get my stuff and leave before your prez arrives.”
Jamison rammed his fingers through his hair, sending it into spikes. God, he was a beautiful man—one she didn’t want to pry herself from, if she were honest. But it was better for all parties, and especially for her heart.
He held his arm under her nose. Blood orange wildflowers waved on his skin. “See that? This is me giving. Know why?”
She didn’t reply, so he barreled on.
“Because I want you.” His eyes were wide and earnest.
That quiver in her belly turned into a full-on quake. What did she do with the emotion he evoked in her? There was more than lust between them, no matter how much she wanted to call it that. Some thread tied them together—a silken rope that connected their souls.
Yet she’d thought that about Stone too.
She started shaking her head, and he barked, “Don’t say no. Look hard at us, Ever.”
She had nothing to say.
After several silent minutes, he grunted. He grabbed the tray off the table and stormed across the room. He tossed everything in the trash—even the tray. Then he walked out of the bakery, leaving her alone in the booth.
With shaky hands, she pushed her hair off her face. What to do? She was miles from home, but she could hitchhike if she had to.
Jamison’s bike engine vibrated the glass beside the booth as he pulled up outside. He didn’t look her direction, just waited.
Her helmet hung from his handlebar, a beacon.
She got the message.
Standing, she avoided the concerned stares of the patrons. What did they know, anyway? She wasn’t some classy woman. She ran with rough people. She was a biker bitch.
She went outside and put on her helmet. All the time, Jamison didn’t look at her, and damn, she wanted him to.
When she climbed onto the bike behind him, he was wooden. Heart sinking, she held on as they took off down the interstate, toward home.
•●•
Damn her. She’d come into his life and fucked him all up. His mind had been consumed with Ever, Ever, Ever. And now he had to reprogram his brain.
When Amanda had offed herself with a syringe of speedball, his heart hadn’t felt as bruised as it did at this moment.
What had Ace said? The man who didn’t believe in love had fucking fallen. Jesus.
Out of habit he searched the night. Every dark alley and side street in his town was patrolled by the Hell’s Sons. No more drugs in Heller’s Gap. Period.
Two figures stood in a ring of light, one shifting from foot to foot. The other held a bag.
“Goddammit.” Jamison swung the bike so abruptly that Ever tipped dangerously to the side. He grabbed her upper thigh, and she wiggled closer behind him.
“What is it?” she asked.
“If I tell you to run, you run, do you hear me?” He screeched to a stop in front of the pair on the corner. Terror washed over their faces as he jumped off the bike and swiped the bag from the man’s grasp.
He unzipped it to reveal an army of tiny bags, pouches filled with rock.
Fury took over, and he pulled his knife. “Get the fuck up against that wall and put your hands on it.”
“You police, man? You don’t look like a cop,” one said.
He kicked him in the knee, sending him sprawling toward the wall. “In this town, I’m a cop to you. Now get the fuck up against the wall!”
He swiped his knife at both of the druggies, and they stumbled forward. He tossed the bag at Ever, who fielded it as if she’d done this many times before. Hell, she probably had. Rage bubbled, mixing with the fury at finding these dealers on his streets.
“Don’t hurt us, man. Just take the shit,” the kid said.
“Oh, I’m taking it, all right. But I’m not going to leave you with the impression that you can do this again. Put your fingers flat on the wall.”
The kid clenched his fists, trembling from head to toe. “What are you going to do?”
Jamison dragged the point of his knife over the concrete block wall, inches from the guy’s fingers. “I’m going to give
Jamison rammed his fingers through his hair, sending it into spikes. God, he was a beautiful man—one she didn’t want to pry herself from, if she were honest. But it was better for all parties, and especially for her heart.
He held his arm under her nose. Blood orange wildflowers waved on his skin. “See that? This is me giving. Know why?”
She didn’t reply, so he barreled on.
“Because I want you.” His eyes were wide and earnest.
That quiver in her belly turned into a full-on quake. What did she do with the emotion he evoked in her? There was more than lust between them, no matter how much she wanted to call it that. Some thread tied them together—a silken rope that connected their souls.
Yet she’d thought that about Stone too.
She started shaking her head, and he barked, “Don’t say no. Look hard at us, Ever.”
She had nothing to say.
After several silent minutes, he grunted. He grabbed the tray off the table and stormed across the room. He tossed everything in the trash—even the tray. Then he walked out of the bakery, leaving her alone in the booth.
With shaky hands, she pushed her hair off her face. What to do? She was miles from home, but she could hitchhike if she had to.
Jamison’s bike engine vibrated the glass beside the booth as he pulled up outside. He didn’t look her direction, just waited.
Her helmet hung from his handlebar, a beacon.
She got the message.
Standing, she avoided the concerned stares of the patrons. What did they know, anyway? She wasn’t some classy woman. She ran with rough people. She was a biker bitch.
She went outside and put on her helmet. All the time, Jamison didn’t look at her, and damn, she wanted him to.
When she climbed onto the bike behind him, he was wooden. Heart sinking, she held on as they took off down the interstate, toward home.
•●•
Damn her. She’d come into his life and fucked him all up. His mind had been consumed with Ever, Ever, Ever. And now he had to reprogram his brain.
When Amanda had offed herself with a syringe of speedball, his heart hadn’t felt as bruised as it did at this moment.
What had Ace said? The man who didn’t believe in love had fucking fallen. Jesus.
Out of habit he searched the night. Every dark alley and side street in his town was patrolled by the Hell’s Sons. No more drugs in Heller’s Gap. Period.
Two figures stood in a ring of light, one shifting from foot to foot. The other held a bag.
“Goddammit.” Jamison swung the bike so abruptly that Ever tipped dangerously to the side. He grabbed her upper thigh, and she wiggled closer behind him.
“What is it?” she asked.
“If I tell you to run, you run, do you hear me?” He screeched to a stop in front of the pair on the corner. Terror washed over their faces as he jumped off the bike and swiped the bag from the man’s grasp.
He unzipped it to reveal an army of tiny bags, pouches filled with rock.
Fury took over, and he pulled his knife. “Get the fuck up against that wall and put your hands on it.”
“You police, man? You don’t look like a cop,” one said.
He kicked him in the knee, sending him sprawling toward the wall. “In this town, I’m a cop to you. Now get the fuck up against the wall!”
He swiped his knife at both of the druggies, and they stumbled forward. He tossed the bag at Ever, who fielded it as if she’d done this many times before. Hell, she probably had. Rage bubbled, mixing with the fury at finding these dealers on his streets.
“Don’t hurt us, man. Just take the shit,” the kid said.
“Oh, I’m taking it, all right. But I’m not going to leave you with the impression that you can do this again. Put your fingers flat on the wall.”
The kid clenched his fists, trembling from head to toe. “What are you going to do?”
Jamison dragged the point of his knife over the concrete block wall, inches from the guy’s fingers. “I’m going to give
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