FORCE: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (90 page)

Crash

I shouldn't have let her come.

The closer we got to Philadelphia, the more I regretted my moment of weakness. This wasn't her shit, this was my past come back to haunt me and she had no business in my past. This was a reminder that, in spite of my hopes, I wasn't fucking starting over again. My past wasn't a slate I could wipe clean. I had to face it.

But fuck me if it didn't feel better to have Gabi's warm body, clinging to my back, her hands wrapped around me tightly, holding me together so I didn't have to hold myself.

Fucking Doc, he had to stay alive. Ornery bastard was too necessary to die. The world needed. Fuck, I needed him.

If Doc died and I wasn't there...

I kicked the engine higher and shrieked through the Turnpike traffic, riding the yellow line. I felt Gabi cling tighter and was aware that I was probably scaring her to death, but there wasn't time.

I would find a place to stash her once we got there, some place safe until this all blew over. I didn't know where exactly, yet, but I was making plans on the fly here.

Crossing the Ben Franklin Bridge felt fucking strange. I felt like the city grabbed me by the lapels and slammed my head into a bar. The skyline hovered over me like a nightmare, welcoming me back into the shit. If Gabi wasn't behind me I would have believed these past five weeks had all been a dream.

As we rolled through the streets, the idea I had been waiting for suddenly leapt to the forefront of my brain and I pressed ahead to my old place up by Temple.  The piles of snow had melted down to a gritty black soot, and the air was warm enough to be a bit uncomfortable in my leathers. I was breaking out in a sweat that stank of fear.

"Well I'll be fucked," I muttered, as I pulled up on the sidewalk by my place.

"What's up?" Gabi yelled from behind me.

I pointed down the alleyway to where my truck was miraculously still sitting. "The bastards didn't tow me," I exhaled in frank disbelief. It had to be a sign that I was on the right track.

"That's yours?" Gabi sounded impressed, and I allowed myself a little glimmer of pride over my black pickup, still shiny under a layer of road salt. Though I needed to make sure Gabi never found out how it came into my hands.

That was part of my past too.

I killed the motor and pulled my keys from the ignition. The apartment key was still hanging there and if my luck kept holding, it would still work. "Gabs, I need you to do something for me...," I started to say.

An old rustbucket, tricked out and lowered, shiny spinner rims dancing in the weak Spring light rolled by and something made me look up. As it passed, it slowed way down and I got a glimpse of the driver's face as he peered intently at me.

Then he sped off.

Fuck, this place was being watched.

"What do you need?" Gabi poked me in the back, wondering why I had just trailed off like that.

"Never mind," I growled. Guess the truck being here was the extent of my luck. I couldn't stash her here, it wasn't safe.
Okay new plan.
I put the apartment key back on the ring and instead pulled the truck key off. I turned and handed it to her.

"Here's the key to the truck," I told her. "You're going to follow me, okay?"

"What?"

I tried to keep my frustration down. Every moment that went by was lost forever. I didn't have time for her to question me. "Just fucking follow me, okay?" I barked, meaner than I meant to be.

She looked hurt for a moment. And then Gabi, my beautiful, smart, strong-willed Gabi, pressed her lips together and nodded. "Okay fine," she relented. "Just tell me why we're splitting up?"

I looked in the direction of the car that had past. By now, who knew how many people knew I was back in Philly. Certainly no one I wanted to know. "Because if things go to shit," I twisted in my seat to look her right into her wide brown eyes. "I want you to promise me you'll take it and run."

Gabriela

He drove to a bar. Of all the fucking places in the world to go now, he went straight to the bar.

I could have laughed if I wasn't so tense.

Philadelphia always seemed to live in the shadow of New York City, and since I had family there, I had never bothered to come here. And Crash sure as hell wasn't taking me on a grand tour of the place. The broken down shops looked more like a warzone than a neighborhood, and the bar itself looked like a hellhole from outside. Crash pulled up onto the sidewalk, but I had to maneuver his huge pickup into the trash-strewn lot bordered by chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. A car rolled by blasting thumping bass music that I could feel in my toes. I had always been the "ethnic" girl in Lenape, but right now I had never felt more suburban in my life.

Crash was craning his head all around, anxiously looking for me as I rounded the corner, my hands stuffed in my pockets. He looked visibly relieved when he spied me and opened his arms.

I went to him and he pressed his lips to my forehead hard. I could feel his hands shaking. "Listen to me baby," he said softly, more gentle than I think I had ever heard him. "This?" he gestured to the bar and the dirty broke down street in the shadow of huge buildings, "this is a part of me I hoped I never would have to show you." He blinked twice and I wanted to say something, but he kissed me as hard as he could, stealing away my protests. Nose to nose he lowered his eyelids as if unwilling to look me in the eye. "And if you don't see what you like, you have my keys, and you can just leave. I'll understand."

