Kristen Ashley - Motorcycle Man

I stared down at him and felt my nose start to sting as I thought of sweet, generous, totally in love with my best friend Elliott.

Then I whispered, “Damn, I don’t think I’m better anymore.”

Then I dropped my head and did a face plant in Tack’s chest.

I felt his hand glide into my hair and cup the back of my head as I heard and felt him mutter, “Baby.”

I turned my head, pressed my cheek to his chest and Tack’s hand slid to under my ear but his thumb moved to stroke my cheek as I deep breathed to fight back my tears.

Then I said softly, “Don’t be mad at him, Tack. It wasn’t cool, him asking you to do that. It was messed up. But it sounds like he’s desperate and I always knew he’d do anything for Lanie. He’s got enough to worry about. He doesn’t need to worry about pissing off scary biker dude.”

“Babe, he’s still at the Compound which, right now, is maybe the safest place in Denver he could be.”

I lifted my head and slid my hand up his chest to rest my chin on it as my eyes went to his.

“You’re protecting him?”

“For now, until I decide what to do with him, but, Red, that don’t mean I’m not still pissed at him. Comin’ to your house, talkin’ to me on your deck, with you and my kids in the house and asking me somethin’ that fucked up?” He shook his head. “No.”

I nodded because he was right. What Elliott did was a big no.

Therefore, to change the subject, I asked, “What did he do for the mob?”

“Better question, what didn’t he do? Hacks. Creative accounting. Creative banking. Wire taps. Camera feeds. Drops. Pickups. Messenger. It’s lucky this guy works from home and I’ll lay cake down on the fact he got zero real work done in the last six months, he’s been so visible doing shit for Lescheva.”

“Lescheva?”

“Grigori Lescheva, top guy in the Russian mob and distant relative of your boy Elliott.”

“Oh,” I whispered, my eyes slid to the side and I murmured, “All so Lanie could have peonies in August.”

Tack’s fingers still in my hair tensed against my scalp and my eyes slid back to him. “No. That woman in there with her mountain of Kleenex would be happy without peonies in August, Red. This is about him growin’ a pair, mannin’ up and tellin’ her he can’t hand her the world. She didn’t want the world. She wanted him. He didn’t have enough confidence in himself to believe that a woman like her would want a man like him and in the end, he took away the only thing she really ever wanted.”

Um… wow. I liked that Tack knew that and I also liked how he said it.

I didn’t tell him that. Instead, I whispered, “This is true.”

“I know it’s true,” he whispered back.

“If he’s broke, how was he going to pay you half a million dollars to whack this Lescheva guy?” I asked.

“Provin’ irrefutably he’s a moron, he was gonna use his skills to steal it from the mob.”

Yes, that proved irrefutably that Elliott was a moron. Big time.

I turned my head, pressed my cheek against my hand on his chest and sighed.

Tack’s fingers tensed against my scalp again and he ordered, “Come here, baby, I want a kiss then I gotta get some shuteye. I’m fuckin’ wiped.”

I blinked at my room.

Now was the time to tell him he wasn’t sleeping in my bed and he needed to go to another one. The problem was, he was naked in my bed and I was resting on his chest.

Oh boy. How did I let that happen?

I decided to blame Elliott and Tack’s tats.

Then I pulled in breath, lifted my head and looked at Tack.

“Uh… maybe you should sleep elsewhere tonight?” I suggested what I hoped sounded more like a requirement.

He grinned, his fingers slid to the back of my head and he started pulling me to him, saying, “Quit fuckin’ around, Red, I’m tired.”

“I wasn’t, erm… fucking around.”

His hand stopped putting pressure on my head and his brows knit.

“Say again?”

“I think you should, um… probably, uh…” Damn! “With Lanie here, you know… you should…”

His hand left my hair, both hands went under my armpits and he hauled me up his chest then rolled into me so he was on top. Then he gave me the goodnight kiss to beat all goodnight kisses. It was long, hard, deep, wet and utterly delicious.

When he was done, I was breathing heavily, my lips were tingling, my nipples were tingling and there were other places that had started to tingle but he’d stopped. Then he rolled to his back, reached an arm out to turn off the light on my nightstand, the room was plunged into darkness and he tucked me into his side.

