Page 89 of Throttle

“This gang has been the only family I’ve known for a long time. But I don’t expect you to understand that.”

I shift my gaze nervously between him and his father, refraining from getting involved.

“You’re right. I don’t understand. This place…” He snorts in disgust. “Is why you skipped town? Why I woke up to a note from my son, the morning after your graduation, saying he was never coming back.” Years of grief weigh down on his words.

“You know why I left. I wanted to live my life, but you didn't approve. Didn’t want that for your own son.” Throttle taps his chest in broken passion.

“So, you chose the life of a criminal instead?”

Throttle doesn’t answer. His father’s definition of criminal isn’t the same as ours. It's true, they may violate laws, but it's for the sake of saving lives, not inflicting harm. His father will never comprehend that. Not in so little time.

“The only crime I’m accused of is not being able to take down every single fucked up bastard in this world.” He takes a step forward. “But I’ll tell you something… I sleep great knowing I’ve helped at least one person from a life of torture.”

His father’s gaze eases with sorrow. “I don’t even know you. This man you’ve become.” He waves a dismissive hand. He should be ashamed of himself.

I reach a breaking point and stand in front of Throttle’s body. With surprise in his father’s eyes, he observes me as if a small woman hadn't just stepped in the middle of two arguing men. “You’re right. You don’t know him. Because if you did, you wouldn’t be standing here saying such awful things.”

We eye one another for a moment and just as I think I may have gotten to him, Throttle takes my shoulders, turning us away.

“Given her presence in this place, she must be your whore.”

Throttle spins, brushing past me, and delivers a forceful punch to his father's face. Blood gushes from his nose as he loses his balance and falls back into the bar.

Hush leaps from his seat and takes Mr. Miller’s shoulder.

“No one talks to her that way! She’s the reason I fucking breathe. And the reason I’m not beating the ever-loving piss out of you right now.” Throttle’s breaths are fast as I grip his forearm to soothe him.

“I don’t know why I came here. This was a waste of time.” His father holds his nose while Hush finishes ushering him outside.

With each heated step, he heads toward his car, and I rush after him. I’m not sure why. Deep inside, I hoped they would come to terms with each other. Not for it to end like this.

“Tequila!”

Ignoring Throttle. I stop right before his father, and he pauses with his hand on the door. I pass him the napkins I picked up, and he takes them.

“Thank you,” he says with remorse, but I don’t smile or respond. “I’m sorry for what I said. I—”

“Why did you come, Mr. Miller? If it wasn’t to give your son an apology for everything, then what was it for?” I cross my arms to my chest, wondering.

In defeat, he leans against his car, crumpling the napkins into a ball. At least his face stopped bleeding. “I don't know.” He sighs, and I have the urge to shake him.

“We see where Levi gets his stubbornness from,” I mumble, watching a glint of something flash in his eye.

“He cares about you. That much is clear.” The truth falling from his lips.

“He does. And I care about him, too. He’s one of the best men I’ve ever met, and I’m lucky to have him in my life.” I take a step closer. “I realize you see this place and think nothing but bad, but these people are kind. They would give you their leather off their backs, open their homes to you if needed. And I can’t imagine my world without them. Without your son.” I let my voice quiver, then clear my throat, shaking it out. “It’s a shame you never got to watch him become the man he is because knowing him is such a gift.”

His father gazes at me with a compassionate expression. Then takes a quick look behind me, giving a slight smile. “Take care of him.” He gets in his car, the gravel kicking up beneath his tires as he drives away.

I make a silent promise to care for his son in the same way Throttle cares for me. That will always hold true.

I crash into Throttle's chest when I turn around. He instantly strokes my face and guides my gaze up toward him.

“Thank you.”

My knees grow weak as he kisses my forehead. He hardly budges, and his warm breaths tickle my skin. He gazes down at me, so near, and then he glides his hands down my arms, down the sides of my breasts, down to my waist where he holds me still, tightening with a firm grip.

I swallow. His kisses lightly graze my cheek. Then the other. He separates my lips with his thumb, causing me to take a deep breath. The ache and lust for him intensifies between my thighs.

---