Vipers Rule Page 3

  He texted back, 10 miles out from Skulls, on highway. Stopped to fix a flat for someone.

  Bear’s response was immediate. Line of Heathens headed your way in about fifteen.

  Shit. I’ll be done before that.

  Just what he needed—his MC’s biggest enemy running into him and Maddie on a dark, deserted road.

  Fuck fate. Fuck it hard.

  “Tals? Is that . . . ?”

  Maddie’s voice sounded the same, that slightly raspy drawl that made her sound sexy, even as a teenager. It ran like lightning up his spine, and he forced himself to look in her direction, all the while hoping that what he’d seen through the car window was an optical illusion . . .

  No dice—she looked the same.

  No. She looked even better, and better still when she got out of the car and walked toward him. She’d left a teenager and she was all woman now, softly curved, her skin glowing with health and what looked like very little makeup. She’d never needed it. Her long dark hair was loose, and it was over one shoulder. She made no move to fuss with it.

  She looked good. Expensive, in a full-length black gown that seemed to glitter, her feet shoved into impossibly high heels that she walked in elegantly.

  And just like that, his New Year’s went from great to gut-clenching. Although he couldn’t deny that he was happy to see her, the way he’d always been. Even though she’d had him arrested more than once . . . and almost sent him to prison for assault by keeping her mouth closed.

  Twice.

  Fuck.

  Just change her goddamned tire and end this.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone sounding more like a demand.

  “Visiting my grandmother.”

  “At five in the morning on New Year’s Day?”

  She nodded, then blurted out, “I’m getting a divorce.”

  Small-town gossip was unavoidable, and soon everyone would be talking about this. Some would be happy to see Maddie cut down to size.

  Tals wasn’t one of them. Hell, all she did was have a career and marry a rich guy. He didn’t see a parallel between the two—she’d always worked hard, been serious. She’d gotten out, and for that alone, a lot of her old Jessamine “friends” would no doubt be particularly happy when they discovered she was being humiliated by her husband.

  She was married . . . and now she was getting divorced. And she was standing in front of him, no wedding ring in sight. On New Year’s Day.

  And no, he wasn’t going to get any of his hopes up. She’d be gone soon enough, and then he’d shove this to the back of his mind with all the other old memories that hurt too much to deal with.

  * * *

  As the famous saying went, there really were no coincidences. At least none worth ignoring, and there’d never truly been a way for her to ignore Tals.

  Happening upon him was a regular occurrence growing up, but she’d never taken it as a sign of anything beyond that’s what happened in a relatively small city. After all, they’d gone to the same high school—it was inevitable they’d cross paths.

  Although, not really. They lived on opposite ends of town. Hung out with separate crowds. He grew up within a motorcycle gang—and then officially joined the Vipers MC.

  “Are you okay, Maddie?” he asked, concern in his low, rough voice.

  “Fine,” she managed. “A little shaken.” But she was a good driver, and the roads were thankfully dry. “I don’t know what happened.”

  God, he looked good. Even with only the side glow from the headlights, she could see that he’d aged well, from bad boy to all man. He put the man in the leather jacket and jeans back at the charity ball to shame. His blond hair was mostly tucked under a bandanna, but she could see it was still curled around the back of his neck. He wore a tight-fitting dark thermal Henley, jeans, and black motorcycle boots, his Vipers cut no doubt lying on the seat next to him in the truck marked VIPERS TOWING.

  “You’re staring, Maddie. You used to be a lot more subtle about it.”

  Before she could get embarrassed, she shot back, “You never were.”

  He gave her that wolfish half grin that had gotten sexier over time. “Wasn’t trying to be.”

  She’d told him about the divorce because she had no doubt he’d see the news reports, Then again, maybe he didn’t check Page Six and the like. Maybe he didn’t concern himself with the gossip, even if it pertained to local families. She’d lived in New York for so long, been such a part of the social scene, that there was a certain amount of ego involved, where she’d begun to feel like every day was a photo op, a chance to sell herself—and her business, by extension. That was the name of the game today, and whether she liked it or not (for the record, she found it exhausting), that was the way the fashion business worked. She was an extension of the brands she curated.

  She hadn’t realized she’d been drowning until she’d crossed the state line and drew what felt like her first deep breath in years.

  And now Tals was so close. Too close.

  And he certainly didn’t seem happy to see her. If anything, there was an air of annoyance as he stalked by her and stared at her back tire while shaking his head. “Ridiculous. These tires are the most expensive pieces of shit.”

  She almost laughed at that, but she didn’t. Mainly because she was afraid it would come out as a sob. “I can just call Triple A,” she started, but he ignored her. He was moving fast, grabbing tools from his truck.

  And here she was, a helpless girl with a flat. And she hated being helpless. “I’m okay. I can . . .”

  “You don’t know how to change a tire.” Tals’s voice was a growl that covered her, part reassuring and part dangerous as anything.

  “How do you know?”

  He gave her a sideways glance before grabbing the tire iron and began to take the flat off.

  “Can you show me how to do this for myself?” she asked.

