Losing Track (2 page)

Taking her cigarette back, Darla smiles. “Yeah, I’m down for that. If Crank wants that trash, let ‘em have her. I’m sure I can find someone better, anyway.”

I release a heavy sigh. It’s not exactly the point I’m making, but at least she’s trying. “All right. Bar, beer, then back wall, where the raised platform is.” I lower my chin, meeting her gaze straight on. “No detours. Not even if Crank—”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, fluttering her hand, then she drops the butt to the cement and grinds it out with the toe of her boot. “Got it, boss. I’m all about the sisterly love tonight.”

She links her arm through mine as we turn toward the door.

“And I’m not on the market to make him jealous either, Dar.” I nudge her hip with mine, driving home the point that the one time we made out to entice her ex will not happen again. I’m sick of all the shit she puts the both of us through for these assholes.

“You don’t love me anymore? What, I’m not hot enough?” She reaches for the door and her mouth turns down in classic Dar pouty lips.

“You’re the hottest chick I’ve ever made out with,” I tell her in all seriousness. Her ego is about as fragile as a snowflake. “But that shit is dumb to do for them. Don’t you get that?” I widen my eyes, hoping she notes the seriousness in my tone.

The music engulfs us as we enter the bar. It muffles her reply, and I move my head closer to hers. “What?” I shout.

“I said, I’m sure Jesse wouldn’t mind the show.” She pulls back and winks at me.

Why the hell is she on this kick with Jesse all of a sudden? I don’t bother with a comeback for that one. The coke is obviously making her more loving than me tonight.

“Besides,” she adds. “If I did date Jesse, that’d make me his ol’ lady, and then I’d
have
to jump your bones if he said so.” She sticks her tongue out.

She’s right, of course. It’s the reason why I won’t get romantically involved with any of the members of Lone Breed—I’m my own woman. But for Dar, who keeps getting mixed up with losers, being bound to one guy—who’d keep her safe and scare away the jerkoffs—wouldn’t be such a bad thing. I could adapt…if it meant my girl was taken care of.

As we head for the bar, I spot Jesse seated there. His rumpled leather vest jacket open to expose a white tank underneath. The white and black bottom rocker patch on the back. Dark hair mussed from running his hand through it. He’s all brightly lit with alcohol and I suspect a fresh shot of blow.

My insides tug painfully at my belly, the craving gripping me hard. But I shake it off, along with Darla’s arm, and take a seat next to him.

“Saving it just for me?” I say over the music, flagging down the bartender.

“Of course.” He gives me a wink.

I nod. “That’s what I thought.” I motion for Dar to sit on the edge of my stool, but her attention is aimed out over the crowd, scanning for Crank.

Well, that lasted all of a second.

“I’ll be right back,” she says, her eyes still scouring the scene.

I wave my hand in the air, dismissing her. It’s a waste to get fired up over Dar’s need for seduction. It’s always been this way—giving her a degree of power, something she can own. I’m used to it.

Instead, I order my usual bourbon and Coke from Suzie and then snag Jesse’s beer to take a sip. The harsh bite of it foams in my mouth, some residue from the blow still clinging to my throat. I force it down and smack my lips.

“So are you getting it tomorrow?” I ask Jesse, switching his bottle for the glass Suzie sets before me.

He tilts his head. “I’m about a grand short. Thought I’d hit the track first. Try to get up the money before we head down to Daytona with the others.”

I roll my eyes. “No.”

His head jerks back. “What? I didn’t even—”

“No, but you’re going to. And you’re not racing my baby on the track. That’s exactly how you wasted your hog, dude. Forget it.”

What I leave unsaid is that
he
was wasted when he did so, and he’s probably already shot at least a kilo into his veins since we’ve been in St. Augustine. All four days. But who am I to judge? I just don’t let anyone other than me drive my bike. Not even Darla. She’s always been my second in command—from the time we skated out of Hazard, Kentucky till now, she’s ridden with me. I even had my bike seat specially modified to seat Dar’s ass. I guess that alone says something for our sisterly love.

Jesse hunches over the bar top, propping his forearms on the counter and dipping his head low to find my gaze. Fuck. He’s going for the damn puppy eyes, and he’s going to call
it
in.

He bailed me out of the craptastic disaster that became my brief hookup with Simon: biker creep extraordinaire. He and Derick—Dar’s one true love for a couple of weeks—were their own breed of loser. I cringe remembering how I even wore his black bandana, letting him put claim to me. It was more for Dar than him…but still. Never again.

But I owe Jess one. After we parted ways with Sam and her guy Holden, it was an endless downward spiral for Simon and me once we left Kansas. Part of the reason why I hit the needle so hard, and why I almost pulled a Jesse and wound up in the ER.

Not that night, though. Jesse and Tank swooped in and kept me from OD’ing. I still don’t really know how—just that the next day, I was packed and already looking at Simon’s backside from the mirror of my Breakout.

“Shit, Mel…” Jesse moans. “Just one race. I can make enough for my new hog and a little extra.” He gives me his panty-dropping smile that works on every girl at least once. Even me. But only just once.

I sigh to myself. “What about Tank? Can’t you use his bike?” Tank was my dad’s best friend, and he’s Jessie’s mentor—the full-patch member sponsoring Jesse until he becomes a full-fledged patch-holder of Lone Breed himself.

Jessie swivels on his stool, his face pinched in frustration. “Tank’s doing me a solid by not telling the others heading to Daytona about my hog…just yet. But he said I had to earn my ride on my own. So no,” he says, finding my gaze. “He won’t step in.”

I nod solemnly. “They’d rag you pretty fucking hard, huh?”

