Biker's Sin: Stole His Best Friend's EX!

7

Paloma Perez.

To me, Caden and Elijah are the same.

When I hear about violence—broken bones, loud fights, warnings whispered through alleys—it’s always one of their names stitched into the story. Sometimes both. And many times, it’s just the name Elijah. I don’t know what kind of game they’re playing, and I definitely don’t understand why Elijah hasn’t told anyone who I really am.

This is some sort of tipping punishment to keep me on my heels. Like I’m being kept in place, just on the edge. Always guessing. Always nervous.

That’s why I have to talk to him. God, I don’t want to. I’m scared of him—the way his voice drags like smoke, the strange silver of his eyes, the confidence in his body like he’s never known fear. He is dangerous and if I say the wrong thing, he’ll never let me take it back.

It's him I've always been afraid of and even now, the confidence to speak to him away from the group is something I didn't know I had. But I guess things change after you ride a bike with him.

Elijah stands with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

His head is tilted just enough that I can see the tattoo on his neck muscles. It is one of a dark skull, bold on his bronze skin. And why are his hands in his pocket? Is there a gun there? Maybe I should go back. Tell him it was a mistake. That I didn’t really mean to talk to him alone. I could still turn around. I could—

Wait…his silvery winter eyes are on me and he's waiting.

“What is your deal… sir?”

Yeah, I add the “sir.” Maybe I’m trying to sound braver than I am. Maybe I’m also hoping a little respect will keep his temper at bay. But I’m aware that he knows I’m scared. He’s always known. He watches people like a storm watches the sea.

"Deal." He just says.

"You and Caden." I make it clear since he wants to act stupid. This is why I hate gangsters - they're wicked.

"Me and Caden." He says again.

I exhale. "You and Caden coming to my place of establishment. Then you act like some kind of hero, pretending you’re protecting me from him, when the truth is you’re his best friend. I know it's not news to you that he's been making it impossible for me to get a job.”

“Second, you not saying anything to your family about who I am, probably because Caden told you not to, so you both can use it to make my life a living hell - a slow living hell? I don't understand what you both get from trying and eventually succeeding in making my life a living hell. I'm not prey and you need to quit this." The words come out all at once, messy and rushed, but I mean every one of them.

This man just looks at me, the hollowness on his face becomes darker amidst the club lights.

"It's an insult that you think Caden tells me what to do." He sniffs.

Is that all this jerk heard?

I scoff, half in disbelief, half in exhaustion. “You two are birds of the same feather.”

“No, Paloma. Don’t ever disrespect me like that.”

My breath stops.

I can swear his voice is still calm, yet there's something that has weakened in it. Like ice cracking. Not loud, but deep. A quiet kind of breaking. And suddenly all the bravado I walked in with begins to dissolve.

“Disrespect?” I whisper. “I’m in fear of my life because of the both of you—”

He interrupts me. “Are you reprimanding me for not outing you in front of my family? Do you really want that?” He takes one hand out of his pocket.

"You must think I'm stupid to not see these games of yours—"

"Yes, that's what I think." He says, and I swear I'm turning red at him. I hate how nothing moves in him. Not his muscles, not his expression—nothing changes. Like my anger means nothing.

I'm telling you now, I hate this man. I hate his calmness. I hate—

"No, you're stupid!" I squeal like a teenager.

"Excuse me?" He half smirks, half laughs.

“Oh, it’s funny? You think this is funny?” I kind of yell but then reduce my voice for the next insult in case it gets to him. "You gangster jerk."

He clears his throat. And just like that, whatever spark of humor was in his eyes disappears.

“Since you’ve decided to treat my kindness like bullshit, I guess I can go ahead and tell my mother exactly who you are? Get you fired. Jobless. Again. Let you wander around this city looking for work?”

He slides his hand back into his pocket and turns to walk away like I didn’t just bleed my heart out to him. But when I hear those words—about telling his mom, about having me fired. My body reacts before my brain does.

I grab his arm to stop him.

His eyes goes down to my fingers. And the moment he turns to face me, I drop my hand like it’s on fire.

“I don’t know about you, but the rules clearly say you’re not allowed to touch or flirt with any of the Don’s sons.”

“I wasn’t flirting—”

“Now I have a reason. A perfect excuse to give the family an even bigger reason to fire you. You touched me…to flirt.”

“What? Why would I ever flirt with you!?” I lose my mind. “If you were the last man on this planet, I would gladly die alone. I could never be attracted to someone like you. A man born of violence. A man who breathes it. Every inch of you is violence born and I would rather rot than ever let that near me—”

His smile fades and it happens fast.

“f*****g say one more word and I’ll make sure you have nothing left to say again.” He snatches me by my wrist and pushes me against the wall of the balcony where we've been speaking. I gasp at the strength in his hand and his brash threat, it burns as goosebumps over my skin. I cannot look in his eyes, to be this close to him is a—

“What sort of man am I?” he growls, voice low and bitter. “What the f**k do you know about violence? If you even touched the surface of it, Paloma, you’d disintegrate. And if you really knew who I am, you’d watch every word that falls out of that pretty little mouth of yours.” He fixes both hands on either side of the wall. He has caged me to the point where I feel so small.

So, I have to answer his question that I didn't think would set him off. I turn my face away, unable to look at him but he holds my chin to make me face him.

"You were running your mouth just fine. So don't shut it now." His breath is mint and rain, and on his thumb are tears from my eyes because I cry over every single thing.

“Nothing to say?” he asks. “Good. Then let me say something. If you want this job, you’re going to bend to my terms. If you want to keep the secret you have so tightly hidden, then you’ll live every day knowing it only stays buried because I allow it. Forget Caden. Forget everything else you think you know. Just remember this—you only still have this job because I let it happen.”

"Am I speaking to you, Paloma?"

I quickly wipe my cheek. "Yes."

"I would like you to add that 'sir' you started with." He removes his hands that were walls around me.

"Yes sir." I slap another hand on my face in haste, ready to run away from him so badly that I don't take into cognition the movements of my legs and almost fall to the ground.

He catches me—fast, right across my chest and I burn at the feel of his arm muscles there. Yet, I still have to use his stretched-out arm to steady myself. When I look… he’s smiling.

Then he leans in—just enough for only me to hear.

“And don’t ever look me in the eyes and tell me you could never be attracted to me. Because I am.”

He is what? Attracted to me?

I blink, confused and in that sequence, he walks away.