Vindication: A Motorcycle Club Romance (32 page)

Laurel held me on the beach while the
fire popped next to us. Emotions raced, bittersweet, through my mind. Having
Laurel believe me, however, and the relief that knowledge held, was stronger
than all of the others in that moment.

She nuzzled against me in the warm
light of the fire and we didn’t talk for a while. The moon was much farther
overhead by the time it got too chilly to enjoy the scenery, and Laurel waited,
shivering in place, while I put out the fire and followed her back up the hill
to the truck. She held my hand the whole way.

Something overcame me when we got to
the truck. Maybe it was the way she looked in the moonlight, or the fact that
she had only crawled in closer when I offered to show her my scars. Before I
opened the door to the truck, I wrapped my hands around her face and kissed her
fiercely, pressing her body up against the driver door. Laurel moaned into my
mouth and traced her hands up my body, under my jacket and shirt, until they
hit the heated skin of my back. Only a few seconds of this passionate mess and
my dick was steel, aching for her.

Lips still devouring her kisses, I
bent and lifted Laurel up, arms under her ass. She only made the tiniest noise
against my mouth as she drew tight around me. I fumbled open the truck door and
tossed her inside, and then crawled in and shut the door behind me.

Laying on top of her, we made out and
pulled desperately at each other’s bodies with our hands, as if we had never
touched one another before and would never again. A few minutes of that and my
dick was practically begging to be inside of her—and that was to say nothing of
my enflamed heart.

After some careful maneuvering, my
jeans and boxers were slid down my legs, and I sat waiting on the bench seat of
my truck like some horny teenager while Laurel wiggled her own pants off,
stealing kisses the whole time. I had just rolled on an old condom from the
glove box when she finally straddled my hips, and I could feel her wet heat
dangerously close to my dick, even through the thin latex.

Grasping my shoulders for leverage
and balance, she maneuvered herself over my cock and looked straight into my
eyes as she impaled her pussy on my dick. It was so fucking hot I had to roll
my head back and growl. My hands gripped her ass cheeks tight as she lowered
herself, inch by inch, onto my stiffness until it filled her completely. Her
muscles clenched around me with sweet pressure as she let out a long, soft sound
of contentment. She paused for just a moment, as if simply enjoying the feel of
having me inside her, and then she began bucking her hips and riding me hard.

We couldn’t keep our mouths off each
other in this cramped space—not that we would have wanted to. I couldn’t get
enough of Laurel’s taste, the heat of her skin, the feel of her soft womanhood
around me- hell, even the sharp but sweet pain of her nails, digging into my
neck. I kept one hand clenched on her ass, helping her rhythm, and tangled the
other in the back of her hair. I pushed her gasping mouth down to mine and she
kissed me ravenously.

“Fuck, Noah, you feel so good,” she
cried, her forehead pressed against mine as she rode me.

“So do you,” I whispered back. “I
want you to cum hard all over my dick, Laurel. I want to see your face.”

“Oh, God.” She shivered at my words,
and I felt the pressure of her bouncing get harder and faster.

One hand ran up and under her shirts
until I had a handful of breast. I rolled her nipple between my fingers and she
groaned. “Are you going to cum for me?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, Noah.”

“Come hard for me, Laurel,” I said.

Her pussy started clenching around me
and I knew she was close. I bucked my hips up to meet hers, driving my cock
deep and hard inside of her, and Laurel screamed at the added pressure. She
gripped my shirt like she was falling off a cliff as her orgasm rocked her body
and didn’t stop fucking me until she had pulled me over the edge with her. When
she did, the waves of her orgasm milked my cock, as if they were desperately
trying to draw every ounce of fluid I had left in my body.

Laurel didn’t seem aware of herself
for the first few moments after she came. She rocked slowly on my hips and
cock, her beautiful face looking calm and still through the dim half-light of
the fogged-up truck windows. I pulled her lips to mine and kissed her, enjoying
the soft moans still escaping from her throat.

“Noah,” she said wistfully. Her eyes
were closed.

“Yeah?” I whispered back.

Laurel paused. She rubbed her face
against mine longingly. I had a sense the words that finally came out of her
mouth weren’t the first that she thought of—but I liked hearing them, anyway.

“I’m glad I found you.”

