Bounty:Fury Riders MC(23)

"See, my dad died when I was ten," he began.



I held up a hand. "Oh, God. I didn't mean to pry. Please, you don't have to go on if you don't want to."



"But I do want to." He looked very serious. "I do. I never told anybody the full story."



"And you're sure you want me to be the one you tell the story to?"



He shrugged. "Unless you don't wanna hear it." I sensed that despite his  nonchalance, he wanted very much for me to listen. I told him I wanted  to hear anything he had to say and leaned the side of my face on his  chest as he spoke.



"When I was ten, my dad died. He was working at a factory, one of the  last factories in the neighborhood. My mom always said that even if it  shut down as the others had, it was all right. She never liked him  working there. He was a smart guy, he could do anything he wanted to.  That was what she said anyway. But then he was killed on the job. One of  the machines malfunctioned, and when he went to see the problem, he  touched it and got electrocuted."         

     



 



"Oh, Jesus."



"Yeah. It was really hard. I was the oldest of five kids. The youngest,  my sister, Liza, was only three. Mom went into a deep depression. Some  days, she couldn't get out of bed."



"And you had to take care of everybody else," I whispered.



"Yeah. And go to school. But I did, and I handled it all right. On the  days when she was with it, life was easier. She always tried to stay  strong for us. When she was too depressed to get up, she would just say  she didn't feel good. But my room was next to hers. I heard her crying  at night."



"Oh, Vince. I'm sorry." I kissed his chest, wishing there was something I  could do to make things better. I thought about the little boy he must  have been, listening to his mother cry in the middle of the night. How  he must have felt when he heard it.



"As time went on, things got a little better. She pulled it together  mostly. I could go back to focusing on school. I didn't wanna end up  like my dad, working in some shitty factory for the rest of my life and  end up dying there with nothing to show for it. But then she died, too.  When I was sixteen. Sleeping pills she borrowed from a friend. Took too  many, and that was it."



My heart ached for him. I could tell he was holding back-he'd been  keeping that story looked away so tightly in his heart for so long. Just  the words alone, and what they meant for a kid at that age, were enough  to leave me speechless.



"So there was just the kids and me. Shit, I couldn't take care of them  anymore. I didn't have the money to do it. But then I heard from a  friend of mine that I could make money if I went along on a job he was  doing with the club he had just joined."



"This club," I murmured. My head was still against his chest, and I felt the murmur of assent as a rumble in his chest.



"He told me I could make a couple hundred bucks, and he vouched for me  with the rest of the guys. I figured, what the hell? Some quick money. I  could use it to buy groceries, keep the electricity going, that sort of  thing. So I went. And I kept going back for more jobs, and I earned  more money. It was good to feel a little bit of security, you know?"



"What about school?"



"I had to stop going. I couldn't do what I was doing at night with the  club and get everybody out the door for school in the morning and go to  school myself. Somebody had to take care of things. So I did. Until the  state stepped in and broke us up."



"Oh, no." All that for nothing, I thought. If it hadn't been for his  mother's death, he would never have joined the club in the first place.  But then I never would have met him.



"Alex took me in. He was president of the club then. He didn't have any  kids of his own, and he sorta took me under his wing. I needed somebody,  you know? I needed a family." He let out a long, shuddering sigh. "I  haven't seen any of my brothers and sisters since we were split up. That  was more than ten years ago."



My tears ran down his chest, and he gently lifted my head. "Don't cry," he whispered, wiping the tears with his thumbs.



"That's just the saddest story."



"I could have turned out much worse. A street kid. Same with the others.  They were all placed with other distant family members, so it wasn't  like they got lost in the system."



"Oh, that's a relief, anyway."



He nodded. "I haven't had the guts to find out what happened to them."



"Why not?"



"I guess I feel bad for letting us get split up in the first place, you know? Like I should have tried harder."



"Not at all! You were just a kid. It was the law. What could you do?"



He shrugged. "I don't know. I just felt like it was my job to keep us together, and I failed."



I shook my head. "You didn't fail. You did the best you could. Nobody could have done better."



He was quiet for a long time, staring off into space. I told myself that  if we stayed together when this was all over, all the craziness, I  would help him find his family. I could tell how much they meant to him,  even though he was afraid to admit it either out of guilt or some weird  macho thing.



"What about school? Did you ever finish?"



"Nope. No time for it. Nobody seemed to care, so I didn't. Besides," he  grinned, "I wasn't exactly encouraged. But! Do me a favor and open the  armoire." He nodded to the piece of furniture in the corner. I was  confused, but did as he asked after wrapping myself in a sheet. When I  opened the doors, I gasped.



Books. Hundreds of them crammed in there. Not a stitch of clothing.  Novels, histories, biographies. The Bible. Shakespeare. The Art of War. I  ran my fingers over the spines of the books, somehow feeling even  sadder for him. He had to hide his self-education from everybody else.  They wouldn't understand why he still felt called to learn.



"What about getting your GED?" I asked. "Online. They offer the test."         

     



 



"What's the point?" he asked. "I like to read and learn new things, but I  don't need a piece of paper. I've graduated the School of Hard Knocks. A  GED isn't going to help me be a better leader."



Maybe it was only important to me, then, and a little chill ran through  me. It was just one more difference between us. Me, I'd do everything I  could to get my diploma and even take college courses online. But it  wasn't important to him. Learning was important, not degrees. Would we  ever make it if we were so diametrically opposed? It wasn't just this.  The school issue was a small example of a bigger problem.



It was fine to have a connection and mind-blowing sex. But was it enough?



I pulled out one of the books at random. A biography of Theodore  Roosevelt. "He was amazing," Vince said, sitting up in bed with a smile.  "So kickass. I wanted so much to be like him after I read that."



"I'll have to give it a read," I said with a smile.



"Hey … come here."



I glanced up from the pages I was flipping through to see him patting  the bed. I sat down beside him and ran a hand through my disheveled  hair.



"I've never told anybody what I just told you," he confided. "Not even  Brett." My body tensed, and he felt it. "Listen, Brett and I … we've only  ever been friends. She's the only other person beside you who has the  heart and understanding you do. That's all."



"It's maybe not the best idea to mention one woman while you're sitting  in bed, naked, with another." I grinned, holding up the hefty book.  "Especially when the woman you're with is holding a deadly weapon in her  hands."



He pulled me onto the bed, rolling over until he pinned me under him. I  laughed, but my laughter was drowned out by the feeling of his mouth on  mine. It didn't take long before I felt his hardness pressing into my  belly again.



"I guess recovery time is over," I whispered huskily between kisses. I  opened my legs and felt him slide inside me, and we started again.





Chapter Sixteen





After our second quickie session, we both fell into a light sleep. It  wasn't that I didn't want to spend all day making love with him. Our  passion ignited so fast, we were both finished in a matter of minutes.  When that burst of pleasure died off, I was exhausted.



I sure hadn't gotten a good night's sleep the night before-I might have  passed out quickly, but remembered tossing and turning. That, plus the  emotional stress of my close call with the Wolves, had me snoring within  minutes of my head hitting Vince's shoulder.



I was dreaming, and I knew it was a dream. I didn't want it to end. It  all felt so good-I felt secure and right, like I was where I was meant  to be. I just wasn't sure where that was.



Vince was with me, I knew that much. I was behind him on the motorcycle  with my arms around his waist. We were on a trip somewhere, cruising  down a highway somewhere. I just didn't know where. There was nothing  familiar anywhere. But I trusted him, and I gave him a little squeeze.