Thirty minutes later, our plan had been hatched, a motel room had been broken into, and a motorcycle had disappeared from the parking lot it'd been parked in.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Linking our fingers together, Dex led me toward the elevators that night. In a matter of hours, we'd committed at least four crimes between the two of us. Battery, assault, breaking and entering, theft and who knows what the heck else.
Who would have ever thought I'd consider myself a criminal? Normally, I sweat going five miles over the speed limit.
I wrapped both my arms around his, resting my forehead on his shoulder while we rode up silently. What was there to say? We'd taken fifteen thousand from the vent my dad had hidden it in—I didn't ask how Dex knew to look there—and taken his bike to Luther's friend, who assured us he could find a buyer for the Harley Davidson Classic. For a fee, of course.
Paperwork? Tax, title, and license?
Don't worry about it, he'd said. So I wasn't going to worry about it.
The only thing I was going to worry about were the remaining thousands my dad would still owe him if we got what was expected from the bike. The Reaper money.
"So...is there something you want to tell me?"
His fingers loosened around mine letting his fingernails scrape my palm. "I tell you everythin', honey."
"Not exactly," I said in a sing-song voice as we walked toward the hotel room. He slid the keycard in. "Dex, did you pay off the Reapers?"
He grunted, holding the door open for me to go through first.
I stopped in the middle of the room and waited for him to come in, setting the deadbolt. Gosh, he was so good-looking. His body was lean and long, his arms looked fantastic under his white shirt. Well, white with a couple small red dots on the chest. My sperm donor’s blood. Dex stopped just a few feet away from me, sliding his hands into his front pockets.
"Yeah." So simple. So honest.
"Why?" I cut the distance between us, stopping close enough so that I could slip my fingers beneath the band of his jeans. Warm skin greeted the backs of my fingers.
Dex reached up and pulled the elastic out of my messy bun. "'Cuz." He twisted the hair around his fingers, not watching my eyes. "I didn't want anybody botherin' you."
How the heck was I still standing?
"You think I want that douche-bag comin' around for you when your pa didn't pay up? Fuckin' asshole wasn’t even plannin’ on payin’ them back, babe."
I thought it was a little less him not remembering and a little more him just not choosing to remember. Dick head.
Dex's fingers made their way to my temple, the tips sliding down, down, down behind my ears and the column of my throat. "Don't like thinkin' about him wantin' you."
Him as in Liam.
Oh boy.
Everything in me that had been crushed and stomped on by my father's careless words and stupid actions, regenerated itself with Dex's touch and words. Slipping my fingers out of his jeans, I reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it up enough to bare the lower half of his abs.
"I'll pay you back the rest of the money," I promised, slipping my hand up his shirt to palm the space between his pecs. "It'll take me a while but—"
Dex's hands cupped the top of my head, stroking me tenderly. "No."
"I'm serious. I promise I'll pay you back—"
"No," he repeated. "You aren't payin' me back a cent."
Discomfort tingled the back of my neck. I owed him for a lot of things, but almost ten thousand was too much. The last thing I wanted was for him to think that I wanted to take advantage of him. "I am."
"No. You won't. Ritz, look at me." I tipped my eyes up to meet his blue ones. "I don't give a shit about the money. I'll make more."
A groan vibrated through my throat. "It's too much."
His lips pulled into a grim line, eyes searching mine. He wanted to argue with me, I could tell. But he didn't. That beautiful face was tight. "You wanna pay me back? Enroll in school and take over all the accountin' for the Club and the shop, yeah?"
My mouth drooped. "That's not the same."
"I'm not sayin' for a few months or somethin', baby. I'm sayin' you take it over from now on," he clarified.
From now on.
Oh friggin' hell.
"Take it or leave it," he murmured, his mouth losing that tight vector. "Don't care one way or another."
This man. “It’s too much money. Way too much money, Charlie. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“You’re not, babe. I know you and you know me. Either take the offer or leave it, but I’m not takin’ any of your money. You got the rest of your life to pay me back by doin’ shit I don’t like.”