Needing Me, Wanting You(26)

I turn away abruptly, my body melting into itself, convincing me that I need another bite of Beck Evans. If it comes down to it, and I think I can take advantage of him again, I will. If he ever lets his guard down again. Hopefully this will be over before I get the chance to find out. I'm a bit worried about spending the night with him. At this point, it might not come down to my finding an advantage to sleep with him. He could just take me. It happens more than you'd want to think in this world. I wrap my arms around myself, touching my fingers to the dusty jacket. I imagine that he might ask me to take it off again and my nails dig into my arms painfully.

“Oh, thank the fucking stars! You son of a bitch,” Beck whoops, lifting a hand up towards the sky. But his eyes keep finding mine, always watching. He must've been a real asset to the military. So how did he end up here, in this life? I was born into it, so I don't get the whole choosing part. Who simply decides, I'm going to join a motorcycle gang? The things our prospects have to suffer through, the girls who come looking for a place to belong, they go through initiation periods that are virtual hells. And there's no guarantees either. Some women hang around the clubhouse, work for us, bring in money, clean, and they never get claimed as old ladies. Never. “Where you at?” Beck listens for a moment, touching his hand to his chin. His face shifts, almost imperceptibly, before he takes up a flat smile again. “No shit.” The words are spoken so quietly, I almost miss them. “That many, huh?” Another pause. “Yeah, I got the girl.”

I raise my chin and wait to see what he says. Tax would walk through fire to get me back, so that's not the issue. Provided he's still around. If he's not … then it isn't just the sorrow and pain of losing my brother that's going to bite me in the ass, it'll be a hell of a lot worse. The house is in his name; the club serves in his name. If Tax is gone, I'll become one of those ladies I've always pitied, searching for someone to claim me as their own. I wait with bated breath.

“Alright, Pres. You're the damn boss.” Beck pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and offers me one. I take it tentatively and wait while he gets out a lighter. “Roger that.” He listens in for another minute and then closes his eyes real slow. “We'll figure it out, Austin. We always do.” And then Beck hangs up, weighing his cell in his hand for a moment as he smokes the cigarette. I take a drag, too, holding the smoke in my lungs for as long as I can. I exhale only when Beck looks up at me. “Can't expect you to walk in there with no fuckin' shoes on, now can I?” he asks, slipping the phone away and going to his saddlebags. Beck digs around for a moment and emerges with a pair of pink flop flops, topped off with a purple flower. They're not my style, not his either I would imagine. “A lady friend of mine left these behind. I snagged them, just waitin' for a situation like this to come along.” He tosses them to me as I swing my leg over the bike and stand up.

“A situation like this? In which you kidnap a girl? Use her as a bartering chip against a rival MC?” Beck grins and pulls his cigarette out from between his lips. His smile gets a little wider.

“A situation where I got a lady missin' her shoes. Happens more often than you might think. Sometimes, when you're bangin' on the fly, shit happens. Angry husbands or boyfriends or what not. Occasionally a quick getaway is in order for both of us.” Beck tosses his smoke to the ground and crushes it into the pavement. “Now, are you going to behave yourself, walk in there and have a Coke with me? Or are we going to play around again?”

I smile back at him.

“It's cold out tonight.”

Beck laughs raucously, tossing his head back.

“Shoot, it's warmer than a whore's cunt out here.”

“I want my jacket, please.” I touch my fingers to the leather, pursing my lips and waiting while he looks me over, eyes cutting deeper than I'd like them to. “This area, it's not home to any club. Nobody will even notice the patches on our jackets, I promise you that. I have a lot of free time on my hands, and Seventy-seven Brothers is my life. We're very careful not to step on anyone else's toes. Something that you and yours could learn something about.” Beck laughs at me again. Everything is fucking funny to this man.

I take a step back and bump into the warm metal of his Suzuki Savage as Beck leans forward, getting so close to me that I have to look up to keep hold of his gaze. Our foreheads touch, just enough that I can feel the sweat on his skin.

“You've got balls, Miss Emilie 'Tease' Hathorne. Wear your damn coat, but don't cause me any trouble. Your President knows we got you, and you're right: he wants your ass back real, real bad. We're arranging a meeting place as soon as Melissa can be moved.” Beck looks off to the side for a second, like he's trying to process the thought.