"I'm coming in with you." It was strange that I was so adamant about this. Clearly he was about to do something… Wrong… Possibly illegal, definitely something I didn't want to be mixed up in, but being at his side for this seemed like the most natural thing in the world. "Maybe I can help?" I asked, feeling silly.

Crash shot a glance over his shoulder into the darkened bar, he seemed to see something in there that changed his mind. "Yeah," he smiled, his mouth twitching up in that cockeyed grin that he usually reserved for bedroom activities. "Actually, you can."

I danced on my toes. A stiff wind dusted down the narrow street, traces of winter still clinging to the edges, and I shivered, both from the cold and the anticipation. "What do you need me to do?"

"You know Spanish, right?" He asked.

I smirked. "Um yeah,
un poco
," I scoffed. "
Pero, ¿cómo ayuda eso?

He blinked and laughed a little. "Okay, I have no idea what you just said to me... but here's what I need you to do. Just...listen, okay?" He gripped my upper arms and looked at me, and I could see fear dancing around the narrow set of his mouth. "You're not to give any indication that you know me. But if anyone is speaking in Spanish, I want you to listen to what they say. See if you hear any words like biker, or Sons, or safehouse." I startled a little, but he was too keyed up to notice. "The guys I'm after, they call themselves Los Lobos."

I bit back a scream. "Cartel?" I whispered.

He looked at me sharply. "You know them?"

I bristled. "No, you asshole. Just because I speak Spanish doesn't mean I know Mexican drug lords. I'm half Puerto Rican, half black, and all suburban." He looked properly abashed, so I clarified. "I've read about them in newspapers."

"So you know why we have to be careful."

I nodded.

"There's a booth to the right when you first walk in. I want you to go straight there and sit down, and start playing with your phone like you're meeting someone.. I'm going to come in…" He hesitated for a moment. "I'm going to come in and talk to the bartender."

"And when you say talk…?"

He didn't answer, and my heart pounded in my throat. I nodded and lifted my chin to brush of kiss past his grimly set lips. "I love you," I told him.

He grabbed my arms again. "I fucking love you, okay? You remember that when you see me in there. You remember this guy, right here, okay?" He stabbed a thick finger at his chest. "The one kissing you now. Don't remember him," he stabbed the finger towards the door.

I nodded mutely because fear wouldn't let me speak. His eyes had already gone hard and far away, and I knew there was nothing else to do but walk into the bar.

The booth was right where he said it would be and I scurried over to it, grateful not to have to parade myself across the sticky tile floor. The interior was a good deal nicer than the exterior, though that really wasn't saying much. The knotty-pine lined walls were stained dark with the nicotine of years gone by and the whole place smelled like an unwashed foot. I whipped out my phone and hunched over, doing my best impression of bitchface to keep people away.

I was scrolling through my pictures, keeping my ears pricked. But all I caught were murmurs of conversation; the bartender taking an order. Then I heard it, Spanish. Two guys in a booth near the bar. I couldn't see them but I could hear them.

"Pendejo, pensé que estaban comprando..."

"No te tengo última vez, hijo de puta ..."

I tuned out as soon as they started shit-talking about how many
bellacas
they had bedded. I could feel my ears reddening. I had half a mind to go slap and ask is they kissed their mama with those mouths when the front door burst open.

"Hey Bruce! How'd you get out of the fucking freezer?" The door slammed against the wall with a reverberating thud and Crash came hurtling into the bar like an avenging angel. I shrank back in spite of myself.

The words meant nothing to me, but they sure as shit meant something to the man behind the counter. He went white as a sheet, staring as Crash loped towards him with a wild, manic gleam in his eyes. Crash was right. I did not want to remember the version of him I was seeing now. He looked terrifying.

The man behind the counter seemed to agree. He reached under the counter, but Crash, seeming possessing a graceful athleticism I had never seen before, leapt easily over the bar and had him by the shirt collar before he could reach whatever he had hidden. I could only guess.

"The fuck are you doing here?" the bartender yelled.

"Surprised to see me, you double-dealing son of a bitch?"

"Get off of me!"

"Not a fucking chance."

"What do you want?" It sounded like he was about to cry. I huddled lower in my seat, hating what I was hearing. And that's when I heard it. The low voices of the Spanish speaking men..."
uno de ellos. Los Hijos..."

The Sons.

I slid carefully from my hiding place and watched the two men casually leave their booth. Crash was still menacing the bartender and didn't see.

"You know what I want. Where are they hiding?"

"You son of a bitch, you think I know?"

Crash didn't reply. Instead he lifted the man and slammed his head into the counter. I cringed, hiding my cry behind my hand. The two Hispanic guys were heading to the back door.

The bartender was yelling obscenities, sounding close to tears. I didn't need to see any more. I didn't want to see what Crash would do next. But those men, they had noticed Crash.

