Stephanie Tyler - Vipers Run

He leaned into me again, the scruff of his cheek brushing my ear. “It’s already happened, Calla. So fucking deal with it.”

Was it time to surrender to the inevitable? What could it hurt?

It could break your heart, baby girl.

My mother’s voice. Grams’s too. Both strong women almost done in by equally strong and dangerous men.

Although no, that wasn’t right—those men were dangerous, but not strong. Because they’d never come back to do what was right. Cage was here, despite everything, despite the threats to his own life. According to Tenn, Cage had risked it again to come make sure I was all right. How could I walk away from that?

God, I was in so much trouble. I should run, out the door, down the street, beg the nearest police officer to get me home . . .

Home.

Where’s that again, Calla?

But no, I wouldn’t do that, because I had nowhere else to go. I’d never let myself be defeated, and I wouldn’t start now.

I’d had dark, dangerous men circle me before. I seemed to be a magnet for them. I was independent and they took that as a personal affront or challenge. But that’s not why I did it. Not at all.

I saw what dangerous men did to the women in my family, how it left them with nothing, beat up and destroyed. It started with Grams, continued with Mom, who loved a bad man while never giving Jameson Bradley a second chance. And it continued with me trusting the wrong boy.

I’d watched love ravage those women until they’d become nearly unrecognizable. Loving the wrong man wasn’t a crime, but I began to believe that it should’ve been. Because it rendered both my mom and Grams incapable of loving any other man—any good man—and there were several in each of their lives that came calling.

I never went as far as to say my family was cursed, but if you looked at the long line of disappointments, I don’t know if you’d agree or not. Or maybe you’d simply say it was a self-fulfilling prophecy. And maybe it was, but I wasn’t planning on getting near any dangerous man to find out. I’d already done it with that phone call, fallen in love with a dying, dangerous man who stole my heart in ten minutes and would never let it go.

Or maybe I was just protecting myself. To let Cage walk away seemed like a foolish, selfish thing to do when I’d been given a second chance with him.

I’d already fallen too fast—completely, ridiculously, head-spinningly fast—and there was no escape from it. But I couldn’t shake from my mind one notion that my mother ingrained in me.

You take a man’s money, you give him power.

And I was never giving the only thing I had away. And that was why I’d never touched the settlement money from Jeffrey Harris’s family.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tenn come back into the room. I glanced over at him, then gave Cage a hard stare. “I’ll go with you. For protection. Obviously, there’s a connection between us. I’ll share your bed, but I’m not yours to order around. You don’t own me, Cage. No one ever will.”

Cage stared. Tenn gave a low whistle, but, smart man that he was, said nothing.

Cage was either very stupid or very brave, because he did speak. “In or out of bed?”

“What?”

“You said you’re not mine to order around—is that in or out of bed?”

I swallowed hard, hated the thrill that went through me at the thought of Cage and bed. “Neither.”

He shook his head slowly. “You can think that it’ll end there, sweetheart. But the MC doesn’t work like that. I don’t work like that. It’s a different world, like nothing you’ve ever been involved in before. It’s going to blow your mind. I’m as goddamned possessive as I know you are. You want to go in thinking we’ll play this fast and loose, make it a casual thing—you try it.”

“You’re saying it’s not going to work?”

“I’m saying that my MC doesn’t fuck its way through women like you. They’ll be hands-off because of me. Every MC woman wants the opposite of what you just said. Every guy too, if he’s not too stupid to admit it.”

“Do you?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“I can’t tell if that’s guilt.”

“I don’t fuck who I pity.” His harsh language, self-absorbedness all clenched in my belly, fueling the already big ball of want. “So if I don’t own you, then you don’t own me? You can handle that?”

Behind me, Tenn cursed, a warning, and I had to stand my ground. “I can.”

I’d just lied to him, and it wasn’t the first time.

Calla was still packing when Cage heard the unmistakable roar of tricked-out bikes breaking the quiet of the North Carolina night.

Tenn stilled. “That’s not Tals.”

Definitely not. “Heathens.” They rigged their bikes loud and obnoxious, and their enforcers were rigged the loudest. “I wasn’t followed.”

