Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition Elizabeth Knox (cheapest way to read ebooks .txt) 📖

said it once before, and it didn’t stop her. Her leaving drove me into a deep depression. I don’t know if I can stand it a second time. It terrifies me to risk my heart again. So, I guard it with steel walls.

I take too long, and her body stiffens.

Finally, I lift my mouth from her skin, not sure what I’m about to say, when her phone on the nightstand rings.

She reaches for it, looks at the number, and pushes out of my arms to sit on the side of the bed. “Hello?”

She listens for a moment, then stands, pulling the sheet with her, and wrapping it around her. She begins pacing.

I study her stiff spine and shoulders, noting the tension there.

“No, that’s wrong. It’s all been completed already. We’re not starting over from scratch.” She paces some more. “You’re joking. All of them?” More pacing. “All right. No, I’ll be there. Yes, my flight is at four p.m.”

I grab my jeans off the floor, pull them on, and take my phone from the pocket to check the time. It’s already noon, and I know she’s got to get back to her hotel to pack. That doesn’t leave us any time.

I run a hand down my jaw while she finishes the call. Goddamn it. I wanted more time with her, and now it’s over. She’ll be on a plane back to LA before dinnertime.

I want her to stay, but it’s not fair to ask her. My club is here, and her work is there. It’s an impossible situation, one that feels strangely like déjà vu.

She disconnects the call, and I turn to face her as she stands there in nothing but the sheet, her hair a tousled mess, and never looking sexier.

“I have to leave,” she says softly.

I give her a sad smile. “Seems we’ve been here before.”

She nods and drops her head.

I move to her, my hands closing over her upper arms. “Hey.”

She lifts her face to mine.

“I’m glad you came.”

Her eyes fill with tears, and I know the reason. Even in my own ears, my words sound lame and so much less than what I feel for this woman.

I cup her face and brush the wetness from her cheeks with my thumbs. “No tears. I do love you, Sara. I always have. You know that, don’t you?”

“Why are things between us always so difficult?”

I kiss the tip of her nose. “Just life, I guess.”

“I have to go.”

“I know you do.” I pull back. “Get dressed. I’ll take you back to your hotel.”

16

Sara

Green rides us back to my hotel. It’s a lovely morning, with all the promise of a sunny warm day. The kind meant for a ride on the back of the bike. I wish we could just spend the day together. I wish we could ride up to the spot he took me to that first day. I know I’ll carry that memory with me forever, even if this is the end.

All too soon, we pull into the hotel parking lot, and Green walks me up to my room.

He stops me before I open the door.

I turn to look at him, and an extreme sadness wells up inside me. He’s fading out of my life; I can feel it already.

“I’m going to miss you, baby.”

“Me too,” I reply. Please ask me to stay. The mantra repeats in my head in a loop.

“Go back to LA, Sara. Go win that little gold statue. You deserve it. You deserve everything, so much more than I have to give you.” He presses his lips to my forehead, and then pulls back. “Be safe.”

I feel my throat tighten, laughter silently bubbling up inside me but coming out in almost a cry, because the only man I’ve ever truly felt safe with is standing right in front of me. I step backward, moving into my hotel room. “Goodbye, Irish.”

“Sara . . .” he moves then, putting a hand on the wall.

“Don’t.” I shake my head.

His jaw flexes, and his eyes glitter, but he stays silent watching me back into my room.

I close the door, press my forehead to it and listen to his boot steps down the hall. Only when they fade away, do I burst into tears.

17

Green

I roll back into the lot of the clubhouse, park, and climb off my bike. I pull my helmet off, hang it on the handlebars, and glance around the lot. There aren’t many bikes left. I spot Wolf’s and Crash’s among a couple I don’t recognize.

I trudge inside pushing my shades up on my head. I glance toward the pool tables where my brothers are playing with a couple of guys from the War Dogs, a veterans club we’re close with.

Wolf lifts his chin at me. I don’t return the gesture, instead I move to the end of the bar, sit on a stool and thump my knuckles on the bar top. My prospect, Billy, is behind it, and hustles over, already reaching into the tub of ice for a cold long neck, but I shake my head and point to a bottle of Jack Daniels up on the shelf behind his head.

He sets it and a shot glass before me and retreats wisely to the other end of the bar, where he busies himself wiping down glasses.

Smart kid, because I’m in no mood right now.

I tip up the bottle and fill my shot glass. I down it and refill it. I throw that one back, too, and spot Wolf strolling toward me. Fuck.

He sits across the corner from me and watches me refill the shot glass.

“You okay, man?”

I set the bottle down with a thump. “Yup.” My chopped off word is meant to discourage conversation, but this is Wolf we’re talking about, and he’s a stubborn son-of-a-bitch.

He eyes the glass. “Where’s Sara?”

“On her way to the airport, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Yup.” In the mirror I see Cole walk through with an arm wrapped around Angel, his ol’ lady, and head up