Beauty & The Biker Read online

  At the end of the hall behind a curtain, my father is sleeping on a gurney. “What’s wrong with him?” His coloring looks off—ashen whereas before he was only pale. I stroke my fingers over the knuckles of his balled hand, his skin feels clammy.

  “Heart attack,” Doris says in a clipped tone looking at his chart. “He was brought by an ambulance from the bank. The doctor will be in shortly, to talk to you.” She puts his chart back in the pocket on the wall leaving us alone.

  Feeling exhausted, I collapse in the small chair against the wall. I can still feel the vibration of the motorcycle between my legs. The ride was exhilarating and terrifying for many reasons. One, it felt amazing to feel the wind against my face even if it was whipping me with my hair. Two, when I pressed my face closer to Tristian’s neck for protection, the way he smelled was intoxicating and oddly familiar. Three, my instant attraction to this man scares me. I’ve never felt such a connection—so infatuated by any one person.

  Then there was the fear my father would be dead when I walked through the sliding glass doors with ominous red crosses painted on them. I feel emotionally exhausted.

  Taking a deep breath, hoping I am able to still smell Tristian I am met with a foul scent. The smell of urine and sanitizer mixed with my nerves is taking its toll, reminding me of why I hate hospitals so much.

  It reminds me of losing my Mama. I can see her in my head, puny and dying. The last time I hugged her, the flowery scent that had once perfumed her was replaced with the stink of death.

  I look at my father and he seems to be resting peacefully, the sight provides me with small comfort.

  Tristian stands next to me in a protective stance with his arms folded across his chest. To most he would appear as a menacing brute, but to me, he looks like a beautiful art sculpture and I want to spend hours studying him.

  “Need me to call anyone for you?” He offers.

  I shake my head twisting my fingers out of nervous habit.

  I don’t see any point in calling my sisters until I speak with the doctor and find out how bad it is.

  Looking up, I find Tristian studying me.

  “I appreciate the ride and you getting me back here, but you don’t have to stay, I’ll be fine,” I tell him, but a part of me wants him to stay.

  “Nah, I’ll wait. Your Pops and me have some business to discuss.”

  “Wow, really. Are you joshing me right now?” I shouldn’t be surprised, honestly, but my father just suffered heart failure and he wants to wait to talk business. And a piece of me wanted him to say he was staying for me, so I’m not alone.

  He snorts and he smiles and my heart stops. He has a charismatic grin. “Did you just say joshing?”

  He has the nerve to mock me right now. What a jerk! He laughs louder, holding his stomach. “I bet you have never uttered a dirty word in your life,” he teases further. “I bet you can’t even say asshole.” His grin widens, entertained with his own antics.

  “Get out,” I whisper trying not to disturb my resting father. I don’t know what I was thinking wanting him to stay.

  Tristian bends down getting in my face, trying to intimidate me with his threatening looks and nasty attitude. “I don’t take orders sweetheart, I give them. You need to get that through your pretty little skull.” He grabs both sides of my face squeezing my jaws hard. Tears prick at the corners of my hazel eyes. “Told you once and I won’t tell you again. I’m going to talk to your father when he wakes up and not you or any damn-body-else will stop me,” he declares with a dangerous air about him.

  Swallowing hard once, he lets me go. I nod and twist away from the pressure of his intense glare. I continue to sit while Tristian continues to watch me, keeping me on the edge of my chair. I don’t appreciate the way he commands attention constantly. It’s overwhelming. His presence is disarming and the need to stare back at him confuses me, with how unattractive his attitude comes across. He is so damn moody. Even his eyes have black circles tattooed around them. And yet I long to touch them—him. He confounds and intrigues me.

  Trying to avoid his eyes, I study the tattoos on his hands giving his fingers the appearance of a skeleton. His left arm has a flaming skull with the word HELL in fancy scroll inked on it. On the right is a pair of praying hands with the word HEAVEN to match. Seems appropriate. He appears to have a devil on one shoulder with an angel rarely appearing on the other.