~
THIRTEEN ~

Laurel

I’d been staring at my laptop for forty-five minutes,
just circling around the same mindless websites and think pieces I had already
checked. There was a lot of important work to do, but my brain was flooded with
thoughts of Noah. Yesterday had been unbelievable, dreamlike. I wasn’t sure exactly
what was happening to me, but it wasn’t like anything I’ve been through before.

In my mind a quiet question was
gaining strength, demanding attention, and it was taking more of my energy than
ever to ignore it.

But I fought it. I had to keep fighting
it. I had a job to do, and now that job was more important than ever. After
hearing what Noah had to say about the festival—exactly the scoop we dreamed
of—this hunch that I had been wrong about him only seemed more certain. Since
the first time I met him, Noah Hardy had thrown me for a curve, yielding layers
of complexity beneath the bullshit image the media had built for him. Wasn’t it
reasonable, then, that there was more to the story of the festival than we
expected? It was true of everything else about Noah.

It had been hard to contain my
excitement when he told me about what really happened at the festival. I found
myself flooded with all sorts of relief; but more than that, I wanted to sprint
away from that beach right then and there to find a solution to his problems.

That night had turned into something
I didn’t expect in a lot of ways. I was still reeling from the incredible sex,
from the intimacy, from the warmth I felt in Noah’s arms that I had never felt
anywhere else before. Warmth I didn’t know was possible to receive from another
person.

But I really did have work to do. I
had to check out what Noah had told me. After hearing his story, I started
doing some digging, and I was more certain than ever he was telling the truth.
It was just that no one would listen to him.

Finally, Steve’s knock at the door
interrupted my mindless surfing. He brought coffee and donuts this time, still
a little sour from me wasting the extravagant feast from the other day, and
together we gathered up around the tiny circular table near the window.

“So, you finally remembered you’re
not here on vacation?” he said with a raised eyebrow as he passed out the
donuts.

“It’s been like, two days, you big
baby. You really need me around all the time for entertainment? This city is
great.”

“I’ll take the Atlantic chill, thank
you.”

I shook my head and drank some of the
black coffee he’d brought. “Anyway, shut up, we have a lead on something and we
need to drive at it hard.”

“Oh, yeah?”

I hiked my leg up onto the cozy,
round chair. “We’re missing part of the story. We always have been. Noah killed
that guy in self-defense.”

Steve coughed on a bit of the donut
making its way down his throat. “Are you fuck-drunk? How many times did you
watch that video, Laurel? That dude didn’t even
see
Noah coming, let
alone go after him.”

“The guy was going after Quinn with a
blade. Noah stopped him.”

Steve just watched my face like he
was waiting for me to break. I gave him a withering look back and asked him to
respond.

“Man, are you in love with this guy
or something?” said Steve.

I rolled my eyes, but didn’t admit to
Steve—or myself—how much my chest tightened up at the question. “That’s not the
reason, Steve. I’m serious about this.”

“It’s not
the
reason, but it’s
a
reason?” Now Steve was smiling like a fucking idiot.

“Steve, goddammit.”

“Big bad Laurel quivering for Noah
Hardy? Battista is never going to believe this,” said Steve as he dug in his
pocket for his phone.

“If you don’t put that fucking phone
down, I’m going to call Diane right now and tell her how many mimosas you made
me sneak you on the plane ride over here, I swear to God. Test me.”

Steve froze. Silently he slid his
phone back into his jacket pocket and looked at me with renewed interest,
fingers crossed on the table top. “All right, fine. I’ll bite. Tell me more
about this bat-shit theory of yours.”

“I’m not saying we run with it
without proof,” I assured him, pulling up the pages I wanted on my laptop. “I’m
saying we find proof.”

“Find proof that the dude Hardy
killed was on-stage to attack Quinn with a knife, you mean. Proof that,
somehow, both the security company and the cops missed that during their
investigation.”

“Your sarcasm is noted and rejected,”
I said, sliding the laptop around to face him, and then dug into the éclair he
had put next to my coffee. “To answer your immediate concerns, I don’t think
the cops and security missed the proof. I think they’re hiding it.”

“Goddamn, it is too early for this.”

“Just shut up and listen. Our best bet
as far as looking at proof is the video evidence, but that also presents our
biggest problem. We have a lot of cell phone footage from the crowd from
different angles, but none of it helps us. Did you notice why?”

