Spark in the Ashes (Steel Souls MC Book 1) Page 9

  “Ramsey?” I ask. Panic rising in my voice.

  Surely he wouldn’t have done this to himself? Did he give me the wrong glass?

  I don’t understand.

  I jump up, taking the glass from him and setting it on the floor. I grab his bicep, shaking him to get his attention, but he’s fighting to catch his breath, and his eyes are bulging out of his head. “Shit. SHIT,” I hiss. “I’m gonna go and get some help, okay.” A moan comes from his throat, and he falls forward onto his knees and starts…laughing.

  He’s laughing.

  He’s actually rolling around on the floor laughing, and I’m about to kick him in the nuts for being such an asshole.

  “You really are a douchewank.” I stand over him with folded arms and an unamused expression on my face. “Why would you do that? I actually thought you had been fucking poisoned, you jerk.” I nudge him in the ass with my boot—hard enough to make him move but not intending to hurt him.

  “I’m sorry, Raven. I couldn’t resist,” he says, getting to his feet. “I’m sorry.” He looks at me sheepishly with a grin that could melt any frosty reception.

  “I didn’t deserve that,” I tell him, laying on the guilt thicker than I should. But if he wants to mess, he chose the wrong person to mess with.

  “You sat on my bike,” he counters, and I raise my brows at him.

  “You totaled my car.” I fold my arms and grin back at him.

  “You busted my nose.”

  “You tied me up and kidnapped me.” I almost laugh out loud at the absurdity of our exchange.

  “How about we call it even?” He holds out his hand for me to shake, and I take his offering.

  “Okay,” I smile. “But on one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “I want my car and my gun back.” He blinks slowly as if he knew I wouldn’t leave without what I came for. He turns and slides his hand under his pillow, retrieving a gun and tossing it to me. My reactions are fast, and the gun instantly falls into my palm, a perfect fit. My gun.

  “It’s not loaded, so don’t think about getting trigger happy on my ass.”

  “You slept with my gun under your pillow? Aww, I’m touched,” I tease, tucking it into the back of my jeans.

  “Now will you have a drink?” he asks, going back over to his cabinet.

  “It’s three in the afternoon, a bit early for liquor don’t you think? Don’t you have any coffee here?”

  He pauses and purses his lips with a frown creasing his brow. “Coffee,” he says to himself.

  “I can leave and go and get my own coffee if you don’t have any—after you’ve given me a set of wheels of course.”

  He raises his eyebrows and chuckles, looking me up and down with humor dancing in his deep, seductive eyes. “You’re funny, you know that?” He pulls a set of keys out of his pocket, twirls them around on his index finger and takes my hand. “Come on,” he says, tugging me out the door.

  “Where are we going?”

  He flashes me a wink. “For coffee.”

  Chapter 10

  I don’t know what made me do it. I took her hand and held it firm enough that she knew I wanted her to follow me but not so firm it didn’t give her a chance to pull back. I wouldn’t have let her back off, but I desperately wanted to earn her trust and to do that I had to make her think she had a choice. I also intended to make it clear to the boys as we walked through the bar and out into the yard that she was with me.

  She’s mine.

  Thank fuck she didn’t pull away as I really didn’t want to force her to come with me. I wanted her to want to come with me.

  “You’re taking me for coffee?” she asks with uncertainty, digging her heels in and stopping us dead in the middle of the yard.

  “Yes,” I answer firmly, giving her hand a sharp tug. It makes her stumble forward, but it doesn’t stop her from digging her heels in once again.

  “Let me get this straight, you pull my hair and carry me like a caveman to your den, threaten to shove your dick in my ass, fake a choking episode because you thought it was funny, and you’re expecting me to go for a nice innocent coffee with you?”

  “Yep,” I answer, tightening my lips together to stop from laughing. “Here,” I say, lifting my helmet to her head.

  “Whoa, hold on there mister,” she warns, holding up her index finger to my face. “Not only did you do all of those things, but you expect me to ride out, with you?”

