Unrequited (Fallen Aces MC #1) (19 page)

TWENTY-THREE

King

two days later

I couldn’t sleep for shit all night. I texted Elena expecting some bullshit blow-off about why she needed to stay with Carlos, and instead I’m meeting her today. How’s that for a turn of events? I kill the engine and look up at the house I know intimately—my parents’ house.

I told Mom I’d come over for lunch a few months back and reneged. Things at the club seemed so much more important, but after lodging a bullet in Hugo I figured I should probably follow through before something happens to me that means I can’t.

The sun is bright today, catching the metal wind chime that hangs from the porch and blinding me as I walk up the path. I didn’t ring ahead; I figured I’d surprise them.

The wood steps creak on my ascent and as I step on to the porch Mom opens the door with a grin splitting her face clean in two. “Well hello, you.”

“Hey, Mom.”

“What made you change your mind? Thought you’d decided you were too cool to come home for lunch.”

I chuckle and pull her into a hug. “You look beautiful, as usual.”

“Stop sucking up and spit it out.” She pats my back and then holds me at arm’s length. “At least they’re feeding you well.”

“Not for too much longer.”

“No?” She steps aside, letting me go inside first.

“No. The clubhouse is gettin’ crowded. I signed up on my own place this morning.”

“You could have come home.”

Dad sits at the dining table in his coveralls, lunch spread out before him, mimicking Mom’s words as she speaks.

I laugh and step over to shake his hand when Mom lets out a long, low whistle. “Look at this, Terry.” She grabs me by the shoulders and spins me around so my back is to Dad. “They gave him the patch.”

“Moving up in the world then,” Dad teases.

“Somethin’ like that.” I take a seat beside him and nod when Mom gestures to the pitcher of juice.

“How’s that bike of yours running? Given it a service lately?” Dad and his machinery; he cares for it more than himself.

“Last week. Changed the oil and cleaned the plugs. Ordered new belts to have on hand.”

He waves a cut sandwich at me. “You should have enough parts on hand to strip and rebuild that machine twice.”

“Yes, Dad.”

He chuckles, tearing into the bread with his teeth.

“When do you move in to your new place then?” Mom asks, sliding the filled glass over.

“Soon as I want.”

“Well, if you need to borrow any furniture while you get yourself set up, you know we still have all your bedroom suite, and a few of the old lounge chairs.”

“Thanks. I might take you up on that yet.”

“What’s been going down?” Dad asks before chasing his bite with a drink. “You keeping out of trouble?”

“As best I can.”

They both stare at me in silence. I forget my parents can read my expressions like a damn book.

“A little bit’s going on, but nothing I don’t think I got a handle on.”

Mom jabs her finger my way, addressing Dad. “A year with those looneys and he’s forgotten how to speak properly.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” I say shaking my head. “I just get ridiculed if I speak like I went to a private school.”

“You did go to a private school,” Dad says. “And we paid good money for you to.”

“Farm going all right?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Eh.” He shrugs. “It’s making us enough to live off.”

Farming used to be a booming sector around here, guaranteeing a man enough to have his family live comfortably if he was willing to work for it, but these days, success is measured by whether you need to visit the financial aid offices or not.

“We’re thinking about dividing the property.” Mom drops the news as though she’s sharing dinner plans. “Selling off the back section in five-acre lots.”

“Wow. When?”

“Lawyer’s drawing up the title deeds for us as we speak,” Dad says, reaching for another sandwich. “You eating?”

I nod and snag a roast beef. “I take it that means you’ll be downsizing the herd then?” The farm size is perfect for feed rotation. Reduced pasture means reduced grazing capability.

“Halving it,” Mom answers. “I think we’d get bored if we gave it up altogether.”

“You’ll probably enjoy the change of pace,” I say, before taking a bite. The homemade relish Mom makes has my tongue singing. I’ve missed her food.

“What’s troubling you, Son?” Dad asks. I know the asshole’s taking the opportunity to throw it out there while my mouth’s full.
Bastard.
“You look tired. Anything we can help with?”

I shake my head and swallow down the food. “Let me think how to word it.” I take another bite of sandwich and mull over how to tell them what’s bothering me without giving away club business.

Mom rises from the table and starts clearing away empty dishes as I finish the sandwich. I could just pose it as a hypothetical situation. Should work that way.

“If you had an employer who didn’t operate by the same code of conduct as his employees, what would you do?” I’ve pretty much given the game away, but they still don’t know the worst of my problems—Elena.

