Jackal (Heartlands Motorcycle Club Book 12) Read online

  “I’m saying Lydia is innocent. So be gentle with her heart."

  "That sounds like some good advice,” I admit.

  "Good. Because Ruby and me, we just want her to be happy. And yes, the first reaction I had when I heard she'd been out with you was anger. I was pissed, to be completely frank. I didn't know if I should trust you. But then I realized I didn't have a reason not to. And Lydia has a good head on her shoulders. I'll give her that. And she has a good heart, too. So if she sees something in you,” he shrugs, "I'll trust her for it."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Enough with the sir."

  "Right, Ranger," I say, smiling. "I appreciate it."

  "Good. Cause I hear she's coming around this evening. So if you see her, and you want to be with her, let her know. Do you understand?"

  I nod. "I do."

  "All right, enough of this,” he says. "I'm going to go get a drink. There's a concert over at the bar tonight and I need to make sure everything's sorted with the staff." He frowns. "So if you're going to go out with Lydia, you make sure you stay clear of the bar. She's underage. You know that, right?"

  "I'm well aware."

  He smiles, letting the topic rest. "We're going to have a nice ride tomorrow. You ready?"

  “I’ll be there.”

  He nods. “Good.” He walks away, and I head back into the shop to finish up for the day.

  But every time I hear a noise, I look up, distracted as fuck, waiting for Lydia to show up.

  Maybe Ranger was wrong. Maybe she doesn't plan to come around. But my eyes are on the door anyways, hoping like hell that he's right.

  Lydia

  Peaches gives me a ride on her way to work. "So you really didn't sleep with him?" she asks. Peaches is one of those women who is effortlessly beautiful but wears way too much makeup so all those natural good looks are hidden under a thick layer of foundation and eyeliner. Her hair is curled, and she has on some booty shorts and a crop top. Her tits have been done, so she doesn't need to wear a bra. She's gorgeous, and I'm not surprised every guy in the club has his eyes on her.

  "I didn't sleep with him," I say. "I've never slept with anybody."

  "Really?" Peaches' eyes go wide. "I lost my virginity when I was 15. He was a good guy."

  "Yeah?" I ask. "What happened?"

  She laughs. "Well, he was my stepbrother, so it was never going to end well."

  I shake my head. "Girl, you are trouble."

  She smiles, parking the car in the lot of Ride or Die. "Yeah, I may be trouble. But I do know how to have fun."

  I laugh. "Did you have fun with Maddox last night?"

  She giggles. "Oh, you know it. We've got to go out to his place sometime. Did you know he has a pool with a slide?"

  "I didn't know that,” I say, impressed.

  "Well, he does, and we had an amazing night. He really lives up to his reputation."

  "Good to know," I say, unbuckling and taking my purse. “Not that I have any intention of being with him.”

  Peaches smiles. "Well, so tell me, if you're not going to the bar because you don't have a fake ID, what did you want to do out here tonight?"

  I look over at the mechanic shop. "I was hoping to catch somebody."

  "Somebody like Jackal?" Peaches asks.

  "Yeah. Last night things ended weirdly, and I want to make sure everything's okay between us."

  Peaches places her hand on mine and squeezes it. "And by make sure it's okay, you mean you want to see if he'll go out with you?"

  I nod. "Yeah. I told Ruby about him and apparently Ranger gave him permission to date me if he wants." I groan. "It all sounds so old-fashioned."

  Peaches smirks. "No, it sounds sweet. You're lucky to have family like that, who care so much about you and your happiness. And it's not the worst thing for a guy in a motorcycle club to know that there are some people watching him, making sure he's not up to no good."

  I nod. "Yeah. I'm not exactly sure Jackal's going to see it that way, but..."

  "But I guess you'll find out when you go talk to him." Peaches presses her lips together. "Hey, if you decide to sleep with him, can I give you a little bit of advice?"

  I nod. "Please. Any advice would be great."

  Peaches laughs. "Okay, so that means you are going to sleep with him."

  I shrug. "If the opportunity presented itself, I would. I love Jackal."

  Peaches' eyes widen. "Wow. Really? I thought this was just about having some fun."

