Rough Ride Read online

  Regardless of how hot he was or how soft his lips were, I really shouldn’t have kissed him back. Now he had the wrong idea about me. Crap.

  “Who was at the door?” My mom grumbled as she lurched into the kitchen.

  “I, uh, well…” It was too late to try to hide the flowers, but I couldn’t very well tell my mom they came from a Bratva captain or whatever Bam had called Ruslan last night. I awkwardly stood in front of the flowers to hide them from my mom. Fortunately I didn’t have to answer as her attention quickly turned to the lack of caffeine in her veins.

  “You haven’t made coffee yet? Who are you and what’ve you done with my daughter?”

  “Haha, very funny, Mom.” Every morning went like this. No matter what happened the night before, the next morning was a blank slate. We didn’t talk about the booze or the vomit or the tears. And we never talked about my dad when Mom was sober. Instead we just danced around the herd of elephants in the room and pretended like everything was normal, that my mom wouldn’t start drinking before noon, that my dad wasn’t dead, or that the whole thing wasn’t slowly killing us all.

  Mom moved painfully around the kitchen in that way of hers that told me she had a killer headache—another thing we didn’t talk about. She was reaching for the can of coffee next to me when I heard her gasp.

  “Holy mother of God, where did those come from?”

  I closed my eyes and did something I hadn’t had to do since I was sixteen. I lied. “I don’t know. That’s who was at the door. Delivery guy.”

  “Well, there’s a card, isn’t there? What does it say.”

  Oh Lord, shoot me now. “It’s not signed.”

  A huge grin swept across my mom’s face. Quickly followed by a wince that we both ignored. “You have a secret admirer? You’ve been holding out on me. What’s going on? Who do you think it is? Spill everything!”

  “Mom, I haven’t had any coffee yet. I can’t even—”

  “Say no more. Coffee coming in two minutes. Then you’re telling me everything.”

  I couldn’t wait.

  * * *

  —

  I felt like crap for lying to my mom, but what could I do? I sure as hell wasn’t gonna tell her that I’d caught the attention of a scary Russian Mafia guy while I was investigating what had happened to Dad and his killer last year. That would violate so many of our unspoken rules regarding what we didn’t speak about: Dad’s business, Dad’s death, Dad. Not to mention the scary Russian guy. Yeah, I was better off not confiding in my mom.

  Instead I did a little verbal dancing and made up an excuse about not knowing who it was. Could’ve been a coworker, maybe a guy I’d gone to high school with; I didn’t know. Then I made up another lie about a spin class I was late for and got the hell outta there. If I stayed any longer, I’d probably drown in my sea of lies.

  Which was how I ended up at the Mackay Mocha House. I didn’t feel like working out, and this was the only other place I could think of to go to and kill some time. Fortunately, one of my dad’s “Brothers” had dropped off my stuff last night, so at least I had my phone and wallet again.

  I pulled out my phone and texted my best friend, Sydney.

  Me: You at work?

  She didn’t reply. Either she was working or nowhere near her phone. Either way I was still all alone with no sounding board. I didn’t have to be at work until the afternoon shift, so I had a lot of time to burn. Once I left the house I didn’t like to go back. Watching my mom drink all day long on the couch got depressing for everyone. I really wish I knew what to do, but how do you confront your parent about her behavior? It was so backward. Hell, the whole thing was backward, since I was the one taking care of her now. I knew I should do something, but what?

  A prickling sensation swept over my spine. The hair on the back of my neck tingled . I turned and looked, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. A few guys talked in a booth across the room. Baristas busily made drinks for the drive-thru and in-house customers. A couple of people stood in line, waiting to order. But no one was looking my way. And there was no one I recognized.

  My phone buzzed in my hand.

  Unknown: What time is your shift tonight?

  Yeah, okay. That wasn’t freaky at all. My pulse pounded as I reread the text. Who the hell was it from? I knew better than to reply, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t freaking out. I hunched over my phone as my heart raced like I was being chased by Freddy Kruger.

