Tease: A Kings of Korruption MC Novel Read online

  “Well, who is this boy? What does he do?”

  What does he do? “He’s not a boy, Mom. He’s a man. I don’t know how old he is, but I think he’s around my age. And I don’t know what he does.”

  “Don’t know! Laynie! You can’t go on a date with a strange man! Honey … what are you thinking?”

  Aggravation is lost to full-on anger. “I’m thinking that this is the first guy in a long time that doesn’t treat me like a fucking cripple! I’m thinking that he’s a good person! I’m thinking that my own mother should know me well enough to trust my judgment. And I’m thinking that I need to get off of this phone before I say something I’m going to regret.”

  “Laynie Marie! Don’t you take that t –“

  “Goodbye, Mom.”

  I disconnect the call and flop down onto the couch. God! She is so infuriating! Before my accident, my mom and I were close. My whole family was close. I don’t know if it was losing Garrett or me losing my sight that’s made her into the neurotic “momster” that she is, but I can’t take it anymore.

  I’ve put up with it for nine years now, and she’ll be lucky to survive it until ten. I don’t know how my dad puts up with her. I guess it’s because he spends most of his time in the garage just to get away from her special brand of crazy. I moved to Ottawa to get away from her myself. I needed to escape. I wanted to go to Toronto, but Daniel lives here, and it was a compromise I agreed to avoid giving her an early stroke. Plus, I love my brother. I like having the opportunity to spend time with him without my mother hovering like a low-flying helicopter.

  After texting my brother to let him know I’m not coming with him tonight, I decide I need an escape. Remembering the new book I’m set to review, I decide to spend the morning listening to it and lose myself in the world of hot bikers and their bitches. Reading has always been an escape for me and with audio books becoming more and more popular, it has made my life so much easier.

  I make myself a cup of coffee, put on my earphones and curl up under my favorite blanket, letting my newest book boyfriend sweep me off my feet.

  TRAVIS IS LATE. HE was supposed to be here forty-five minutes ago, and I’m beginning to think he’s not coming. Disappointment causes my heart to feel heavy. I’d spent the entire day nursing my hangover, cleaning my apartment, and cooking this meal. I’d worked hard on it. I wanted to make it perfect for him as my way of thanking the cranky son-of-a-bitch for all of his help. Now, looking back, I don’t even know why I’d invited him. He barely speaks, and when he does it’s more like a growl. He’d turned down my invitation at first, and I hadn’t pushed so why the hell had he accepted if he wasn’t even going to have the decency to show up?

  Shaking my head, I drain my first of many glasses of wine and wander to the counter so I can wrap the baked dish in foil. Might as well put it in the fridge and use it for the next few nights. Good thing I love manicotti. I empty the last of one bottle of wine into my glass and am just trying to decide whether the three bottles I have left is enough or if I need to walk to the liquor store when the door buzzer sounds.

  My belly erupts in a storm of flutters and my heart pounds with excitement. He did come. Hurrying over to the buzzer, only stubbing my toe once on the way, I press the bottom button and make an effort to sound uninterested. “Hello?”

  The thirty seconds it takes for him to answer feels like a year. “It’s Travis.” My excitement fades a little. He doesn’t sound happy to be here at all.

  I press the button to let him in, not responding. Turning from the wall-mounted buzzer, I quickly pinch my cheeks and rearrange my breasts. “All right, Dex. How do I look?”

  Dex doesn’t answer, but he does come and stand beside me while we wait for the knock on the door. When it comes, I call out, “Coming!” and proceed to stand there a little longer. I don’t want him to think I’m too eager, and besides, he’s very late. Let him wait for me now.

  After a minute, Dex gives me a nudge. Figuring he’d waited long enough, I walk casually to the door and open it wide, schooling my features to be free of any emotion. “Hello, Travis.”

  “Hey.” Silence surrounds us once again. “Drinkin’ again?”

  I arch my brow and hold up my glass. “Yep, and I’m just about ready for a top up.” I take a step back, allowing him to follow me inside. I hear the sounds of Dex’s collar jingling as Travis greets him. “You’re late.”

