RIDE (A Stone Kings Motorcycle Club Romance) (31 page)

I
f it had hurt badly
to push Grey away, it hurt a million times worse to be pushed away by him.

After I left the clubhouse, I drove aimlessly and recklessly for what seemed like hours, crying and screaming and pounding my fists on the steering wheel. When I ran a stop sign and almost hit an old lady trying to cross the street, I pulled over in a strange neighborhood and cried some more. I cried until my throat was parched and my voice was reduced to a raspy, laryngitic scrape.

It was dark by the time I got home. Carly came in sometime later and found me on the couch, staring into space with the lights off. She was so alarmed by how I looked that she threatened to call Cal, but I made her promise not to. The thought of him potentially mentioning this to Grey was more than I could bear.

In the days and weeks that followed, Carly played nursemaid. She made sure I ate, forced me to bathe once in a while, and called Andi in for backup. They would prop me up in front of the TV and I’d pretend to watch movies with them as they passed containers of ice cream or popcorn back and forth.

I noticed they studiously avoided romantic comedies.

In the end, though, life has a way of forcing you back into it. I don’t know if it’s true what they say, that time heals all wounds, but at least time creates scabs over the wounds. Otherwise we’d bleed to death. So, one day, about six weeks after Grey had pushed me out of his life, I got up, brushed my teeth, put on clothes, and sat down at the computer to look at employment openings.

Like I had told Grey during better times, I knew I needed to move on from bartending and start thinking about the future. I had been throwing around the possibility of cooking for a living. Enough people had told me that I was a good cook that it had planted a seed in my mind. And cooking was something I had always truly enjoyed. I contemplated going to cooking school, but I wasn’t sure that being in a classroom was what I wanted right now. In the end, I found a listing for a place in town that was advertising for a culinary apprentice. I jumped at the chance to apply, and when I actually got called for an interview I could hardly believe my luck.

I showed up at The Mockingbird nervous as hell and expecting to be shot down and possibly even laughed out of the restaurant. I told myself that this was just a practice interview and that I needed to have low expectations, but as soon as I stepped through the doorway, I was struck by an almost desperate desire to work there. It was an elegant yet simple place, with a polished zinc bar reminiscent of pictures I had seen of Parisian restaurants. There were two separate areas, a dining room that looked to be where they served the more elegant fare, and the bar area, which I could tell from taking a peek at the menu served a scaled down, simpler selection of the food in the restaurant. It was beautiful without being overstated, and somehow, I could feel myself being comfortable and at home here.

The restaurant wasn’t open for business for the day yet, so it was fairly deserted up front except for a woman rolling silverware into cloth napkins. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself down and walked through.

“Hi, I’m here to see Jillian Kramer?” I said. “I have an interview.”

“Oh, sure!” the woman said, standing up from her work. “Hold on a sec, and I’ll get her for you.” She motioned toward some tables by the front windows. “You can go have a seat over there. That’s where she usually does interviews.”

A few minutes later, a woman wearing a crisp white T-shirt and dark pants came out. She was tall, with short, salt and pepper hair that looked prematurely gray. She wore no makeup, and no jewelry except for a single gold band on her ring finger.

“Hi, I’m Jillian,” she said with a wide smile, extending her hand. I took it, and her shake was firm and no-nonsense.

“Hi, I’m Seton,” I smiled back. I was grateful that she at least seemed approachable. Maybe I’d manage not to be so nervous that I made a fool of myself.

She explained the concept of the restaurant, which was primarily about the best locally-sourced food available, great service, and modest pricing without affecting quality. It was modeled on the French brasserie concept, to serve simple but well-prepared food. I nodded as she explained aspects of the menu, and asked a few questions about preparations of some of the dishes so she would see that I wasn’t a total idiot. She took me on a tour of the restaurant and the kitchen, and introduced me to a few of the people busily chopping, mixing and prepping. As we went around, she asked me questions about my preferred ways of preparing certain cuts of meat and fish, and meals I’d found memorable and why.

When we came back to the table by the window, she motioned for me to sit down again. She leaned forward, her chin resting on her fist, elbows on the table. “So, Seton. I see you’ve waited tables, and that you’ve been a bartender, but you’ve never worked in a kitchen. What led you to apply to this job?”

