Inflamed: A Shadow Riders MC (6 page)

“Then why the fuck dontcha?”

My mouth fell open, stunned at his crude demeanor, but like many unpleasant things in my life, I sucked it up and forced myself to push through it. “Because the fact of the matter is that I need something from you,” I said. “I'm desperate for it. And I really can't afford to lose any more time without it than what I already have."

I didn't realize how all of that sounded until I stopped speaking and I wished like hell that I had managed to say something entirely different. Maybe something that sounded a little more like I actually needed this man's help to save my life, and a little less like I needed his cock to help get me off.

He inhaled his cigarette once more, then blew out the smoke into the air. "What the hell do you need from me?" River dropped his eyes back down to my breasts and ran his tongue back and forth across his bottom lip. "And more importantly, what the fuck makes you think I've actually got what you're lookin' for?"

"I don't think," I told him. "I know."

He eyed me up and down again, and took one long, final drag from his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and pressing his heel against the lit tip. "I don't have alota time--"

"That's okay," I interjected. "Telling you what I need from you shouldn’t take up too much of it."

He glared at me and waited a moment, then moved inside and waved his hand for me to come in after him.

"Thanks."

The moment I walked through the door leading straight to the club, an unfamiliar, yet unbelievably foul smell hit my nose, making me want to gag. It was like a combination of the smell of people who've just come from the gym and have yet to shower, and a group of women who didn't know that the term 'douche' wasn't just used when describing a vulgar human being. I immediately held my breath and pressed a finger against the tip of my nose to hide a cough, hoping like hell that River wouldn't hear or notice. I was sure that if he saw even the slightest insult from me, I would be out on my ass in two seconds flat.

"Drink?" He came up from behind me and rushed over to the bar.

"No, thanks," I told him. "I stopped drinking at 10 in the morning a few years after my daughter was born. I learned the hard way that a boozed up mother isn't really much of a productive one."

His brows flinched. "You've got a kid?"

"Mm-hmm." I tossed my purse on the bar and leaned over the head of a stool. "She just turned eight years old last week."

"Happy belated birthday to her," he replied through a grunt. Given the sharp tone of his voice, I couldn't tell if he was being genuine or if he was just being an asshole, but I smiled with a ‘thank you’ nonetheless. "But can I ask you somethin'?" he said, though he didn't really allow much room for a response. "How the fuck old are you? 'Cause from just gettin' a better look at you outside of that goddamn car, doesn't seem like you'd be too much older than my own daughter."

"How old is she?"

"Just turned sixteen," he said. "She'll be outta the house in about a few months and on her way to Columbia up in New York."

“Sixteen and already on her way to a university? That’s impressive.”

“Surprisin’, you mean.”

“No, I mean impressive.”

He glared at me, then nodded. “Well she’s smart as a motherfuckin’ whip, though she never got that shit from me.”

"No matter who she got it from, it’s good for her to be that smart at such a young age. Too bad I wasn’t,” I mumbled. "And I’m, uh... I'm twenty-five, by the way. And as you can see, I never went to a college of any kind at any age."

"That the reason you're here?"

"No. Then again, maybe if I had actually gotten accepted to the school of my choice back then, I wouldn't have to be."

When I moved around the stool and took a seat, I noticed River's eyes traveling down to my legs, hoping to get even a glimpse of just exactly what was between them. I probably should’ve been insulted by it, but the truth was that I wanted his eyes on me, and my body. And not so much for the initial reason I had intended.

"You said you're not alone," I mentioned, "but I don't hear anyone else."

His eyes traveled back up to my breasts again before reaching my face. "You wouldn't, given that I'm out here with you and not back there puttin' my cock to some damn good use on that crazy as fuck bitch still takin’ up space beneath the sheets in my goddamn bed."

"O...
kay
."

He continued on and poured himself two shots of tequila as if what he had just said wasn't the most disgusting thing to have ever come out of a man's mouth about a woman. Right then and there I should’ve been absolutely turned off by everything about him, but the truth was that I knew it would take a hell of a lot more than just his words about someone else to finally force me out.

"Now what the fuck can I do you for?" He quickly downed both shots and slammed each glass back down on top of the bar. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then swiped it across his jeans. "You said some shit about eight years ago?"

"Yes." I tucked the loose curls of my jet black hair behind my ear and sighed. "Eight years ago, you found a girl outside of your club. She was..." I shook my head, remembering. "Sort of messed up and in really bad shape. Do you remember anything about that?"

"Shit," he muttered through a soft chuckle. "Unless her pussy's been permanently written on my goddamn cock, I don't remember one bitch who strolls through here from the other week to week, let alone year to fuckin' year. That's what happens when you hit my age, babe, you get enough pussy over the years, it starts blurrin' together and you can't remember one bitch who made you come from the next you hope will--"

"Okay, eight years ago," I interjected with a hard tone, hoping like hell to keep him from going any further, "the girl you found wasn't one who had sex with you, or was even looking to have sex with you, or anyone else here. She was covered in blood and beaten half to death. In fact, she almost died and would have if you didn't save her when you did." I leaned forward and frowned. "You still don't remember?"

River stood back and stared directly at my face, then he shook his head and lifted his shoulders. "Sorry, darlin'." He poured himself another shot. "What was her name? Maybe that'll ring a bell or two."

"Well, I'm not sure by how much, but it's Mia Sullivan."

"
Mia
."

And then I exhaled. I actually, legitimately exhaled right in front of this man, though I was thankful to the God above that he didn’t notice. But the way it seemed to roll off of his tongue so effortlessly, the way it sounded coming from between those pink, lush lips, it almost sent me melting right to the floor like a giant Hershey’s bar nicely settled between a set of warm hands.

