Page 6 of Salvation (Reckless Kings MC #6)

Salvation

I gripped the steering wheel tighter as we approached the county fairgrounds, the words I hadn’t said to Yulia still burning in my throat days after our moment in the kitchen.

We hadn’t found time to be alone since Clover interrupted us -- or maybe we were both avoiding it.

Either way, the tension between us had only grown, crackling like electricity whenever our gazes met across rooms. Now, confined in the cab of my truck with Yulia beside me and Clover chattering excitedly from the back seat, I felt like a live wire about to spark.

“Dad, you passed it!” Clover leaned forward, jabbing her finger toward a dirt lot already filling with cars. “The entrance is right there.”

I grunted, checking my mirrors before making a sharp turn. “Saw it.”

Yulia’s hand braced against the dashboard at the sudden movement. Her sleeve rode up, revealing the faint silver scars on her wrist -- a reminder of how we’d met, of how far she’d come. She caught me looking and tugged her sleeve down, a flush creeping up her neck.

“Sorry,” I muttered, swinging into the makeshift parking lot. “Wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s okay,” she said softly. Her accent, which always seemed stronger when her emotions ran high, still got to me even after eleven years.

I found a spot near the back of the lot and killed the engine. Families streamed past us toward the fairground entrance, children tugging at parents’ hands, teenagers laughing in clusters. Normal people living normal lives. Sometimes I forgot what that looked like.

“Can we go now?” Clover was already halfway out the door, practically vibrating with impatience.

“Hold up,” I said, pocketing my keys. “We stick together. Fair’s gonna be packed.”

Clover rolled her eyes but waited, bouncing on her toes as Yulia and I exited the truck.

I locked it, then hesitated, unsure where to position myself as we walked.

Yulia solved the problem, falling into step on my left while Clover took my right.

The space between Yulia and me felt charged, too wide and too narrow all at once.

The fairgrounds burst with noise and color, an assault on the senses after the relative quiet of the compound.

Carnival rides whirled against the clear sky.

Game booths lined the paths, barkers calling out to passersby, stuffed animals dangling from overhead hooks.

The scent of frying dough, sugar, and grilled meat hung thick in the air.

“Look!” Clover pointed toward a towering roller coaster, its track twisting like a metal serpent. “Can we ride that one first?”

My stomach knotted at the thought. “How about we start with something that won’t make me puke?”

Yulia laughed, the sound unexpectedly bright. She quickly covered her mouth, but her eyes crinkled at the corners. Something warm unfurled in my chest.

“Sorry,” she said, tucking a strand of dark honey hair behind her ear. The simple gesture drew my attention to the delicate curve of her jaw, the soft skin of her neck. “I just pictured you, big scary biker, afraid of a carnival ride.”

“Not afraid,” I corrected, the corner of my mouth twitching. “Just practical.”

Clover groaned. “You’re both so boring. Fine, let’s do the Ferris wheel first. Even old people like that one.”

“Old?” I reached for her, but she danced away, laughing.

“You heard me, Dad.”

I shook my head, unable to suppress my smile. My daughter -- because that’s what she was, biology be damned -- had Carina’s sass and my stubbornness. A dangerous combination.

We approached the ticket booth, and I pulled out my wallet. “How many?”

“Fifty,” Clover said immediately.

I raised an eyebrow. “Twenty each. That’s plenty.”

I paid for the tickets, painfully aware of Yulia standing close beside me, her arm occasionally brushing against mine.

When the ticket seller handed me the strips, our fingers touched briefly as I passed some to Yulia.

The contact sent a jolt up my arm, and our eyes met for a charged moment before she looked away, cheeks flushed.

“Ferris wheel’s this way,” Clover announced, already moving ahead.

I placed my hand lightly on Yulia’s lower back to guide her through the crowd, a touch that would have been casual years ago but now felt fraught with meaning. She stiffened briefly, then relaxed into it, letting me steer her along the packed midway.

The Ferris wheel loomed ahead, its spokes turning lazily against the sky. The line moved quickly, and soon we were handing over our tickets to a weathered man with sun-leathered skin.

“Two per car,” he said, barely looking up.

Clover immediately hopped into an empty car. “I’ll ride alone.”

Before I could protest, she grinned and added, “You two can share. I won’t mind.”

The operator shrugged and locked her in, then gestured to the next car. I met Yulia’s gaze, finding a question there -- and something else, something that made my pulse quicken.

“After you,” I said, my voice rougher than intended.