  I shake my head no. "I take things seriously," I tell her. "When I go in with something, I go all in. I've never been halfway, and I want to go all in with Jackal."

  "Maybe don't lead with that because it might scare him off."

  "I don't think so," I say, "because honestly, I think he feels the same way."

  Peaches laughs. "Girl, you are so into this guy. I never even looked at him twice. What is it? Does he have a big cock or something?"

  I laugh. "Peaches! I don't know! I'm telling you, I've never even seen his cock. Or any cock, for that matter."

  Peaches can't stop laughing. "Oh my God, girl, you are so over your head."

  "Maybe," I say, "but I like the idea of Jackal being my first." I bite my bottom lip. "Of him being my only."

  Peaches sighs. "That's romantic and pretty beautiful. And if you get this precious little happily ever after, I really hope he can give you a good orgasm, because if he's going to be your one and only, the sex has got to be out of this world."

  "I won't have anything to compare it to," I say, laughing.

  "True. Well, here's how you'll know if he's a good lover,” she says. “He’s good if he takes care of you before he takes care of himself, and if he can last long enough so that when you're fucking, you get off first. Do you read me?"

  I feel the tops of my cheeks get hot. "I hear you," I say.

  She pushes her lips forward. "You do know what an orgasm feels like, right?"

  I laugh. "Yes I do. I may be a virgin, but I know how to take care of myself."

  "Good girl," she says, patting my shoulder. "I got to get to work, and you have to get to work too." She wiggles her eyebrows. "Though your work sounds a lot more fun."

  We say goodbye, and I walk across the parking lot toward the mechanic shop, holding my head high and trying to put on a brave face. Jackal didn't exactly reject me last night, but he did make it clear he wanted to end things… but maybe that was just fear talking. Maybe after sleeping on it, he realized I'm the kind of girl he wants, the kind of girl he needs.

  The bells on the door jingle as I step in, and Maddox passes me, leaving through the same door. "I'm off,” he says. “Got to go clean up before I go to the concert.”

  I smile. "Have a good night," I say. "Be safe." I turn back to the shop, and I see Jackal standing there, waiting for me. "Hi," I say softly. I want to walk closer to him, step all the way inside the shop.

  But he doesn't invite me to come closer, and I feel like being here at all is overstepping. He needs to make the next move if there's going to be a move made at all.

  "You came," he says.

  I nod. "Peaches dropped me off. I was hoping I might catch you. I'm not sure if you're going to the concert tonight, but..."

  He shakes his head. "No, I don't do parties at Ride or Die."

  "Just parties at Hollow Oak?" I say with a smile.

  “Something like that," he says with a lop-sided grin. He walks towards me and I see his hands are all greasy. His white tee shirt has a ring of sweat around the collar. "It's hot as hell, even with the air conditioner on," he says. "I know I look like shit."

  "I think you look nice."

  He laughs. "Lydia, I look like a mess.”

  “A hot mess,” I say, instantly wondering why I would say such a thing. I twist my lips. "So, do you have any plans after work?" I ask.

  "Ranger came and saw me," he says.

  I nod. "I heard he might. How did it go?"

  "Well, it turns out the cat's out
of the bag."

  "Yes, it certainly is… are you mad?”

  He shakes his head. "No, I couldn't be mad at you, Lydia."

  "No? Well, I couldn't be mad at you either."

  "Really?” he asks, "Even after I turned you down last night, dropped you off, and told you it was over, you're not mad at me?"

  I swallow, shaking my head as he steps closer to me. "No, I'm not mad. I know we all have our reasons for why we do things, why we push people away. And some are more complicated than one night, than one kiss."

  "Why are you fighting for me, Lydia?"

  "I told you, Jackal. I believe in us."

  "Even if I ruin you?"

  "You won't," I say. He's close enough to kiss me. And I breathe him in, and he smells like a man, a real man. The kind of man who could make me do, and say, and be all sorts of things, wild and free. His.

  "I need to get cleaned up," he says, running a hand over my hair, sending a chill over my body that is delicious and dangerous. I close my eyes.

  "Okay," I say, "and where are you going to do that?"

  "At my place," he tells me. "Do you want to come with me?"