  He took in her dress and her heels. “You’ll get filthy.”

  “I’ll live.”

  “I don’t like to let women do heavy lifting when I’m around.” He moved past her and knelt on the ground in front of the tire.

  It was less sexist than protective, but it still rankled her and her reinvigorated quest for independence. “You won’t always be here.”

  He acknowledged that with a long look, starting at her legs and raking up her body. “That’s a shame.”

  She was ready to agree. Instead she kicked off her heels and crouched down next to him.

  He smelled so damned good. Clean. Masculine . . . very much like the adventures she sought.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  “More than you know,” she murmured.

  “Back up before you get hurt,” he told her, in probably the most fitting statement ever, before he took off the blown tire. In what seemed like minutes, he’d put on the full-sized one Hugh had insisted she carry around in her trunk.

  Tals hauled the heavy tire like it weighed nothing, and when the new one was on, he put the blown one back in the trunk. He’d moved all her bags out of the way . . . and he hadn’t commented on why she had so much with her for a visit. He simply put them all back, closed her trunk, then put his tools back in the truck. And started to get in, calling, “You’re all set. Better get back on the road.”

  “Tals, I’d like to take you to dinner.”

  “There’s no charge for this, Maddie.”

  “I’m not—thank you—but that’s not why I’d like to take you to dinner.” She bit her bottom lip—an old habit that she seemed to revert to only around him. Mainly because he stared at her lips every time she did it, and she liked him staring at her, the way he used to. “Maybe tomorrow night?”

  “Are you seriously asking me out on a date?”

  “Why’s that so hard to believe?”

  He snorted. His only answer to that being, “I think you should head back to New York.”

  “I’m not going back there. Not for a while,” she told h
im. “I’m staying in Skulls Creek.”

  “In Jessamine,” he corrected, like mentioning the split within the city borders would remind her of the split that kept them apart. “Too much water under the bridge. Glad I was here to help with the tire.”

  “This wasn’t where I wanted to do this,” she blurted out, and by doing so, stopped him from getting into the truck.

  “But you’d planned on doing this?” He turned to her, his eyebrows raised.

  “Yes.”

  He shook his head in disapproval—of her, of her plan . . . she didn’t know which. Maybe both. “You left.”

  “I’m back,” she said simply.

  “And that’s supposed to mean something nine years later?” With that, he ground his jaw and started walking away.

  It had never stopped mattering—she’d simply forced herself to bury it deeply, and even so, she hadn’t been able to give herself completely to Hugh. And then, when she hadn’t been looking, the sands had shifted, and the reminder of what she could’ve had shook her into clarity.

  Because of that she followed him, her bare feet soundless on the tarred highway. Before she could reach out and touch his shoulder, he whirled around, faster than she could’ve ever expected, and caught her by her biceps.

  “Don’t,” he warned.

  “I wasn’t going to—”

  “You don’t ever try to walk up behind a man like me.”

  She didn’t want to ask, but it slipped out before she could stop it. “What kind of man is that?”

  “The kind you never wanted to know.”

  The truth hit her squarely in the chest. All she’d missed out on. All she refused to miss out on in the future. “I want to move past the old, Tals. And see if we can get to something new.”

  “But we have old business, Maddie. None of this is new.”

  When he said that, she reached out and traced the bottom of the rose tattoo that peeked out from his short sleeve . . . the same way she’d traced it after the first time they’d slept together. “It feels new. It needs to be new.”

  Tals smiled at her, not unkindly, but certainly not the way she wanted him to. “Get to your grandmother’s safely, Maddie. Happy New Year.”

  This time she let him get into his truck. But, she noted, he didn’t move until she got into her car and pulled onto the highway.

  It was only when she did so that she noticed a line of motorcycles come up over the horizon line behind her. Behind Tals too, since he was now following her closely.

  Was that why he was rushing? Was that another MC who wanted to hurt him? Grams had told her there’d been some trouble in town but that the Vipers were working hard to keep drugs and other bad news out of Skulls Creek.

  She kept her hands on the wheel, driving faster.

  Vipers MC had always been a part of Skulls Creek—some said for better and some for worse, but for her they were a fixture. A symbol. Not, however, bad boys to chase, as many of her friends and classmates had felt.

  At that point, Tals hadn’t been a member of Vipers. He wasn’t hanging out with the MC. He was close with his brother, Tenn. And his best friend, Cage, a former Heathen MC member.

  To her they were all to be avoided. Time wasters. Heartbreakers. She’d been lectured her whole life about not going down that path.

  When she got off the highway, with Tals still on her tail, she noted that the bikes had remained on the highway. And still Tals followed her home, pulling away once she got inside the gates.

  His rejection had only strengthened her resolve. She’d rejected him dozens of times in high school—turnabout was fair play. Tals had never played fair, and she intended to follow his lead.

  She only wished she’d been able to figure out how effectively he’d reeled her in, almost from day one . . .

  * * *

  Fifteen years earlier, and she hadn’t expected to find Tals lying in the shade on the grass in the secluded area that was only ten minutes from the main building but on the side of campus no one ever hung out on.

