When they’re all finally gone, he pushes away from the wall and walks over to where I’m lying in bed, all stitched up and drugged out of my mind.
I feel great.
“I have to go and make sure the boys dealt with those three motherfuckers properly. You good here?”
“Are you going to kill them?” I ask, not even hesitating.
Probably the drugs.
Riggs stares at me, then slowly nods.
My eyes pop open. “Wow, so you’re actually real bikers.”
He looks like he’s fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “Killing people makes us real bikers?”
“Well, yeah, I guess it does. I mean, you seemed a bit tame if I’m being honest. Like you were trying to be bikers, but not really ...”
He crosses his arms. “Just because you don’t see our business don’t mean we’re not out there doin’ shit that would make you squirm.”
I grin, high as a kite. “Like what?”
“I’m not discussing that with you.”
“Oh, so nothing. You’re probably all in there braiding each other’s hair while talking about the next bike you’re going to purchase.”
“Sweet Jesus.”
“Until I see otherwise, that’s what I’m going with.” I grin, crossing my arms and leaning back.
“You’re high as fuck.”
“Yes, sir, I am.”
“I’m goin’ to let you sleep it off while I busy myself braiding hair.”
I giggle.
He grins.
Our eyes meet.
There is something there, I can’t be imagining it.
Why would he do so much for me if there wasn’t?
It doesn’t make any sense.
The way he’s looking at me, no man, and I mean no man, has ever looked at me like that before. He has this warmth in his eyes, not just lust but deep appreciation. He looks at me like he cares.
I think it’s the drugs talking.
Maybe I need to go to sleep.
And yet ... my mouth opens and I say, “Why did you use me, Riggs? That is unfair play.”
He tips his head to the side slightly. “Might be how it started, wasn’t how it ended.”
“So you do care about me?”
He doesn’t answer, he just stares at me.
“I feel something, Riggs. I know you do, too. I know you care, I just don’t know why we have to play this game and go round and round instead of just admitting what’s really going on here.”
God. These drugs are really doing a number on me.
He steps forward and leans down close, my heart skips a beat and I take in a deep breath. “Don’t care about anyone like that, Sparkler. Sorry to break it to you.”
Then he presses a kiss to my forehead, holding his lips there for long moments before straightening and walking out.
No.
Come back.
I watch him go, pain in my heart.
What does he mean he cares about no one?
Does that mean me, too?
God, why am I wasting my time?
What is wrong with me?
TWO WEEKS LATER
“UGH!” I ROLL TO MY side, pressing the pillow over my head.
Riggs is at it again, partying loud. Every single damned night since I got out of that hospital, he has been doing it. He hasn’t come to see me, hasn’t checked on me, and hasn’t bothered to do anything but party and drink himself stupid. Ever since our little moment at the hospital, he has avoided me completely.
I have my answer, loud and clear.
He wants nothing to do with me, and my question at the hospital clearly made him realize that.
I was drugged, for god’s sake, I didn’t mean what I said.
Fuck me.
Of course I meant it.
I shouldn’t have blurted it all out like I did, but he had just swooped in and saved me, taken me to the hospital, given me the sex eyes and made me think he cared only to turn around and tell me he doesn’t, then carry on proving it over the last few weeks by driving me absolutely crazy.
He’s really gone above and beyond.
During the day the garage runs as normal and my café goes just fine, but the second the sun sets, they’re out there having parties and fires and making a shit load of noise. My few mic nights have been a disaster because we can’t hear over their blaring music. I’ve tried to be nice, tried to just leave it be in hopes it’ll all stop and we’ll come to an agreement, but it’s clear to me that Riggs is trying to get me out, and fast.
He thinks I’m some sort of clinger in love with him and he wants me gone from next door.
Okay, that’s probably an over exaggeration but still, my words bothered him, and that much is abundantly clear.
He knows his music drives me crazy, he knows it affects my business, and he knows there is only so long I’ll take it before I snap.
Tonight feels like it could be that night.
I haven’t slept in weeks. I’m only just back on my feet after the attack and have been working far too much for someone trying to recover. When I finish work each day, I want to be able to come home, unwind, and get a good night’s rest. Riggs is making damned sure that doesn’t happen.
I need something to stop this. I just don’t know what.
I listen to the pounding music and consider going over there to stop it, but then I come up with something better, something that’ll drive them absolutely crazy. I’ll send someone over there I know for certain they will flip a lid over.
The cops.
I dial them and tell them about the insane parties the bikers have been having, and how it’s affecting everyone including my business.
They don’t need much prompting. Cops love to go after biker clubs like theirs and they’ll take any excuse to get in there to