  Unknown: Amber? You there?

  Whoever it was knew my name. Not totally shocking, given that they were texting me, but it still didn’t make me feel good. Just the opposite, actually. My stomach clenched as I read the messages again. Who was texting me?

  My phone buzzed again.

  Sydney: Not working today. Sleeping. What’s up?

  Me: OMG OMG OMG. I don’t even know where to start.

  Sydney: Okay calm down. Breathe.

  Me: Can I come over? This is just too much to text.

  Sydney: Fine. But you know the deal.

  Me: Yeah, yeah. I know. Bring coffee.

  I got up from my table and grabbed my stuff. The back of my neck tingled again. Looking around, I still couldn’t identify the source. Maybe I was crazy.

  A few minutes later, I was in my car, two cups resting in the cup holders, and on my way to Sydney’s. My phone chimed a few times in my purse, but my car was too old for Bluetooth so I didn’t know who was texting. Hopefully it wasn’t Sydney canceling on me. I needed to talk to someone.

  Once I finally pulled up to her apartment complex, I parked my car, then dug through my purse for my phone.

  Unknown: This is Bam.

  Unknown: Hope I didn’t freak you out.

  Unknown: Hello?

  A huge shuddering sigh left me. Not Ruslan. That was a relief.

  Me: Why do you want to know when I’m working?

  Bam: Can’t you just answer the question? Why do you have to be difficult?

  Me: Not being difficult. Just don’t see how it’s any concern of yours.

  Bam: I gotta get back to work. Just text me the time.

  Me: Yeah no. Got enough to deal with without encouraging a stalker.

  Bam: That’s sweet you think I’m stalking you. I guess I’ll have to figure it out myself. See you tonight.

  A ridiculous smile stretched across my face. Bam. Huh. Then I shook my head. I couldn’t think that way about one of them. They were the enemy, after all. Regardless of how hot he looked last night when he wasn’t annoying the crap out of me. I blamed my euphoria on my relief that it hadn’t been Ruslan texting me. It had nothing whatsoever to do with Bam’s blond good looks or how muscular and commanding he’d been last night. That part had been annoying. Mostly.

  And had nothing to do with my hot dream about Vikings last night. I blamed the History Channel for that—despite the fact I hadn’t seen the show in months. Bam’s wild, long blond hair and beard had nothing to do with my sudden Viking obsession.

  Maybe if I said it enough, I’d start to believe it.

  Shoving my phone in my purse, I grabbed our coffee and made my way to Sydney’s door. Once upon a time I thought I’d get to live in an apartment like this with her while we both went to college, worked part-time jobs, and had boys chasing us. How could so much go wrong in only a year?

  I’d busted my ass during my gap year, saving enough money to afford to go to an awesome college. When all my friends were enjoying their freshman year, I’d been working three jobs and living at home. But then it’d been my turn. My first year was a blast—classes and boys and living on my own—I’d loved every minute of it.

  But then my dad died and there wasn’t anywhere I wanted to be but with my mom. So I withdrew from college and moved back home. Now all that money I’d saved for school was going toward the mortgage, taking
care of my mom, and tons of other bills I didn’t know my parents paid. The paltry life insurance payout had taken care of the credit card bills. My college fund was slowly getting eaten up by all the rest.

  Meanwhile my bestie, Sydney, had dropped out of college and enrolled in beauty school. Now she was an adult with a career and an apartment of her own while I was still living at home and scraping by working as a cocktail waitress at the Mother Lode Hotel/Casino.

  Living the dream.

  I trudged up the stairs to the third floor, then down the long hallway to her door. Despite the trek it was a lovely building, built just a few years ago, so all the fixtures still looked nice. But I knew better than to wait for the elevator. Sydney and I got stuck in it on move-in day. We never used it again. Two hours was an eternity when you were trapped in an elevator.

  Reaching her apartment, I kicked at her door with my foot.

  A moment later, the door ripped open and Sydney stood framed in the doorway. “What the hell was that? You sounded like a cop knocking on one of those cop shows.”