“Confront him,” Dad answers. “Are their indiscretions making your job harder, or is there no change?”

“Harder. Increasing the likelihood of workplace injury.”

Dad exchanges a glance with Mom as she returns to the table with a tin of raspberry slice.

“My problem is I don’t know if I should stay with the job and hope for change, or move on.”

“You do what feels right for you,” Mom says quietly, wiping crumbs from the edge of the tin.

Dad leans his elbow on the table and frowns. “If the situation at your ‘workplace’”—he lifts his eyebrow at the word—“changed, would you enjoy your job?”

I nod. “For sure.”

“Then why wait for change?”

I frown, picking up a piece of the slice with real raspberry jam and a solid chocolate top. Heaven. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t sit around and wait for things to change. Because if they do, it’s either going to be for the worse, or the person who
does
create the change will be just another person you don’t want as a boss.”

“You think I should try to change things myself then?”

He nods, taking some slice also. “Be the change. Petition your ideas and align
yourself
to be the boss one day.”

I chuckle and put the whole slice in my mouth, chewing and swallowing while I shake my head at him. “You basically told me to try and overthrow the president.”

He stares me dead in the eye, not an ounce of humor on his face. “Why not? You’re a smart man with his head and heart in the right place.”

My heart beats a little faster at the mere thought of entertaining the idea.
He might be onto something, though.
Maybe I could lead the club and steer it away from the direction Apex has it heading in. Clean it up and make it a safe haven. I don’t have to do anything shady; I can pull the right moves to get there. Become an officer, move through the ranks. Elections are open every five years, unless the remainder of the board votes an officer out. I wouldn’t have to wait too long.

“You think I’d be good at it?”

Dad smirks. “You’re asking your parents if you’d be good at something.”

“Right.” I chuckle and reach for another piece of slice.

If I want the change, I have to be the change. Guess that could apply to Elena as well.

If I want her to be mine, I have to be the change that makes it happen. I can’t continue to sit around and wait for the timing to be right—who’s to say it ever will?

Looks like my schedule’s suddenly become pretty fucking busy.

TWENTY-FOUR

Elena

My palms are clammy as hell. I’ve given up rubbing them over my leather pants to try and dry them. I just end up with black dye wearing off over my hands.

Carlos didn’t take much convincing to let me go shopping again. I told him I wanted to buy the ‘practical shit’ he asked for: dresses, jewelry, and accessories. Sully said I wouldn’t be guarded; he’d rather find somewhere to have a quiet drink than watch me try on item after item in a dress shop. He’s going to drop me off, and pick me up four hours later. I almost fell on my ass with shock. I’ve been checking out the window the whole way here for flying pigs.

Sully turns the Escalade into the parking lot for the mall and brings the car to a stop. He twists in his seat and looks at me over his shoulder. “Four hours. I’m risking my neck leaving you alone, so don’t do anything stupid. Understood?”

I hold up my phone, showing him the time on the screen. “Four hours. Noted.”

My legs bop impatiently as Sully gets out and opens my door. “I’ll be back in this exact spot to get you. If I can’t get a space close by, I’ll double park, so make sure you’re here.”

I nod, rocking in my seat with my purse on my lap, willing him to get out of the damn way and let me out. He steps aside and I leap into a quick walk, waving him off over my shoulder. My legs ache with the need to run, but I don’t want him to get too suspicious. There’s nothing off about me being eager—it’s been three months since I’ve been anywhere alone. But running? Yeah, it’s not the Black Friday sales.

The doors to the elevator open, and I walk inside, turning in time to see Sully back out of the park. As soon as the doors slide shut, I have my phone awake and a message to King underway.

I’m here
.

I’d let him know last night what mall I’d be at. The display illuminates, my heartbeat quickens as it does. Besides Mama, he’s the only other thing that helps me get up each morning. Life under Carlos’s oppression is hard—too hard some days.

On my way.

He said he’d wait nearby so he didn’t get spotted. The elevator doors open, and I step out into the street, finding a bench to sit on while I scroll through to Mama’s number and hit dial. It rings. And rings. And rings some more before the telco disconnects.

I swallow down the rising sickness.

Something’s wrong. I know it.

If only I had another way to reach her. I ring anybody official, and questions will be asked about my hasty marriage after Papa’s death, and who I’m married to. I can’t afford to draw that kind of attention to Carlos and mess things up.

Where are we meeting?

