Her smile widened. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me, Dillon.” She pulled her arm free and took a step back from me.
“Secret?” I asked in annoyance. Though annoyance at that crazy bitch or at my own stupidity I wasn’t sure anymore. All I knew was that I had been an asshole that night and made a huge mistake.
But that’s the problem with mistakes.
Most of the time you didn’t know you were making them until it’s too late.
“The big, bad biker has a crush on the little virgin girl! It’s sweet.” She laughed and placed a finger to her lips. “I won’t tell anyone.”
“Go back to the party,” I bit out, and turned and left, heading back to the gate.
She shouted something to my retreating back but I ignored her, wishing I’d never sunk my cock inside of her. Bitch was messed up in the head. I grabbed the flask from the back of my jeans and took another long drink, wishing I could get blind drunk and forget what I’d just done. In fact, I would have liked to forget the whole of that night if I could. Because nothing good came out of that night.
The air was thick and stifling, but it was her words that were suffocating me, not the air. Did I have feelings for the woman in the garage? Was it even possible to have feelings for someone you’d never even seen properly before? Or was I just tired and horny and looking for forgiveness from the wrong people?
Because looking for forgiveness in all the wrong places was my specialty, and that night had been one major fuckup by even my standards.
~ 9~
I rubbed my eyes and yawned, stretching my arms above my head as the sun rose over the clubhouse. The last couple of people had stumbled inside to fall sleep around an hour before, and I was hoping that someone would come and take over to relieve me soon because I was more than ready to climb into my bed and sleep for a week. Or more likely three or four hours, before I was back on the job.
I rubbed a hand down my face and looked over at the clubhouse as the door swung open and Stone stumbled out. He slowly began making his way toward me as he dragged a hand across his shaved head and grinned a sheepish grin.
“I’m sorry, brother. What started as a quick fuck ended in—well, let’s just say a lot more. What can I say? It wasn’t something I could walk away from.” He sat down on the ground next to me. “You pissed off?” he asked.
I shook my head. “This ain’t kindergarten.”
He patted my shoulder. “Bull was right,” he replied, pulling out a small bag of white powder. “You were made for this life. You just get it.” He looked almost sad is he dipped his finger into the bag and snorted it. He coughed and rubbed at his nose.
I watched him curiously as the tiredness in his eyes disappeared and he seemed to wake up. The sluggishness that had surrounded him slid from his shoulders and he started bouncing his knee.
“What’s up?” he asked, and I realized I had been staring at him. “It’s just a bit of crank, nothing to worry about. Sometimes you need it to get through these night shifts, right?” He laughed and held out the bag to me.
I looked at it with a hateful expression. I had never done drugs before, other than drink and nicotine, of course. But that didn’t mean I was a stranger to it. In my world, drugs were everything and everywhere. I shook my head. “I’m good, thanks.”
He took it back and shrugged. Stone stood up and shook out his arms. “Patch is a full Highwayman now, lucky bastard. I can’t wait for my turn, you know? I’ve been paying my dues, but I’m ready for more. I’m ready for the serious shit now, you hear me?” His words came fast and thick.
I squinted up at him and yawned again. “You sayin’ babysittin’ bikes ain’t serious shit?”
Stone snorted out a laugh. “You’re fucking funny when you’re not so quiet, you know that?”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“You don’t talk much, do you?
“I just like the quiet is all.”
“Not much good comes out of the quiet, brother. Either someone ain’t screaming in pleasure or someone ain’t screaming in pain.” He smirked at me and I gave him a half-cocked smile.
Stone started to jog on the spot, crouching low and throwing punches at an imaginary opponent. He was sweating, trickles of it sliding down the sides of his face as he moved. He scratched at his nose again. “All I’m saying is, life’s too short for not saying how shit is, ya know?”
“You’re doing it wrong,” I said, and he stopped what he was doing and stared down at me. Confusion flickered across his face for a second or two, like he’d forgotten that I was sitting there. I scowled and stood up and he smiled, the confusion disappearing.
“What do you know about it?” he asked, sounding cocky.
I shook my head and as he reached for me in a fake grapple, I grabbed him around the waist and slammed him to the ground. He grunted out and rolled onto his front, jumping back up to his feet and staring at me. Brother looked annoyed. More than annoyed, he looked embarrassed. I hadn’t meant to embarrass him, but he was about to make a bigger fool out of himself if he thought he could take me on.
“Easy, Stone. Thought we were just fucking around,” I soothed.