My cheek was to his shoulder, my hand on his abs and I was trying to control my breath.

Once I got my breath under control, I said quietly into the darkness, “I guess this means you aren’t going to go home.”

His arm around my waist got tight before it relaxed and he replied with humor in his tone, “Yeah, Red, that’s what it means.”

I wondered what he would have done if I hadn’t slithered out of his room when he’d kicked me out of his bed and instead just stayed. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him but I couldn’t call up the courage.

Then I realized I had no choice but to sleep with a naked Tack in my bed. And even though he’d been very cool about Elliott, with Lanie and even with me, this annoyed me to an extreme.

He’d said, You don’t fit into all the shit that’s swirlin’ in my life right now unless I can make you fit. That’s all I got to give you and that’s all you’re gonna get. And you’re gonna take what I have to give, Red. You’re not gonna resign. You’re not gonna disappear. You’re gonna be where I want you to be, you’re gonna do what I want you to do and you’re gonna listen to what I have to say and if you don’t do it, I’ll find a way to make you do it.

And when he’d said that, clearly he wasn’t lying.

I decided we needed to have a conversation and when we had our next one we needed to have it when I wasn’t flat on my back with Tack on top of me.

I rolled away from him to my other side, tucking my hands under my cheek and staring into the darkness.

He rolled with me, his arm curving tight around my ribs and pulling me deep into his body as his knee came up, taking mine with it and he leaned in, partially pinning me to the bed.

I’d rather cut off my own arm than ever hurt you.

He’d said that too.

Mixed messages and multiple personalities.

I closed my eyes tight, pulled in a deep breath and then let it go. When I did, Tack’s arm moved out and up, his hand found my wrist, pulled it down and his fingers laced in mine before he tucked both our hands tight to my chest.

Then he whispered in my ear, “Sleep, baby, it’s all gonna be all right.”

He thought I was worried about Elliott and Lanie and he was being sweet about it.

I closed my eyes tighter, took another deep breath and let it go.

Then I whispered back, “Okay, Tack.”

“’Night, Red.”

“’Night.”

I felt his lips touch the back of my neck then I felt his weight settle into me again and a little while later I heard his steady breathing.

A little while after that, mine joined his.

I woke and felt the morning, bright Colorado sunshine on my eyelids. I rolled to my back and opened my eyes. Then I rolled to my other side and smelled musk and man.

Tack.

I breathed deep.

Mm. Nice.

I blinked and saw my alarm clock said it was ten to nine and I stared.

Ten to nine!

Damn! I was supposed to be at work an hour ago!

I threw the covers back and scrambled out of bed. My feet hit the ground running but I tripped and went flying, righting myself just before I took a header. I looked back to see what I’d tripped on and it was Tack’s boots.

Then I stared at Tack’s boots beside my bed, liking the sight of them lying there just like I liked the smell of him on my sheets.

Holy hell.

I scurried to the door, threw it open and was going to head to the bathroom but I heard the murmur of voices coming from the kitchen and stopped. I looked to Lanie’s door and saw it was open. Something weird seeped into me, I stopped rushing and walked slowly toward the living room, rounded the wall and moved just into the kitchen.

My kitchen was long and narrow, running the length of the house. At the front of it was the dining area, the bulk of the kitchen was beyond a short bar with two barstools in front of it. One of those barstools held Lanie’s firm, slim ass, her body encased in a shimmery, short silk kimono-style robe complete with beautiful embroidery on the back most of which you couldn’t see because her gleaming, thick dark hair was flowing down her back. Across the bar from her was Tack, wearing his gray tee from the day before and his jeans. They both held coffee mugs. Lanie was in profile and she’d not twenty-four hours ago found out her beloved fiancé was the kind of guy who would track down a biker in a failed attempt to have someone whacked. Not to mention, she hated Tack and wanted me to quit my job so I’d never see him again. But I still saw they both were smiling so big it looked like they’d just stopped laughing.

Something in my heart spasmed at this sight. Lanie was my friend and she had been for fifteen years. I knew she was beautiful, I’d been walking at her side or sitting on a barstool next to her or at a table with her enough times to notice the appreciating glances, see the drinks sent her way, watch the men slide in beside her but that was the way of the world. Beautiful women got attention. And she was my Lanie, I was happy for her that she did.