Page 4 of In It for the Long Ride

He glared, shoved the pistol onto the ledge of the window and tore across the parking lot toward his bike. It roared wildly, airing his attitude for all to hear as he darted out into traffic with a finger raised in my direction.

I didn’t even realize I was rubbing my knuckles, until my eyes locked with hers and I saw the shock on her face. I followed her gaze and realized my knuckles were now split open and bleeding.

“Ah, fuck…” I slung blood everywhere trying to dismiss it and quietly asked, “The fuck is going on, Daisy?”

She sniffed and jerked her attention away from me, as if she’d suddenly recalled that I was the man she couldn’t stand the sight of. Her body started to vibrate again, and her jaw quivered as she sucked in a wild breath.

“Daisy…”

Her features tensed and tears spilled down her face.

“Eric?” I guessed.

She shook her head, and a manic little laugh escaped her.

“No. Nope, he just got the stitches out. He’s good.”

While she spoke, I slowly closed the distance between us and placed my good hand on her shoulder. She immediately shrugged away from it and glared at me.

I put my hands up in a bid for peace.

“Daisy, talk to me…” I begged.

“I can’t…” Her shoulders slowly started to fold, and I decided whatever beating she was gonna dish out was worth suffering, I wrapped her in my arms and pulled her toward me like we were kids again.

When she collapsed rather than attacking, my heart sank. She was the strongest, most fiery woman I knew. If it was that fucking bad, I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it. I laid my forehead on top of her crown of curls and rubbed her back while she fought against bouts of hyperventilation.

I slowly, and subtly danced her back into the garage, grabbing the pistol from the ledge as I passed. People were standing in the parking lot, staring in our direction, but I ignored them and discreetly shoved that piece into the waistband of my pants, untucking my shirt so it lay discreetly over it.

“I needed you,” she whispered, her fingers curling so tightly where she gripped my kutte that her knuckles were turning white. “I need you, Carl.”

My breath caught. I had to man up and remind myself that she was speaking from a place of pain and chaos. This woman hated me. There were no two ways about that. She had ever since my country made me pack up for Vietnam and leave her behind.

I slid my hand up her back and cupped her head, pressing a kiss to her forehead that I’d wanted to place for over twenty years. “I’m here, baby.”

Chapter 3

Montana

I smackedthe button on the wall and the garage door lowered, giving us a bit of privacy. She was really out of sorts, she clung to me and cried like someone died. I held onto her and battled nausea, having made myself sick with worry and the proverbialwhat ifsas I waited on her to compose herself enough to tell me what the hell was going on.

Her head tipped, and her grip on my kutte slowly lessened until her palms were flat on my chest and she was trying to backstep.

“Don’t,” I whispered, without even meaning to.

I didn’t want to ever let her go again. I’d dreamed of holding her like that for years while I was in that fucking tiger cage. When I came home, the woman who had just been in my arms was gone.

In her place was an amber-eyed hellcat, who lashed out any time I got close.

“I need to go.” She sounded like she was giving herself advice.

“The hell you do,” I grabbed her arm when she tried to dart off. “You don’t get to come in here waving pistols and falling apart, and then think that you’re just gonna walk off without any goddamn explanation.”

“Let go of me,” Her voice turned to gravel, and her eyes tightened despite her refusal to look at me.

“I’m not gonna.” I shook my head.

“Carl–” The warning was clear in her tone, but it didn’t scare me.

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