  Except for her. And, apparently, Tals, who was on his back, one arm thrown over his forehead and the other extended and holding a tattered paperback book. His leather jacket was tossed casually next to him, and he wore a faded T-shirt and equally beat-up jeans, with thick, steel-toed boots.

  He looked more like a man than any guy in school she could think of, with the exception of his twin brother. All her Jessamine friends agreed with that assessment, even though she’d never actually discussed it with them.

  The last time she’d been this close to him had been two weeks ago at the police station. Since then she’d seen him from a distance, but she’d managed to avoid a confrontation like the one she was about to have.

  “I know you’re standing there,” he said finally. “Are you just going to stare, or is there a purpose to your creepy stalking/Peeping Tom act?”

  “I’m not—” she started with an angry huff, then refused to justify herself to him. “I’m here because this is my spot.” She felt stupid the second the words came out of her mouth, but that didn’t stop her from pointing to the tree she always sat under during her free periods, as if that would prove something.

  He drew out a sarcastic “Ohhhh,” and he rolled onto his side. “So what’re you gonna do, Maddie? Have me arrested? Again?”

  “You stole my car,” she pointed out. “People get arrested when they do illegal things like that.”

  “I borrowed your car,” he corrected. “I had every intention of bringing it back. Besides, I asked if I could take her for a spin and you refused.”

  Because you slept with a girl who was supposed to be one of my best friends, she wanted to tell him. “I have every right to refuse to let you drive my car.”

  “And I have every right to stay in my spot,” Tals told her with a satisfied smile, and she tried not to let him see how upset she was getting at the thought of having her daily refuge taken from her. “Also, I was here before you.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “How do you know that? I come here every day.”

  “So do I,” Tals said defiantly, then added, “Guess we come here at different times.”

  It was the start of a new quarter, and schedules had changed a bit, so that made sense. But still, she’d been coming here for a year and a half and she’d never seen another person. Until now.

  She sighed. “So what now?”

  Tals shrugged and lay back on the grass in a fluid motion, head propped on his hand. “Now I’m going back to reading.”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it. “I’m not leaving.”

  “Good for you. Didn’t say you had to. You were the one acting like I was trespassing on your private property.”

  Okay, that was true. “What are you reading?” she asked, because she didn’t know what else to say.

  He put down the book and looked at her, like talking to her was a great bother. Which was crap, because he was the one who was always talking to her in the halls, at parties . . .

  Talking, not flirting. That he reserved for other girls in her circle, who most willingly flirted back. With her, it was simple talk, albeit sarcastic jabs back and forth, mainly initiated by her.

  Finally, he shifted, and she noted that there was a pencil stuck inside the book. She could see that he’d underlined passages and even written what looked like notes in the margins. And then he flipped the book so she could see the cover. Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew, which wasn’t on their junior year’s curriculum.

  She must’ve been frowning because he said, “I liked Macbeth, so I just kept reading the other plays.”

  “Oh. I’ve read most of them too. Do you like that one?” God, why was she doing this? Guilty conscience because of the arrest?

  “Yeah, I do. I like how Kate builds walls around herself to keep everyone out until she finds someone strong enough to break through them.”

  She felt her throat tighten. “He doesn’t make it easy for her.”

&n
bsp; “Definitely not. But the challenge is part of the fun.” He paused. “Guess it goes to show you that first impressions are pretty on target.”

  “How do you figure? They hated each other. Or at least, Kate couldn’t stand him.”

  “Yeah, right. That’s what she showed the world, but she knew.”

  She shrugged, like it didn’t matter. “If that’s what you think . . .”

  “It is. So, Maddie, what was your first impression of me?”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “Completely.”

  She stared into his blue eyes, swallowed hard, then blurted out, “I thought you were a delinquent. And a jerk.”

  “And I knew you were a snob,” he countered with a nod, like he’d proven his point. Then he flipped onto his back again and started to read.

  Except . . .

  Dammit. “Tals.”

  He glanced over at her. “Yeah?”

  “I lied.”

  He put his book down. “I thought you were beautiful . . . I thought, she doesn’t fit in with those Jessamine people. At all.”

  That made her smile. “I thought you were handsome. Dangerous.” She paused. “But not happy.”

  He blinked. She put a hand to her throat as it tightened with emotion. He was the first person in her life she’d ever been completely honest with, and she hadn’t had to say a word.

  He’d read her, but obviously, she’d read him too.

  “So,” he started. “I guess we can coexist peacefully.”

  “If our schedules match,” she added quickly.

  “Right. If.” He glanced at her before he got up, stuffing the book into his back pocket. “I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”

  He sauntered away, and she tried not to watch him, but she snuck a few glances in his direction.

  He didn’t look back . . . At least she didn’t catch him.

  And the next day he was back. Still reading Taming. So she set her bag down and reached into it, walked over and handed him the movie she’d brought.

  He looked at the Elizabeth Taylor/Richard Burton version of the play and then up at her. “What, I’m too stupid to actually be reading, so you thought I needed the movie?”