The Biker's Secret Torment

By: Lisa Ladew

MC Romance_ Talon (Rosesson Brothers)

Chapter 1


I stalked down the campus sidewalk, my thoughts on overdrive. Why was it that spending years mostly away from him had done nothing to lessen the impact those dark eyes and that brooding smirk had on me?

I'd turned in my Human Physiology final, then nearly swallowed my tongue when I walked out of the exam room into the lobby of the building and saw him on the tiny TV in the corner. They'd only showed him from a distance, but I knew it was him. Only one member of my dad's MC wore a beanie pulled low, swaggered like that, and filled out a Mad Marauders MC cut like that. My heartbeat had tripled as I rushed to the TV and turned the sound up, my eyes plastered on the fiery Viking helmet and sword in the center patch. I clenched my teeth as I listened to the reporter's human interest bullshit. Before he disappeared into the clubhouse, I realized he wasn't limping at all. What in the hell did that mean?

The piece had only lasted another few seconds, but after I saw it I had run out onto campus, shaking with anger for him. They didn't use his name, but some smartass reporter had dug up his past and was now trying to use it to further her career. I wondered if she had contacted him yet. Asked him for an interview. If she had, I wondered how that fuck you had tasted to her.

I took a left between two buildings, practically running towards my dorm. But when I got there, I couldn't go inside. What if Sloane was in there? I couldn't deal with her right now. Her special bitch senses would start tingling the second I walked in the door and she would pounce on me, knowing I was upset. No way. I had one more final tomorrow, and then I was done with school for almost a month. When I came back I would have a new roommate. If I never talked to Sloane again, that would be fine with me, and I really couldn't deal with her now.

I turned and race-walked away from my dorm, my eyes on the ground, trying to deny all the old feelings that had come flooding back when I saw him.

I put my hand in my pocket and touched the smooth glass of my phone screen. I wanted to call him. Just to hear his voice. It had been over a month since I had even had a text conversation with him, and that pulled at me. I hadn't heard his voice since my mom's funeral. I was trying to move on. Trying to forget about him. Trying to create a life that didn't hurt so bad when he wasn't in it.

Even so, I wanted to check one more time and see if maybe, just maybe, he felt differently about me, or could learn to. I'd always been nothing more than the little sister of his best friend, I knew that.

In the six weeks since I'd last seen him I'd dyed a blonde streak in my hair, pierced my nose, even gotten a tattoo. Trying to change who I was? No. I mostly liked me, but I was trying to change how I looked, maybe how he saw me. My hand touched my side where the tattoo was. I wondered if he would ever see it, and if he did, would he understand its significance? I was still the same baby-faced, good-girl, overachiever I'd always been. I couldn't change my basic nature, but being on my own had given me the space to branch out a bit. He wasn't a pure bad boy either. He was complicated. Complex. That was one thing I loved about him.

I hit Campus Drive and stopped to look down at my feet. I wasn't dressed for it, but a hard run would clear my head, get some of this off my chest. Then maybe I could call Talon and see if he was ok. After that I could go back to my room and grab my books to study in the library for my last final tomorrow.

I was wearing jeans, a lightweight sweater, and my cross-trainers. They would have to do. I shoved my phone and my keys and my special forces challenge coin that Talon had given me down deeper in my pockets and took off, keeping a light pace at first, then speeding up. My thoughts churned and simmered and I just let them go. They had to burn themselves out before I could find peace. The trail was almost deserted and I wasn't surprised. Everyone was doing last minute studying. I focused on a tree in the distance and ran at it, always switching to a new one as I got closer.

The late morning air was crisp, but sweat formed on my brow, then began to soak my jeans, making them heavier. I looped back around to where I started, feeling my muscles relax and my brainwaves smooth out. I had gone almost three miles, and even though this was at least a six mile upset, I didn't know if I could go that far. My jeans were chafing me already at the insides of my knees and tops of my thighs.

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