Knives hums as he thinks about what he wants to do; the right side of his mouth tilts up in a conniving smirk. “Perfect. Let her stew for a few days, will ya, TJ?”
“Anything for the Kings, you know that,” he says to Knives, which leaves me baffled.
This can’t be legal.
“Knives, you can’t be serious? You’re going to leave me here?”
“Guess you’re going to have to see me walk away from you to realize that, aren’t you?”
“Knives, don’t you fucking dare leave me here,” I growl low in my throat so he can hear the frustration. I grip the bars and try to shake them, which is pointless, because they don’t ever move. It’s called a jail cell for a reason.
He backs away slowly, flicking the ninja star over his fingers. His knuckles are so scarred from that trick, but he doesn’t seem to care. He lifts his other hand and gives me a finger wave goodbye. “Hey, TJ, can I have a donut?” Knives asks, ignoring me.
“Knives!” I pound my fist against the bar. “Don’t you fucking leave me here. I swear to god!”
“Mmmm, chocolate covered ones are my favorite. Thanks, TJ. I appreciate ya.” He stabs the donut with his ninja star and takes a big bite of it as he watches me. “The real world is so much better, Mary. Oh—” he bonks his forehead with his hand, “—but you know that. Later, Hellraiser. See ya on the other side.”
He really is walking away from me. He is going to leave me here. “I will never forgive you for this, Knives! Get your hairy ass back here!” I scream, slamming my fist against the cell bars one last time as I yell for him. The bastard only lifts his donut in the air and walks out the door.
I don’t know if he has a hairy ass; I only said that because he has a hairy chest that I dream about running my fingers through. It’s why they call them dreams. I’m not liable for what my brain likes to think about while I’m unconscious.
The exit door slams shut, and I’m left alone.
He really left me here.
This has to be some sort of joke, but as I’m standing here waiting for Knives to walk back through the door, the seconds turn to minutes. I pinch my lips together and try and control the anger. The members have done worse things in life, and Knives has their back; why can’t he have mine?
“Looks like you pissed off the wrong guy, Miss St. James,” Officer Daniels polishes off another donut and wipes his hand on his uniform, leaving chocolate smears on the khaki.
“Mind your own business,” I mumble. Mouthing off to an officer, while I still can’t make bail, probably isn’t the best idea, but I’m shocked right now and disappointed. I can’t believe Knives left me here.
If there is one thing I know more than ever right now, it’s that the kiss we shared meant nothing to him. I had this bread crumb of hope that the dislike we shared toward one another was really passion just bursting at the seams to be released, but now that he left without giving me one last look, I know better.
If people really care when they walk away, they usually pause and give a parting glance over their shoulder, but I guess when dealing with a man whose soul is stone, I shouldn’t expect much else.
But if that’s the case, why am I so mad?
I paid her bail, and there isn’t going to be a court date because I paid the new Chief of Police off too. He seemed very happy to be in business with us. Nothing like a large stack of cash to help pay for his daughter’s college to get him on my side.
She’s in there because the cops are following my orders. Mary needs to learn that what she is doing to herself isn’t okay. I read the report. She was going 90mph in a 65mph zone, and then when she got pulled over, she veered off-road, nearly slammed into a bunch of cactuses, then gunned it to 110 mph while weaving in and out of traffic and crossing over into the other lane. Took a dozen cop cars to chase her down in the end. I don’t know why the girl has a death wish, but I’m not going to let her die easily on my watch.
So she’s going to sit there in jail and think about what she’s done.
Oh, she’s fuming.
Good. Let her boil in her mistakes, and maybe she’ll come out of the slammer having learned something about herself.
I lift my leg over my bike and sit down, then pop a piece of bubble gum in my mouth. I chew it, letting the cherry flavor roll around, and blow a bubble. When it pops, I’m reminded of when I was around thirteen years old and Mason got us two packs of gum. He said we had to chew all the pieces, and whoever blew the biggest bubble won.
That’s it.
We just won. There was no prize. It was just the ability to have bragging rights. I rub a hand over my heart when it begins the ache. I swear, the only time I feel pain is when I think about my brother. I lean against the backrest on my back, watching the front doors of the police station. A lot of riders don’t like backrests because it doesn’t make the Harley look badass.
Listen, my bike is awesome, and I’m badass, so if I know that, then everyone else can go fuck themselves. I like to be comfortable, and when we’re on long runs, I can relax while everyone else has a sore back.
I tap my fingers against the handlebars and debate if I want to go in the police station and get her. She can ride bitch behind me, but there is one problem: I’ve never had a woman on my bike, and I don’t want the guys getting any ideas. Ol’ ladies only on a member’s motorcycle, and Mary is not my ol’ lady.
No, she can’t get off easy. Fuck that. She got herself into this mess; the least she can do is do a few days in jail.
I crank my bike and hit the throttle, waving to a few police cars as I drive by. It’s a good day for a ride. It’s cold, but the sun is out, and I need to clear my head. Mary fucks me all up. I’m a one-track-mind kind of guy. I know my duties and what I can bring to the table when Reaper needs me, yet Mary gets in my head, and I’m wondering if I’m a little more complex than I originally thought.
Maybe it isn’t her I want; maybe I just want someone. All the guys are finding their ol’ ladies, and it is making me want what they have. No one likes being alone. People choose to be because they feel like they don’t deserve the love and happiness that comes with being with someone. Honestly, I think it all starts with yourself.
If I can’t be happy and alone with myself, how can I be happy and alone with someone I love? It starts with the individual. I’m more than content with myself and being alone, I just know no one deserves to be pulled into my life. The MC life isn’t for everyone.
And it isn’t for Mary.
I don’t know where she’s from or why she doesn’t want to go back, but someone out there has to be looking for her. She’s too damn beautiful, too damn smart, too damn proper to be abandoned. There’s a story behind how she got to Atlantic City before she came to Vegas, and I want to find out what it was, even if she doesn’t.
“It’s none of my damn business,” I say to the wind as it blows in my face. “I need to stay away from her and let her figure out her own shit.” I’m talking to myself, great. Isn’t that what they say when you’re going crazy?
She’s made me insane. Perfect. The last thing I need is to be like Tongue, fucking stalking her with a damn gator strapped to my chest.