The Biker and the Loner (Oil and Water #3)- S. Ann Cole Page 0,4
say anything to anyone ever. It doesn’t leave this trailer.”
He shrugs. “No better person to tell your secret to right now, sweetheart. Don’t intend on coming back alive.”
See? I knew it.
I amble down the narrow passage of the trailer to sit beside him on the bed. “You also have to promise to finish what we started.”
He studies me for a few beats before agreeing, “’Kay.”
Inhaling a deep breath, I pull my feet up on the bed, wrap my arms around my knees, and tell him. And it feels so good to unload on someone. This is the most I’ve ever allowed anyone in. The most I ever will. For two reasons only: One, I do believe I’m a teensy, teeny, tiny bit in love with Scratch. Two, he’s never going to come back.
“Jesus,” he whispers after I’m done. “Is that why you didn’t want me to…?”
“Yeah.”
“Does Grunt know?”
“No.” I pull on a string of thread from the towel around me. “Only you.”
“So why don’t you just—”
“No. No solutions or advice, please. We’re done talking about it.” I unravel the towel from around me and recline on the bed, parting my legs. “You promised me you would finish.”
His eyes follow me, immediately clouding with lust at my nakedness. But he’s fighting it, I can see it. He shakes his head. “I—”
“Keep your promise, Scratch,” I push. “I’m giving you permission.”
His expression might be conflicted, but it doesn’t hinder his gaze from tracing over every inch of my body, as if he’s committing me to memory. Finally, he says quietly, “Fine. But it’ll be different this time.”
“Please.”
He stands and strips off every article of clothing, as opposed to before where he’d merely shoved his jeans down to his knees. He crawls between my legs, hovering over me on one forearm.
Gently, he brushes the pad of his thumb across my cheek. “I’m sorry for calling you a crazy bitch.”
I offer him a rare smile. “You’re going off to die for our country, so you’re forgiven.”
With that, he lowers his mouth to mine. And this time around, everything is different. He’s gentle and patient and tender. He makes it good for me. No, great.
This time I understand what all the fuss is about. I never would have imagined that Scratch, of all people, could have such softness, such tenderness in him. He surprises me. Blows my mind.
In the end, I’m glad I chose him.
~
When I wake the next morning, Scratch is seated on the small couch-bench in the narrow passageway, dressed and lacing up his boots. I sit up and stretch, my lips pried apart with a yawn. The sheets fall to my waist and he glances up from lacing his boots, his darkened gaze zoning in on my girls.
“What time are you leaving?” I ask, snagging his attention.
“In a few hours. Gonna spend some time with Grunt and Kenny.”
Grunt and Kenny—Nero and Kendra—are the two people closest to him. They grew up in the same foster home together and now consider themselves true siblings. It makes sense that he’d want to spend his last hours in Denver with them.
Shimmying off the bed, I pull the sheet up and around me then crouch to pluck up my skirt from off the floor. From the small front pocket, I pry out the necklace I’ve been carrying around with me for the past thirteen years.
I trek down the passage to where he is, taking the spot next to him on the couch-bench, then open my palm with the necklace. “I want you to have this.”
He stares down at the piece of jewelry in my palm for a long moment before he finally picks it up and lets it hang from two fingers. The weight of three pendants dangles from the golden chain. They show the Hand of God, the Star of David, and the Cross.
“It belonged to my father,” I tell him. “My mother bought it for him when he first started his job as a cop. He called it his ‘protection charm’. He never took it off…”
Scratch slides me a side glance. “Guessing it didn’t work, seeing as he’s dead?”
“He died from lung cancer,” I inform him. “He never, ever, not once, got hurt on duty.”
“Then why’re you giving it to me?” he asks. “You should want me to die and never come back, not be protected. ‘Cause if I make it back, I might not be able to stop myself from offing that bitch.”
It’s not until he says those words that I realize what