Leave a Trail (Signal Bend #7)(36)

“Does having sex help you not think about whatever you were on?”

“OxyContin is what I was on.”

She’d heard of it. “Okay. Does it help?”

“Are you asking me if I’m using you?”

“No, Badge. I don’t think that. I’m asking if it helps.”

“Yeah. It does. With you, it does. I don’t think about it as much when I’m with you. I don’t think about it at all when I’m inside you.” He slid his hand over her cheek and into her hair, and she leaned into his touch. “It’s just you. Being with you. What I did before, in the clubhouse, didn’t make me need it less. Only you do. But I don’t want you to think I’m using you.”

She kissed the heel of his hand. “I don’t. I want to help you.” Feeling herself blush again, she bent forward, nestling again on his chest, her hand resting at the top of his thigh. She could feel his erection against the side of her hand. “We could do other stuff until I feel better.” They hadn’t done any other stuff yet—just their intense coupling, over and over.

He cupped her face in his hands and lifted her head so he could look into her eyes. For the gajillionth time since the day she’d met him, she marveled at the beauty of his eyes—that ethereal pale green, with rays of blue and light gold from the pupil, and a thin rim of blue at the edge. They hardly looked real.

“I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do, Adrienne.”

“I want to do everything.”

He laughed at that, his face finally relaxing. “Careful, babe. There’s a lot to do. Some of it’s pretty wild.

I don’t even want to do everything.”

“Okay, well. I want to do a lot. I want to touch you and taste you all over.”

His smile faded right away, but his mouth stayed open. “Jesus.” He kissed her, and it was softer and less demanding than his kiss when he’d first come in. But it was deeper and more arousing to her, too. Because she wasn’t afraid. She put her hands on his belt buckle, and he groaned.

Just as she had his belt open and was working the button of his jeans, she felt a buzz under her arm, on his thigh. A second later, his phone rang.

He dropped his head. “Fuck. That’s the burner.” With obvious reluctance, he released her and pulled the offending device out of his pocket. She knew he had to answer; he’d been pulled away from her more than once over the years. Never in this particular situation, though.

“It’s Badge…yeah…on my way.” He ended the call and put his phone away. “I gotta go, babe. I’ll be back, though. Definitely.”

“Okay.” But she was worried about him. “Are you okay?”

“I am. You make me okay.”





CHAPTER EIGHT



Len parked the club van in front of the high school. He and Badger got out, leaving their kuttes in the van, and walked through the front doors. Badger hadn’t been in this building since he’d graduated, but he still had the same kind of feeling, heavy in his gut, as they turned right and went into the administrative offices. Not that he’d gotten in much trouble—a couple of fights, and an incident with fireworks that had gotten his ass suspended—but still. The office. He didn’t think anyone who’d ever been to high school didn’t understand that weird clench he was feeling.

And this was weird—coming to the high school to pick up Nolan. He’d been shocked to his boots when he’d gotten to the clubhouse and Len had said they were headed to spring Nolan out of the vice-principal’s office. Even in their heyday, he didn’t think the Horde was usually the first call the high school made, especially for a kid who wasn’t officially related.

But he was Havoc’s stepson, and it turned out that Mr. Parks, who’d been the vice-principal in Badger’s day and still was, had been a Horde hangaround years back. He still knew enough to know what had happened in the fall and that maybe Nolan’s mom didn’t need this stress right now. So, ignoring protocols (and, for all Badger knew, law) he’d called Len. And Len had called Badger, who hung out with Nolan a fair amount.

Because Nolan was drunk out of his head. At school. And he’d started a fight in the lunchroom. All he needed now was to be caught with contraband, and he’d get all three strikes on the first go.

There was an older woman, with the sort of grey, puffy hair that Badger thought of as ‘old lady hair,’

behind the tall, wide desk. He didn’t recognize her. She looked up and took in Len, with his eye patch and nearly-full coverage of ink, and Badger, with his long ponytail and full beard, and blinked. Then her mouth pinched just a little.

Len smiled and said, “Afternoon. We’re here to see Andy Parks.”

Grey-Hair picked up a phone and pressed a button. “Mr. Parks, I think Nolan’s guardians are here.” She said the word ‘guardians’ as though she most emphatically was not buying what they were selling. Then she hung up and said, “Behind the desk, second door on the left.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Badger supplied. She didn’t respond. They walked past the desk in the direction she’d pointed them.

As they approached the door, it opened, and Mr. Parks took a step out. He was a short, heavyset man with short, balding brown hair and a neatly trimmed Van Dyke beard. He didn’t look like much, really, but he was a badass. Badger had seen him break up wild fights among boys bigger than him without breaking a sweat. He had a way of speaking that was short and sharp, and when he thought you were talking bullshit, he’d laugh in a way that was almost a bark. It wasn’t cool to get called to his office.