Vice and Void (The Savage Wolves Brotherhood #1)

29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Callum

Callum was having a difficult time stringing more than two thoughts together. Not with Dakota’s thighs encasing his own and her arms wrapped around his waist. She didn’t have a tight grip. From how stiffly she sat behind him, he was more inclined to believe she was trying to sit as far away from him as possible.

That didn’t matter. She was fucking here. On the back of his bike. Headed to Blackdon.

He hadn’t expected that to work. He had expected her to resoundingly tell him to fuck off before driving away while flipping him off through her open window. Yet, here she was.

When Callum’s motorcycle met the outskirts of town, he adjusted the throttle and sped off down the long stretch of road. The trees lining the two-lane highway whizzed by, blurring into a wall of green and brown. The sun was warm on his skin, and the wind was just on the right side of chilly. Dakota’s hands tightened around him enough to notice, and he didn’t bother biting back the smile that split his lips.

One of her favorite things to do used to be riding behind him. She never had an interest in learning how to drive it—gods, he had tried countless times—but she had enjoyed every second of their time on the backroads together. What about now?

Even though they didn’t say a single word to each other, the three hours went by faster than Callum wanted it to. As Dakota slid closer and closer to his back, it took more restraint than he thought he had not to link their fingers together. Not to rub her arm. Not to reach back and squeeze her thigh. Instead, he kept his white-knuckled grip on the handlebars in a disastrous attempt to keep his hands to himself.

Who was he? And when the fuck did he care about keeping his hands to himself? He never had when any other woman was on the back of his bike. But this wasn’t any other woman, and he would not fuck it up.

Blackdon’s skyline appeared in the distance, a golden haze of skyscrapers against the setting sun, and he knew they had officially made it when the traffic to downtown abruptly stopped on the five-lane freeway. Car exhaust and hot pavement swirled around them in a cloud of smog as Callum planted his feet against the road. He glanced at her over his shoulder, pretending to use her knee as a brace for his hand.

Really, he just wanted to touch her and could no longer go without.

“Where are we going?” he half-shouted over the blare of car horns and the loud music pounding through a set of cracked windows.

Dakota leaned toward him, vanilla and amber threading through the pollution. His heart quickened at her scent. “I have to get off this damn bike,” she said with a laugh that bolstered his already thumping chest. “I’m starving and can’t feel my legs anymore.”

He gave her thigh a playful squeeze as he grinned down at her. “Dinner then? Where?”

Her head reeled back in thought, and Callum was pleased to note she hadn’t jolted her leg from his grasp. Her eyes wandered the fenced barrier curving above the pedestrian overpass before they excitedly lit up. “Get off at the next exit. I know the perfect place.”

Dakota’s laugh was a song on the wind as Callum adjusted the gears and began to weave through the stopped traffic, expertly threading his bike through the narrowed gaps between lanes and cars until he reached the off-ramp. One of her hands rested low near the crease of his groin as she lifted her other to point over his shoulder, directing him through the intersection. His brain short-circuited like a record scratch, every thought coming to a complete and sudden halt as it zeroed in on that hand in his lap.

She had to know what she was doing. There was no way—his throat tightened as her fingers curled against the top of his thigh. Yeah, she knew exactly what the fuck she was doing. His cock twitched uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans.

In every way possible, he was so fucked.

Dakota guided him through the city streets until they reached the mouth of an alley, trash overflowing from the green dumpster near the entrance. “It’s here,” she said when he came to a stop. Rotten food and old piss replaced the acrid smog, and with a noise of disbelief, Callum looked over his shoulder to her.

“Here?”

Dakota planted her hands on his shoulders to hoist herself from the back of the motorcycle, groaning as she shook out her legs. “Yeah, here. It’s going to be great. I promise.”

Callum’s eyes slid from where she had begun to adjust the backpack straps to where the dark alley opened like the gaping maw of a monster. “Here?”

“That’s what I said,” she responded lightly but had already navigated past a puddle with a rainbow oil slick swirling on the surface. “Come on, it isn’t going to kill you.”

