I saw the kid about to fall apart again, so I put my hand on his shoulder. “The garage?”
Zane exhaled deeply, then led me around the back of the house. He opened the garage and flicked on a light. I didn’t make it through the doorway. I didn’t move a damn step when I recognized the bike that sat in the middle of the garage floor.
“Is that . . .?”
“Dad’s? Yeah,” Zane said. The word “Dad” hit me like a blow to the chest. He moved beside the old Harley Davidson Low Rider, more rust than anything now. Zane crouched down beside it and ran his hand gently over the seat. “Dad never cared much for it when he came back from Iraq. After they . . . died, Aunt Claire put it in storage with all their other stuff. She couldn’t look at anything until a year ago, and that’s when I saw it.” He stood. “She let me bring it home and work on it.”
“You work on bikes?” I asked, suddenly feeling Dev’s presence beside me. His kid liked bikes too. It was always the plan. Serve our country, drink beers and just fucking ride when we were home from tour. I always imagined Zane doing the same one day.
I wasn’t too far wrong.
“I love them.” He came over all shy. “I ain’t too good at them yet. Learning mostly off YouTube and shit like that, but I’m getting better . . . I think.”
“YouTube?” I shook my head. Zane laughed at my horrified reaction.
I stepped further into the garage and ran my hand over the bars of the bike, remembering Dev riding beside me, fucking free with the wind.
A good memory for once.
“You wanna learn from real mechanics? Bikers who know what the fuck they’re doing?”
Zane’s mouth dropped open. “You serious?”
“As a heart attack. My brothers know a thing or two about this shit.” I winked at him, and he burst out laughing.
“Yeah,” he answered quickly. He paused. “At the Hangmen compound?”
“’Course.”
“I ain’t able to ride bikes yet though. Aunt Claire says I’m not allowed until I’m older.”
“Fuck that shit. I’ll teach you,” I said, and Zane swallowed.
“Yeah?” he croaked.
“Yeah.”
He stared at me and I stared at him. “You look like him.” I said and my fucking heart cracked.
Zane bowed his head. “I miss him. I miss them both so fucking much,” he said, his voice breaking.
I put my hand on the back of his head and pulled him in to my chest. “I fucking miss him too. Both of them.”
Zane didn’t say shit for ’bout thirty seconds, then said quietly, “And I miss you, X . . . so damn much.”
“Never again. Yeah?” I said and fought harder than ever before to not fall apart.
“You mean that?” He grabbed hold of my shirt like he was scared I would disappear.
“I swear it.”
“Good,” he said softly.
We stayed like that for a fucking age. And eventually, I could breathe. For the first time in years . . . I could breathe.
“You wanna come to a cookout soon? Stay for a few days? At the compound, then the lodge?”
Zane stepped back and wiped his eyes with his shirt. “With the Hangmen?”
“Yeah.” I laughed at the excitement on his face. “They’ll be there. Introduce you to my road brothers and best friends. Lil’ Ash too.”
“Lil’ Ash?”
“You’ll like him, kid. ’Bout your age. Likes bikes.”
“Cool,” Zane said, then fucking smiled.
“Yeah . . . cool.”
*****
Phebe
By the time we returned to the cabin, it was dark. AK and I had spent the evening with his nephew. He caught AK up on what he had missed—school, life events, plenty. I did not understand most of what they talked about, but I did not care. It was blessing enough to see him reunited with his nephew.
He was . . . happy.
“Saff staying with Li tonight?” AK asked as he closed our cabin’s door.
“Yes,” I replied and turned to stand at AK’s chest. I ran my hands down his cut, threading my hands underneath and pushing it off his shoulders. His breathing changed, his nostrils flaring under my touch.
“What’cha doing, Red?” he asked, his voice low.
I moved my hands to the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his toned, muscled stomach. His tattoos stood bright against his olive skin. I pulled the shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor.
Leaning forward, I peppered kisses across his chest, moving to lick around his nipple. AK hissed and pushed his fingers through my hair. “Red . . . you ain’t ready.”
I looked into his eyes. “I went to the doctor yesterday with Lilah. I was given the all-clear, as they say.”
He searched my eyes, then moved his hand to my cheek. “Even so, not sure you’re ready in there.” He tapped my head with his free hand. I closed my eyes, letting the fact of how much he cared for me take root.
A strange concept indeed.
I let my forehead press against his and spoke from my heart. “I need you . . .” I did not want Meister’s touch to be the last on my body any longer. “There is only one man’s touch I ever want on my body again—given freely, and lovingly.” I met his dark gaze. “Yours.”
“Red,” AK murmured. I led him to our bedroom, closing the door behind us. I unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them off his legs. I stepped back as AK stood before me, gloriously naked.
I slipped my jacket, tank and bra from my torso, then slid my leather pants down my legs. I never broke AK’s stare as I removed my panties and stood up straight.
“Beautiful,” AK said, his voice raspy, as I held out my hand. He took it without hesitation, and I led him to the bed.
I lay down and he lay beside me. I stared into his eyes and pressed my mouth against his own. I let my lips worship his lips and let my heart fall into perfect sync with his.
I moved over his chest, moaning as his rough hands landed on my back. His soft tongue pushed into my mouth, and I could taste him. I felt his hands on my skin, felt his heat merge with mine. I felt it all. I allowed myself to feel it all. I did not block out a single second.
Breaking from his mouth, I kissed down his neck and chest. I kissed his torso and moved down to the muscled V that led to his manhood. AK groaned as his legs shifted in anticipation. Taking his length in my hand, I looked up into his eyes to see them glazed and dazed as he stared right back at me.