Page 26 of Gonzo's Grudge
For a moment, I forgot everything. Collin. Darla. My parents’ weird dynamic. Even the warnings. It was just this man, this moment, this impossible pull I couldn’t deny.
But just when I thought I’d drown in it, he broke the kiss.
His forehead pressed to mine, his breathing ragged. “Enough.”
I shook my head, whispering, “Please, let’s see what this could be.”
He gripped my shoulders, firm but not cruel. “No. Not tonight.”
I blinked up at him, lips swollen, chest heaving. “Why?”
“Because if I start, I won’t stop.” His eyes burned into mine, raw and unflinching. “And you deserve more than being a man’s weakness in a moment.”
The words gutted me. Not rejection—something else. Restraint. Respect.
And it only made me fall harder.
He sent me to bed, tucking the blanket around me like I mattered more than I should. He stayed on the couch again, the bed feeling far too large without him in it. I wondered what that would be like. I lay there, heart pounding, every nerve alive. I shouldn’t want him. He’d warned me enough times.
But I couldn’t stop.
Because behind the motorcycle, behind the leather and the scars, there was a man who could cook dinner, who believed in loyalty above all, who pulled back when it would have been easy to take.
And that kind of man was the most dangerous of all.
Chapter 10
Gonzo
The run was supposed to clear my head.
Couple days out of town, wind in my face, wheels burning miles into the blacktop, it always cured what bothered me. That was how I usually bled off pressure. Let the road consume me. Distance had a way of shrinking problems I couldn’t. Most times, it worked.
Not this time.
Every mile I rode, I saw the same two pictures: my boy in shackles behind Avery Mitchell’s razor wire, and the woman who looked at me like I was something other than the monster I knew I’d been for most of my life. GJ and IvaLeigh—one locked up by men who thought they could control the chaos, one walking a campus never having to worry about life inside of a cage.
We were escorting a load. Nothing glamorous, nothing loud, just the kind of work that keeps a club active and our people fed. We ran heavy and tight, chrome arrowing down the interstate, trucks giving us a wide berth like even they understood what it means when thirty bikes move like one muscle.
We hit a truck stop outside Atlanta. Pipes ticked as they cooled, diesel breath hanging low over the space of the entire lot. I lit a cigarette and leaned into my bike. Loco took the spot beside me, silent a minute, then said, “You look like shit.”
“Observant,” I muttered.
He watched the smoke spin. Loco was built like a telephone pole, straight and tall, and had the personality to match, silent until lightning struck. “You thinking about the kid?”
“Always.” I ground ash off the tip with my thumbnail. “And the woman.”
He didn’t ask which one. He didn’t need to. I told him beforehand I was going to get to Walsh in a way he would remember it. “We’ll get GJ out,” he said, voice flat as a verdict. “As for the girl… warn her twice. If she stays after that, it’s on both of you.”
I snorted. “Warned her three times, and still she keeps coming back for more. Or I keep tempting her because I can’t stay away.”
He glanced at me like I had two heads. “Huh.”
“Sometimes she gets to me, and I don’t think that is a good idea. I’m poison to her passion.”
“Then, brother, best you can do for her is walk away.”
“Can’t do that until her father feels the pain he caused my son.”