His
warm hands.

God.

He rolled his tongue across his bottom lip again, then tossed back his shot. "Sorry." He placed the shot glass next to my purse and dropped his hands. "But it's not conjurin' up a goddamn thing for me like I was hopin' it would. You sure you're in the right place and seekin' out the right motherfucker?"

"I'm positive. Listen, I figured the name wouldn't be something to ring any bells for you, because if I remember correctly, you never even knew what it was. But maybe this might help to jog that foggy memory of yours."

With the fear building up inside me brick by brick, I pushed myself away from the bar and stood up from the stool. I wasn't all that keen on doing what I knew that I had to in order to get him to understand why I was there, but much like my showing up, I knew that I didn't have much of a choice.

I paced back and forth a few times and wrung the tense feeling from my hands, then planted myself directly in front of the pool table across from the bar so that he could get a better view of the lower half of my body. I exhaled once and without a second thought to stop myself, reached down for the edge of my skirt and lifted it up to my stomach.

River's eyes shot straight down to my thighs. He made a face, seemingly unsure of what the hell was happening or why, until I turned my leg out to showcase a long, shadowy, zigzagging scar gliding along my inner thigh that lead straight up to the corner of my sex.

"
Jesus
." He soured the moment he got a good look at just how deep the cut had been and turned his eyes back up to mine. The salt and pepper color in his eyebrows became more prominent as his glare into my eyes intensified. "What the fuck?"

I clinched my teeth and swallowed hard. "I was the girl in front of your club eight years ago," I said. "You and another biker found me bleeding from this very scar, as well as a slew of others that took years to finally heal and become invisible -- all thanks to a hell of a lot of surgeries that I couldn't afford back then, and a hell of a lot of make-up that I eventually could. But if you hadn't have gotten to me when you did, surgeries or makeup wouldn't have mattered because I wouldn't be standing right here talking to you about it today."

His eyes traveled back down to my thigh and he flinched as if the memory of me jolted him like an unexpected bolt of lightning. "You're the bitch that was laying half dead right outside the gate? The one with that 'free pussy' sign attached to your dress?"

I lowered my skirt and nodded. "Yes. I wouldn't exactly call myself a 'bitch', but that girl was me."

"Jesus. If you're twenty-five now, that made you--"

"Seventeen back then." I reclaimed my seat at the bar and he let out a long, painful groan.

"You sure you don't want a goddamn drink after revealin’ that shit?" he asked me.

I gave him a quick smile. "No."

He dropped his head and focused his eyes on the bar. "I don't remember much about that day," he said. "‘Cept for maybe how I felt about findin' you out there in the first goddamn place. And it sure as fuck didn't feel too good." He paused. "Why the fuck did you come back here after all this time? Can't be 'cause the memories of what you went through are somethin' you're lookin' to stick inside some kinda goddamn mental scrapbook and cherish for the rest of your fuckin' life."

"They're not. Not in the slightest. In fact, if I could take some kind of pill and forget it all, I would. What happened then has scarred me forever, both mentally and physically. Maybe even emotionally too." I folded my hands one inside the other and stared straight up into those intoxicating steel blues. "What you did for me that day brought me back here," I said. "Because I need your help now just as much as I needed it back then, maybe even more."

"What the fuck kinda help are you thinkin' I can provide for you
now
?"

"The kind that keeps me protected from the same man who put me out there all those years ago in the first place."

"Shit." He ripped what looked like a joint from his back pocket and flashed a quick fire across the tip. "I can give you money if you need it..." He blew out rings of marijuana smoke and shook his head. "...before I can give you any kinda protection. I'm the VP of a goddamn motorcycle club. We're motherfuckin' outlaws, not bodyguards, doll. That's just the way it is." He yanked an ashtray from the other side of the bar and sat it in front of him.

I waved my hand across my face as the smoke from the joint traveled up my nose, and sat back. "I wish money was the only thing that I could use, but a pile of green is not going to keep this guy from coming after me. Say what you will about who you are and what you do, but you're not
just
the VP of a motorcycle club. I've seen you around the city for years and know that you're so much more than that and always have been."

He dropped his hands in front of himself and eyed me strangely. "And just how the fuck do you know that?" he mumbled.

And call me crazy, but I could've sworn there was something of a sexual undertone to his response. The way he said it, the way I felt it. I attempted to ignore it in order to get my point across about him being more than who he had been trying so hard to portray himself to be, but it was a less than easy thing to do.

"A few years ago," I started, "I drove past this place on my way to a job interview at the cleaners around the corner, and I saw you with some guy who said something to you about...
something
, I'm not even sure what it was. But I remember that it pissed you the hell off to the point that you literally picked him up from the ground by his throat and threw him around like he was nothing more than a rag doll. The guy must have been maybe one-hundred or so pounds heavier than you, but you still managed to lift him up over your head and toss him into a barbwire fence across the street. I thought you were crazy as hell--"

"Still am," he blurted.

"Maybe. But more than that, you were completely unafraid of what he might have done to you had he actually managed to get back up. Nothing and no one seemed to intimidate you and I admired that. Even if I think you might be somewhat crazy, I still do."

"Admired? Baby doll, if that's the case, you just might be a hell of a lot crazier than me."

"So I've been told once or twice before," I told him, half-jokingly. "But mostly by people who don't matter."

He dropped his joint into the ashtray and blew out more smoke. "What I did to that lamebrain motherfucker was so long ago that I don't even fuckin' remember why I fucked him up like I did in the first goddamn place. Though I do remember fuckin' him up pretty goddamn good." He grinned. "I'm not sayin' that I couldn't do the same to him again, or even some other motherfucker today, but...."