“You know I didn’t let you die tonight.”
That shuts me up.I should insist on calling a friend.Sugar would let me sleep over in a heartbeat.Even Ginger.I should tell the biker to leave.But I just sit there, breathing the warm dark scent of smoke on his jacket while he drives again.
Humbug
Girl shouldn’t be in my truck.Pretty thing in a red coat, long legs poking out, brown eyes too bright for midnight.Way too young for me.But when she stood there outside the bar, arms wrapped around herself like she could hold all that adrenaline in, I couldn’t leave her.
The cops did their song and dance, asked if I’d used “excessive force.”Hell, I could’ve used more.
Carol.Her name fits in my mouth like something worth sinning over.Twenty-two, all sugar and soft edges, but she didn’t crumble.When that punk pointed the gun, she moved smart.Quick.Brave.The sound of glass shattering still echoes within me.Her ashtray swing had perfect follow-through.
She’s looking out the window now, dark hair haloed by the dash lights, and every nerve in me wants to touch her.Not just want.Ache.Haven’t felt that in a long damn time.
Trina’s voice ghosts in my head.You’re poison, Jack.Everything you touch, you destroy.
Maybe she’s right.But Carol doesn’t look ruined.She looks alive.
We hit the edge of town, snow starting again, and I take the back road that snakes toward the Executioners’ compound.The world narrows to headlights on white.
“You always take strangers home?”she asks.
“Only the ones that bleed on my watch,” I say.“You didn’t.But close enough.”
“I’m not your responsibility.”
I glance over.“Too late.”
She exhales like she’s fighting a laugh and loses.It’s small, nervous, but real.That sound shouldn’t make my chest tighten, but it does.My pants tighten, too.
The clubhouse glows ahead, converted barn, big iron doors, bikes lined like steel horses under snow.Music leaks from inside, none of that Christmas shit.I park by the side entrance.
“Stay close,” I tell her.
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
She rolls her pretty eyes but follows.The bar inside looks like trouble.Smells worse.A few brothers glance up, none ask questions when they see me bring in the girl.But I know I won’t hear the end of it later.
I nod at Frost, the enforcer on duty, and he nods back, silent understanding.
Later.
I lead her past the main room, down the short hall to the spare quarters I’ve been using.Small bed, space heater, nothing fancy.
“You can crash here,” I tell her.
She hesitates at the doorway.“You trust me?”
“I don’t keep anything worth stealing,” I say, about to laugh at the irony.I should be asking her if she trusts me.
“That’s not what I meant.”
I meet her eyes.“Yeah.I trust you.”
She steps inside, brushes her fingers over the blanket and momentarily, I forget how to breathe.
“They’re clean,” I say.“Just washed… Not that they were dirty.”I didn’t want her to think I had a woman in here.“I own a garage.”