He wasn’t worried about what would kill him. Blackdon was known for its riots, heavy use of distills, and propensity not to give a flying fuck what the Iron Guard had to say. Norwich wasn’t much better, but at least that environment he knew like the back of his hand. Dakota disappeared into the shadows of the alley, and with a curse under his breath, he pushed off the bike and followed after her.

The stench of the alley only grew as the darkness swallowed him, but Dakota’s confidence never wavered. She stopped at an unassuming steel door at the end of the street, nestled perfectly in the corner of the brick walls. She smiled at him before grasping the handle and shoving the door open with a sharp nudge of her shoulder.

The lights, bright against the backdrop of the dark alley, came first. It took Callum a second to adjust. Then, there was the banner of colorful flags hung against the staccato wall, the twang of a guitar over the speakers, and the sizzle of seasoned meats. A waitress holding a tray of margaritas breezed by, her sneakers squeaking against the sticky tile floor.

“Holy fucking shit!” A flash of red hair collided with Dakota, and freckled arms wrapped around her neck. “ Holy fucking shit , girl! I didn’t know you were coming into town!”

“It was last minute,” Dakota replied with a laugh as she snaked her arms around the woman’s waist. “I didn’t know until we were leaving.”

“We— oh, my .” She separated herself from Dakota but kept a loose arm draped across her shoulders. “Who is this ?” The woman didn’t bother hiding her interest, her gaze dipping from Callum’s gray eyes to his lips to his shoulders and down to the tattoos covering his forearms and hands.

“This is Heather. She was one of the menders I went to school with when…” Dakota trailed off as her face heated, a blush creeping up her throat. “Erm, Heather, this is my—this is Callum. ”

At the mention of his name, Heather’s brows shot to her hairline. “Oh, oh . This is Callum . That Callum?”

He didn’t know whether the way she was saying his name was meant to be offensive or not. He decided to take it as a compliment. “ That Callum, yes.”

Heather turned her entire body to look at Dakota, who had suddenly taken an interest in watching one of the flags flutter under the breeze from the air vent. When Dakota remained silent, she squared her shoulders toward Callum. “It’s really nice to meet you. I’ve heard…I’ve heard of you.”

Now, he was sure it wasn’t meant as a compliment. “And I’ve never heard of you.” He almost felt bad as an awkward silence fell over the three of them, Heather’s lips opening and closing as she continued to look up at him. “You know, because Dakota didn’t keep in touch while I was in prison.”

“ Fucking gods ,” Dakota muttered. Callum sent her an innocent smirk, but irritation prickled like a slow-burning ember inside him.

“Right,” Heather finally said with a nod before turning back to Dakota. “Chloe and Kat didn’t show up tonight. I think they’re having a date night. Joel is here…” Her gaze darted toward Callum. “But we have a couple of extra seats if you both want to join.”

If there were something Callum wanted to do less of at that moment, it wouldn’t come to mind. He was certain dragging his dick across a plate of broken glass would be more fun, but Dakota nodded as she anxiously chewed on her bottom lip.

“I think we can join for a bit, yeah?” She looked up at him, waiting for a confirmation that he never gave her. She swallowed before facing Heather. “After you, then.”

Heather shuffled her away, arm still draped over her shoulder. “I have so much to tell you, and—“ She sent Callum a side-long glance before clearing her throat. “Babe, you have a shit ton to tell me.”

The rest of the conversation was lost to the music blaring over the speakers, a touch too loud for the small space, and Callum was left to trail after them like a lost fucking puppy. It was clear from the lingering stares and the shifting eyes that this was not an establishment that saw people like him often. Some women looked at him in interest—as an object to claim and discard before the sun rose the next morning. He ignored them, keeping his stare fixed on the sway of Dakota’s hips.

He wanted to know what life would have been like for them. Maybe he should have been more specific.

“Joel, Karina, Seth, and Ambrosia.” Heather pointed to each person quickly as Callum approached the table, following squeals of excitement as two women pounced from their seats and tugged Dakota into a suffocating embrace. “Everyone, this is Callum.”

The first woman stepped back with her hands firmly on Dakota’s shoulders to look at her. Then up to him. Then back to her. She swept her tightly wound curls over her shoulder, stuck out her hand, and gave Callum a genuine smile. “Karina. Dakota and I met in mender training.”

