Beyond Reckless

  “Hey! I happen to like this apartment.”

  “Charlotte, seriously?” I cock my head and study her. “It doesn’t take a genius to realize you’re barely scraping by. So why is he taking your money?”

  She huffs and throws the checkbook in the desk, slamming the drawer shut.

  “He paid for my first year of law school. All right? I’m paying him back because I don’t want to owe that son of a bitch anything.”

  “How much do you still owe him?”

  “I don’t know.” She narrows her eyes. “Why? What’s that caveman brain of yours cooking up?”

  I slide my gaze away. She’s too fucking smart for me.

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t get involved in this, Marcel. It’s not worth it.”

  “Get involved how?”

  “Uh, like go tell him he’s a douche for taking money from me.”

  “Oh. No, that’s not what I had in mind at all.”

  She stares at me a little longer before shaking her head. “Let it go.”

  “Okay.” Yeah, not happening.

  Someone knocks on the front door and since I’m standing right there, I open it. Carter recoils.

  “Jesus, what are you, living here now?”

  “Good to see you too, buddy.” I take a step back, allowing him to enter.

  His gaze shoots to Charlotte and he shifts from foot to foot. Nervous? “I’ll be in the kitchen,” I excuse myself. Not like there are a lot of options to give them privacy.

  “I’m so sorry, Char,” Carter says in a low voice.

  “It’s fine.”

  “Are you going to be all right? I’m waiting for that dickhead at the Chamber of Commerce to cut a check for the mural I did or I wouldn’t ask.”

  “I’ll be fine. If it wasn’t for you living there, I wouldn’t do it.”

  “Don’t say that. She really can’t breathe without the A/C. Especially when it’s humid like this.”

  “Well then maybe she should stop smoking.”

  Carter sighs. “I know.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to hassle you. Do you want me to call the electric company? Explain she needs it turned on asap because of a medical condition?”

  “Would you? You can throw around the lawyer thing and make it sound more official than I can.”

  She snorts. “Text me the number they left you on the yellow slip and the account number. I’ll do it as soon as you send it.”

  “Thanks. What are you up to?”

  “Uh, Marcel’s taking me up to their clubhouse.”

  “Seriously? Please be careful.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Text me later, or I’ll worry.”

  “You got it.”

  “Bye, Teller!” Carter shouts before the door slams.

  “Everything okay?” I ask as I join her in the living room.

  She doesn’t answer right away. Her shoulders rise and fall as if she’s trying to calm herself. Finally, she turns and flashes a bright smile. “I’m fine. Are we still going?”

  “Yeah. Sounds like you need to make a call, though. We can wait.”

  “Thanks.”

  My gaze roams over her and my lips curl into a smile. “Those colors look good on you.”

  Her tank top’s made of some loose, flowing material, held up by thin straps and two more off-the-shoulder straps in the perfect shade of blue. Somewhere between navy and steel. Her gray denim shorts show off plenty of leg, but they’re loose and casual. She’s wearing gray sandals with straps that wind around her ankle, tying in a bow in the back.

  “Is this okay? You didn’t bring your bike, right?”

  “No.”

  She senses the shift in my mood. “I’m sorry. I forgot…”

  “It’s okay.” I run my hand over the back of my neck while running my gaze over her body again. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thanks.” She lifts the small leather backpack in her hands. “I hope I’m not being presumptuous, but I brought an outfit for tomorrow.”

  That shakes me out of the mood I was starting to slide into at the mention of my bike. I approach her slowly and slip my arms around her waist. “You can bring anything you want.”

  Her phone buzzes and she reaches for it.

  “Hey.”

  I’m standing close enough to hear Carter on the other end. “Chuck brought over a generator, so you don’t need to make that call.”

  “Are you sure.”

  “Yeah, I ran into the guy on my way back. They won’t turn it back on until Monday no matter who calls.”

  “Shit, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “You can come stay here if you want. I doubt the generator is big enough for the whole house.”

  “I’m fine. The heat doesn’t bother me.”

  She hesitates. “All right. Make sure you call if you need something.”

  “I will. Have fun.”

  “Sorry,” she mumbles, tucking the phone in her pocket.

  “Not a problem. Anything I can do?”

  She shakes her head and grabs my hand, pulling me out the door. “I have to admit, I’m a little nervous.”

  I chuckle as I open my truck door for her.

  “Don’t be. Heidi might not be there until later, but Hope said she’d stop by, so at least there’ll be one other person you know.”

  “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. What did Heidi say?”

  I snort as I start the truck. “Honestly? She’s thrilled. Apparently, she always thought we’d make a nice couple.”

  “That’s weird because she used to tell me what a manwhore you were.”

  I laugh even harder as I ease the truck onto the road. “Maybe she was hoping you’d cure me.”

  “Have I?” she teases.

  “In more ways than you know.”

  Marcel’s vague comment reignites my curiosity about his accident. I wasn’t joking before. Between the stress of what’s going on at my mother’s and meeting Marcel’s family tonight, I’m a bundle of nerves.

  Yes, I’m treating this as a “meet the family” situation.

