Hope (The Virtues #1) (7 page)

After he collapsed on top of me, we laughed at our exhaustion, our passion, and our history. I slept the sleep of the dead, knowing that the next day would be dangerous. I trusted Trask with my life, and I’d soon understand just what it felt like to actually hold a life in your hands.

When I woke up the next morning, Trask was out cold. I checked my phone; it was just past eight. The curse of being an early riser. On a normal Friday, I would have lecture first thing in the morning, but I was away for a “family emergency”—at least, that was what the email to my professor said.

I slid off of Trask’s bed and dug through the pile of clothes beside it. I finally found my panties. I pulled them up my legs. As I was reaching down for the summer dress, I decided against it and grabbed his black t-shirt instead.

As I walked out of his room, I spotted the washroom to my left. I pulled his shirt over my head and looked at myself in the mirror. I swam in his shirt; it came down past my underwear and stopped halfway down my thighs. It was just another reminder of how petite I was, and how ripped he had become.

I left the bathroom and checked on him. He was still breathing slow and deep. I watched his naked body for a minute, trying to wrap my head around what had transpired between us last night. It was like two rabid dogs had been let loose on each other. Our bodies fought, but we weren’t out for blood—we were out for pure, unconditional pleasure.

Turning, I began my hunt for the kitchen, I was in dire need for some coffee.

The house was a bachelor pad from top to bottom. There were framed pictures of motorcycles on the walls, and various parts were lying on the end tables. Strips of chrome reflected the morning sun all over the the living room. From the inside, it was impossible to tell that the house was made of shipping containers. It may have been filled with car and motorcycle parts, but it was clean and beautifully decorated, just another thing I’d never have expected from Trask.

In high school, he could barely keep his shirt tucked in. I often brought his homework to school with me so that he wouldn't lose it before he had to turn it in. I loved leaving him notes in his locker that said things like, “Don’t lose this in the fifteen feet from here to trig.”

I could only think that the military had straightened him out. I smiled as I walked through his place. The kitchen was just as neat and tidy. It was wall-to-wall stainless steel. The fridge handles were part of a motorcycle. The brake handles, maybe?

I shook my head and began to open cabinets, looking for coffee. I found it below the counter and started the coffee maker. Leaning back against the countertop, I closed my eyes, listening to the water boil. The aroma filled the kitchen, and I took the invigorating scent in.

Even before the water had completely made it into the carafe, I switched the pot out for a Harley Davidson mug. Once it was full, I swapped them back. The black liquid steamed, and it warmed my hands as I held the mug. There was no milk in the fridge. There was almost nothing in there at all, so I only put sugar into my coffee.

I was taking a shallow sip when I heard Trask clearing his throat. I looked down the hallway and saw him almost dragging his body toward me. In high school, I would have felt embarrassment to see someone, even my boyfriend walking naked through a house. Ten years later, I took in the sight of his hard body. His tattoos covered his arms and chest, and I smiled.

His head hung down as he came closer. He was like a zombie searching for brains, except he was looking for coffee. I thought that was what he wanted, anyway. I was wrong.

Trask reached for the coffee mug in my hand. He finally looked up, and I saw a devilish smile on his face. He slammed the mug down on the counter, and I was in his grasp. He lifted me and spun around. I laughed when he growled at me and kissed my neck. Trask was pulling me back to the bedroom.

He carried me like a caveman with his prize, and at the end of the hallway, he pulled me into the bathroom. He kicked the door closed from behind before he set me down. I felt so absolutely taken.

I watched him fire up the shower, and it wasn’t long before steam was filling up the small room. Trask was already naked, but he pulled the t-shirt up and over my head. I watched the muscles in his back twist and knot as he slid my panties down. His tattoos seemed to come alive as he lowered himself to his knees before me.

My heart raced. The Trask I had known in high school was a wonderful sexual partner, but he didn’t have that confidence and force I wanted from a lover. Now I was in awe of him. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he took it. He knew exactly what I needed, and he gave it.

He stood up, lifting me around the waist as he did. Trask carried me into the shower, and let me slide down his wet body until my toes touched the tiles. As the hot water began to soak my hair, I broke the silence.

“What are you going to do?”

“Hmm?” Trask ran his hands down my body, following the curve of my waist down to my hips.

I smiled, trying to hold my body steady as his fingers touched my sensitive skin. “About the drug dealer. What’s your plan?”

Trask turned and grabbed a bar of soap behind him. It was beside a bottle of shampoo, the only other thing in the shower. Bachelor pad to the extreme. He worked the bar in his hands, lathering them up.

“I’m going to ask them very nicely to forgive Nick’s debts.” I stared at him through the layers of steam rising and swirling around us. “What?” He gave me hurt look, like a child when he doesn’t get his way.

“You’re going to
ask
them?” I knew he was toying with me, but I had to play his game to actually hear his plan.

He smiled and nodded, “I’m not just going to ask; I’m going to ask
nicely
. If they don’t accept,” Trask worked the soap over my chest, “which I doubt they will, then things will devolve into a heated argument where we both hear each other out and come to a mutually beneficial agreement.”

I playfully pushed back at his chest. “Are you the Sergeant at Arms, or a hostage negotiator?”

He laughed, allowing me to push him back. He could have stood like a stone wall against my force, but he didn't. Trask was incredibly powerful and built, but he still let me move him backwards. It reminded me of two animals play fighting. The bigger one would still let the smaller one win from time to time.

“That’s pretty accurate. My job isn’t to come out firing. My job is to try and make sure there isn't a single shot fired at all. I meet with other MCs when they have disputes. I really do try to come up with an agreement that both clubs benefit from.”