  The doctor comes in eventually and I ask Tristian to kindly step out while we discuss my father’s prognosis. He doesn’t appear happy about my request but he obliges. The devilish smirk he throws in my direction before he exits doesn’t escape my attention either.

  “How serious it?” I cut straight to the point.

  “It could be worse but I won’t lie to you. Your father had a close call.” I would hate to think what we would be facing had he not been sitting in a chair at the bank when it happened. He could have been driving. “He will be okay as long as he makes changes to his diet, reduces his stress, and doesn’t overextend himself. I am going to keep him overnight for observation, but I don’t see any reason why he won’t be released in the morning.”

  I thank him for taking care of my father and he says, “that’s what I’m here for.”

  As soon as the doctor leaves, Tristian comes back in with a peace offering. A bottled water and a candy bar.

  “Thanks, but I don’t need any more of your charity.” I don’t need anything from him. But I want to know him, even if he is a big jerk. There has to be so much more to him than his tough exterior.

  “Eat,” he grunts the word at me like a Neanderthal, shoving the items into my lap. For a moment, the way his hand lingers, I think he might offer me some comfort, but he tears away from me when our eyes meet.

  His hot and cold is unnerving. He is trying hard to mask his compassion, but the faint flicker of caring appeared in his gaze, briefly.

  “No,” I sass giving him attitude. He might have everyone one else quaking at the knees and kissing his feet, but he doesn’t own me. “If you’ve somehow forgotten, I already have a daddy. I don’t need another.” I hook my thumb in the direction of my sleeping father.

  “You keep mouthing off and I’m gonna give you something to shut that pretty mouth of yours,” he threatens, and the meaning of his words are perfectly clear when his hand goes straight to his zipper. “You’d be wise not to test my patience. I’ll bend you over this fucking chair and spank your ass like the immature little girl you are.”

  I swallow hard as I picture exactly what he says. The image painted in my mind is much more erotic than a hospital room. I can see us in his castle, surrounded by candlelight, me bent over his knee and him stroking my bare bottom.

  I bite my bottom lip, chewing on it, stealing a glance at him as he towers over me. Tristian doesn’t strike me as a man who offers empty promises. No man has ever spoken to me the way he does and no man has ever made me feel so much, so many emotions are hitting me all at once.

  Before I can give him more lip, my father awakens. “Isa,” he whispers hoarsely.

  I rush to his bedside. “Papi, God, you gave me a scare!”

  “I’m fine Isabella, don’t worry about me.” he strokes the top of my head gently.

  I offer him the bottle of water and he accepts it eagerly. As he is taking a drink his eyes land on our unwanted guest.

  “Give us a moment,” my father orders me and I obey, but not straying far, so I can eavesdrop.

  With my neck craned, I stretch to listen to their conversation.

  “You have my money Perez?”

  “I’m sorry Tristian. Business has been slow. I need more time.”

  “I’ve given you plenty of time and more chances than I have given many others. You disappoint me. Three days. I’ll be in touch.”

  Tristian’s boots thump loudly as he moves to leave.

  I hurry around the corner and step around pretending I wasn’t just listening when he steps into the hall.

  “Say yo
ur goodbye and I’ll drive you home.”

  “My sister is coming,” I lie.

  “Liar, you are testing my patience.” He steps into my personal space, sucking up all of my air, challenging me.

  What’s with him?

  “What’s your deal? You think everyone is just going to do whatever you want because you try to come off as some big, tough, hotshot.” I stick my finger in his chest, poking his leather and he grabs it, bending it to the point I feel it is going to snap in two.

  “Don’t try to play games with me, Isa, you’ll lose.” He drops my finger and I sigh in relief with the release. The way Isa rolled off his tongue was intimate and entirely too personal for comfort.

  I am still standing and rubbing my sore digit as he storms down the hall and out the doors, leaving me confused, because I want him to turn around and come back to me. I don’t even understand why, and when he disappears I still watch for him to return.

