2
MATEO
Present Day
She had amber eyes. And long black hair that curled at the ends. I watched as it flew behind her, blowing free of her riding hat, her laughter the sunshine to my shadows, tinkling in the wind.
Before her, I’d never known giggles could glitter in a soft summer breeze. In my hidden spot behind an ancient oak tree, I lifted a hand as if I could catch the sound and pocket it for later, when I needed a hit of sweet joy to combat the grime and violence of my day-to-day life.
I had two addictions, and they both had hair darker than the blackest ink.
My first love rounded a bend on her big grey horse, still laughing as he danced on the rain-damp grass, shaking his fancy head.
His name was Chapi. Her choice, not mine. And a coincidence, but for once, one that warmed my bitter heart as much as his shorter than average legs did. He trotted closer, slowing as if he knew I was there. I smelt hay and earth, mixed with her scent of bubble gum and the charcoal crayons she carried in her pocket. He didn’t stop, but her smile told me she knew I was there, like I always was, in spirit if nothing else.
Some days it felt like all I’d ever have.
Chapi bustled on, past the old oak and up the gentle slope, chasing the sun. On the brow of the hill, he stopped and she looked back, her bright gaze sweeping the horizon below, face framed by golden light.
Of course, she looked like an angel. She always had, since the day she’d been born into my arms, red and screaming, the only time she’d ever cried in my presence. Sometimes I thought I was the unluckiest man in the world. Then I remembered the smiles she saved for me and I knew I wasn’t.
If she was an angel, then I was the devil, but good and evil belonged together. Black and white. Light and shade. They had to or the world had no meaning.
Myworld had no meaning.
Without her.
Without him.
Embry.
Chapi disappeared over the horizon, taking the light of my life away from me, and eventually, the late evening sun too. Night fell, and only then did I leave the sanctuary of the towering oak, scooping up a sparkly hair tie from the grass as I went, winding it onto my wrist.
I climbed fences and crept through the undergrowth, grateful to the brother who’d taught me to move like a snake in the grass.
Silent.
Deadly.
Saintly.
Though, it wasn’t Saint or murder on my mind as I came up on my bike. It was more black hair. Blue eyes instead of brown. Pale skin over sinewy inked muscles, and a piercing gaze that shredded my armour with one pass, flaying my fucking soul.
It was a pain I masochistically enjoyed. A burn that carried me the four hours it took me to ride home and distracted me from the reality that it didn’t matter how much it hurt, it would never be enough.
Mentiroso.
Yup. That was me. Twice over.
By omission for the first, and a big fat whopper for the second—the one I rode through the night to get home to.“This is enough for me, cielito.”
Fuck, it was almost funny. But I wasn’t known for my sense of humour, and I didn’t laugh much. I preferred the feminine giggles and deep chuckles that lived in my dreams, and neither of them were mine.
My battered Harley ate up the miles. I lived for the road, for the wind in my face and the deep, rumbling engine between my thighs. But it was a long ride, and I was dragging by the time the Rebel Kings MC compound came into view.
I approached the main entrance, slowing to give the adopted Dog Crows guarding the gates time to see me coming, while somewhere behind them, a brother, probably Saint, watched their every move.
Like magic, the gates creaked open, but I saw no one as I roared past, and I liked it that way. I didn’t mind noise and chaos, but I wasn’t in the mood to have eyes on me as I steered my hog onto the compound.