  “So, you’ve said you’re still going to physical therapy. Have they told you when you’ll be able to ride again?”

  His hands tighten on the steering wheel, confusing me. A guy as serious into club life as Marcel—riding is in his blood. I assumed he’d be eager to get back to it. I can’t count how many accidents, broken bones, road rashes, you name it, my father had before the one that finally killed him. Shaking my head, I stare out the window, no matter how hard I tried to outrun the way I grew up, I’m right back here.

  “Not yet,” he finally answers.

  “You guys have a minimum amount you have to ride to keep your patch?”

  “Yeah,” he answers slowly. “There are exceptions though.”

  His words sink in and I consider what those exceptions might be. Accident or injury in a hard core club like my uncle’s wouldn’t be enough not to temporarily strip someone’s patch. Hurt while handling club business would.

  My uncle’s words about Marcel having a hand in the Vipers MC leaving Ironworks and paying for it rush into my head like a tidal wave. I glance over and take in his rigid posture.

  “Were you hurt in a club dispute?” I ask quietly.

  He nods once in quick acknowledgment.

  I still don’t understand why that would make him reluctant to ride again. Marcel doesn’t strike me as a coward or the kind of guy to give up something he loves because of a setback.

  “Was anyone else hurt?”

  “Charlotte.” He exhales in an almost defeated sigh and flips on his blinker, taking a right turn. The back tires squeal from the sharpness of the maneuver. I don’t think he was planning to go this way a few seconds ago.

  “Where are we going?”

  “The park.”

  “Why?”

  “To talk.”

  We don’t speak anymore. The fluttering in my belly w
on’t go away. Even when he turns on to Fletcher Park Road, I’m still nervous. Does he think I figured out something dangerous and he’s planning to dump my body in the woods?

  No, I don’t think I’m in danger from Marcel.

  It feels more like he’s in danger from himself.

  Charlotte’s completely still and I feel bad for being so dramatic with her. I don’t mean to be. But it occurred to me that before she goes to the clubhouse and possibly overhears something, she should hear the full story from me first.

  “How much do you know about the Vipers MC?” I ask, deciding direct is the only way to tackle this conversation.

  She seems to think about the question. “My dad never let us go into Ironworks. I had a friend from dance class who lived there and she always had to come to our house for sleepovers and stuff.”

  “You took dance classes?”

  “For a couple years. Before Carter was born.” She smacks my arm. “Why are you laughing?”

  “Nothing. I’m trying to picture you in a tutu.”

  “I was adorable.”

  I lean over and kiss her nose. “I don’t doubt it.”

  “Vipers,” she prompts.

  “Right.”

  “Later on, my uncle explained they controlled Ironworks and that’s why I wasn’t supposed to be there. But it never made sense because we went to Empire all the time. My dad just never rode his bike or wore his cut.”

  “We’ve had a good relationship with your uncle’s club for years. That’s why I don’t get him being such a dick lately, but that’s beside the point.”

  “He was a dick before you and me?”

  “We were having issues,” I answer carefully. She holds up her hands.

  “Got it, you don’t need to give me more details.”

  “Thank you.”

  It’s a complicated story, so I try to come up with the simplest details that will make sense.

  “Vipers were into stuff my club’s never touched and to my knowledge, your uncle’s never did either. Mostly harder drugs and running girls.”

  Her eyes narrow and she nods for me to continue.

  “Unwilling girls,” I clarify. “I can guess what you think of club life and I’m not going to lie and tell you all sorts of shady shit doesn’t go on in other clubs, but that’s a hard line in my club. Has been since Rock took over.”

  For reasons I don’t understand, her jaw tightens and she stares out the window. “Are you trying to get me to believe you’re all a bunch of pink-hat-wearing women’s rights champions?”

  I full out laugh and she smirks at me. “No. We’re still good old fashioned sexists.”

  She rolls her eyes at my sarcasm.

  “But no means no in our clubhouse,” I add in a more serious tone. “Women aren’t disrespected.”

  “Except for the club whores, house mamas, lays or whatever your club calls them, who are expected to service the members no matter what, right?”

  “We make it clear that’s not the expectation. Girls say no all the time and that’s fine.”

  She eyes me skeptically.

  “Put it this way, it’s not really fun to fuck someone who’s scared to say no or who’d rather be anywhere else.”

  She blows out a harsh breath. “Unfortunately, a lot of guys don’t share that opinion. Especially bikers. The force and humiliation are the turn-on.”

  “Yeah, and they’re sick fucks who should be put down.” Her eyes widen at my venom in my voice and I dial it back. “Can we not delve into an academic discussion here? I feel like I’ll lose up against you.”

  “Go on,” she urges.

  “So, Vipers were more like what you’re talking about. Worse. They were always sending girls to work in our club and prostitute themselves. Shit we don’t tolerate.”

  Before continuing, I take a deep breath. “We had a situation maybe two summers ago. A girl they were abusing, whoring out against her will.”

  I swallow hard, remembering the night we rescued Mariella and later how she told me what we walked in on had been mild compared to some of the things Ransom, the Vipers president, had done to her.