  “My hands are full. I had to use my foot.”

  “You know you could’ve just called me.”

  “Seriously, Syd? My hands are full.”

  “Oh yeah. Right.”

  I waited a beat then rolled my eyes. “Are you gonna let me in?”

  “What? Oh sure. Come on in. Which is mine?”

  I held out her coffee as I walked through the doorway. Sydney took it, and I stepped into to her living area. I was at home her in place, probably more so than my own. Here at least I never had to clean up anybody else’s messes.

  “What’s going on?” Sydney asked as she sat on one end of her couch and I took up the other.

  “I don’t even know where to start. So much has happened since we talked last week.”

  “What’s the thing that’s freaking you out the most?” Sydney sat back and took a slug from her drink.

  “I think I have two guys interested in me, and they’re both…unsuitable.” It wasn’t the right word, but it was the closest I could come up with.

  “Two? Two guys?” Sydney gave a little squeal. “You haven’t dated anyone in forever, and now you have two guys after you? What the hell did I miss in the last week?”

  “Apparently a lot. You also missed the part where I said they’re both unsuitable.”

  “Are they old?”

  “No.”

  “Are they ugly?”

  “No.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “One is in the Mafia, and the other is in my dad’s motorcycle club.”

  Sydney sat back with wide eyes then whispered, “The Mafia?”

  I gave her a brief rundown of what’d happened last night, including how gorgeous and scary Ruslan looked and acted, Bam’s resemblance to a Viking god, the roses this morning from Ruslan, and the flirty texts from Bam.

  “Wait, do I know Bam? He doesn’t sound familiar.”

  “No, he just got his patch. He was a prospect when my dad was…still in the club.” I finished lamely.

  “But he looks like a Viking god? Why aren’t you all over that? I would be.”

  “Because he’s just another asshole biker who thinks he runs the world. He picked me up and carried me out of the club last night, Syd.”

  Sydney gave an exaggerated shiver. “Sounds yummy. I’d love to be with a guy strong enough to pick me up. Now that’s a man. Not a little boy who needs permission to stay out late because he’s still living with his mommy.”

  I gave Sydney a what-the-eff look.

  She raised her palms. “That’s not what I meant. It’s different with you. You moved back to help out. You’re there to help your family, not the other way around. You are awesome.”

  I hitched a shoulder and looked away. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel that way.”

  Sydney knew more than most about what was going on at my home. I didn’t specifically tell her how bad things with my mom were, but I think she’d filled in the blanks on her own. And she’d been over a few times when my mom was wasted, so Sydney had no doubt put two and two together. She knew my mom was struggling with my dad’s death, and she’d watched how I struggled to keep everything together.

  And being my best friend, she knew when I didn’t want to talk about something.

  “How do you know the flowers are from Ruslan and not Bam?” She raised her eyebrows as she took a drink from her cup before continuing. “You said the card wasn’t signed.”

  “No, but that thing it said about my lips—I only kissed Ruslan last night. Not Bam.”

  “You kissed a Mafia kingpin? Holy shit, Amber. You kinda left that part out.”

  I buried my face in my hands and moaned. “I know. Mostly because I can’t think about it. He’s scary, Sydney. The people in his own club are scared of him. You should’ve seen how everyone flinched when he walked by. He gets this look in his eyes when he goes blank. It scares the crap out of me. What am I gonna do?”

  “You know what you have to do.”

  I looked at my best friend in horror. “No. Not that. Anything but that.”

  “Exactly that. Viking god to the rescue.” Sydney put her coffee cup down on the end table, then turned to me with excitement shining in her eyes. “You should tell him tonight. You know he’s going to show up sometime during your shift.”

  “Not if I don’t tell him what time I’m working tonight,” I muttered.

  “Like that’s gonna stop him. Guys like Bam get shit done. He’s not gonna let a little thing like your stubbornness get in his way.”

