Page 24 of Covert
My vision goes red. I told that fucker not to touch her. To leave her the fuck alone. What the fuck is he doing, hanging onto her like a boyfriend, bringing her to illegal pink slip races and bare-knuckle boxing matches?
A bright blue Miata and a lowered black mustang rev as they amble up to the starting line, but my vision has narrowed to the spot where Diesel's fucking hand is resting on her shoulder.
Without thinking, I march over to them and shove him hard in the back. He was loose and relaxed, and he stumbles forward hard, unfortunately dragging Nikki with him. She was off balance, and hisarm around her shoulder unfortunately dragged her with him. She falls to her knees with a yelp.
I get one punch on Diesel, now dropped to one knee, before my rage is replaced with fear and guilt. Fuck! Is she hurt? I reach for her, now able to see her face pinched in pain.
"Ni..." I barely get out before the clicking of half a dozen gun hammers sends ice through my veins.
Of course, he'd be out with his brothers. And of course, they'd be loaded. I pinch my eyes shut, ready for the inevitable.
But before anything goes off, a body slams into me and I can feel Nikki's arms wrap around my neck and feel her breasts against my chest.
"No!" she shouts, burying her face in my neck. In horror, I wrap my arm around her, pick her up, and spin her, giving my back to the motorcycle gang.
"What the fuck!" I scold her, but when I open my eyes, she's looking at Diesel, pleadingly.
"He's dumb, not a threat. Please," there are actually tears in her eyes as she pleads for my life. What the fuck have I gotten us into? Everything happened so fast, and of course, I acted before thinking.
Diesel nods at his friends, who uncock their weapons and go back to watching us wearily. One gives Diesel an unopened beer can to lay against his rapidly swelling cheek.
She sighs in relief and wraps her hand around mine, tugging me away from the gang.
I change directions and lead her back to our bikes for some privacy. I lift her by the waist and set her on my bike sideways so I can look ather knees. I kneel, gently removing some small gravel from open wounds with my thumb.
Guilt sits like a rock in my stomach as I brace for whatever hell she's going to put me through. I deserve every minute of it, but when she's silent for longer than I expect, I finally look her in the eyes.
"Care to explain what that was about?" she asks, her tone flat and cold.
I sigh, the feeling of shame and regret is familiar. I could lie to her. Tell her he owed me money. Or had something to do with my sister. But it's about time I own up to my own bullshit. I'm sick of even myself.
"I saw him touching you, after I told him not to, and was angry that he gets to touch you and I don't." My eyes fall back to her knees, but my thumb is doing nothing but caressing her soft, warm skin.
I'm fully aware I'm luxuriating in the one thing I thought I couldn't have, and maybe never will after my outburst tonight. But instead of justified outrage, instead of putting me in my place, her voice drips with sympathy.
"You don't get to touch me because you haven't asked."
I look up at her, with her beautiful almond-shaped eyes and dark lashes, and I feel something that feels sickeningly like hope.
But she's not smiling. "Diesel gets to touch me because he wasn't afraid to go after what he wanted."
I wince, her arrow hitting me exactly where she intended it. I don't get to touch her because I haven't asked, because I can't get out of my own way enough to go after what I want. Because I want her. Because I don't feel like I deserve her. Because I'm still angry at myself and the world for what happened to my sister.
I nod, dejected.
But she reaches down and covers her hand with my own. "If you want to touch me, I want to explore it with you. But you can't pull this shit anymore. I'm not going to waste what little time I have left with someone emotionally stunted who can't communicate what he wants."
She squeezes my hand reassuringly. She's chastising me while also encouraging me. I nod again, unable to meet her eyes.
"But I also have rules. Whatever this is, it can only last six months. I'm gone in six months, and I don't want there to be an expectation of more."
"Why six months?"
She chews the inside of her cheek, and now won't meet my eye. "It's just something I do." She gives me a lame excuse. It reminds me of what Axel had said.
"Axel said he tried to do a background check on you but couldn't find anything."
Her eyes widen in fear, and dart behind me to Axel, who's walking up to us now, Beckett in tow. She stands and rushes to him, hands fisting his shirt.
