Throttle MC: A Stepbrother Romance (5 page)

“Nice to meet you, too.”  His deep, rumbling voice vibrated through me, as though it was touching me in all the places I had wished his hands had, back on the desert highway.  The corner of his mouth turned up in a slight smirk, but other than that, he made no sign that he even remembered what had happened between us a couple of hours earlier.

Randi’s voice broke the tension.  “I, uh, made up the spare room... I mean, your old bedroom, at our place for you, Hadley.  I hope you’ll stay for as long as you like.”

I glanced at her, grateful for the change of subject.  “Thank you,” I said sincerely. I took a deep breath and pushed all the swirling emotions at the news of my new stepbrother away.  “I really appreciate it.”

My father seemed glad that the conversation had moved on to logistics.  “Hadley, you said your car was giving you trouble on the way here.  What’s the problem?”

“It’s been sucking down oil,” I said, turning to him. I resisted the urge to look back at Ryker.  “But it’s done that basically the whole time I’ve had it. It’s no big...”

“I’ll have one of the boys check it out, get it all fixed up for you,” he said brusquely.   

I started to protest, but then I realized that this was his way of showing me he was glad I was home.  “Thanks, Dad,” I replied, smiling at him.

“Of course, baby girl,” he replied, almost businesslike.  Turning to Ryker, he said, “Ryke, grab Hadley’s bags outta her car and take her to our place to get settled in.  Take the truck.”

“You bet,” Ryker said impassively.  I opened my mouth to protest, but couldn’t think of anything to say.  He turned and strode out the door without another word.

Lon held out his hand to me. “Give me the keys, Had.  I’ll have one of the boys work on it, get it back to you soon as we can.”

Dumbly, I dug into my pocket and fished them out. As I gave them to him, he grabbed me and folded me into another hug.  “So glad you’re home, baby girl,” he murmured as he held me.

“Me, too, Dad,” I said.

Though, truth be told, I wasn’t sure I was happy to be home, after all.

Outside, I found Ryker loading my bags into an aging F150 with the garage logo on the outside. “Hey,” I muttered as I walked up.  

“Hey,” he replied, not looking up at me. He threw the last of my stuff in the back, opened the door to the cab, and climbed into the driver’s seat.  After a moment, he rolled down the passenger window and looked out at me.  “You coming?” he asked, a slight note of impatience in his voice.

Mutely, I opened the passenger door and got in.  He started the engine, revved it once, and pulled out of the parking lot.  He turned right out of the lot, on a route I knew only too well, toward the house I’d grown up in. 

After a minute or so, it became apparent that he wasn’t going to say anything.  My nerves were getting the better of me, and when I’m nervous, I talk.  “Did you know Lon was my dad?” I demanded. 
Way to start a casual conversation, Hadley
. 

“What do you mean? When I stopped on the road to help you? How the hell would I have known that?” The impatience in his voice was only too clear.  Of course he was right, but his tone only served to irritate me, making me respond in kind.

“I don’t know what you know,” I snapped back.  “Why the hell did you suggest I go to Cooper’s then? Am I supposed to believe that was just coincidence?”

“Uh, considering it’s the only garage in Cheyenne, yeah, I think that’s a reasonable assumption,” he retorted, his tone mocking.  

God, he was infuriating.  I fumed for a moment, not finding anything withering to shoot back, and then tried another subject.  “So, how long have you been VP?”

“About a year and a half.”

“What happened to Scully?”

“Killed in a gun battle.”

That brought me up short.  Scully had always been really kind to me.  “Oh,” I murmured, my eyes pricking a little bit.  “That’s terrible.”

“Yeah,” he agreed.  “Now shut up and let me drive.”

 I rolled my eyes and shot him a look of disgust, but his gaze remained fixed on the road and he didn’t notice. After a few minutes, we turned onto the small street my house was on. Ryker slowed up to the shake shingled house and pulled into the driveway.  Before I knew it, he was out of the cab and collecting my bags.  I leaped out of the cab and slammed the door. “I can get...,” I began.