  The jingling stops. “I am.” He’s closer now. I can feel the heat from his body and his breath on my cheek. “I wasn’t going to come.”

  My breath catches. “Why did you?”

  “Because you wouldn’t answer the phone when I tried to cancel.”

  The disappointment I’d felt earlier returns. “I had my phone off. My mother was driving me up the wall.” Taking a sip of my wine, I motion toward the door. “You can go if you want to.”

  “No. I can’t.”

  I frown. “Why not?”

  “Cause that shit smells fuckin’ delicious, and I’m starving.”

  “You’re right. It does.” I put one hand on my hip and point my glass toward the kitchen. “That’s because I spent all afternoon getting it ready.” I turn and head for the kitchen. “I already put it in the fridge, since I assumed you weren’t coming, but I guess I can get it back out and heat you up a plate.”

  I hear him following me and am instantly self-conscious of the table setting I had made. I’d set this up just like a date. The table is set neatly with linen napkins and a trio of pillar candles in the center. He didn’t come here for a date. He came here to eat, and because I didn’t answer the phone so he could cancel.

  Hoping to distract him from my obviously misguided assumption, I reach into the fridge and pull out another bottle of wine. I turn toward him and hold it out. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

  “Not a fuckin’ chance. Would love a beer, though.”

  Beer? Why the hell didn’t I think of beer? “Uh … let me check.” I turn, rustling around at the back of the fridge, pulling out a beer like I’d just found a diamond. “Ha! I knew Daniel left some here!” I twist the cap off and hold it out to him.

  He doesn’t take it. “Daniel?” he growls.

  “Yeah. My brother.”

  He gently pulls the beer from my hand. “Thanks.”

  Was he jealous there for a minute? Or is that just wishful thinking? Turning back to the fridge, I set about getting supper ready again. Once everything is dished up and heated, I bring it all to the table. Cheeks flaming with embarrassment, I set it down. “We can move to the living room if you’d like.”

  “This is fine.” His voice is gruff, but I’m slowly learning that this is just the way he is and it doesn’t necessarily mean he’s angry. Travis is a man of few words. He reminds me so much of the kids I work with – a little broken and needing some subtle motivation to put himself back together.

  Nodding, I take my seat and another long gulp of wine. This is so awkward. It wouldn’t be so bad if he wanted to be here, but his demeanor and his lateness tell me he doesn’t, and I feel like an ass. I don’t even know this guy. What am I doing?

  This is a date. The fucking table has candles on it. I can tell just by looking at it and the way she’s dressed that she thought it was. I don’t fucking date, and I don’t know why I didn’t accept her offer to move to the living room. Maybe it was the way her hair was shining in the candle light, or the embarrassed expression on her face when she led me into the kitchen. It could have been the jealous feeling that took over when she pulled a beer from the fridge claiming that Daniel had left it here. I know she’s pissed that I was so late, and I don’t fucking blame her. She’d put some serious effort into this meal. Too bad she’s wasting it on me.

  I feel like a total asshole. “Laynie?”

  She jumps a little as if startled from her thoughts. “Yeah?”

  What the fuck do I say? I don’t know if I’ve apologized to anyone since I was a little kid. “I’m sorry I was late. I
t was a dick move.”

  “You? A dick? Never.” She smirks, eyebrow raised slightly.

  A snort of amusement escapes before I can stop it. “Smartass.”

  She sighs then and puts down her glass. “Whatever. You’re here now. Let’s just eat.” After a few minutes of silence, she clears her throat and takes a bite of her pasta. “So … did you get your work shit taken care of yesterday?’

  I pause. I know she’s only trying to make conversation, but I don’t want to share anything with her. Sharing shit with anyone has always resulted in getting knifed in the back. I can’t trust her — I can’t trust anyone.

  Her green eyes are focused slightly to the left as she waits for my answer, innocence clear on her face. I’ve already hurt her feelings tonight, and that doesn’t sit well with me for some reason. The least I can do is attempt to fucking talk to her.