Jesse releases a clipped laugh. “You don’t even know.” I glimpse his two back patches; the MC patch on the right, and the bottom rocker beside it that reads “Prospect.” He’s basically in the hazing phase of motorcycle club initiation. So my sympathies do go out to him—he’s going to be put through some major shit if he doesn’t get a new ride soon.

“Fuck it. One race,” I say. Before his arm encircles me, I pull back and add, “But on one condition.”

He raises his eyebrows over deep chocolate eyes.

“You forget about the little extra.”

Swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, he narrows his dark gaze. Studies me. “I can do that.” Then he moves in closer, where I can see the curve of his tat peeking above his collar. “But first, you do a little extra with me tonight.”

My gut twists. My hands get clammy, and my heart knocks hard against my ribs. “No.” I shake my head and then take a swig of my drink. “And you’re not going anywhere near my baby tomorrow if you—”

“Last time. Tonight,” he cuts in. “You’re the only one I ever get that pure bliss with, Mel. After this, I won’t ever ask again.” He uses his finger to cross his heart.

I know exactly what he means. Company can make all the difference in the level of high you obtain, and Jesse and I seem to reach astounding levels for some dumb reason. I can’t explain it, other than right now, something is damn near clawing at me from the inside to get to that feeling. Trying to break out and attack the guy in front of me.

Glancing across the crowd, I locate Darla. She’s already against the back wall, Crank leaning over her as he kisses her neck. She’ll be occupied for at least twenty minutes. Maybe more…if Crank doesn’t already have whisky dick.

I succumb. It wasn’t even a fight. “All right,” I tell Jesse. “But I just finished an eight ball not long ago. I don’t want a full dose. And I want to get back quickly to watch the band.”

See? I am responsible. I know what my body can and can’t handle. I know my limits.

Jesse’s full mouth quirks into his sexy smile, and despite my brotherly affection for him, I can appreciate it.

He spins my stool and steps in front of me, then pulls me up. “To the blow mobile.”

I laugh. A true one. Reaching behind me, I grab my drink and down it quickly.

I’m alive and aware. I’m about to find my happy.

Melody

To the depths, to the black, the hole in me

“JUST STRADDLE ME.”

I groan as I shift on top of Jesse, trying to wedge my knees on either side of his hips. “Damn. Why can’t we just get in the back?” I grasp the
oh shit
handle with my left hand and palm the ceiling with my right. “This isn’t working.”

Jesse shakes his head. “Backseat is too obvious. This way, we just look like we’re getting busy.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Hey, use my jacket to block off the window.” He shrugs his vest off his shoulders, gets one arm free, and his hand nails me in the boob.

“Ouch.”

“Sorry…if your ass wasn’t so big…”

“Watch it,” I warn.

“I love that fat ass.” He grunts and grabs both butt cheeks, giving them a squeeze.

Laughing, I slap his arm. “Knock it off.”

Finally, he’s wriggled his jacket from behind him, and now hangs it over the passenger side window, trapping the bottom seam between the top of the window and door. I stare down at his sleeves—the tats covering his arms from neck to wrists. Colorful and intricate designs stand out against his leanly ripped arms.

Too bad. Dar’s right. If I didn’t know the guy so well, and he wasn’t a prospect for the MC, he’d probably make a damn fine boy toy. But a Lone Breed ol’ lady I am not. That much I know.

“You don’t have to dissolve, do you?” I ask, settling into a somewhat comfortable position on top of him.

“Already mixed and ready to go.” He lifts me, one hand anchored to my waist, as he digs into his pocket with his other. I try not to think about how good his movements feel against me…and am relieved when he pulls out the tiny vial. “Reach into the glove box.”

I do as requested, with difficulty, since I have to twist awkwardly to get my hand in the compartment. But I find the plastic wrapped syringes easily. “You should really hide these better.” I hand him two. “Where did you get these?”

“A local diabetic store. Much less suspicious than a clinic.” Unwrapping one syringe, he looks up at me. “And that’s my go-to claim if I ever get questioned by the po-po here. I’m diabetic. So don’t fear, baby.” He grins.

I huff a laugh, but it’s forced, my undivided attention on Jesse’s hands as he sticks the needle into the top of the vial. My skin is already tingling in anticipation. My hands sweaty, and my jaw clenched as tight as the muscles of my stomach.

Last time
.

“You need a tie off?” he asks. “Since it’s been a minute, I might be able to find a vein no problem…but if you’d rather not chance the nasty bubble—”

“Uh, yeah,” I say absently. I reach over to the driver’s seat and grab my tote. I find a hair band and wrap it around my forearm, just above my elbow. “It’s too dark to see.”

Jesse licks his lips and holds my arm out between us. He flicks the center of my arm a couple of times, waits for a vein to appear. “They look good. Guess it was smart to lay off for a while. I can find one no problem.”

I nod. Anyone else, I’d have called bullshit. But for this one thing, I trust Jesse completely. He wouldn’t stick me if he couldn’t find a vein. He knows the pain I suffered the one time I missed, and a bubble the size of a small almond popped up on my hand. It was so fucking painful I actually cried. It didn’t go away for weeks.

But that fear is not enough to keep me from IV’ing in the dark in a parked tin can of a car on top of one of my best friends. The rush is just too great a temptation. And like I promised myself—this is the very last time.

I feel a quick pinch, and I watch as he inserts the needle deeper, the tube of saline and coke turning pink as some of my blood swirls into the mix. Pale pink. It’s a beautiful color. My favorite. And as the first effects of the drug hit my system, my head falls back. It’s warm. Tingling at first. Then the burn hits. But it’s such a sweet burn. I can feel it traveling through me, instantly hitting my heart. Which beats wildly.