  My father calls my name hoarsely, so I go back in and confront him about the money he owes. I’m irritated and worried.

  “What did Tristian Vandacamp want with you?”

  “Nothing much,” he deadpans staring past me at the curtain.

  “Don’t lie to me Papi. How bad is it?”

  He scrubs his weathered hands over his tired eyes and sighs. “It’s bad Mi hija. I accepted a loan from the Vandacamp family. I have dealt with his father in the past and was always able to pay on time with interest, but paying your Mama’s medical bills after we spent so much on the business nearly bankrupted us on top of your sister’s wedding. The bank can’t give me any more money. My credit is shot. I don’t know what to do.”

  “It will work out Papi. You need to focus on being healthy. You have three days. Right?” I grab his hands and squeeze them tight assuring him. “I am sure Tristian will see reason.”

  “I want you to stay away from him. Promise me Isa, you’ll let me deal with this. He isn’t a man you need to be associated with.”

  “But he was good enough for you to borrow money from?” I know that was low but it slipped out before I could take it back. Why I feel the urge to defend Tristian after his behavior, I don’t know, but I want to for some strange reason.

  “Isa,” my father stresses my name warning me this isn’t up for discussion right now and I guess this isn’t the appropriate place.

  “Yeah, sure Papi,” I concede though this isn’t the end of the conversation. I drop it only because I don’t want to add to his stress. It’s the last thing he needs from me right now.

  The nurse comes in to take his vitals and move him to a private room for the night. There is nothing more I can do and no reason to scare my sisters. I will call them once Papi is home and resting.

  “Go home Isa, I’ll see you back here in the morning.”

  I peck his sun kissed cheek and leave knowing he will be all right for at least tonight. When I get outside the building, it is well past ten and the sky has darkened to night. I am debating on walking along the bicycle trail back to the store or trying to phone Ariala for a lift, when I see him—Tristian, waiting in the parking lot.

  My anger at him for stressing my father at a time such as this returns full steam at the sight of him. He’s leaning next to his bike smoking a cigarette, appearing like a villain intent on stealing my virtue. Maybe that would appeal to him—my virginity.

  I march straight over to him and offer what is only mine to give.

  “If you’ll leave my father alone, you can have me.” I don’t know if it is bravery or stupidity but the offer is out there. My palms are slick with sweat and I can feel my embarrassment creeping down my neck and spreading across my chest.

  “No offense princess, but I have plenty of women who will fuck me for free. I don’t pay for pussy and you don’t strike me as a good time,” he declines, wounding my pride.

  I don’t know why his turning me down angers me but it does. However, I recover quickly from his blow. “You think I want to screw you? I meant I will come work for you to pay off my father’s debt,” I cover my wounded pride with a new offer.

  He looks me over like a piece of meat or prized heifer. He grabs the waist of my dress and pulls it tight to my body assessing my form. “Too skinny to dance in my club, too young too.” He shoots a look over my shoulder at my butt. “Can you cook?”

  “Yes,” I answer and this time without any attitude. I need him to accept my offer.

  “Tell you what, my housekeeper retired a few weeks ago, she had always worked for my father, he took good care of her in his Will so she took off. You can start after your father has been discharged. I will expect you to come ready to work. I don’t give any free rides.”

  How can he speak so calmly of his father’s passing when it was so recent? I’d be devastated.

  “You have a deal.” I hold my hand out for him to shake.

  When he takes my offered hand, I expect his skin to feel as cold as his personality but he is surprisingly warm and gentle in our exchange. He pulls me in close and sniffs my hair. “You smell pure, like you fell from heaven.”

  His lips linger at my ear, his breath teasing against my skin. I should pull away but I can’t. I like the way his being so close makes me feel. Soft, velvety lips brush the shell of my ear and I moan aloud.