I sit and wait for King to reply, aware that he’s unable to while he rides.
He’ll be here soon, with me.
Relief hits me so hard that I fight back the urge to cry. I’ve been living minute to minute in this lie that I’m doing okay for too long, and the stress is taking its toll on my mental health. I’m not okay. I’m married to a drug lord to save Mama from drug lords. Go figure . . .

I lose myself watching the people walk by, looking at what they wear, which stores the bags they carry are from, and imagine what each of their lives must be like. Women with children, businessmen, businesswomen—they all have somewhere to go, a life to live.

I wonder what they think when they see me? What do they think my story is?

The rumble of a motorcycle grows and echoes off the shop-fronts, snapping me from my daydream. My heartbeat is a soft whoosh in my ears as I spin around and watch him pull up on the side of the road behind me. King backs the bike in, head down as he watches the back wheel. He kicks the stand out, removes his helmet, and turns to look over his shoulder at me before he dismounts.

“Hey, baby.” He grins and steps toward me as I stand from the bench and move toward him also.

“Hey.” I lean in with my hands on his chest for stability and give him a chaste kiss. “I wasn’t sure if you’d get in touch.”

He smirks, eyeing me head to toe. “Jesus, woman. You think I’d ever be able to say no to you?”

“Probably has the same likelihood of me being able to stay away from you, huh?” I move a hand to his shoulder, sweeping it over the rise of his traps. “You look good.”

“You look fuckin’ amazing.” He bends quickly and catches the hem of my dress with his fingers, flicking it up before letting it billow back to my legs. “I like this.”

Anybody else and I would have slapped them to the ground for that, but with King? I’m wondering why I wore panties.

He tips his head to the side and scratches at his neck. “You want to do this here, or somewhere else?”

“Here, of course,” I sass. “I’ve got a thing for exhibitionism.”

He smiles and nods to the bike. “You know what I mean. Get on before I make what you said true.”

We ride out of town, and my heart soars when he pulls into the same cabins we’d stayed at last time. He even manages to get us the same room number. It’s nothing special; a two-room cabin set out amongst nine others just like it, but in a world where not much is just for us, it’s ours. It’s one of the few places that I don’t have memories of Carlos.

With a kick from King’s boot, the door is shut and I’m left staring down the only man in my life who has been able to make my legs literally buckle with a look alone. His dark blond hair is ruffled from riding and falls in messy sections over his forehead. The lengths draw my gaze down to his intense green eyes that watch me do a slow take of him. I swallow as his full lips tip up on one side.

His eyes roam over my body, and of all the things to think about, I realize I’m still wearing the plain wedding band Carlos made me put on. I clasp my hands behind my back, not ready to tell him just yet, and wriggle it off, throwing it to the carpeted living area with a flick of my wrist.
Must remember to look for it later.

“What was that?”

Damn it.
“What?”

“Did you just throw something behind you?” He marches around me, making the tiny cabin look like a shoebox with his size.

“No.” I catch him by the sides of his cut and try to tug his hard body to mine. It’s like trying to move a rock.

“I saw something land over here.” He stoops down and picks up the damn ring, holding it between his thick fingers. “What’s this?”

“Do we have to talk about it now?” I snap. Selfish as it is, I wanted to spend time with him first, time without something as problematic as this ruining the mood.

“Yes, we do.” He holds it out before him. “Why did you throw it away?”

The way he looked at me a second before, I was ready to skip straight to the bedroom. Now? He’s making me mad at him, not that any of this is his fault. My anger toward him is unjustified, but I can’t stop the way I feel—I need an outlet, and unfortunately he’s the closest one.

“I didn’t want you seeing it.”

“Is it . . .” He turns it over in his palm. “Is it a wedding ring?”

“Bravo.” I stomp past him and slump into the only armchair, my hands jammed between my knees.

“You tied the knot then?” He cocks one eyebrow at me. It’s the sexiest thing at the worst time.

“Yes.” I feel like a teenager admitting to the sheriff that I tagged the side of the local hall.

His back finds the wall, and he lifts both eyebrows as he checks the ring out. I launch from the chair, annoyed that he’s managed to ruin the mood, or perhaps that Carlos has ruined it without even being here, and try to take the ring from him.

“Uh-uh.” He closes his fist around it and holds it over his head. “Tell me why the fuck you went through with it.”

“I don’t see what difference it makes.” I jump, trying to get it from him, but my hands keep slipping off his wrist, failing to get him to even move. His belt buckle and the studs on his leather cuff scratch at my flesh as I throw myself against him, doing what I can to wrestle his hand down.

