Raw: The Ultimate Mc Collection (51 page)

She’ll be out of my life just as fast as she came into it.  The cops are going to catch this weird fucking snake-obsessed abductor, because they always do, because the idiot wants to get caught, that much is obvious to me.  You didn’t leave a fucking live, slithering calling card if you didn’t want to be caught.  So, they’ll catch him, and the danger will be gone for Diana.  

And then Diana will be gone.  Out of my life.

I had finally fallen for a woman, and she’s completely out of my league, completely unattainable, so far out of my world that it’s a fucking miracle that I get to spend any time with her at all.

I knew all of this.  I might be a shallow fuck, but I’m not stupid.

And that’s why I didn’t want her to see how angry I was, how vulnerable I was. I didn’t want Diana to go away with memories of me being a fucking coward, or half a man…or worse, an angry, out-of-control man - like my father.

I wanted her to remember me as a good man who took good care of her for the short while that I had her.  I had already fucked up once, and I was determined not to let it happen again.  At least here at the clubhouse, I had back-up.

“Listen, guys,”  I began, knowing it was time to talk to the Gods about Diana, “I brought Diana here because she’s still in danger.  Some asshole came into her apartment and left a rattlesnake.  I guess it’s supposed to be a secret or some shit, but you know the three girls that are missing in Portland?  There was a snake left at each of the scene’s where they were abducted from.  And one of the girls was Diana’s half-sister.”

“What the fuck, really?” Doc said.  “We didn’t know about any of this, man.”

“I know.  I was going to tell you, before the accident.  But I’m telling you know, because whatever the fuck is going on, Diana seems to be the next target.  I brought her here because I need you to help me protect her.  I can’t do it all alone now…not with this fucking broken wing."

“C’mon, dude, the crash wasn’t too bad, you’ll heal,” Ryder said.  “We’ll still give you a patch, though.”

Getting a broken wings patch was reserved for riders who had survived a serious crash.

“I don’t need a patch,” I replied. “I know I’ll be fine, but since I can’t cut this fucking plaster off yet, I need your help in the meantime.  I’m sure the cops will find this fucker soon, but until then, I need you to help me keep an eye on Diana.  She’s not too happy about being secluded here, and she’s really antsy about getting back to her job.”

“Yeah, man, of course,” Riot said, “you know we’ve got your back.”

“I know, brother, thank you.”

I took a deep breath, and for the first time in days, finally felt my shoulders relax.  I took a long look around me, the towering pine trees swaying in the breeze, the chrome from all of our bikes glinting in the late morning sun, the fucking birds chirping, that for once didn’t annoy me…and I knew everything was going to be okay.  The key was to just focus on taking care of Diana, forget about all this vulnerability bullshit and man up. 

That, I could do.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Diana

The drive to the clubhouse was excruciatingly awkward.  It was obvious how angry Slade was, even though he was trying his best to hide it from me.  He kept snapping at me, then immediately apologizing.  The sharp angles of his face grew even sharper, his eyes darkened, and he sat in my ‘cage’ with his fists clenched the entire hour.

I couldn’t get past the fact that this was all my fault.  I spared him the constant apologizing, and just concentrated on the road.  After we left highway 26, and turned onto highway 6, the road became a curvy, two-lane road surrounded by towering pines on either side and a relentless stream of cars coming towards you in the other lane.  One slight distraction, or one slow drift out of your lane, could cause an accident of epic proportions.

And Slade was the loudest distraction of all. He was huffing and puffing and mumbling and muttering to himself, a thousand emotions falling over his face, the flashes of restrained anger only making him look even sexier, darker, a little dangerous, even.  Usually, his crooked grin took away any thread of fear I might experience with him. His gentle, although firm, touch, was always comforting and safe instead of frightening.  So seeing that dark side of him was a little thrilling.

I didn’t care that his stupid arm was in a sling.  It wasn’t his arm I was falling for.

So, when Grace and Lacey whisked me off into the clubhouse, I was grateful to get away from him for a while.  The crazy mixture of feeling like shit and blaming myself for him being in this predicament, and being thrilled and turned on by the result, was starting to fuck with my head a little.  Being out of his presence would let me breathe.

Grace and Lacey were so comforting and gentle with me, that once I took that breath, and then another, I finally started to relax a little.  It helped when they introduced me to Cherry, a woman who had obviously been around the clubhouse for years.  She ran the tiny kitchen like she owned it, and quickly prepared a glass full of whiskey and ice.

“You’ve been in a car with Slade for an hour, I bet you probably could use this,” she said as she pushed it into my hands.

“You’re right! Thank you,” I said, smiling at her gratefully.

“Yeah, did he give you a whole speech about how unsafe cages are?”  she asked, a huge pile of copper colored curls shaking around on her head.

“He did, actually,” I replied.  I thought of Slade again, the determined set of his jaw, the way he seemed to know exactly who and what he was, and how he wasn’t about to waver away from that for a second.  At first I didn’t understand what the big deal was about riding in a car, but then I figured it out.  It wasn’t.  It was just a big deal to him.  It went against his identity, this image he had claimed of himself.  And without that, he felt out of control.

It made me like him even more.  Because that wasn’t me.  Not anymore.  I thought I knew who I was - a reporter.  But that’s just someone reporting on other people’s lives.  I didn’t have a life of my own.  When I stepped off the property of the news station, there wasn’t anything out in the real world for me.  I had made my whole life out of other people’s lives.