“That’s true,” I admitted. “I’ve been cooking practically my whole life, though.” I took a deep breath and decided to tell the truth. “My mom wasn’t around much, so I ended up cooking for my little brother a lot. I’m entirely self-taught, but I guess it’s always been an obsession of mine. Cooking is what I do to relax. To meditate, in a way. I love when everything falls away and it’s just about the food, and the preparing of it.” I thought for a moment, then continued. “I’m at a turning point in my life right now. I went to college for a while a few years ago, but I couldn’t figure out what it was I wanted to do. A few months ago, my brother said something to me that made a light bulb go off in my head, and since then, I slowly began to realize that the reason I hadn’t gone back to college was because what I wanted to do for a living was cook. I considered going to cooking school, but honestly, I’m more interested in learning on the job. This apprenticeship position is the first one I’ve applied for, and it’s my first choice. If you don’t hire me, of course, I’ll apply other places, but I love what I’ve seen here, and I really hope you will.”

Jillian leaned back and grinned at me. “I like that answer. Frankly, Seton, your lack of experience put me off quite a bit at first, but I thought I’d take a chance and interview you anyway. I figured either it would be a total waste of my time, or you’d be something special. I think it’s the latter. You have the job. When can you start?”

I resisted the urge to jump up and do a happy dance, but just barely. “Any time,” I said with a grin that almost split my face open. “Absolutely any time.”

I
walked
out of that restaurant feeling happy for the first time in what seemed like forever. It was almost eery how foreign of an emotion it seemed, like walking off of a plane into a completely different climate from the one you had left behind. The ache of losing Grey was still there, and I knew it would come rushing back, just like it always did. But, for just a moment, it was amazing to feel almost normal again.

On the way home, I stopped by the side of the road and texted Andi and Cal my good news. Andi’s response was almost immediate, and she sent me a congratulations text filled with all sorts of party emojis. Cal texted back a few minutes later with a simple, “Congrats sis!!” He stopped over unexpectedly later that night, while Carly and I were celebrating with a bottle of wine, and told me that the vote on him getting patched into the club would be soon, and that he thought he would get in. I told him I was happy for him, and changed the subject before he could see my mood change. Cal had been worried about me lately, but unlike Andi and Carly, I hadn’t told him what was wrong. I didn’t want for him to know that Grey and I had been together. I knew it would just make it worse to watch Cal awkwardly try not to talk about him or the club for fear it would upset me.

But that night, after Carly had been picked up by the guy she was seeing to go out clubbing, Cal stuck around. We sat on the couch and chatted about my new job, avoiding discussing the MC as much as possible. As we talked he grew increasingly quiet, and I finally got frustrated enough to ask him what was up.

“See,” he began. “Can I ask you something?”

A tiny alarm bell sounded in my head. “Sure,” I said uncertainly.

“Is there something going on with you and Grey Stone?”

My lip trembled but I managed to control my voice. “No,” I said truthfully. “There is nothing going on between me and Grey.”

Something in my tone must have told him more than I wanted to. “But there
was
something going on. Wasn’t there?” His voice was gentle, and it almost made me cry.

“Yes,” I answered, my voice finally breaking. I took a deep breath to calm myself, then continued. “But it’s over. It never should have happened in the first place.”

“Do you believe that?” His expression was disbelieving.

“Yes,” I croaked out. A tear slipped down my cheek, and I brushed it away. “I do.”

He sighed. “You know,” he began, “Grey’s a good man.” I opened my mouth to tell him to stop, but he held up his hand and continued. “He is. I know he can seem rough. But I respect the shit out of him. Probably more than any guy I know. And I know he’d be good to you. It seemed weird when I first thought about you and him together,” he grinned. “But the more I think about it, it fits.” He looked at me with a seriousness I almost never saw in my little brother. “I think you should go for it.”

Another tear ran down my cheek. “Cal, Grey rejected
me
. Not the other way around.” My voice broke, but I continued. “I went to see him. I told him how I felt. He told me to leave.”

Cal scoffed. “Aw, he’s just trying to protect you,” he responded. “Wait him out. I bet he’ll come around.”

I shook my head. “It’s not going to happen,” I told him. “It’s been weeks. It’s been too long.”

“Wait him out.” Cal repeated. “Trust me. You guys should be together. You’ll figure it out eventually.”

He leaned over and pulled me into a one-armed hug. I lay my head on his shoulder. “I doubt it, Cal, but thanks anyway.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replied cheerfully.

