Crossroads (Beautiful Biker MC Romance Series) - DD Prince Page 0,78
off me and let me drive you home, Jojo.”
I climbed off his lap and shakily got back into my seat.
He fixed his seat, floored it and we lunged forward.
“Can you please stop somewhere so I can go to the bathroom and get a water or something?” I whispered, buckling my belt. My hands were shaking. My headache was suddenly back.
This made sense. Clearly, I’d get caught if I’d murdered someone because these things didn’t occur to me.
Twenty minutes and zero words later, we pulled into a run-down diner parking lot. We both got out and went inside without speaking, both heading to the restrooms.
When I came out, he was standing at the diner counter cash register. I went back out to the van and climbed in, buckling up. There was blood on my shirt from where the seatbelt had crossed over. Blood of a dead Jackal. A dead Jackal that wanted to hurt me. That wanted to hurt Christian. I wiped my hands on my jeans in case any got on me.
He was climbing in a few minutes later with coffees, a bottle of water, and a bag. He put the coffees into the two cup holders, passing me a paper bag and the water.
I took the water and didn’t accept the paper bag.
“Sandwiches. Donuts.”
I shook my head. “No thanks.”
He dropped the bag on the floor, and we drove off.
I downed the entire bottle of water and then I stared out the window for the next few hours. No music. No conversation. Just in my head working through all of it until I recognized the surroundings. We were going back to the cabin. We were getting close.
And it washed over me that the cabin had always been a secret place, a sacred place. Now, it wasn’t. And that was fucking devastating to me.
“I wanna go on a date with you,” I blurted.
He barked out a laugh and ran his hand through his hair.
“You say we can’t be together, but that makes no sense to me. Let’s go to dinner. Or a movie. For a long ride on your bike and a picnic. Go do something. We can get to know---”
“Not happening, princess.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t help end the war, woman. I poured gasoline on it. Today, I just added more fuel. There’s a target on my back. Even bigger after today. Always will be. You being mine would put that target on yours and you do not fuckin’ deserve to live a life like that.”
You being mine.
Those words washed over me like warm water. I smiled at him.
Not ‘your family would kill me’. That wasn’t reason number one. He was fierce, like I knew he was. If that were the number one reason, it’d say that I was maybe a little bit wrong about him. I wasn’t.
“We’re both biker stock, Christian. I was born in the MC. I’m a woman but I’ve got more biker in me than most men.”
“Yeah well --- you come from a family of bikers who love to ride, love bikes, and the big family that comes with it. I come from filthy outlaws. Big fuckin’ difference.”
“But---”
“Stop.”
“You said for one. What else? What are the other reasons?”
I stared.
He turned the radio on.
I glared.
He ignored.
I stared at him, waiting for it to do something. It didn’t.
Twenty minutes later, we were pulling into the driveway at the cabin.
Rider’s orange classic Charger, Spencer’s pickup truck, and the garage’s tow truck were all there with Christian’s SUV and my Harley.
I was immediately enveloped in Deacon’s arms and then passed through the arms of the members of my family. I had no tears to shed. I was numb as I got passed around. My brothers were all there. Dad. And Brady. And it was just like it’d been after I was greeted from the fire.
“Again, brother,” my father clapped him on the shoulder. “thank you doesn’t begin to fuckin’ cover it.” Dad’s voice was gruff.
This time, Fork didn’t just get handshakes. Bro hugs with back slaps all around.
I slipped inside and went to the bathroom, then my room for my flipflops, my phone, and my purse. I kicked my boots off and got into the flipflops. I changed my clothes and decided to bring my dirty ones with me. To burn them. I lifted my phone from under my pillow.
I tapped the screen and saw that he’d sent a message to Brady.