  “Yep.”

  She chuckles. “Did you work today?”

  “I work every day.”

  I watch as she nibbles on her bottom lip. “I only work Monday to Friday for a few hours in the morning. It’s a sweet deal. The rest of the time, I blog.”

  “Blog?” What the fuck is a blog?

  “Yeah. I read, and I have a blog about reading and books. It’s really fun, and I’ve made a ton of friends online.”

  “Online.” I think about that. “How does that work exactly? Reading and using a computer?”

  She smiles. “Since Apple products became more popular, my life has gotten so much better. I use a computer with a voiceover option. My phone and e-reader have the same thing. And I listen to a lot of audiobooks instead of actually reading.”

  I nod, only understanding part of what the hell she’s talking about. I don’t use computers at all. I only even have a cell phone because Gunner said I had to get one. Curious about her, I ask another question. “What do you do in the mornings?”

  “For my other job?” I nod, even though she can’t see me. “I work as a Vision Loss Counsellor at the children’s hospital.”

  Admiration for her washes over me. “You work with blind kids?”

  “Yep. Sometimes, when they become blind, people have a hard time letting go of the idea of being sighted. I help them embrace themselves as they are. They need to learn that they can still have an incredible life without vision.”

  The way she talks about being blind like it’s no big deal floors me. And using it to help others? Who is this woman? I’ve never met anyone like her.

  “What do you do for a living, Travis?”

  I snort. “Well, I ain’t savin’ blind kids from themselves, that’s for sure.” She says nothing while she finishes the last of her meal. I look around the room at her frilly apartment and wonder once again what the hell I’m doing here. To an outsider, we would look like a fucking modern day Beauty and The Beast. She needs to know who I am.

  “I’m a biker.”

  Her head tilts slightly to the side, a small line forming between her eyebrows. “OK. A biker. I already knew you rode. I can smell it on you.”

  “An outlaw biker. One of the Kings of Korruption.” I take a swig of my beer and watch her face for any reaction, but she gives away nothing. Any second now, I know she’s going to freak the fuck out and kick my ass out of here.

  Her face breaks out into her wonky grin, eyes shining brightly in the candlelight. “Now that is the sexiest fucking thing I have ever heard.”

  I choke. Beer shoots from my lips and my nostrils burn. “What?”

  She giggles. “I told you … I read a lot. Biker books are the sexiest books I’ve ever read. I thought you were going to say you were a mechanic or something. Biker is way better.” That wonky grin returns to her face and I can’t help it – I chuckle, knowing full-well that her biker books and my biker world are not even close to the same thing.

  “You’re a fuckin’ nut, you know that?”

  She laughs, the sound of it filling my ears and settling somewhere deep inside my battered soul. Standing, she takes my plate and hers to the kitchen and offers me another beer. I was going to leave as soon as we finished eating, but I can’t bring myself to go. I want to know more about her. I want to know what she’ll say next.

  With a full beer and a fresh glass of wine, we move to the living room and sit side by side on the couch. I think about her job and wonder how she does it. How can she live her life so happily after having that shit handed to her? I may not be blind, but the night I got my scar, I changed forever. It’s turned me into the monster I am. I had to become that to protect myself.

  “Have you always been blind?” The question escapes my lips before I can stop it, and I think it takes us both off-guard.

  She turns to face me and tilts her head to the side. “No, actually. I lost my sight when I was seventeen.” She smiles wistfully and takes a small sip of wine. Silently, I wait for her to continue. “My older brother, Garrett, was only eleven months older than me, and we were really close.”

  My heart clenches. I already have a sense of where this story is going, and I can tell by the sadness on her face that she’s going to tell me something that will hurt her to tell.

  “It was prom night, and Garrett was driving. We’d just dropped off the last of our friends and were making our way home when Journey came on the radio.” A tear slips down her cheek. “’Don’t Stop Believin’.” Her wobbly smile punches me right in the chest. “It was one of our favorite songs. We used to do a wicked duet to it. Garrett cranked it up, and we were singing like a pair of idiots when a drunk driver crossed the yellow line and hit us head on.”