She slid into the small compartment, and I followed, acutely aware of how the space forced us close together, thighs touching, shoulders brushing. The operator closed the safety bar, locking us in place.

“Enjoy the ride,” he said, then added with a wink, “Beautiful family you got there.”

Heat crawled up my neck. “Thanks,” I managed, not correcting him. Beside me, Yulia ducked her head, but not before I caught the smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

The wheel lurched into motion, carrying us upward. Yulia’s hand gripped the safety bar, her knuckles white. Without thinking, I covered her hand with mine. She tensed, then slowly turned her palm upward, our fingers intertwining.

“Been a while since we’ve done something like this,” I said, my voice low. “Just the three of us.”

She nodded, her eyes fixed on the horizon as we rose higher. “It’s nice. We should do it more often.”

Our car reached the top, swaying gently as the wheel stopped to let more passengers on below. The fairgrounds spread out beneath us, a swirl of movement and color. In the distance, I could see the compound, a dark smudge against the landscape. Two worlds, so close yet so different.

Yulia followed my gaze. “You’re thinking about the club?”

“No.” I squeezed her hand gently. “I’m thinking about you.”

Her gaze snapped to mine, wide and startled.

“Salvation,” she whispered, my road name on her lips sending a shiver down my spine.

The wheel jerked back into motion, breaking the moment. She pulled her hand from mine, tucking it safely in her lap as we descended. Below, I could see Clover in her car, trying to watch us with undisguised interest.

When we reached the bottom, the operator unlatched our safety bar. “You folks have a good time now,” he called as we exited. “Ain’t often I see a family so happy together.”

Clover appeared at my side, grinning from ear to ear. “See? Even he thinks you two should get a room.”

“Clover!” Yulia gasped.

I placed a hand on my daughter’s shoulder, squeezing just firmly enough to communicate my warning. “Enough of that.”

But Clover just laughed, unrepentant. “What? I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.” She skipped ahead a few steps, then turned, walking backward to face us. “What’s next? Tilt-A-Whirl? Bumper cars?”

I glanced at Yulia, finding her gaze already on me. Something had shifted between us, some invisible boundary crossed. The thought terrified and exhilarated me in equal measure.

“Your choice,” I told her, voice pitched low enough that only she could hear.

Her smile, small and secret, was like the sun breaking through clouds. “Bumper cars,” she decided. “I want to see if your driving is any better there than on the road.”

Clover whooped and took off toward the ride, leaving us to follow at our own pace. This time, when my hand found the small of Yulia’s back, neither of us pretended it was just about navigating the crowd.

We spent the next two hours going from ride to ride and playing a few games. I was getting exhausted and ready to head home.

“Please, Dad? I’ve been on it three times with you guys already.” Clover’s eyes, so like her mother’s, pleaded with me. We stood at the entrance to the Screamer, the roller coaster she’d been eyeing since we arrived. “I want to ride by myself this time. I’m not a baby.”

I crossed my arms, scanning the crowd around us -- an old habit that never died. “You’re sixteen.”

“Exactly!” She bounced on her toes. “Practically an adult.”

Yulia touched my arm lightly, her fingers warm through my T-shirt. “Let her go. We’ll wait right here.”

I frowned, caught between my instinct to protect and the knowledge that I needed to give Clover room to grow. “Fine. One ride. Then we find something to eat.”

Clover’s face split into a grin. She squeezed my arm, then darted toward the entrance, her dark hair streaming behind her. I watched until she disappeared into the line, unease settling in my gut like a stone.

“She’ll be fine,” Yulia said softly beside me. “The line wraps around. We can see her from that bench.”

She nodded toward an empty spot near a popcorn vendor. I grunted in agreement, and we made our way over.

We sat close together on the bench, my thigh brushing against hers. The roller coaster’s chain clanked as cars climbed the first hill, followed by screams as they plunged down the other side. I kept my gaze on the line, picking out Clover’s familiar figure as she inched closer to the front.

“Hungry?” Yulia asked, breaking the comfortable silence between us.

I realized I was starving. “Yeah. Popcorn?”

She nodded, and I stood, crossing to the nearby vendor. I returned a minute later with a large bag, settling back beside her -- closer than before, though neither of us acknowledged it.

I held the bag between us. Yulia reached in, her fingers brushing against mine as we both grabbed for popcorn at the same time. Unlike earlier, neither of us pulled away immediately. The contact lingered, deliberate now.

“Sorry,” she murmured, not sounding sorry at all.