I slipped quietly from my seat and went out the front door. I could hear voices from the back alleyway, rapidfire Spanish.

"He's not answering."

"Well fuck, let it ring."

"Still nothing."

"Fuck, he needs to know."

Then there was a car door slam. I nearly jumped. I needed to follow them, but the pickup was too far away. I'd lose them.

But Crash's bike.

I jammed the helmet over my curls, with no thought to hair maintenance for once in my life. It's a strange thing when someone you love is in danger. The whole world slows down, giving you crystal clarity on what needs to be done next. I could see my plan laid out in front of me like a map, with step-by-step directions on what to do next. It was like I could see what would happen a full second before it actually happened.  Even the motorcycle was easy to control, with my newfound abilities.

The engine was so damn loud I was sure that they would figure out I was following them.  But they gave no sign as we wended our way through the narrow streets, past boarded up factories and vacant lots. If Crash hadn't given me the grand tour, these two assholes for sure were. This part of the city looked like a bomb had hit.

I hung back as they turned into an alleyway behind a boarded up house next to a strip club. I pulled to the side and killed the engine just in time to hear the sound of a door slamming and those same two voices shouting for someone named Fernando. I whipped out my phone and took a picture of the street sign.  Then I sped off.

I didn't have too far to go before I hit water. The Delaware River, okay, that was a fairly decent landmark. I pulled over into the lot of a nightclub and texted Crash.

"Are you alive?"

My alert beeped immediately. "Where are you????"

"I'm fine," I typed hurriedly. "I found out where they are."

"Who?"

"The guys you are looking for."

'HOW THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT?"

"Never mind. I'm sending you a picture." I tapped the screen and sent him the street sign. "Their place is on this street, next to a strip club."

My phone was silent for several moments. A truck screamed down the elevated highway above me just as an elevated train screeched to a stop. I was alone in the lot, but I felt the presence of a million lives going on around me. In the middle of this entire city, I was anonymous.  It made me feel lonely until I remembered the one person in this whole city who had told me he loved me.

My phone lit up in a series of text messages.

"I love you."

"Goddamn"

"Holy shit, you're amazing."

"Damn girl."

"Are you safe?"

I looked around and typed back. "I think so."

"Where are you?"

"The Delaware river is right next to me."

"Okay take a picture of where you are and send it to me. I'm coming for you now. Stay put, stay hidden or something."

I looked around. there seemed to be some sort of health club a few hundred yards from me. A safely anonymous, banal place. "I'll be at the Rock Gym," I told him.

"I know it." My phone beeped immediately. "Go there."

******

Crash's jaw was working, the muscle under the skin jumping just below his ear. Other than that he was perfectly still, almost calm, as he maneuvered the pickup wildly through the streets of Philadelphia

I hadn't thought of it when we were on the bike because in my mind a bike was Crash's domain. He belonged there, without question he owned the road when he was astride his beautiful chrome beast. Behind the wheel of a pickup, though, was terribly normal, so normal that a disturbing thought flickered through my brain.

"Can I ask you something?" I said carefully, aware of my words cutting into the tense silence like a knife.

Crash grunted, his focus on a Mercedes in his blindspot. He revved the pickup's engine up to a scream and darted into a far too small space behind a semi that rumbled, echoing off of the high skyscrapers that closed in on us. Crash hadn't told me where we were going now, only told me to leave the bike and get in. I got the impression that he was making this all up as he went along.

He darted into another too small space and a horn blared at us. Crash casually lifted his middle finger. "Home sweet home," he growled. It was the first he had spoken since we started fighting this traffic. My stomach dropped down to my toes and I closed my eyes. It was better if I didn't know it when he killed us both.

"So, um, things are a bit tense now," I said drily, keeping my eyes closed. "A bit stressful." I hesitated. He was going to hate me for asking this. "So what should I do for you if you have a seizure?"

"I won't have one," he said flatly, taking that moment to leap out in front of the light and cut across traffic three lanes to the right. The sudden speed pinned me back against the seat and I was quite glad for the illusion of safety being in the pickup provided. Going that fast on a bike would be terrifying.

"You won't?" I squeaked, digging my nails into my thighs.

"No."

"How do you know?"

"Because I'm taking my meds again," he said, still deadly calm.

"Oh." I didn't know what to say.

He darted a quick glance at me. Then out of nowhere he closed his hand around mine. "I didn't have a reason to take them before," he said, keeping his eyes on the road. He squeezed my fingers, saying the rest with his touch.

He had a reason to now.

I leaned forward and looked out of the window. "Is this the hospital?

"Yup." He wrenched the wheel into the front entrance. A valet hopped out and Crash tossed him the keys.

"We're going to the hospital?" This wasn't what I was expecting.

Crash looked down at his phone and nodded. "Room 457," he said. "I need to see Doc."