  More tears start to flow, and she takes a deep breath. I can’t stand watching her struggle like this, but I have no fucking clue what to say. As she takes a fortifying sip of wine, I place my hand on her knee, offering her whatever support I can as she finishes her story.

  “I smashed my head in the collision and suffered severe optic nerve damage. I’ll likely never see again.” She places her hand on mine, giving it a squeeze. “I’m lucky, though, really. I’m still here. Garrett wasn’t so lucky. He died on impact.”

  I squeeze her hand back, heart heavy with an emotion I can’t explain.

  “We were in that car for two hours before someone found us.”

  “You’re so fucking brave.” The words come out like a growl, thanks to the gigantic lump in my throat, but I fucking mean them. How she can sit in front of me with a smile on her face and tell me that fucking story is a goddamned mystery to me.

  She smiles softly. “Not really. Just a survivor. Anyone can be a survivor with the right attitude.”

  I don’t like how she’s downplaying it. She’s a fucking miracle, and she won’t acknowledge it. Turning my body toward hers, I squeeze her hand tightly and place my other hand around the side of her neck. “That may be true, but not everyone can be a fuckin’ inspiration to so many people. You are. Don’t dismiss that shit.”

  My eyes are boring into hers, waiting to see if she is listening to what I’m saying, so I’m caught off-guard when she grins. “You told me that you aren’t nice, but you never told me that you’re sweet.”

  I stiffen and squeeze her neck, growling, “I ain’t fuckin’ sweet.”

  She laughs out loud, the joy on her face breathtaking. “I hate to tell you, tough guy, you work hard at hiding it, but you are.”

  Gritting my teeth, I remove my hand and move to stand up, but her hand on my arm stops me. “Thank you, Travis.”

  I stare into her face, the sincerity in her words right there for the world to see, and I can’t fucking stop it. I need to connect with her. To touch her. To claim her.

  Placing my hand back on her neck, I lean forward, pulling her face toward mine. Just as our lips are about to touch, I pause. “I’m gonna kiss you, Laynie. If you don’t wa –“

  She crushes her lips to mine, stopping my words before I can speak them. They’re soft and sweet and taste like the strawberry wine she loves so much. My heart is hammering, and my dick
swells instantly. Groaning, I pull her closer, demanding more from her sweet lips.

  I never knew that kissing could be like this. The emotions that are warring for first place in my mind are overwhelming, taking a backseat only to my desire to make this woman mine. When her tongue slips in and slides smoothly across mine, I grasp her hips, pulling her over and onto me, straddling me. I can feel the heat of her pussy through the zipper on my jeans.

  Her hands slide up and into my hair as she presses herself against my erection. I’ve never been so fucking turned on. She moans long and deep, grinding down on me slightly. Her hands slide from my hair, and before I can stop them, she slides them down the sides of my cheeks. When she reaches my scar, she stops kissing, stops grinding, and gasps in horror.

  I don’t even give her a fucking chance to say anything. Gently but quickly, I lift her from my lap and place her on the couch once more. Standing, I walk swiftly to the door and without a second glance, get the fuck out of there.

  JUMPING ONTO MY RIDE, I rev the motor and peel off down the quiet street. My vision is blurred by rage. I wish more than anything that I could go back in time to the day that motherfucker cut me and rip his black heart right out of his scrawny chest. I’ve always prided myself on not caring what others think about my face, but when Laynie had touched my mangled cheek, I’d fucking cared. And when she’d gasped like that ... fuck!

  I knew she’d be disgusted. I’d wanted her to know who I really am – how we don’t fit — but now that she knows, and I turned out to be right, I don’t know what the fuck to do with it. I’ve gotten to know her a little. I’ve kissed her sweet as fuck lips and captured her moans with my tongue. FUCK!

  This is why I never fucking put myself out there. This is why I stick to myself and don’t worry about anyone else. It’s been that way since he fucking ruined me. That’s when I realized that everybody else was going to let me down too. The only person I could count on was myself.