  "You're inviting me over to your house?” I ask.

  He nods. "My apartment, yeah."

  "Okay," I say. Thinking about being alone with him at his place, seeing his bedroom, his bedsheets that we could crawl under, picturing him stepping into the shower and washing off the day's dirt.

  I close my eyes, breathing hard.

  "Take me anywhere you want," I tell him, "because, Jackal, I'll follow. I'll stay until you tell me to go.”

  Jackal

  We take the back roads home, winding through the empty highway with Lydia's arms wrapped around my back, her body pressed to mine. The sun on our faces and the breeze on our skin feels damn good. Feels right.

  When we get to my place, I take her hand in mine, and silently we walk up the steps to my apartment over someone's three-car garage. The owners keep to themselves, a retired couple, and I rarely see them this time of year. They head up north to visit their family in Alaska, leaving this place quiet, calm. And I'm grateful for the space without anyone watching me, talking to me, and I can mind my own business.

  Tonight, though, I bring Lydia home, and I realize I don't mind sharing the space with her — not one bit.

  Maddox has been here a few times, and so has Dice from the garage. But besides meeting me before we go out for a ride, there's no need for company. But Lydia doesn't even feel like company, like a guest. I don't know how she feels, not exactly. But as her fingers lace with mine, I know she wants to be here.

  I open the door, nervous suddenly, wondering what she'll think of my place. It's modest, minimal. But it's mine, and I'm proud of that. For a long time, I never thought I would have a home of my own. Now, I do. "This place is great," she says, looking around. "From the house next to this garage, I wasn't sure what to expect of your place, but this is really nice. It looks like you."

  "What is that supposed to mean?" I ask, walking over to the refrigerator and grabbing a jug of iced tea from the fridge. I pour her a glass and hand it to her, and take a drink of my own.

  "It's just very clean and organized. It's no-nonsense."

  "Is that a nice way of saying it's boring, just like me?"

  She laughs. "No, I wasn't meaning that. It just... You know, it's calm."

  I nod. "Yeah. My real pride and joy of this place is this collection right here," I say, resting my hand on a record player and nodding toward the large shelf of vinyl records I've collected.

  "Wow," she says, "I'm impressed. What got you into collecting records?" She pulls an album out at random and runs her hands over the cover.

  "My mom," I say. "She'd always listen to records when I was little, which wasn't that typical back then. But nowadays, every hipster has a record collection."

  Lydia smiles. "But you're no hipster, are you?"

  "Definitely not," I say with a laugh. "Do you want me to put that one on?"

  She nods. "Sure." It's Elvis Presley, Greatest Hits. And as I lift the needle and set the vinyl down, I hold my breath.

  "There's something about Elvis that gets me every damn time," I tell her.

  She smiles. "Growing up, we never listened to music that wasn't Christian. But I remember a few times being in the car with my dad and listening to the oldies station. And I remember loving an Elvis song. Jailhouse Rock,” she says, "is that right?"

  I nod. "Yeah, it is. I have a soft spot for Elvis myself. You know, we're not far from Vegas. We could see an Elvis impersonator."

  She laughs. "Yeah, we could get married with one at a chapel," she says. But the idea hits a little closer to home than maybe she's ready for. I swallow hard, looking at her, pulling her close, one hand at her waist, the other taking her palm, swaying around my small living room, sunlight filtering through the curtains.

  But the room is mostly dark, our heartbeats pounding and Elvis's words circling around us. "You'd do that?" I ask her. "Run off to Vegas, get hitched?”

  She looks up at me. "I'm not opposed to it."

  "I like that," I say. "I'm not sure I expected you to be so spontaneous."

  "Well, I'm not sure I expected you to be such a romantic."

  "I don't think most people would think eloping is romantic."

  "No," she says, "I think you're wrong. There's something about that reckless need, unable to wait. That's romance to me."

  I swallow. "What are you getting at, Lydia?"

  "I don't know, Jackal, but being here with you feels right, doesn't it?"

  I nod. "It does. But there are some things you don't know, some things I need to tell you."

  She lets out a slow, shaky breath. "Are they going to change everything?" she asks.