Callum shook it before replacing his hand into the pocket of his jeans. He said nothing, his growing discomfort a constant pressure in his stomach. He already knew this was not a group of people he would have chosen to spend time with. One of the men stood from his chair, the wooden legs scraping against the tiled floor, and shoved his hand toward Callum.

“Seth,” he said as Callum took the handshake. He dropped his arm to pick up the newly-delivered margarita. “Also a mender. Admittedly, not a great one.”

“Don’t say that!” Karina chided with a laugh as she slid down a seat. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“I hate it,” Seth continued, keeping his friendly gaze on Callum. “It pays the bills, but I knew I would hate it the minute I graduated.”

“Then why stay?” Dakota teased, finally joining the conversation as Ambrosia sat beside the second man, Joel. His heated gaze rested on Dakota with alarming severity, something Callum quickly detected.

Seth opened his mouth to speak, but the table chimed in with, “Because it pays the bills, and I like vacations.” He sat back in his seat, his drink sloshing dangerously close to the rim of his glass.

“You are all dicks. All of you.”

Dakota giggled as she plunked in the nearest seat, and Callum stiffly joined in the one next to her. A menu was plopped in front of him, and Seth leaned over the table to point at the list of mixed cocktails. “This place has the best margaritas in town, though you can’t go wrong with a nice martini.”

Callum swallowed back a snort. He was uncertain about many things in this situation, but that was not one of them. “I think I’ll stick with a beer, man. Thanks.”

“Your loss,” Seth said with a shrug as he wrapped his lips around the straw and took a large pull from his drink. “And more for me.”

Joel peeled his heated stare away from Dakota to plant it coldly on Callum. “Not secure enough in your masculinity to drink a margarita, then? ”

Callum knew instantly by Joel’s gel-slicked hair, his upturned nose, and the stupid fucking bowtie around his neck that he was going to hate the guy. Not to mention how his gaze kept flicking back to Dakota. Callum leaned back in his seat and draped an arm over the back of Dakota’s chair. Surprise flared in her gaze as she glanced at him, and a small smile quirked her lips when she turned back to continue her conversation.

“My masculinity is just fine. I don’t like the taste.”

Joel’s eyes trailed to where Callum’s arm rested on the back of Dakota’s chair. Callum let his fingers tangle in her hair and brush over the back of her neck for good measure. He never took his eyes off Joel. Seth hid his grin by taking another sip of his drink.

The waitress took their orders, her voice rising above the restaurant chatter before she was swept back into a crowd of oncoming diners. Joel still never took his eyes off Callum. Callum lifted a brow. Joel took a sip of his drink.

“Tell us,” Joel finally said, placing his elbows on the table. “Where did you complete your post-secondary education?”

Stupid fucking prick. “I didn’t,” Callum replied simply. “I own a mechanic’s shop in Norwich.”

Joel’s smirk went wolfish, and Callum readied for him to take hold of that. “Fascinating. An alchemist with a…mechanic. Explains the tattoos. You must do well for yourself.” He smoothed a hand down the front of his dress shirt. “I’m a counselor for the governor, myself. Six years as lead prosecutor for the Iron Guard.”

“Great, man. I’m happy for you.” The waitress placed a beer in front of Callum, the foam sliding down the side of the glass.

Seth set down his margarita, his face flushed pink. “Callum and Dakota go way back, from what I understand.”

Callum nodded as he sipped before setting the glass down onto the table. Dakota pulled her margarita toward her, absentmindedly chewing on the end of the straw as she listened to Heather prattle on about something Callum didn’t care to know. She shifted in her seat, leaning into his touch, and his hand wrapped around the back of her neck. It wasn’t lost on Joel.

“Ah, so you’re the same one who went to prison before she moved here?”

Seth nearly choked as he shot a look of disbelief at Joel. He was brazen. Callum would give him that. But Callum remained unmoved, stifling the flame of agitation by running his thumb along Dakota’s skin. Her flesh pebbled beneath his touch, instantly quelling his anger like a bucket of water to a candle .

“One and the same.”

