Page 50 of Frisco

I mean, I knew. I’d watched the shows and a fair number of documentaries about the biker lifestyle after Gloves told me Shane was in, but hearing him say that? WTF?

I pulled my arm away.

The bouncer wasn’t looking at me. He wasn’t even looking at the guns. He was staring right at Shane. Ghost. He was looking at Ghost.

I felt the frost when he said, “She wasn’t acting like she was yours inside.”

I stilled, hearing his implication.

I shot him a look, but again, he was only focused on Shane.

I turned, locking eyes with Shane too. “I don’t know what’s all going on here, but that’s a lie.”

Shane was locked down, his jaw clenched. “Take the helmet, Kali.”

I frowned. “My friends are insi—”

“We’ll get ’em home,” the bouncer interrupted. “Don’t need more of you lost to those guys.”

If he’d been someone I gave a damn about, that would’ve hurt. He wasn’t, so he was starting to piss me off.

I moved to Shane’s side and took the helmet, pulling it on. Shane indicated the seat behind him.

I looked back at the bouncer. “You’re a dick.” Then I swung a leg up and climbed on.

My irritation blocked out the fact that I was getting on a motorcycle, and not just any motorcycle. Shane’s bike was the real deal, and then there was the fact that I was behind Shane.

Shane King.

Shane King.

Images of us flashed in my head, from the motel room, as he’d pinned me against the wall. As he’d moved in. As he’d lifted me up and begun grinding into me.

My throat was dry.

He walked the bike back before taking off, and I pressed forward into him, my arms locked tight.

He was solid, pure muscle. He’d called me all woman before. He was all man.

Foley was a boy.

I never thought that before. He’d been my height, my weight, and a pretty boy. White. Not that the way someone looks makes them a boy versus a man, but there was something about Shane. Something Foley didn’t have.

I’d thought Foley was cute when we first met. He’d been charming, but there’d been a feel of authenticity to him—that’s what I fell for, not his charm. Not his quick wit or quick grin. I fell for the side to him that had been real, but now, riding behind Shane and having been in his arms just once, I knew Foley had been nothing but a boy.

Shane never had time for the athletes in school. Even at their age, there’d been an otherworldly feel to Shane. He knew things, had seen things, been through things. He was still going through things, and it had made him who he was. I’d felt it even then. And Connor wasn’t popular, but Shane hadn’t cared.

Shane could’ve been the popular asshole. He’d chosen not to be. He chose to be my brother’s friend.

That, right there, started it all.

Sitting behind him now, I wasn’t thinking about Aly or Harper. I wasn’t being the responsible adult I should’ve been. I just wanted to rub against him the entire ride to wherever we were going. I suppressed a shiver, pressing my cheek against Shane’s shoulder.

I felt him look back. I didn’t move.

It was dark, and the wind whipped against us. I could smell the grease and oil from the bikes.

All of it was heady, freeing in a way. I hadn’t felt free in a long time, maybe ever.

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