  My fists tighten and I stare down at my hands. The sensation of Ransom’s warm blood crawling through my fingers when I ended him is so strong, I can’t shake it.

  “Marcel?” Charlotte touches my shoulder gently, bringing me back to the present.

  “We got her away from them.”

  “Why that one girl?”

  “It’s complicated. But when she was able to, she told us what the Vipers were really doing. It was so much worse than we ever thought. We made the call to push them out of Ironworks.”

  “By push them out, I assume you mean bury them in shallow graves.”

  I force out a laugh. Not that shallow.

  “Anyway, they were looking for Mariella. Hard. She knew a lot. And I’m sure it was a pride thing to lose one of their girls.”

  “Mariella,” she whispers.

  “Yeah.” I pull up the sleeve of my shirt, showing her the tattoo. “She’d been through a lot. But she was sweet. Very serious. The girl who used to take care of the stuff around our place was getting married to our SAA and he didn’t want her doing it anymore. So Mariella started taking over.”

  “So you guys stole yourself a free maid?”

  “It’s not like that. We would’ve helped her go wherever she wanted. She wanted to stay. We gave her our protection and shelter. In return, she cooked and helped us keep the place clean. Is that really so awful?”

  She seems to turn it over in her head before answering. “I guess not. But I get the feeling she was more than a maid to you.”

  I frown at the word maid. That’s not how I thought of Mariella. “She was. I…helped take her out of the place the Vipers had her. So, she kind of latched on to me. We were friends.”

  Charlotte’s breathing slows and she stares across the parking lot. I decide to keep going.

  “Like I said, she was serious. Scared. I wanted to help her have fun.” Now it’s my turn to stare out the window. I don’t think I can face Charlotte for this. “I finally got her to agree to go out on the bike with me.”

  As the implication of what I said hits her, Charlotte gasps and settles her hand on my leg.

  “It was an arrogant, stupid fucking thing to do. I should’ve known better. Vipers weren’t going to let her go easy. Two of them spotted us. Ran me off the road. Broad daylight. Plenty of witnesses. People were so busy trying to help us, the fuckers got away.”

  “Marcel.” There’s the soft click of her seatbelt unbuckling and she flips the middle console up, sliding next to me and taking my hand. Her fingers run through my hair and down my neck. Over my shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I got her killed.”

  “No you didn’t.”

  I don’t bother arguing.

  I know what I’m guilty of.

  We sit there for a while after Marcel finishes his story.

  Or finishes the part he’s comfortable telling me.

  “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me that,” I finally say.

  He shakes his head. “I didn’t want someone to mention it to you tonight and have it take you by surprise.”

  “Oh.”

  “Plus, someone’s bound to thank you for making me less of a cranky bastard.”

  “I think you have a reason to be cranky.” I tip my head up and place my fingers on his cheek, gently turning his face toward mine. “And I’ve always trusted you. Felt safe with you.”

  “You shouldn’t.”

  “One mistake doesn’t change all the good things you are.”

  His eyes widen and I sit back, realizing what I said.

  “Thank you,” he says.

  “What?”

  He wraps his hands around the steering wheel and squeezes. “Everyone keeps telling me it’s not my fault and don’t blame myself—”

  “It’s not your fault, and you shouldn’t blame yourself. But yeah
, it probably was a mistake to take her out, but you couldn’t have anticipated the extent of what happened.”

  He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Thank you for being honest.”

  When he meets my eyes, there’s more than gratitude there. Respect. Affection. Maybe a little fear. “Do you want me to take you home?”

  “Yes,” I answer, moving to my side of the truck and buckling my seatbelt. “Take me to your home, so I can finally meet your family.”

  He nods in approval, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he starts up the truck. “I should warn you, Wrath’s probably going to be a real dick to you.”

  “Your SAA, right?”

  “Yup.”

  “I expect nothing less.”

  Marcel laughs but doesn’t offer any tips on how to get on Wrath’s good side.

  That’s for me to figure out on my own. I understand and accept that.

  I’m ready for it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The Lost Kings MC clubhouse isn’t at all what I expected. I had heard it was in the middle of nowhere and was a pretty large compound. In my head, I pictured a ramshackle old barn the guys had turned into a clubhouse or an over-sized shack in the woods.

  I never expected this.

  After being admitted through the gate, we’re greeted by a huge Buddha statue surrounded by flowers and stone benches.

  “That’s…unusual.”

  The corner of Marcel’s mouth lifts. “He was here when we bought the place.”

  For being so far out in the country, pretty much at what has to be the edge of the Empire County line, the place is kept neat and trimmed.

  “Do the prospects do the landscaping?”

  “Sometimes. Z handles a lot of it. He’s very specific in how he likes things done,” Marcel explains with an affectionate chuckle.

  When the clubhouse comes into view, I sit up and stare.

  It’s a large building. Lots of natural wood and stone that blends into the environment beautifully.

  “Wow.”

  “It used to be a retreat. Like for meditation, yoga, or whatever.”

  “How did a bunch of bikers find that?”