“Cal… How did you figure out there was something going on between Grey and me?”

He grinned. “Grey has been one broody son of a bitch lately. It started about the same time you lost your shit. Eventually, even someone as emotionally dumb as I am had to figure it out.”

About an hour later, Cal took off, congratulating me again on my new job. We didn’t mention Grey again. As I watched him drive away, I thought to myself how easily and simply he had accepted the idea of my relationship with Grey. I promised myself that from now on, I would learn from him and let him make his own decisions, without trying to interfere or make them for him.

My little brother, an adult. Go figure.

T
he meet was
at an abandoned railroad freight depot close to the edge of Aztec cartel territory. There were five Cannibals present, but more motorcycles than that, so we knew some of them were watching, armed, out of our sight. Some of our men were concealed in the hills, as well, but I brought others to station themselves within the Cannibals’ sight.

Four of the five men stood in a line behind the fifth, whose patch indicated he was the president. If that hadn’t been an indication that this was Skull, I wouldn’t have needed any more clues than his large shaved head, the angular bone structure of his face clearly the reason behind his road name.

“Our friends, the Stone Kings,” he called to us in slightly accented English. “So nice to finally meet you.”

Five of my men, including the two prospects, stayed back, weapons lowered. I approached with my officers, Trig just behind me. This was his first time out on the bike since his injury, and he walked without a limp, though I knew it was costing him pain-wise.

“Skull,” I acknowledged with a chin nod.

“And you are Grey Stone. I am happy to make your acquaintance.” He turned his head slightly, indicating the others behind him. “And so are my men.”

“As are we.” Niceties over, I got to the point. “We hear that the Cannibals are part of the Aztecs cartel now.”

“Yes, yes,” Skull acknowledged with a smooth, toothy smile. “We decided that the benefits were too great to pass up.”

“You may have heard,” I continued, eyeing him closely, “that there have been two recent attacks on the Stone Kings.”

His eyes widened as he pretended to think. “Oh, yes, I believe I had heard that.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Most unfortunate.”

I nodded. “Yes. Most.” I glanced at his men and raised an eyebrow. “The Cannibals wouldn’t happen to have had anything to do with them, would you?”

Skull’s grin widened as he shook his head. “Of course not! The Stone Kings have a truce with the cartel. We would never do anything to harm that relationship!”

“I see.” I turned my eyes back to the men standing behind him and gave them each a cold, calculating stare, one after another. They all stood straight as military, hands clasped in front of them, their faces stony. “So. We’ve established that the Cannibals weren’t involved,” I said, with just a hint of sarcasm. “Would they happen to know anything about who was?”

“I’m sure we do not,” Skull intoned solemnly. “Word of honor.”

A sharp bark of a laugh escaped me. “Word of honor,” I repeated. “Well. In that case. Thank you for your time.” I turned to go, then took a step back toward him. “Congratulations on your new position. Do tell the Aztecs hello for me. And let Lalo know we met.”

“Of course, of course,” Skull nodded, spreading his hands wide. “I look forward to continuing our friendship with the Stone Kings.”

I turned on my heel, and walked away, my men following a few steps behind me, with the exception of those who were standing guard. “What do you think?” Trigger muttered under his breath as we walked away.

“I think everything out of that fucker’s mouth is a steaming pile of shit.”

We arrived at the bikes, and I signaled to Levi to call the men concealed in the trees and tell them to cover the Cannibals until we were out of sight. I turned back toward Trig. “Skull knew about the attacks, that’s clear. I’m betting the Cannibals were behind the attacks, but we still don’t know why.”

He grunted his agreement. “That asshole sure has a fuckin’ punchable face,” he said, holding his hand out and flexing it a few times.

I laughed and clapped him on the back. “You may well get the chance, brother.”

The ride back to town was uneventful, and it gave me some time to collect my thoughts. We were playing the long game, I reminded myself. I still didn’t know what the fuck Skull was up to, but I was pretty sure whatever it was, Lalo didn’t know about it. Lalo and I had a good working relationship. As much as I could trust an outlaw who wasn’t a Stone King, I trusted him. That being the case, I was pretty sure the meet we just had would cause the Cannibals to lay low for a while. In the meantime, I made a mental note to have a face to face with Lalo very soon.