“Could’ve been info in Bernie’s office on me. Could just be that they followed her here and they were biding their time, waiting for you,” Tenn said as he drew the blinds, then looked through the side.

“Now you say that?”

“Not like I saw Heathens hanging around the beach. I think I would’ve noticed.”

“Some of them aren’t as sloppy as the others.” He listened again. “They’re three blocks away.”

“You scare me with that shit.”

Hell, this’d been his bread and butter. Still would be, if Preacher would take him back in.

Tenn glanced at him. “You gotta go.”

“I’m not leaving you with this.”

“You’ve leaving with Calla.”

“This is about me, not her,” Cage said.

“I’m sure. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve got three assholes to contend with.” Tenn paused. “If they find you here . . .”

“Let them.”

“You’re not up to this. Not with Calla by your side. What’s more important this time—the fight or the girl?”

Tenn’s eyes challenged him, reminding him why he’d come here in the first place. “Both, Tenn. They’re two sides of the same damned coin.”

But nevertheless, he’d pulled his keys from his pocket. “Call Tals.”

“Already did. I’ll let you know what this is all about.”

“You’re going to give them a chance to talk?”

“I’m feeling charitable.” Tenn grinned as he flexed his fingers.

“You know there are more waiting for me to run so they can follow.”

“Counting on it,” Tenn said. “I’m also counting on you outriding them. You always could.”

“I’d rather fight this one than run,” Cage said quietly.

“You think I want to see you fight? You think I can’t?” Tenn asked. “I want to see you get the girl. So get. The fucking. Girl.”

He turned away from Cage, focusing all his energy and concentration on the front door. Calla came out of the bedroom, bag slung over her arm, looking hot in a borrowed black leather jacket of Tenn’s.

“What’s going on?”

“We’ve got to go, Calla.”

She glanced nervously at Tenn, whose shoulders had squared. The energy in the room had changed palpably. The fight was in Tenn. “What’s that sound?”

“Heathens MC.”

“Are they after you?”

“And you.” Normally, he’d stay and fight, not let Tenn take on the burden. But he couldn’t risk Calla, and Tenn knew that better than anyone. And so Cage did what he’d never done before.

He ran.

She paled and he grabbed her, picked her up and walked her out the back door. Took her bag while handing her a helmet, and once she got on the bike behind him, he told her, “Hang on, Calla. That’s all you’ve got to do.”

As he pulled out, he noted the Heathens’ bikes parked in Tenn’s front yard. And where there were three Heathens, more were waiting in the wings. They’d figured that if he’d gotten away, he’d head for the most open road and, fuck it all, they were right.

The bike had the advantage. He slid in and out of truck traffic as Calla held on to him so tightly, her face pressed to his back. He was taking her life in his hands and he’d already nearly taken it away once before.

But there was no choice now. Because saving her, getting her out of this mess was now the only option he had.

He forgot about Calla. Worrying about the girl in the bitch seat was a surefire way to get them both killed. And he could ride the goddamned shit out of a bike better than anyone he knew. And he’d do that now.

He’d ridden for his life before. It took a single-minded focus, and now, with the smell of tar, exhaust and fear swirling around him, the wind rushed madly against his face, battering his body at times, and at others pushing it forward.

His hands tightened around the bars. He had to fight the urge not to clutch the throttle too hard, refused to freeze and make everything stall out.

He couldn’t think when he rode like this. He just had to react. Push forward, refuse to look back, ride like the devil was at his heels and his soul was in question.

Wasn’t it?

And he wove in and out of the lanes, throwing off the men behind them, keeping the few cars he saw on the road out of his drama. The bike danced for him like a pliant but formidable partner.

I held on to Cage tightly and concentrated on not distracting him. My pulse beat a tattoo and I could barely breathe, but the bike wove through the roads smoothly.

We had to be doing close to eighty miles per hour, and eighty on a bike was so different from what it was in a car. My body vibrated so hard I wasn’t sure if I’d break or come, and that had to be the oddest situation I’d ever felt in my life.

The bike swerved as Cage headed off-road, and my body dipped right, the heavy steel horse between my legs powering me along. Saving me.