  “Right again. You catch on fast.” I smirk.

  “Why should I trust you?” she asks, propping her hands on her hips.

  “Because I want you to,” I answer simply. “You said I had to trust that you are who you say you are. That you’re not one of The Wolves bitches. That you just came for your gun and your beat-up heap of metal.” I raise a brow.

  “She is not a just a heap of metal!”

  “I beg to differ.” I glance over to the corner of the yard where her Camaro sits, beaten, battered, and looking a very sorry sight.

  “You said I had to trust you. Well, you have to trust me, too. I guess we both have something to work on.” Her eyes soften and the hard stance she’s holding relaxes. I wiggle my helmet carefully onto her head, pushing the hair back from her face so I can fasten the chinstrap. She watches me carefully the whole time, her eyes never leaving mine, seeing me treat her with care and respect. Something I don’t think I’ve ever given a woman in my company up until now.

  “Do I have to wear this monstrosity?” She smirks, and I roll my eyes, dropping my hands to my sides. “Joking! I know, it’s for my own safety.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Wouldn’t want to crash now, would we?” Her voice is laced with humor and her eyes dance with playfulness, making me weirdly grateful for the whole car crash situation.

  “Okay, so just climb on behind me and—”

  “I have been on the back of a bike before, Ram,” she interrupts and the way she says my name—like we’re old friends, lovers even, makes the hairs stand to attention all over my body. I imagine her screaming out my name as I ruthlessly take her body underneath me and make her mine on the back of my bike, hard and fast, over and over. Lost in the vision, I take a step closer to her so her body almost touches mine and she has to look up at me with those soulful brown eyes. But I’m also struck with jealousy. I don’t know exactly who I’m jealous of, but I don’t like that she’s been on the back of a bike before now. It’s a strange notion, one I’m not at all used to, and one I’m not sure I like.

  “You haven’t been on the back of my bike, though.” I grip her chin between my thumb and forefinger, and she lets her jaw drop open. I lower my head and whisper against her lips “So just do as you’re told.” I hover for just a second, breathing in her warm exhale, making her think I’m going to kiss her, and she gasps. I pull away, punishing her for my jealousy. I know it’s not her fault, but I’m unable able to stop being such a fucking child. “Get on behind me,” I say as I mount my bike.

  “Hey, you’re not wearing a helmet, why do I have—”

  “Just get on the fucking bike!” I bark out as I fire it up. She swings her leg up and over, settling herself behind me but as far away as she possibly can with her hands on her knees. “You’re messing with me, right?” I call out over my shoulder.

  “What?” she shouts, throwing her arms up either side of her.

  I jerk forward, not too fast, but fast enough that she looks like she’s about to flip off the back. I catch her with my hand hooked behind her knee and a smug grin plastered on my face. When she’s righted herself and caught her breath she looks about ready to tear into me, but when I tug her forward, she doesn’t protest. “Just stay tight to me, okay?” I shout over my shoulder. “Hold on, or you’ll fall off.”

  She tentatively places her hands on my waist, holding onto my cut instead of my body, and I know she’s being a stubborn little bitch. But as soon as I move off, I feel her arms snake further around my body until she’s holdi
ng on as if her life depends on it.

  I take the long route to the little diner I have in mind. Taking the turns a little sharper than I would usually as it makes her hold on tighter, and I know as soon as she hops off and her feet touch the ground, she’ll make me pay by keeping her distance. This cozy couples banter we have going on is fun, but it’s all a show, I’m sure. As we glide around one of the corners and onto an open stretch of road, I slow down. The view over the rock face, down into the valley, and for miles across the other side is stunning. I tap the back of one of her hands and feel her raise her head from where she has it tucked firmly into the middle of my back. I point across the valley, and she straightens up behind me, still holding on firmly but taking in the view around us. This is one of my favorite places to ride. It’s a long, quiet road, just enough twists to keep it interesting, but the most amazing view as you glide across the smooth surface, and for me, especially today, the open road on a clear day like this, is as close to heaven as I’m ever gonna get.