  “I like the sound you just made. I look forward to hearing it often Isa,” he warns and his tongue trails down the curve of my neck to my collarbone. His rough hand shoves the neckline of my dress off my shoulder and his teeth graze my clavicle.

  I feel breathless and unable to tell him to stop. I don’t want him to. Warmth pools in my belly and spreads further down my body to my most delicate of spots.

  Grabbing my hair, he tugs the strands gathered in his hold. “I look forward to working with you.”

  I can’t reply, my head bobs offering the only response I can give right now. He loosens his hold on my hair and kisses my cheek.

  “Get on. Told you I’d drive you home.”

  And drive me wild.

  Finding my voice, I agree, but ask him to drop me at the store.

  The ride goes by entirely too fast. I can’t stop imagining him pushing me further out of my comfort zone. And taking what I first offered.

  When he drops me off at the store, unexpectedly he cuts his engine and escorts me to the door. “One last thing, you’ll be moving in with me.”

  “Um, wait...what?” I ask confused. I assumed I would be going by his house a few days a week to straighten up.

  “I employ a full time housekeeper. I normally wouldn’t take on someone so young and inexperienced, but I like your dad, he’s a good man. My mother was fond of your grandma Iris; I was sad to hear of her passing. She was a wonderful woman.”

  I can’t remember my grandmother, she passed away when I was a child in an accident, but it makes me feel good to know that he has fond memories of her.

  The crunching of metal screeches in my ear, I look around but it’s only Tristian and me standing here. And apparently he didn’t hear the crashing noise.

  “I want to be your friend Isa,” he says shocking me further.

  “Okay,” I agree in a hushed tone. The closeness of his face to mine is throwing me off and making me forget what a jerk he has been to me. I only think of the way he made me feel moments ago in the hospital parking lot.

  I can feel his breath on my cheek as he speaks.

  “I’ll be in touch soon Isa,” he rolls the A on his tongue; the way he says it is sexual. I lean further into him, not wanting this to end but afraid of what will happen if it doesn’t.

  “Goodnight, Tristian,” I say softly before rushing inside. The way his eyes seemed to soften briefly when he spoke of our families made him seem almost normal. And my desire to kiss him goodnight took me off guard. I had to get away from him. He was too close, smelling too good, and his lips, I want to taste them. I should be scared of him and want nothing to do with him, but I can’t stop this infatuation. He sings a song that only
my body can hear.

  I bury my head in my hands as my hair blankets my shoulders. What am I doing? A tear rolls down my cheek, but it’s not from being sad. Morbidly, for the first time in a long time, I feel happy.

  I must be crazy or sick. My father nearly dies and I enter into a deal with a notorious biker, and I am beaming, grinning from ear to ear.

  I busy myself cleaning up the counter and straightening the books lining the shelves once I am sure he has driven off.

  As I clean, I keep seeing Tristian’s face and his softened eyes. I want to see him again, sooner than I should desire, but I have had a glimpse of his kinder side and I need more.

  I don’t know what to make of my attraction to him. I look for more small tasks to busy my mind but none of them distract my thoughts from the way he made me feel in the parking lot at the hospital.

  I spin around in the small clearing behind the counter and wrap my arms around my chest, remembering wrapping them around Tristian as we drove into the night. Oddly it felt like home—it felt so right.

  I should be thinking of ways to take care of my Papi, but I can’t think of anything other than that dangerous man, so I close the store and walk to the bank to drive our family car home.

  Chapter 4

  Isabella

  After a sleepless night of worrying about my father and thinking about the job I bargained for, I am having to deal with my sister, Ariala, turning up for once, and deciding that I should have called her last night. Like I could have reached her. It takes Papi nearly five attempts to get her to answer most days.

  She has been here a few hours and already chaos has ensued.

  The house is a mess; she has dragged her laundry in to get washed. Probably expecting me to do it for her like I always do. She can’t be bothered to care about anything besides her next good time.

  I used to get so mad and complain, but yelling at her does no good. She only cares about herself. Ariala is the single most self-centered person on the planet.