  “Yay,” I returned flatly. I looked at Sydney like I thought she was crazy. Because I did. Bam was not someone to get excited about. He’d proved last night that he was as bad as all the rest of the guys in the MC. The only thing that mattered to them was club business. I might as well have been an ant beneath his boot. At best he might want in my pants, but that was it. Men like my dad were a dying breed. Literally.

  Sydney continued doggedly like she hadn’t heard my disinterest. “Okay, we need a plan. What are you going to wear to work tonight?”

  I blinked. “My uniform?”

  “No, to work before you change into your uniform? Because whatever it is, it should be something Bam wants to see crumpled up on the floor next to his bed. Hot. Naughty. Maybe a little scandalous even?”

  “I am not sleeping with him, Syd. Get that out of your head right now.”

  “Well, maybe not yet, but I wouldn’t judge you if you did. He totally sounds worth it to break our two-week agreement.”

  Once we’d started college, Sydney and I agreed that we wouldn’t sleep with any guy we’d known less than two weeks. We’d thought that was plenty of time to be able to tell if he was a sleaze or worthy of our time. To be honest, I’d kinda forgot about our pact. It’d been so long since I was around eligible guys I hadn’t given it any thought. Besides, it wasn’t like the pact had exactly worked out well for Sydney. It’d taken her months to figure out the last two guys she’d dated were tools. Long after the two-week timeline and their subsequent hooking up.

  “Technically I’ve known Bam over a year. Almost two.”

  Sydney squealed and clapped her hands. “Even better. We have to find the perfect outfit. Something that says ‘I’m available but not easy. I want you, but I’m gonna make you work for it.’ Oh! I have the perfect thing. Come on!”

  “I’m not sleeping with him, Syd!” I protested as she grabbed my hand.

  “Oh, I can guarantee there won’t be any sleeping going on tonight.”

  I shook my head in resignation as she all but dragged me down the small hallway and into her bedroom. I knew better than to fight Sydney when she got all excited like this. But despite what she thought, I wouldn’t be sleeping with Bam tonight or ever. Ruslan, eith
er, for what it was worth.

  What happened to all the regular, normal guys? Why wasn’t one of them interested in me? Couldn’t I catch one tiny, little break? Ugh.

  Chapter 4

  Bam

  It took me all of one phone call to find out when Amber was working. Well, one phone call and a text. Zag’s wife used to work at the Mother Lode Hotel/Casino, so she was my in. A few phone calls on her end, and she had Amber’s schedule. Although what she meant about “enjoy the view,” I couldn’t figure out. I was probably spending the next six to eight hours watching a reservations desk. Not exactly titillating stuff, and Jessica wasn’t exactly known to be a snarky chick. But that was how I came to be sitting on my bike on the fourth floor of the employee parking garage of the hotel at three-thirty in the afternoon.

  Although as I watched Amber exit her ancient car and walk toward the stairs, work wasn’t the time we needed to be watching her. Judging by her outfit, Amber had plans after work. She wore a flowy red number with threads of gold and silver shining through it. Her dress clung to her shoulders and breasts before flowing down her body and ending just above her knees. And her shoes—I bit back a groan—sky-high black stilettoes that if she was anyone else, I would be imagining them pressing into my mattress.

  But I couldn’t. She was Stitch’s daughter. The ultimate untouchable woman—a MC princess. I’d only just gotten my patch. There was no way the beat down would be worth it. Because that would be the minimum price if I stuck my dick anywhere near Amber.

  No, thank you.

  But clearly she was prepared for another dick tonight. Ruslan’s, maybe?

  Fuck. I had to put an end to that. Ruslan was a fucking lowlife crime lord and a lunatic as well. No way was I letting Amber anywhere near that son of a bitch. Not in this lifetime.

  I was ten steps behind her when Amber surprised me. Instead of stopping at the bank of elevators, she kept going straight past them to the rough-looking staircase. Considering her shoes and the fact we were on the fourth floor, that was the last thing I’d expected. I had to jog to catch up to her so I wouldn’t freak her out in the stairwell. With my luck she’d trip and fall the whole way down.