“Leave it.”  He grabbed my duffel and my day pack and turned toward the house.  I jogged after him and watched him open the front door, noting with interest that he had a key.  The screen door slammed shut behind him, and I rolled my eyes again as I opened it and stepped inside.

The living room was almost completely different from how I remembered it.  The walls were painted a light sage green now, and the furniture was all new, probably chosen by Randi.  To the back, the dining room table was the same, but the chairs had been replaced.  A large, cumbersome chandelier was gone, and in its place was more modern track lighting.  The effect was disconcerting, but I had to admit, it looked better than the worn, antiquated look that the space had when I lived there.

While I was taking stock of all the changes, Ryker had gone to my room and dumped my stuff.  I continued down the hall after him and found him standing in the center of it, next to a queen-sized bed with a patterned comforter that was also new.  I looked around my former room. All of the marks of my teenaged self had been removed.  There were no more posters of boy bands, no more pictures of adolescent me with friends, no more stuffed animals.  A wave of sadness washed over me.  “It all looks so different,” I said in a small voice.

For the first time, Ryker’s tone seemed to soften. “Yeah, I imagine it must be strange being back and seeing things change.” His eyes flicked away, as if acknowledging that he was one of the changes.

“It really is. Seven years... is a long time, I guess.  I don’t know what I expected,” I admitted.  “It’s all just a little... overwhelming.”

“You really haven’t been back here at all in seven years?” Ryker mused.  He turned and looked at me curiously. I shook my head.  “Why not?” His voice was inquisitive, but not harsh.

I considered trying to explain, but the thought just made me tired.  “Long story,” I said.  “The short version is, Dad sent me away because he didn’t think the club was a good place for a teenage girl. And I was so mad that he sent me away to live with my aunt, that I decided to punish him for it.”

“Until now,” Ryker added.

“Until now,” I agreed.

“And you really didn’t know he and Randi had gotten married.” It was a statement rather than a question.

“No.  I really didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“Don’t be,” I replied.  “It’s not your fault.  And it’s not so much that he’s remarried... It’s just...” I shrugged.  “I don’t know.”

“One more big change from how it used to be,” he offered.

“Yeah,” I smiled sadly. “But I guess I’ll just have to get used to it.  Having a stepmom.”

“And a stepbrother,” he muttered with a short, dry laugh.

I looked and his gaze locked on mine.  His eyes, at first sympathetic, seemed to change in an instant. His pupils grew large, and his brows knit into a frown. Suddenly, the heat that had been there between us back in the desert flashed again like a lightning bolt, and my breath hitched in my throat.  A flame seemed to erupt inside me, burning from my chest down to lick between my legs. My lips parted involuntarily; my breathing shallowed and sped up. Ryker’s eyes widened, and then I saw them grow dark with desire.  He raked them up and down my body, and suddenly I was acutely aware that we were completely alone in my bedroom.  Alone in the house.  Somehow I knew, looking at the naked lust in his eyes and the large bulge in his jeans, that one move would be all it would take.  One small move, from either of us, and it would be all over.  And God, how I wanted to make that move.

After a long, tense moment, Ryker tore his eyes from mine.  “I’m in the apartment downstairs,” he said gruffly, turning away.  “Let me know if you need anything.”  He left the room, and I listened to the heavy steps of his boots retreating down the hallway. 

Forcing myself to take a deep breath, I realized I was trembling.  Shakily, I sat down on the bed and contemplated what had suddenly become my own private version of hell. So, Ryker lived downstairs. 
Shit
. Many years ago, my father had had the lower level of the house renovated and a separate entrance built, so that it could serve as an apartment.  He had been intending to take in renters, he said, but had eventually decided against it.  Mostly, the apartment had served as a temporary living arrangement for club members who needed to lie low for a while.  And now, apparently, Ryker called the place home.  Which meant there would be no way to avoid my stepbrother.  At home or at the club.

