Chapter 9
CORBIN
I was so damn frustrated with everything that was going on. Motorcycle racing wasn't bringing in as much money as it used to, thanks to the damn cops who were becoming more and more of a hassle, jeopardizing not only my business but the entire underground dynamic. My world had turned chaotic, and deep down, I knew it: the glory days were fading away.
Ben was on my back again, pressuring me to take on one last job. After this, I could retire, and my debt to him would be settled. My work wasn't easy; it came with many enemies to deal with, and the risk was always just around the corner. With each mission, the tension grew, and the edge of the knife we were walking on became sharper and sharper.
This would be my last job for my old friend Ben. He taught me everything I knew, took care of me when he found me starving in the cold streets. Since then, I had been with him, but it was time to end it and move on to other paths. My past was haunting me like a monster of shadows, and I couldn't keep being its prisoner. I also had these idiots who thought they could come and ask me for money and pay me whenever they wanted. But no. Things don't work that way with me; I'm not a damn loan shark, nor are their stupid mothers who can go ask them for money and pay them back whenever they feel like it. They have to pay me what they owe, or I'll make them pay...
I needed something strong, something to help me calm down and face the storm ahead.
I grabbed the phone and called the bar.
—Tony, please bring me a double dry whiskey. And don't forget to stock my mini-bar.
—Yes, sir. I'll be right there. I'm busy with the inventory —I knew Tony well and knew it wouldn't take him less than five minutes to get there. So I stood up and walked to the door, but a familiar tingling sensation I hadn't felt in years crossed my back, leaving a shiver in its wake. Without thinking, I opened the door and froze when the first thing I saw was those sweet lips I had tasted yesterday.
She looked so fucking innocent and sexy, but there was something in her gaze I couldn't ignore: a mix of vulnerability and determination.
—I brought you your drink, sir.
—Thanks, you didn't have to.
—Tony is busy and sent me —my look of disbelief must have been obvious because she answered my silent question.
—Tara went to the kitchen and ordered me to come help Tony at the bar.
—What did Tara do what? —now I was really pissed off; this had to be a joke—. Damn it! Where is Tara? —I walked to my desk and put a hand on it.
I sighed deeply and downed the whiskey in one go. But that sweet voice hadn't left me yet.
—Please don't be like that. I'll be fine helping Tony in any way I can —damn it. I didn't want her in the bar... The kitchen was the best place for both of us; she was good there, away from me.
—I didn't give the order to transfer you. Tara will hear about this and no... —I couldn't finish because I was interrupted by a sound coming from her jeans pocket.
—Sorry, I...
—It's fine, answer —I saw her pull out her phone, and by the expression on her face, whoever was calling her wasn't good.
—What's going on? —she didn't greet the person; silence fell—. No. No! I'm coming over... —silence again—. Yes, see you in twenty minutes. —I watched as the other person continued speaking on the other end of the line. I saw her expression grow sad, and tears welled up in her eyes. What the hell was happening to her? I had never seen her cry, and her pain struck me in an unfamiliar way.
She hung up and stared at the screen. Everything about her reminded me of Sienna, and that connection troubled me.
—Are you okay? —she looked up and met my gaze. The sadness in her eyes tore my soul in two, and I didn't know why.
—I... I just have to go, I'm sorry —she turned to leave, but I was quicker and grabbed her arm, stopping her from walking away.
—Corbin, I really have to go —I was struck dumb by her cold tone. And especially by how she had addressed me, as if formality was a shield to protect her.
She sighed, and her eyes were a clear reflection of concern.
—I have to go.
—I know, I just want to take you wherever you're going.
—There's no need; I have my car.
—Yeah. But I don't want you driving in this state. Look at you, you're shaking —she pulled away from my hold, but this time I took her hand and squeezed it tightly, ignoring her discomfort. I led her out of my office and walked toward the back door of the restaurant, heading for the parking lot.
—Wait, I need my bag.
—Alright. Let's go. —Once we got her bag, we walked to my truck and both got in. I started the vehicle, and the tension in the air was palpable as I fought the urge to know what had happened to her.
—Are you at least going to ask me where we're going?
—Yeah, sure. Where are we going? —she glanced at me sidelong, slightly annoyed.
—To the clinic downtown.
—To the hospital?
—Yes. That's where I'm going.
—Sorry to ask, but what happened? —an uncomfortable silence fell. When I thought she wouldn't respond, her tone was barely a whisper.
—It's just... my son fell and they took him to the emergency room. Apparently, he fractured his wrist. I'm not really sure. —My astonishment was obvious. I had never imagined she had a child. There was nothing about that in her job application.
—And where was he?
—At my parents' house, spending a week with them. I was supposed to pick him up on Sunday.
—Ah, I see. But don't worry, everything will be fine.