It made me sad when I realized it.  And it was Slade who had shown it to me.  Slade, who knew exactly who he was, without question, with unshakeable certainty he knew what he was all about.

It would take me years of searching to figure that out for myself.

I envied him.

And, if I was honest with myself, I was starting to love him.

It’s absurd, it’s impossible and a miracle all at once, but it’s true.

I had spent hours by his bedside before the Gods had shown up.  I watched him, waiting with anticipation through out each breath he took, hoping he would wake up.  I had flinched every time his body twitched, the same body that had jumped into motion when I called him, hurling through the night astride a powerful, dangerous machine.

He had stayed by my side every minute.

Nobody had ever done anything like that for me before.

But it was then that I knew.  My heart melted during those hours.  Any barriers I had put up crumbled to the floor of his hospital room.  By the time he opened his eyes, I knew I had to figure out a way to keep him in my life.

***

The tall pine trees swayed overhead, grower denser and darker with each step as Slade and I hiked into the lush forest.  I would have been slightly nervous to be so far off trail, but Slade carried himself with such a sleek, confident, animal instinct that I couldn’t help but relax.

“Were you a boy scout?” I asked.  I was a little embarrassed that I knew so little about his background.  He wasn’t much for talking and every time we had been alone together, talking about our pasts, hell talking about much at all, didn’t happen.

He scoffed softly.

“Hardly,” he muttered, grabbing my hand and leading me through the trees.

“Then how do you know what you’re doing out here?” I asked.

“Doing?  We’re just walking through the forest, beauty.  Bobbing and weaving, making our way around the obstacles, finding new solutions when the old ones don’t work anymore.  Surviving in the woods is just like surviving on the streets.  You just make do with what life tosses your way, you know? Don’t matter if it’s a coyote in the forest, or a stranger in a dark alley.   You just make sure you appear bigger than your opponent, and don’t fight a stranger unless you are left with no choice.”

Okay.  I suspected he was talking about something else entirely, but I didn’t push it.  He would tell me about his past when he wanted to.

“So you spend a lot of time out here?” I asked.

“Yes.  Riot and I use to come out here together, not so much anymore, though.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because he has Lacey now,” he said, maneuvering over a large boulder in our path.  He turned around and put out his left hand to help me as I climbed over it.

“Do you not like Lacey?” I asked, noticing some underlying tension in his voice.

“I like Lacey.  I like Riot more.  I guess you could say I’m still getting used to him not being around as much.”

“I see.”

“So who else are you close to?” I asked.

“Close to?  All of them, none of them…they’re my friends and family, Diana, and I’d kill for any one of them, but things have changed a bit lately.  There aren’t as many late night parties, so chances for hanging out have been slim to none.  We take care of business, and that’s about it.”

We rounded a bend in the trees, and the sound of rushing water that had been so faint before was suddenly blasting in my ears.  Sunlight streamed through the trees, lighting up the frothy, flowing stream in front of us.

“Oh!” I said.  “This is beautiful!”

I went to rush forward, but Slade grabbed my hand, pulling me back to him.  I slammed into his cast, and he winced slightly.

“Sorry,” I said.  His nose was inches from my face, the mischievous glow shining in his eyes once more.

“Hush,” he said, leaning closer, pressing his lips to mine.  He tasted like the fresh, crisp Oregon air.  The slight sheen of mist that covered both of us mingled together between our lips.  It was the first time he had kissed me since the accident.  Since he had left my bed that morning.

We hadn’t really had any time to reconnect at all, and the feel of his lips on mine brought all those emotions tumbling back, and I kissed him back passionately, hungrily, and when he pulled away, I whimpered quietly as I met his intense stare.

“Diana, I’m sorry,” he began, rubbing his thumb against my quivering lip.  “This has all been really fucking overwhelming for me.  I never should have left you that morning.  If I had stayed there, in that warm bed with you, instead of rushing off and listening to my fucking cock —,”

“I know.  I know where you went.  I saw the package in the closet at the hospital.”

“Right,” he said, shaking his head.  “Listen, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.  I want you to know that, it’s important that you know that.  I don’t want you to worry, I don’t want you to be scared, or think that I can’t protect you, not for a minute, okay?”

“I don’t think that.  I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Slade.”

“That’s just it.  I haven’t done a fucking thing.  But that changes now.  I’m not going to let you out of my sight again.”

I didn’t want to hear his words, I didn’t need an apology, or some excuse.  I just wanted him to touch me, to kiss me.  But telling me he wasn’t going to let me out of his sight?  That was too much.  I couldn’t just stop working.  There had to be some middle ground.

“Slade, I’ve been thinking about that.  And I do understand what you’re saying, babe, but I have to work.  I can’t just abandon my career."

“I know, but you’ve bought yourself some time.  You can work from here for a while.”

“Yeah, but there’s going to be times I have to leave, to interview someone or something.  You can’t just lock me up like a little girl!”  My frustration was building and my voice was rising.  I didn’t want to talk about this.  I wanted to be free to come and go as I pleased, to do and say as I pleased.  The one thing about living your life is alone is the freedom to do as you wished, all the time.  While I appreciated his sentiment, this was starting to get to be a little restrictive, and even though it wasn’t his fault, it was still making me uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry, Diana.  It’s not happening.  Not until that fucking kidnapper is found.”