She stares back at me, chest heaving. "Hello to you too, lover."
Brooklyn Gardel. My first girlfriend. The only woman I've ever loved. The woman who ruined everything. And I still want her.
Fuck me.
2
Brooklyn
Oh God, what am I doing?
The thought keeps flitting through my mind as I guide my blue Street 500 to a stop outside the community center on the Spade side of town. It's the only Harley in King territory besides my father's. Harleys are always the Spades' bikes of choice, and we like to set ourselves apart from them wherever we can. But my chosen bike is actually advantageous for this little misadventure. It's not going to look out of place parked outside this building. Not when another Street 500, an Eagle, and an Iron 883 all lounge arrogantly in front of the building. As if anyone in town would be stupid enough to steal from a Spade.
I've searched all the usual haunts, and I haven't found who I'm looking for. Maybe he's left town and I'm fucked. But somehow I don't think so. Kase Cruz was never a man to run. Not even after the disaster that split us up.
I grimace, even as I think about it. I don't know what I'm trying to accomplish here, running to the man who broke my heart almost a decade ago. It's utterly pathetic, and I'm tempted to turn my bike around and follow Plan B. Get the hell out of dodge, while I still have time. But the pain that lances through my abdomen convinces me to at least try. If he's not here, I'll cut my losses and run. And if he is...
Well, I'll find some way to face him. It won't be the same as it was when we were sixteen, but surely he still has enough of a heart to help me out? Still, I'm worried that time has sanded him down, turned him into the cynical jackass that Cruz had always been. I've always been able to tell the two apart, even when they were dressed identically. Cruz stands straight and stiff like his father and uncle did. I'm of the opinion he needs to remove the pole from his ass sometime this century. That level of self-importance will get him killed someday.
But Kase? Kase has a lazy, arrogant slouch and watches the world through half-lidded eyes. He's quieter than Cruz. Sneakier. And honestly? Probably smarter. He could have had the co-president position if he wanted to. But why take on the burden of responsibility when there was more fun to be had working from the shadows?
I remove my helmet and jam it onto one of my handlebars. I'll look more suspicious if I leave it on indoors. I'll just let my hair down and hope that no one gets a good look at my face. Time hasn't changed me much. My baby fat has disappeared, and I've gotten a few inches taller, but mostly? I look the same. I'm sure Cruz would recognize me, even if the others don't.
Moisture dews on the long, white-blonde sheet of my hair as I enter the community center. I hadn't quite believed the hostess at the strip club called Rapture when she'd said he was here. Here? In this little out of the way corner, where only kiddie parties and baby showers went on?
Still, I'll follow the lead, even if it ends up being a huge nothing burger. I have to find Kase. Ihaveto.
I keep my head bowed as I enter, but no one is looking at me. People cluster here and there, mostly sticking to three main locations. The long tables are full of chips and other finger foods, the tiny square of tile in the room, or the corners, where people seemed to hook up. The music they're playing is shit, and the dim lights don't make it any easier to spot my quarry. I keep scanning the room, hoping that I'll catch a glimpse of his gorgeous, chiseled features somewhere in the crowd.
My heart leaps for a moment when I think I spy him leaning against a wall, talking to a long-legged and undeniably pretty blonde. But the instinctive jealousy I feel is tamped down immediately by the fact that it's not him. It's Cruz flirting shamelessly with the blonde, not Kase. Disappointment washes through me when I can't find him anywhere in the room. Maybe the hostess at Rapture is mistaken. Maybe he's not here.
I give myself a few minutes, covertly searching each face I can see through the crowd. Not a single one matches the one I'm looking for. I'm starting to be noticed by a few men on the dance floor. I hurry past. It takes one jealous girlfriend to start shit only with me, and then the game will be up. I'll get worse than some scratching and hair-pulling if Cruz discovers I've crossed the line into Spade territory.
I might still catch hell from it from Kase, but at least I'm confident that he'll give me the benefit of the doubt for at least a few minutes.
I finally give up and call the whole thing a wash after another few minutes drag past. Cruz is the only one I recognize, and he's not someone I care to come face to face with any time soon. So I duck into a back hallway, convinced there has to be some emergency exit somewhere. The blackness of the hall is impenetrable and I grope in the darkness, trying to find a switch or the damn exit sign. I find neither.
When I hear footsteps coming toward me in the darkness, I freeze. I crane my neck and get one glimpse of a beautiful, golden-skinned god of a man stepping through the entryway to the hall. The glimpse I catch of him is too brief to accurately judge which twin I'm dealing with. I can't tell how he's standing or what expression is on his face. Is this Cruz or Kase? Do I stay crouched in the darkness, waiting for him to leave? Or do I chance it and talk to him? If it is Cruz, what will I say to make him hear me out?
Ultimately the decision is wrenched from my hands.
A strong, calloused hand grips my shoulder and whips me around, pressing my back into the wall. His toned body presses against me on the other side, effectively caging me. A soft sound of surprise escapes me when he slides a hand up to cup the back of my neck, fingers digging at the roots of my hair. Is he going to fist his hand into it and drag me out of the hall for everyone to see? Maybe I deserve that, after the shit show that happened with his father.
Instead, his head dips, and the fan of warm breath over my face is the only warning I get before his lips are on mine.
My heart squeezes tight and I can't contain my relief. Kase. This has to be Kase. No way in hell that Cruz would deign to look at me, let alone touch me. I kiss back with equal vigor, sliding into a dance of teeth and tongues that's as natural as breathing. Despite all the years apart, he still drives me crazy. I've never been as wet for a man as I am for Kase. And if the hardness pressing against my navel is any indication, he feels the same way. I should push him away and explain myself. But I can't. This just feels too damn good.
I push eagerly at his jacket, the leather cool against my feverish skin. He doesn't protest, letting it gather around his elbows even as I reach for the hem of his shirt.
"Kase." I breathe his name like a prayer. And it is. He's my last hope.
He goes still beneath my hands. I go still, wondering what the hell I've just done wrong. The answer comes with a hot burst of irritation. That son of a bitch! He hadn't known it was me! He was just so used to chasing blondes into dark hallways it hadn't even occurred to him it might be me.
Motherfucker.
He leans away and next thing I know, he's produced a lighter. The wavering flame provides enough light I can see his face. It's as heartbreakingly beautiful as ever. His hair is a little longer than I remember it being, his beguiling dark eyes more guarded than I've ever seen them. The hollows in his cheeks stand out more prominently. He looks like he's been worn down by the time apart.
So have I.