Back at the clubhouse, Trig and I debriefed with Levi and Repo. All of us were of the same mind regarding Skull and the Cannibals. Business done for the moment, and feeling the need to decompress, we wandered out to the bar and Trig and I grabbed a bottle of whiskey to share. But the moment the fiery liquid hit the back of my throat, I found myself thinking about how its color was sort of like the color of Seton’s eyes. My mood soured instantly, and I glowered into the glass before setting it on the table with a loud bang.

Luckily, Trig didn’t seem to notice, or else he thought my sudden change of mood had to do with the Cannibals meet. “Hey,” he said conversationally, “Seems like it’s getting about time to be making some decisions about the prospects.”

“Yeah,” I nodded, trying not to think about Cal as Seton’s sister. “What’s your take?”

“I vote yes on both of them,” he said. “Frankenstein’s a good, solid guy. He’s not the most talkative, but everything I’ve seen about him points to him being a good Stone King. Fucker doesn’t seem to have a lick of fear in him.”

“What about Cal?” Cal had been assigned to drive Trig around while his leg was healing up, so they’d spent a fair amount of time together lately.

He grinned. “Couldn’t do better. Pig had a good instinct about him.” Pig was Cal’s sponsor, the one who had brought him in as a prospect. “Like the fuckin’ son I never had, that one.”

“You’d chase pussy with your son?” I ribbed him.

“Damn straight,” he grinned. “And I told you before. I don’t chase pussy. Pussy chases me.”

I laughed, and agreed with him that it was about time we put the prospects up to a vote. Trig took a shot of whiskey, then poured another and went to talk to Cal, who was across the room with Repo and Frankenstein. I watched them as Trig spoke to Cal, and then Cal’s grin as Trig slapped him on the back. Cal glanced over toward me, and I nodded once at him. Then I sat back in my chair, took a shot of my own, and got lost in my own thoughts.

A few minutes later, a throat cleared next to me. I looked up to see Cal standing beside the table. He looked nervous.

“Grey, can I talk to you for a second?”

I scowled and almost told him to go to hell. Even though I was pretty sure he’d be patched in with no problems, he wasn’t a Stone King yet, and prospects as a rule didn’t speak until they were spoken to. Especially not to the club president. Sensing my anger, he hurriedly continued. “I know I’m not supposed to do this, but it’s not about the club. It’s about See.”

At the sound of her name, my stomach leapt into my throat.

“What about her?” I said through clenched teeth. I stood up until I was towering over him, fairly daring him to continue. As far as I knew, Cal had no idea there had been anything between Seton and me. The only reason I let him continue speaking was because I was scared something had happened to her. I loved Seton too much to let her get involved with a man like me, but I would do anything protect her. To the death, if I had to.

“Well…” Cal murmured. His eyes flicked away from mine nervously, then back again with a look of resolve. “I asked Seton the other day whether you and she… whether there was something going on between you. She said no, but that there had been.”

Goddamnit
. I did not want to be having this conversation at all, let alone with a fucking prospect. “What’s your point?” I asked, my voice a warning.

“Sir,” he began, taking a respectful step back. “I’ve seen her and you both the last couple of months. You’re both… well, excuse me for saying this, sir, but you’re both miserable.” His eyes, which had been cast downward, now met mine. “I’m sorry. I know I’m out of line. But she’s my sister, and I love her. I want her to be happy. And,” he paused. “I think she was happy with you.”

“She’s not cut out to be the old lady of a biker,” I declared flatly.

“Is that why you sent her away?” he asked.

I gave him a warning look and flinched. “That’s none of your goddamn business.”

“I know,” he acknowledged. “But… don’t you think that she gets to choose that for herself?”

He couldn’t have known that that was exactly what Seton had said on our last day together. The words sliced into me as I remembered her stricken face, and the way she had called me a hypocrite. And she hadn’t been wrong. Here was Cal, on the verge of becoming a member of the Stone Kings, and I had told her he needed to choose for himself what was right. As for Seton, I had chosen for the both of us, and Cal was right. We were both fucking miserable.

I told Cal he’d said his piece, and that the conversation was over. He didn’t argue, and went back to do more shots with the other men. But his words had had their effect. That night, as I sat outside on my back deck, staring out into the darkness, I made my decision.

I would go see her. I would.

But not yet.

I’d give her time to get over me. To move on with her life. So she could really choose.

Then, after that, if she still wanted me…

I’d never let her go again.