Steve stared at the laptop, his
finger sliding over the mousepad. After a few seconds he said, “They’re all too
far away.” He looked up at me with a curious face, chewing slowly.

I raised an eyebrow at him and
nodded. “Exactly. They’re all too far away. Somehow, not a single person that
was in the first ten rows near the stage was using their phone when the attack
happened. Does that sound right to you?”

“Sounds like straight-up bullshit.
Half the crowd at every show is on their phone, and the ones up-close have more
reason than anyone,” said Steve.

“That’s what I thought too,” I said.
“I can’t find a single video that close. So last night after I got back to the
hotel, I started sniffing around some of the fan message boards and Tumblr and
the like, hoping someone from the crowd posted what they saw happened.” I waved
a finger at the laptop. “Pull up the tabs of the ones I’ve saved, and you’ll
see what I saw—a pattern of a couple different people claiming they had their
phones confiscated by the security team after the attack.”

Steve’s eyes went wide as he browsed
over the blog posts. “Holy shit. Do you think they could be making it up?”

“I found a few bullshit posts among
the sites, sure, but these four share consistent details, and proof they were
really at the festival that day. It’s enough that I don’t think it’s bullshit.
I think the security team working the festival that day took the phones of
everyone they could—everyone reasonably close to the stage barricades.”

“It’s a fucking cover-up,” said
Steve, both excitement and disbelief in his voice.

“It’s a fucking cover-up,” I said
with a smile. “That security company knows it messed up by letting a fan get
behind the barricades and onto the stage in the first place. It makes sense
that they would try and limit any evidence of their wrongdoing.”

“Holy shit, Laurel,” said Steve.
“But, the cops… you really think they wouldn’t notice the security company
gathering up phones?”

“You know damn well that security
firms are loaded with current and former cops moonlighting. Or they’re dudes
who wish they could be cops and would do anything to impress someone in
uniform. I don’t think it’s crazy at all to imagine the local PD playing along
to protect some of its officers, even if they weren’t on duty at the time. All
the security company has to do is say they didn’t find anything, and the cops
just have to nod and look the other way. No one’s going to question them.”

“Except the real cowboys, like us,
right? Goddamn, we are good.”

I nodded, overwhelmingly happy to see
Steve on board with my quest. “If we can find even one of the videos from the
front rows, we might be able to find proof of what Noah saw when he was
onstage, and show that he really thought Quinn was in mortal danger. We could
completely exonerate him of this.”

“It’ll be the journalistic bombshell
of the fucking decade!” said Steve, slapping the table.

I laughed. “Also that. At least, in
the music world.”

“But what’s the plan? And how do we
find videos that don’t seem to exist?”

I finished off my coffee before I
answered. “The name of the security company is Sentinel. They’ve got
headquarters in LA just a few miles outside the fairgrounds where the festival
took place. According to the calls I made to the festival admins, Sentinel was
just an independent contract hire, working on retainer with the media
conglomerate that owns the festival and a few labels. The woman I spoke with
said they pretty much accept the security firm’s word on the incident. They’re
like cops in that way, always getting the benefit of the doubt.”

“And what’s the firm’s position on
the stage breach?”

I rolled my eyes. “They blame that on
Noah, too. He brought a few girls on-stage a couple songs before the attack
happened, so they’re claiming the security guards were reasonable to ignore
another fan trying the same thing during the set. It’s just boilerplate
corporate handwashing. ”

“That’s bullshit. All that
pre-planned stage stuff would have been cleared with them beforehand at a fest
this big.”

“Exactly,” I said. “This all stinks,
and it all goes back to Sentinel Security. I’m going to hop a flight down to LA
tomorrow night and see what I can dig up at Sentinel’s headquarters. Local cops
usually tend to be outnumbered by the private security at events like this, and
actual cops would have a much harder time confiscating the cell phones without
a fight. If someone did take the phones, odds are that it was Sentinel. I want
to see if I can find them.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to do
that?”

I shook my head. There was no way I
was putting Noah’s future into anyone else’s hands. “I want to do this myself.
You should stay here and keep an eye on Noah.”

Steve pretended to write a note on
his hand. “Keep all other pussy away from Noah, got it.”

“I hate you.”

“What? I said keep all other pussy
away
from Noah. This is me helping.”