty much surprising the both of us, and take off running in a full-blown sprint toward an escape. Checking every-so-often over my shoulder to gauge how far away I’ve run.

My feet beat hard against the pavement, and I wish I had worn better shoes because I feel every step in my shins.

Soon I’ve lost sight of him completely and turn down another busy street. Cars speed and weave past me with horns honking in warning, as I try not to end up roadkill. Another opportunity presents itself. There’s a random pickup truck sitting at a stoplight. I jump into the cab right as it begins to pull away from the red light just turned green.

“Pleasego.” Panting heavy, I cry at the driver, slapping his dashboard with several rapid open handed slaps in the universal gesture for hurry. “I was kidnapped.”

But he doesn’t go. Well he does, but only so far as to pull off into a McDonald’s parking lot, locking the doors and leans forward to fish his phone from the center console.

“She’s here,” he says to someone on the other end.

What have I gotten myself into now?

“No, she just jumped into my truck…Will do.”

He hangs up and not a minute later the rumble of a Harley engine echoes behind us. I look out the side of the truck to see Beau dismounting his bike and walking up.

That’s when I turn back to the driver, for the first time it clicking what’s in front of me. The cut, he’s wearing a cut. Big patch across the back says: PROSPECT.

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