“It matters to me,” he growls. “I’m tryin’ to understand this whole thing. You said you don’t love him, so why do it?”

I sigh, shoulders slumping as I quit my struggle against him. “I’m married to the asshole so I don’t get deported.”

King’s brow pinches and he throws the gold band across the other side of the room as though the act of touching it disgusts him. In a way, I understand. If I thought I could get away with it, I’d leave it off as well.

I gasp as he wraps his huge hands around my upper arms and holds me firm. He looks hurt. “If you were that fuckin’ desperate to stay here, I would have done it.” He lets me go with a shove and storms the three steps it takes him to cross the room. “Why him?”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

He lets out a bitter laugh and tips his head back to stare at the ceiling with his back to me. “Yeah, right. So his money and status had nothin’ to do with it?”

“Is that what you think of me?” I look around and grab the closest thing—a stack of tourism pamphlets—and throw them at him.

They hit his back with a dull
thwap
before skittering to the floor and slowly fanning out over the carpet. He turns around to face me, brow tight.
Whoops.
“You fuckin’ throw shit at me again and I
will
fuckin’ tie your hands behind your back until we’re done. Got it?”

Yes, sir.
Why the hell does that sound so appealing? I look around for something else to throw when he closes the gap between us and then bends a little to level our gaze. Lines pinch around the sides of his eyes as he looks over my face. “Why didn’t you have a choice, Elena?”

His question makes me second-guess everything I’ve done. Could I have got away if I tried a little harder? I didn’t even run when we got out of the car the night Papa died. I never risked it to know if I would have stood a chance at escaping.

I just took Carlos’s threats as gospel and assumed I couldn’t.

“Mama, she lives in Cuba still.” I drop my gaze to the floor. “She’s in trouble, and I can’t get her here without help. He said he’d pay for her to fly to America.”

“If you married him?”

I nod, burying my face in my hands. “He says something about another way I can be useful to him, another reason to keep me around, but he won’t tell me what.”

King lets out a heavy breath. His hands gently circle my wrists and he forces me to show my face. “Is your mama on her way then?”

“No. He won’t talk about her—shuts me down every time I ask. I don’t really understand what he’s trying to do with me.” Now that the fight has gone, I’m tired. All I want to do is lie down, but King’s hands on my wrists keep me upright. I slump against his hold anyway, hoping he’ll let me go.

He picks me up instead, and guides my legs around his hips. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I rest my head on his shoulder and let him carry me over to the armchair. He sits carefully on the edge, giving me space for my legs that are still wrapped behind him.

“We can talk more about it later,” he says quietly, stroking a firm hand over the back of my head. “For now, I just want to enjoy being able to touch you again.”

My heart breaks. He’s so perfect, and yet he’ll never truly be mine.

“I feel safe with you,” I whisper, tightening my hold. “I feel like this is all there should be.”

“It could be.”

A bitter laugh escapes my lips. “Yeah, right. In what world?”

“Ours.”

I wish it were so easy. But everything comes with a price. I’m never going to have much more than this, right here.

And it hurts.

“I have four hours,” I say. “Sully will be waiting for me at the mall.” I glance across to where my purse lies. “It’s probably closer to three hours once we take off the time to get back.”

“Then we have three hours,” he says, guiding my head off his shoulder, “where I get to give you a break for a few minutes here and there.”

Three hours
. I’d take three minutes of time alone with him if that was all I was offered.

I lean back, taking his face in my hands and stroking my palms over his cheeks. “Show me what it could be like. Can we pretend? Spend the whole time in bed like this is our lazy Sunday?”

“Sounds perfect.” His lips twitch up in a small smile, and I trace the movement with my thumb.

His breath catches as I lean forward and place my lips hesitantly on his. The soft lengths of his beard tickle my chin. I move my lips slowly over his, feeling the tempo of his warm breath increase as I do. We kissed before, but this is so different. Before was in the heat of passion, stealing what we could in case there was only the one time. But now, I have the time to show him how deeply he affects me. He closes his eyes and mimics my movements, gently pinching my bottom lip between his. I shuffle about as we repeat the tender touch, allowing him to tug my dress from underneath me so he can roam his hands up the inside over my back.

The moment is slow, and thoughtful. Each path of my hands over his shoulders, chest, and arms is done with precision. I’m mind-mapping my perfect man. Committing him to memory. Saving some for later.

“Take these off and sit back down.” King tugs the side of my panties, leaning back to give me room to get up.