  "Maybe," I say. "I guess we're going to find out."

  One song turns to the next on the record player. "I need to take a shower," I say.

  She nods. "All right, then let's get you cleaned up." She licks her lips, and with her hand in mind, we walk down the hall to the bathroom. We don't discuss it, but she walks right in. She turns on the shower, making it nice and hot, steam rising up nearly instantly.

  She steps toward me and lifts the hem of my tee shirt up over my chest, over my head, tossing it aside. She runs her hands over my chest and I close my eyes, groaning. "Fuck," I say as her hands move down my body, unbuttoning my jeans, her hand sliding under my boxers, pushing them past my hips, setting my cock free. I'm naked, and I'm hard. And fuck, this is sexy.

  I run my hand over her hair, cupping the base of her neck and drawing her mouth to mine. I kiss her softly. I kiss her long and hard. I kiss her without any intention of letting her go. She moans against me, whimpering with a need that I hope I can satisfy. With self-assuredness, she reaches behind herself and unzips her dress, letting it fall to the floor. She's not wearing a bra, and not wearing panties. She came ready, and fuck, I'm ready, too.

  "You look so perfect," I tell her, running my hand over the curve of her hip, taking in the soft tuft of hair at her pussy. The way her breasts stand perky, firm, big. I want to kiss every inch of her, lick every inch of her, enjoy every last inch of her.

  "I've never done this," I tell her.

  Her eyes widen ever so slightly. "Never?"

  I shake my head. “Not once.”

  "Where have you been all my life, Jackal?" she asks, breathing heavily as she reaches for me, my cock now in her hand. And she strokes me softly. So softly that I forget to breathe.

  “The truth?” I ask.

  She nods. “That’s all I want.”

  "I was in juvenile detention for four years," I tell her. “Until I was eighteen. Juvie might not sound too bad, but I was in a jail cell for a long ass time. Missed a lot because of it.”

  "Oh God, Jackal. That's why you're so scared of messing up."

  I nod. "I can't go back there."

  "You won't," she says. "You're with me now. I'll keep you safe."

&n
bsp; I cup her breasts, lower my mouth to them. I've never kissed a woman's skin. I've never teased a woman's nipples. I've never drawn my hands over flesh that felt so damn good. "Isn't it my job to protect you?" I ask.

  She smiles. "I thought we were done with the patriarchy," she says with a wry laugh that fills the small bathroom with sunlight, and stardust, and hope. "Why can't I be the one to save you, Jackal?"

  I swallow. "I don't want to hurt you like I've hurt people in the past."

  "Then don't," she says.

  "Don't you want to know what I did time for?" I ask her.

  "Will it change things?"

  "It might change the way you look at me," I admit.

  "Then don't. Because right now I want to look at you for the man you are, not the man you've been. But if you need to tell me, Jackal, tell me. I can handle it. I can handle anything you give me. I just want to be with you."

  "Why are you so good to me? You hardly know me."

  "I know enough. I've watched you for a year. You keep your head down, work hard. Put in the time and the hours. You're loyal to this club. You ride or die, like the best of them. And ever since I saw your face, Jackal, I wanted to be your ride or die. Does that sound dumb?" she asks.

  "No," I say. "Lydia, it sounds like the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me in my whole fucking life."

  "Peaches told me that if I was going to sleep with you, I needed to let you know I was a virgin."

  "Well, that shouldn't be hard to say now that I've already come clean myself," I tell her.

  "I don't know what I'm doing," she admits.

  "Neither do I," I say. "But the way you're touching me right now, it feels real good, Lydia. It feels right."

  She closes her eyes, licking her lips as my hands run between her thighs, touching her wet pussy, her center. "What you're doing to me feels real good, too," she tells me softly. I swallow hard, and then I can't hold back. I pull her close.

  Fuck the shower. I need Lydia first.

  Lydia

  He turns off the shower and then he lifts me up into his arms and takes me to bed. We're both naked and ready. Our bodies hot and warm in a way we've never experienced before. I wasn’t surprised when he told me he'd done time — half the men in the Heartlands have. But he carries so much shame for it and it's holding him back. It's time for Jackal to be set free.