Page 15 of Honey Heat
Rain still tapped against the roof. Thunder still rolled through the sky like a warning. But wrapped in Lucio’s arms, those memories couldn’t touch him. Not here. Not now.
“You back with me, cariño?” Lucio’s hand moved in slow, soothing strokes up and down Ethan’s back—steady, grounding, patient.
Ethan didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He just pressed his face deeper into Lucio’s chest, too overwhelmed to speak, too raw to let go.
“I’ll hold you for as long as you need.” Lucio’s voice was low, almost reverent, so intimate it made something inside Ethan unravel. It wasn’t a promise. It was a vow.
And Ethan believed him.
Between the humming, the warmth of Lucio’s hand, and the fierce safety of his embrace, Ethan began to drift.
The storm hadn’t stopped, but it no longer threatened.
It was a lullaby now, sung in thunder and rain, cradled in the arms of someone who refused to let him go.
* * * *
Chopper rode the curve of the road, taking pleasure in the sun on his face and the thrum of his motorcycle between his legs. Thankfully the earlier storm had passed and the asphalt was dry.
Tucked in the front of his leather was the puppy Cesar wanted to surprise Jamie with for his elegido’s birthday. The human was going to melt into a puddle when he got a look at the one Chopper had picked out for him.
Cesar had been clear. A small dog. He didn’t want a large breed that might overwhelm his mate, especially because of Jamie’s brain injury. The male became overexcited easily, and he needed a breed to match that level without the ability to knock Jamie over.
So Chopper had purchased a Jack Russell Terrier. And since he had a soft spot for the underdog, he’d picked the runt of the litter. A little furball that kept trying to poke her head out of his jacket every five seconds. He kept gently pushing her back inside, afraid the wind would be too much for her to handle.
Warmth spread across Chopper’s chest, soaking through his leather jacket. The smell hit him a second later, acrid and unmistakable.
“Mierda,” he muttered, glancing down at the puppy whose head poked from his leather jacket. Those innocent brown eyes stared up at him, not a hint of remorse for what she’d just done. “Really? Couldn’t hold it for five more minutes?”
He throttled back and pulled onto the soft shoulder, tires crunching over loose stones and packed dirt.
The road was mostly empty this time of morning, just farmland and scattered houses dotting the landscape. Birds called from nearby trees as he dismounted, the leather of his seat creaking under his weight.
After killing the engine, he gently extracted the tiny Jack Russell from his jacket. Her black eyes stared up at him, innocent and full of energy. The puppy’s white coat was splashed with brown patches, and her tail wagged frantically as she squirmed in his gentle grip.
“Yeah, yeah. Not your fault. Just excited, aren’t you? All this noise and movement.” Chopper sighed, holding the wriggling puppy away from his body. “Jamie better appreciate what I’m going through for his surprise.”
Carefully, he unlatched one of his saddlebags and created a makeshift nest with a spare bandana. “Just chill there for a minute while I clean up.”
The puppy sniffed around her new temporary home then flopped down with a tiny huff.
Peeling off his leather jacket, Chopper grimaced at the wet spot. The smell of puppy urine mixed with the scent of leather created a pungent combination that made his nose wrinkle. His black T-shirt underneath hadn’t escaped either, clinging to his chest in an unpleasant warmth.
“Cesar owes me big time for this,” he told the puppy. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
The tiny Jack Russell yipped in response, making him chuckle.
Just as he pulled the shirt over his head, leaving his torso bare in the afternoon sun, Chopper saw flashing red and blue lights reflecting off his bike’s chrome.
The crunch of tires on gravel and the low idle of an engine announced trouble before Chopper even turned around.
One glance at the driver confirmed his suspicions. Deputy Gilmore sat behind the wheel, his face a mask of smug authority as he took his time exiting the vehicle. The sun glinted off his badge while he adjusted his belt, making a show of his approach.
“Fucking perfect,” Chopper muttered, reaching for his phone. His fingers moved quickly, sending a text to Matias. Pig sitting on my back. Need as many frying pans as you can spare. He added his location pin before setting the phone on the seat.
Gilmore sauntered over, thumbs hooked in his belt loops, a toothpick bobbing between his lips. His eyes traveled from Chopper’s face down to his bare chest and back up again, assessing him like prey.
“What do you want, Gilmore?” Chopper growled, making no effort to hide his contempt. He hadn’t broken any laws, wasn’t speeding, hadn’t even done anything to warrant this prick harassing him.