  I drag out the ride as long as I can before I have to pull off the road and into the diner. As I cut the engine, I expect her to leap off as fast as her legs will let her. But she holds firm, and I hear her sigh.

  “You okay back there?” I ask, glancing at her over my shoulder.

  “Uh, yeah.” She peels her hands off me, sitting back to take the helmet off and shakes out her mass of black hair.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes! I said yes, didn’t I?” She grumbles to herself as she gets off the bike.

  “Hey.” I grab her elbow, tugging her forward to me and forcing her to look up. “You didn’t like riding with me?” I don’t know why, but this really grates on me. Not only did she already ride with someone before me, but the thought that she didn’t enjoy my ride is like an ax right through my ego. My ego is dead.

  She blinks slow and looks back down. “Yes, I did. It was pretty cool actually. It’s just … nothing. Let’s get coffee. This place had better serve good coffee, or you’re in trouble, mister,” she chirps, changing the subject and striding off in the direction of the entrance. I’m left in the parking lot shaking my head at the absurdity of it all.

  Women.

  Fucked if I can understand them. Fucked if I want to.

  Sadie settles herself at a table, and I seat myself opposite her. “Hungry?” I ask.

  “You buying?”

  “Anything you want.”

  “You think that’s gonna make up for trashing my car?” Her left brow raises in amused contempt and the beginning of a smile tips the corners of her red lips.

  “You ever gonna let that go?” I grumble.

  “Maybe. Depends.”

  “Depends on what?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” She smirks, silently plotting my payback. I don’t know if I should be impressed at her tenacity or worried at her persistence.

  The waitress comes and takes our order, and I’m gobsmacked when Sadie orders the house burger with double fries, a chocolate milkshake, and a coffee.

  “Don’t you get fed at home?” I remark as the waitress walks away.

  She frowns. “I’m not a little girl that needs to adhere to mealtimes, you know.”

  “Whoa.” I hold my hands up. “I was just asking. That’s a lot of food for a little thing like you.”

  “Yeah, well, I can’t always eat lettuce leaves and drink tap water. A girl’s gotta have something good in her life,” she says dryly, and her words hang in the air. I don’t really know what I was expecting from her. Her smart comebacks, her confidence in dangerous situations, her ability to challenge me and refusal to back down all indicates a very confident, formidable woman. But in the very short time I’ve spent with her, every now and then a sliver of vulnerability slips out and damn if it doesn’t bring out the caveman in me.

  “Who do you live with?”

  She tilts her head and smiles softly. “Why do you want to know, Ramsey?”

  “I’m interested, I guess.” I shrug. “I think we got off to a bad start, and I’d like us to start over.”

  “Like, friends?” She screws up her nose and squints at me.

  “Is that so bad?” I chuckle, resting my forearms on the table between us.

  “No. I suppose not. Unexpected, but not bad.” She smiles. “You ever had a girl friend?”

  “Loads of them!” I laugh out, lying through my teeth.

  “No, a girl. Friend. A girl that you haven’t had sex with.”

  I gasp dramatically and feign shock, clutching my hand to my chest. “I don’t know what you’re implying.”

  “Ramsey, I’m not an idiot. I know what you bikers are like. A different woman every day. Parties every night. Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll.” She sits back in her chair with a huff like the very idea makes her feel bored. Or jealous. I roar with laughter, clutching at my stomach as she looks on wide-eyed. The waitress brings our food just as I’m starting to contain myself.

  “What’s so fucking funny?” Sadie snaps.

  “You,” I say, wiping tears from my eyes. “You’re a one off, you know that?”

  “You’re a dick, you know that?” she says, curling her lip.

  “I know. The difference between me and you, sweet cheeks, is that I own it. I know I’m a dick. What’s your excuse for having a permanent stick up your ass? You don’t know how to have a good time?” I’m goading her, pushing for a reaction because I love seeing the fire in her come out.

