Page 9 of Redline Baby

Chapter 5. Kit

A full week has passed since Ni first brought Soren to Redline.

Apparently, the man has decided to come back.

The heavy bass from the Redline MC main room speakers constantly vibrates up through the scarred concrete floor, traveling straight through the rubber soles of my boots and settling into my bones. I am holding court from my regular barstool, perfectly positioned near the edge of the long wooden counter. Dex is leaning heavily against the bar to my left, while Sol and Ni are to my right. Allie is sitting on the couch, talking to Anya and the girls.

My right hand grips my glass. I raise it slightly, letting the amber liquid slosh precariously near the rim, holding the undivided attention of my audience.

Then my gaze sweeps casually past Dex’s shoulder, and I clock him.

Soren.

He is sitting near the far end of the long bar, partially obscured by the shifting bodies moving through the aisle. I have seen him twice since that first Friday now, always with Ni, always quiet. Apparently, once Ni finally managed to drag his best friend through the door, Soren discovered he didn’t hate the place enough to stay away.

He is watching me again.

He isn’t watching me the way the others do, half-distracted by their own drinks, highly entertained by my volume. He is simply observing. His attention is entirely steady, completely unhurried. His dark eyes are fixed directly on my face.

He has a full, neatly trimmed beard, and he’s big and muscly. Probably at least twenty years my senior.

Just how I like it.

“I completely butchered it,” I say loudly. “It was late July. The track was out past the county line, and I am running the back sweeper. I’m carrying way too much corner speed. Entirely too much. I totally misjudge my primary braking marker because I am entirely too busy admiring the carbon-fiber exhaust on the guy I just passed.”

Dex laughs. Sol shakes his head, taking a slow sip from a dark bottle.

“So, I pitch the bike into the corner, right?” I continue. “I am absolutely committed. My knee slider is completely dragging the deck. I am scraping the paint off the curb. I scrub way too much speed riding the front brake all the way to the absolute apex of the turn.”

I sweep my left arm violently outward to illustrate the aggressive slide of the tires. My elbow collides sharply against Sol’s bicep.

Sol grunts, almost dropping their phone onto the sticky bar top, and forcefully shoves my shoulder back. “Watch the hands, Kit,” he warns.

“My bad, my bad,” I say, flashing another massive grin.

I know Soren is still looking.

He is exactly the kind of man I used to actively seek out. He radiates the classic protective authority of a Caregiver. He possesses the steady presence that makes my buried Little side violently slam its hands against the inside of my ribcage, begging to be let out.

I cannot let it out.

I do not have the keys anymore.

“So I lose the front end,” I say. “The tire completely washes out. It just gives up entirely. The front end tucks underneath me, and I immediately low-side right onto the asphalt. I am sliding on my ass for a solid fifty feet, just totally surrendered to momentum, watching my beautiful, highly tuned racing machine violently cartwheel itself into the gravel trap.”

Dex is openly laughing now, completely engaged. He’s my best friend. Ni nudges my boot with his.

But I am suffocating.

The noise isn’t enough.

The physical space of the club feels too restricted. If I turn my head exactly thirty degrees to the left, I will see the back corner of the room. I will see the Daddy/little section. I will see the low, comfortable couches.

I will see Charles.

I will see him resting his large hand heavily on the back of John’s neck.

I cannot stop talking.