Joel nodded his head as he took another sip of his drink. “The same one who was arrested for killing his own father, I assume?”

Seth’s mouth fell open. Dakota stiffened, alerting Callum to the fact that she had been listening. The table went quiet, the four women sliding their gazes toward the showdown between Callum and Joel. Realizing for the first time, perhaps, what was happening at the other end of the group.

“Overturned cases are a beautiful thing. So are ballistic reports and video surveillance,” Callum said, feeling the dangerous gleam in his eye. “But if you ever need to learn how to make a mean shiv out of a toothbrush and a shaving razor, you let me know.”

Joel grunted a half-chuckle as the table broke out in awkward laughter. “Noted. I don't think that’s a particular skill I’ll need in my future.”

“Don't be so sure.” The flash of shock on Joel’s face was one of Callum’s more satisfying sights in a long time. Dakota’s hand reached out to rest on Callum’s leg. He broke eye contact with Joel long enough for his stare to drop to her hand, then up to her face. There was a mask of indifference there, but Callum saw the tightness at the corners of her mouth.

“Didn’t we have that reservation?” Dakota asked over the beat of the new song blaring from above them. “We should get going.”

Callum took another drink of his beer. “I canceled it.”

Her smile was honey-sweet, and Callum could already play out the inevitable screaming match the moment they were alone. “I re-made it.”

“When?” The question was innocent, but Dakota’s eyes narrowed into a glare. He had always loved working her up and was glad to find that hadn’t changed in twelve years.

“Just now.”

The others at the table darted their gaze between them as though watching an intense sports match. Mixed expressions of amusement, embarrassment, and uncertainty shone over them. This was not how he thought the night was going to go. May as well get the fucking fight over with.

Callum stood from his seat and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He drew out a handful of bills and dropped them on the table. “For the next round.” He pinched into the left side and retrieved an old business card for the mechanic’s shop, dropping that on the table, too. “Take my number for when you want that shiv. You’re gonna need it.”

“Okay.” Dakota shot out of her seat, grabbing the backpack from where she had set it on the floor. “It was nice to see all of you. I will text you the next time I come into town.” She grasped Callum’s wrist and tugged him toward the restaurant’s entrance, not stopping until they were through the door and halfway into the alley.

Here we fucking go.

But Dakota didn’t start in on him. She fell against the brick wall, rubbing her temple with the tips of her fingers. Finally, with a long sigh, she looked at him.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said with a shake of her head. “You said that you wanted to experience what life would have been like, and they were my foundation through mender school. We were here every weekend for years. I didn’t know Joel was going to be there, and—“

There was something about the curl of her shoulders and how her teeth sunk into her lower lip that cracked the wall Callum had built around his heart. He softened, the steel trap he readied ebbing away like a plume of settling dust. He walked up to her, reaching out to take her hand. When she didn’t pull away, he leaned toward her to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s late. We can get a hotel. Order room service. Preferably not run into another ex-boyfriend of yours.”

Dakota laughed, and Callum flared to life. “You caught onto that?”

“Was I not supposed to?”

She laughed again, and fuck if he didn’t miss the sound of it. “It was for like five months last year. We decided we were better off as friends.”

“Did he get that message?”

Dakota pushed off the wall, closing the space between them. “The sex was awful and—“ Callum groaned as Dakota laughed a third time, and he wrapped an arm over her shoulders to pull her into his side. “—Lyra hated him. I mean, absolutely could not stand him.”

He needed to find Lyra and thank her on bended knee.

She snaked an arm around his waist; her body relaxed against him as they walked from the alley. He handed her the motorcycle helmet, and she slid it over her curls.

“Where to, then?” she asked as he unwrapped himself from her and held out a steady hand to help her onto the back of the bike. He took a moment to really look at her: to see the blonde hair blaze in the last of the sun reflecting from the windows above them, to see the ease of her smile as she waited for him to hop in front of her, to see her green eyes searching his. That smile wavered, and a shyness he wasn’t accustomed to seeing took over. “What? ”

“Nothing. You’re beautiful,” he said. It didn’t come close to encompassing everything he wanted to tell her. He would have fucked it up anyway.