Page 76 of Throttle

“I’m serious, Throttle. I will kick your ass.” She holds up her fists. “What? Afraid of losing to a woman.”

“Go back inside, Angel. I’m not fighting you.”

Venom comes stomping our way, possibly to beat my ass. Charger might not have fully accepted him, but the rest of us have grown fond of the guy, and if he wants to attack me right now, I'd allow it. I deserve it.

Maybe I should surrender and let her punch me to a bloody pulp.

At the exact moment I'm about to tell her to take a shot, Venom grabs her and tosses her over his shoulder.

“Ugh! Venom. Put me down!”

He slaps her ass, turning toward me. “Sorry man, sometimes I just can’t let her out.”

“You’re so dead!” Angel pounds at his back.

“Come on, peach. Let me take you home and put that sass of yours to good use.”

Now that they're gone, I prepare to leave, but pause for a moment. She’s with this Caleb guy. I walk my pissed off self back inside to round up whoever will help because tonight, my girl is coming home.

Tequila

With Caleb by my side, he gracefully secures a strand of beach waves behind my ear as we make our way to my car, the soft night breeze around us.

“I’m glad you called me.” He smiles.

Sure, I was too. It was fun having another friend. We should be friends, not because of Throttle. There were never any sparks from Caleb. No heart thumping out-of-control nervousness when he looked at me. No Earth-shattering kiss. It was just comfortable. Easy.

I suppose I was someone who craved chaos.

“It was a good time.” I smile as he holds my hand.

We stand outside the restaurant. His favorite. Not mine. Which could have been a red flag. Did I seriously give Caleb a deduction point because he didn't pick a place we both liked? Assuming that he's selfish is just plain dumb. Yet here I was, ignoring every made-up neon flashing sign imaginable, pointing to a certain biker boy I can’t get out of my head.

Caleb faces Brass, who stands by his motorcycle, exuding an intimidating presence with his arms crossed and a deathly glare. I needed a good reason for being stalked by a MC member but could have done better. Could have just said I was involved with a biker family who doesn’t trust you, but that wouldn’t do.

“I have a feeling your cousin from Tennessee is scheming to murder me.” His guess is valid. He clears his throat. “Next time, ditch the bodyguard and we go back to my place. I’ll make dinner.”

I contemplate my answer, not wanting to hurt him. “Caleb—”

“Just give me one last chance before you reject me and suggest we stay friends. A guy needs another night with a woman like you.” My face reddens as he places his finger to my lips. “Say nothing. I’ll text you in a few days.” He raises my hand to his mouth and lays a gentle kiss on it. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

He drives away and Brass glances at me. “I don’t like him.”

“You don’t even know him.”

“He’s too persistent.”

“Yeah, well. It’s good he’s honest with me and knows what he wants.” We both knew who I’m referring to.

“Fair enough.” He starts up his motorcycle, and I pull out of the parking lot first. We both head back to my apartment.

It's dark when we arrive. Another con of living here. Lights are unnecessary to them. It simplifies the process of drug deals. I suppose having Brass around isn’t a terrible thing.

When I park in my spot, I'm breathless as I see Throttle on his Harley waiting next to me. What is he doing?

Every time I lay eyes on him, my mind fails me. With his slender jeans hugging his muscular thighs, his poised and tall body stands strong. He wears this stupid shirt under his club cut that really stresses his muscles. It’s a losing battle.

“I'll take it from here,” he informs Brass, who nods and rides off, leaving me and my former best friend alone in the empty, unlit apartment complex with only the moonlight for sight.

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