I slammed the door and stalked through my apartment to the bathroom. Turning on the water as hot as I could stand it, I stripped off my clothes, and for the second time that day, closed my eyes and thought about what it would be like to sink my aching cock deep inside Hadley’s softness.  Apparently, Sherilyn’s expert ministrations had not been nearly enough.  Then again, I hadn’t anticipated having to suffer through being alone with Hadley in her childhood bedroom, with nothing between us but air and tension so thick you could cut it with a goddamn knife.

I stepped under the pounding stream and took hold of my throbbing dick, stroking myself as slowly as I could stand it.  Before long it was too much for me to take and I sped up, grunting loudly as I released my load against the wall in hot, thick spurts.  I leaned back against the wall, panting, and let the shower stream rinse me off.  Jesus Christ, this woman was going to be the end of me.  But as much as I wanted her, as much as she wanted me – and I could tell she wanted me just as bad – there was not one goddamn thing I could do about it. 

As my breath slowly returned to normal, I had to burst out laughing at how fate seemed to have a perpetually cruel sense of humor where I was concerned. No sooner had I decided to prospect with The Throttle, than Randi and Lon strike up a relationship.  Not that that was bad in and of itself, but I knew that there would always be club members who assumed that my rise to the position of VP happened only because my ma was the president’s old lady. 

Then, just as I had started working on getting Lon to start seriously considering moving the club away from meth distribution and toward more legitimate business, fuckin’ Jimmy Stocker starts making it clear he’s gunning for the VP position himself.  Oh, not openly or anything, but his intentions were clear enough to me, anyway.  I knew he was whispering in some of the men’s ears that I wanted to take the club’s main source of revenue and throw it away to the Chrome Warriors.  It was only a matter of time before it came up at chapel.  And then we’d see where the lines had been drawn.

And now, fate puts the hottest damn piece of ass I’ve ever seen right in front of me, and then makes her my stepsister so I can’t even fucking touch her.

I’ve never been a lucky man.  In fact, until I found The Throttle, I’d say it’s pretty likely I was gonna end up dead or in jail by the time I was twenty-five.  But finding the club was arguably the best thing that could have happened to me.  It gave me a sense of purpose.  Something to strive for.  Something to fight for. As a member of The Throttle, I had a family.  A life. Men who had my back, and whose backs I had.  Now, as VP, my main purpose was to protect the club, to make it the best it could be. 

After Scully died, Lon decided the club needed younger blood in its leadership, to help take it into the future.  The other brothers had agreed.  Well, most of them, anyway.  I knew that there were at least a few who hadn’t been 100% behind Lon’s choice. I thought I’d changed a few of their minds since I took over as VP, but Jimmy and Stick weren’t completely on board, I knew. I figured I could handle one or two dissenting voices, though.

One of the main reasons I had wanted the VP position was that the club had been getting into some pretty hot water lately.  The Throttle had a variety of ways of making money, some legit, some less so. One of the less legit ways was a little meth trade.  It had started out as just a side thing – moving it around in exchange for a cut of the profits – but in the last year or two, we had been getting in deeper and deeper, until we were the main supply line for meth in the area. Trouble was, the Chrome Warriors ran a meth ring, as well, and their territory butted up against ours.  A shitstorm was brewing, and we all knew it. 

I was hoping that I could influence Lon to step away from the meth before it destroyed us. It wasn’t just the blowout with the Warriors I was hoping to avoid.  Shit, we’d been in wars before, and I knew we could handle it.  But I had seen what meth did to people.  One of my best friends from when I was a kid, Nate Fortner, had gotten into the stuff when we were in high school.  Hell, we both had.  But whereas I had somehow had sense enough to back away before it took me, Nate hadn’t.  The last I’d heard or seen of him, he was living in a burned-out trailer the next town over, cooking his own and smoking up most of the profits.  I knew he wasn’t long for this world.

I didn’t want the club involved in shit like that. Guns, I could handle.  Other contraband, too.  But we didn’t need to be dealing in meth.  And I was hoping I could convince Lon of that.