I took the soap from him, and Trask let me turn his back to me. As I ran my hands over his corded muscles, I asked, “Does it work?”

Trask put his hands up on the shower wall, leaning against it as I washed him. “Sometimes. Sometimes it doesn't.”

“What happens then?”

“That’s when I get to live up to my name. You know I was in the Navy, right?”

As he asked, I looked to his left arm and saw the eagle perched on an anchor in the background. I ran my fingers over the inked skin. “Mmhm.”

“I went to SEAL school, too. Not sure if you knew that. Didn’t make it through, but I got plenty of training that still comes in handy. When negotiations fail, I usually clear things up quietly. The club likes to stay out of the news, you understand.” He talked like it was no big deal, and he disguised a lot of the details, but I understood.

I had assumed the motorcycle club operated like a shoot ‘em up movie, loaded to the teeth and ready to blow up anyone or anything in their way. Trask made it sound like he did the dirty work in the shadows.

My voice dropped, not that anyone was listening in. “You’ve done it before?”

Trask knew exactly what I meant. “I have. I’ve been with the Rising Sons for nearly five years, and I moved up to the rank of Sergeant at Arms two years ago. In my five years with the club, I’ve pulled the trigger seven times.”

Trask spun around, still half-covered in lather. The water was still hot on my skin, but a cold shiver ran down my back.

“Ten years makes a lot of difference, huh, Hope?” His eyes seemed darker, and I knew he had revealed something deep. I didn’t know how to react, so I didn’t. My mouth hung open slightly as he took me in.

I knew I had to speak, so I managed to say, “I don't know what to say, Trask.” It was the worst thing to say.

“Don’t kid yourself about me, Hope. You came to me knowing what I did. You just didn't want it to be true. You never wanted me to go into the military. I knew that. You didn't have to say it, but I knew. But here’s the thing: you came to me yesterday. You found me out do to the exact thing you never wanted. So you can go ahead and hate me for what I do, but you can’t ask me to do it at the same time.”

He slid the glass door back, stepping out of the shower.

“Trask, I—”

“No. You make up your mind. You don’t get to love a sunset, then complain that you’ve gone blind. Look away, or drink the view in, but don’t try to guilt me while you use me.” His voice got angrier as he spoke, and a moment later, I was left standing naked in the shower, trapped, hurt, and confused.

***

I gave him some time before I got out of the shower. I think we both needed to think. Our reunion had been a whirlwind, and there were many hurt feelings left over from high school, and on top of that, a new world that each of us had to understand the other’s place in.

Trask was right. Nick and I had come to him looking for a solution. Neither of us wanted to say it, but we were talking kill or be killed. The Rising Sons Motorcycle Club wasn’t going to do it for us, but Trask had agreed to. I knew he did it because he still had feelings for me, and I had taken advantage of that.

I’d wanted to know what he did, but when I actually heard it, my reaction had been shitty. It was like I had forgotten growing up on the poor side of town. The god-complex a lot of doctors get must have already started sinking in, because I was trying to use Trask, not ask for his help.

I came into the bedroom with a towel around my body. Trask was there sitting at a desk below a window. I stood in the doorway for a few seconds, watching him and beating myself up in my head.

“Hey,” I said, trying to remember the voice I used way back in high school as we used to lay on the hood of his car, “I’m sorry, Trask. I acted like an ass.” He didn’t turn around, so I went on.

“You were right about what you said. I never wanted you to go into the military. Even though we were splitting up, I didn’t want to
lose you
. After we left, I was a wreck all through the war. Every name, every new explosion on TV; I always died inside thinking it was you.”

Trask’s voice was low, weighed down by memory. He spoke without turning around. “I wasn’t anywhere near Iraq or Afghanistan.”

“I didn’t know that. I didn’t know anything about you after you enlisted. I just waited to hear from friends that you had died, or worse: I waited to hear your name on some newscast. It was torture for me, Trask.” My voice remained steady, but there was no stopping the tears. He turned around.

Before I knew it, I was in his arms. The heat of his naked body engulfed me.

I started sobbing into his shoulder as he held me. I had buried my feelings for so long, but there was no keeping them hidden anymore.

“Hey, hey. Hope, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize...” He held me for a long time, letting me pour my emotions out.

“I thought this was all behind me, and then there you are, saving me with your tattoos and your Joe Cool attitude. Jesus Christ, Trask.”

“I know, I know.” His voice was soothing and low. He stroked my hair, keeping me close to his body.

Trask moved me toward the bed, my towel falling to the floor between us. He laid me down, the soft sheets cooling my skin. I rested my head on his chest for a while, listening to his heart pounding steady and true. It was a long time until he spoke.

“I do what I do for my family. Those old farts are my family.” I could hear the sincerity in his voice, his bass tones rumbling in his chest. “You came to me to help your family, right?”

“Mmhm.”

“Okay, then. You have to understand that I’m willing to do whatever it takes for you, even if the Sons aren’t. At the same time, though,
you
need to be willing to accept whatever it takes. That might be a fight, that might be blood, that might be bodies.”

After a long pause, Trask asked, “Hope, can you accept that?”

I could. I didn’t want to hear it, but I knew that Trask could keep what was left of my family safe, no matter what.

I pushed myself up from his chest. I met his chestnut eyes. Nodding, I pulled myself up next to Trask’s head and whispered in his ear, “I trust you. I trust you completely.”

He let out a low groan as he pulled my naked body on top of his. We made passionate love like we had done years before. It was slow, deep, and without any struggle over power. The violent sex of the night before had been wonderful and erotic, but it was sex between strangers. The morning was sex between lovers.