  She picks up a handful of fries and tosses them at me with a grin splitting her cheeks. “I know how to have a good time, biker. But it doesn’t include drugs or whores.” She winks, before grabbing her burger, wrapping her mouth around it and taking the biggest bite that she can manage.

  We eat in silence for a while. Well, I say silence, but Sadie can’t seem to drink her milkshake without slurping and sucking every last drop up through her straw. The way her lips pucker and her cheeks hollow makes me lose concentration, and I don’t care if my own food goes stone cold because it’s a fucking party just watching her. She bangs her empty glass down on the table and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “That was good,” she says, sitting back in the chair and patting her stomach. Of course, my eyes immediately follow the movement of her hands, stopping along the way and lingering on her tits. She has a great rack for such a little thing. “It’s a good thing my tits aren’t shy,” she remarks, dipping her head to catch my eye.

  “Yes, I guess it is,” I reply unashamed. “But that wouldn’t bother me anyway. It would be sexy as fuck to see a little blush sweep across your chest.” She gasps at my openness, and I smile at her before continuing to eat my fries.

  “So, you gonna tell me what you wanted with Donny?” she asks casually.

  “Nope. You gonna tell me why you went quiet on me out there on my bike?”

  “Nope,” she sighs with frustration. “Okay, how about we do a deal. I’ll answer a question if you will.” She clasps her hands around her coffee cup, leaning forward and flashing me a clearer view of her cleavage.

  Clever girl.

  “Okay, deal.” I hold my hand out for her to shake. She tilts her head and looks at me intently while deciding if she should place her hand in mine. Her brown eyes glisten with pain and promise, and while she’s looking deeper at me, I’m searching deeper within her too. She gently seals her palm against mine and closes her fingers securely. “You have to answer honestly though.”

  She nods and grins, “I’ll go first …How long have you been a biker?”

  “Since I was sixteen. I’ve always loved bikes, but never had the opportunity to even sit on one, then shit happened, and we met JJ. My turn—”

  “Hey, whoa, hold it right there, mister.” She jolts her palm out right in front of my face, signaling for me to stop. “Not so fast. Shit happened? What shit?”

  “That’s not how this is gonna work, Raven. You asked your question, I answered. Now it’s my turn, and you don’t get to ask again until
I’m done.” She sits back in her seat and crosses her arms with a playful huff and a roll of her eyes. The way she looks deep into my eyes, pleading with me to tell her more and speaking to me with a silent force, it would be easy to reveal my whole life story, the good the bad and the very real, ugly truth. I lean forward, closing the space between us. “Who’s bike did you ride before?” I ask, tightening my lips, knowing I shouldn’t ask, but needing to know the answer.

  “What?” She scrunches up her brows.

  “You said you’d been on the back of a bike once before. Whose was it?” I clench my jaw as I wait for her answer. She huffs with a roll of her eyes then leans forward, placing her hands flat either side of mine on the table.

  “Okay, don’t laugh …” She draws in a deep breath, and I nod in agreement. “I was only four years old, and I actually sat on a bike in front of my dad, not on the back like I said.”

  I fight to keep the smile that fills my chest from spreading across my lips. I should have known it was a statement to prove her bravado back at the yard. She’s full of boldness and sass, and the way she puts up that tough, seemingly impenetrable, armor is admirable. She is a tough cookie, but if she lets the tiniest piece of that guard down, it’s clear to see she has a good heart. Too good for me. Too good for anything to do with me and the club. But I’m a selfish fucker, and I won’t let that stop me from pursuing her further.

  “You were four years old?” I grin. “You know that totally doesn’t count, which also means I’m your first, and judging by the way you went quiet when you got off my bike, I’d say I totally rocked your world, sweetheart.” I slide my hands across hers, feeling smug, and looking into those deep brown eyes of hers.

  She tilts her head a fraction, her gaze softening and a hint of a smile creasing the corners of her lips. Then the smile falters, and she abruptly slides her hands out from under mine. “That was the last time I saw my father, so actually, Mr. Confidence, you’ll never beat that first time.”