by Joy Blood
My shower doesn’t last long, then I’m out, dressed, and heading to the kitchen in hopes to find Premo. Those hopes are squashed when I find Doc sitting at the table, leaning back and reading a newspaper. I catch just the front headline before he pulls it down to greet me.
“Good morning.” He shoots me his usual big smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Along with the dark circles beneath them, I can tell something is weighing heavy on him.
“Morning.” I step past him, looking over my shoulder to try to read more of the headline.
Local biker gang member arrested for murder.
I can’t help the gasp that leaves me, and Doc doesn’t miss it. He looks at me, then down to the paper clenched in his fists. “Shit,” he curses, then folds the paper harshly in half before tossing it aside. “It’s all bullshit. This town is divided when it comes to the club. Just so happens the ones who print the paper are the ones who don’t like us very much,” he explains, but still, I step back just a little more.
“Someone was murdered?”
He nods. “Our lawyer. Worked for us for some time. Good girl.”
“And someone in the club—”
“No,” he states, adamant. “That is how they are trying to spin this shit. She and Nixon were sweet on each other. Having a baby. Pricks say they got evidence on him, but it’s bullshit. No damn way he did this,” Doc snaps. “That’s is just Carson starting shit with the club.”
“Carson?”
“The mayor. Has a real hard-on for the club. Ever since—” he stops, rubbing at his chin. “Story for another time.” He clears his throat, doing everything he can not to look me in the eye.
“Where is Premo?” I ask, wanting to leave the topic.
“Nixon has his hearing today. Pres went to post bail.” I nod, but Doc doesn’t see me. I doubt he cares because he stands up and walks out of the kitchen. I listen as his footsteps journey down the hall, then spring into action, grabbing up the newspaper to skim over the details before he comes back. Each line I read has my stomach turning. To the description of how the woman was killed and the coroner having to identify her body with her DNA because her face was so badly beaten, she was unidentifiable. The fact that she was with child makes the whole thing that much worse and horrifyingly relatable. My hand instantly flies to my flat stomach and bile rises in my throat. I don’t even have a second to spare before I’m darting to the kitchen sink and heaving into the stainless-steel basin. Thankfully, I have myself put together by the time Doc comes walking back in.
“You okay? Looking a little pale, darlin’.”
“Just got a little woozy. I’m…I’m going to go and lay down.” I dart back to the room, pushing all the feelings plaguing my mind aside.
Don’t go there, I tell myself. My mantra. Don’t think about the past. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.
Thirty-Three
“With the evidence and ties to a notorious motorcycle club, I’m inclined to deny bail. Willard Nixon, you will be held in county until the preliminary hearing.” The judge slams down her gavel and moves on to the next case. I only see the back of Nixon as the decision is declared. His shoulders slump, then he turns to look back at me. “We’ll get you out, brother,” I promise, though it’s empty. He knows as well as I do getting him out requires one hell of a good lawyer, and ours happens to be lying in the morgue. He nods once and moves along with the guards, who do nothing to hide their agreement with the judge. “We need to find a damn lawyer,” I snap at Wick, who’s just as pissed as I am. We both storm out of the courthouse.
“I’ve been trying. No one wants to go up against the DA for a member of the club. As soon as they hear the word Siberians, they hang up the phone, and that fucking public defender is worthless.” I nod in agreement. “But shit, Pres, that evidence…how the fuck—?”
“I don’t give a shit. You find the most crooked motherfucker out there. One who ain’t going to wet themselves dealing with the club. We need him out yesterday.” I straddle my bike a little too harshly and bring her to life before tearing out of the lot, not giving a shit if Wick is behind me. He isn’t going to the same place I am.
Leaving Vera in bed this morning pissed me off, but at the same time, made me happy. By leaving her there, I knew right where she would be when I got back, but I didn’t want to slip away from her one bit. My brother needed me, though, and I fucking failed at that. Even if there was no way I could have helped, I still failed. I shake it off and speed toward my apartment, wanting nothing more than to crawl back into bed with V. Feeling her soft body pressed against my hard one is something I could damn well use right now.
After pulling up and parking next to Doc’s three-wheeler, my phone decides to chime to life. Without even looking at the screen, I swipe with my thumb and take the stairs two at a time. “Yeah?”
“Oh, I know that voice. What’s got you so pissy?” Ari’s teasing voice comes over the line, making me pause for only a split second before resuming my trek to the third floor.
“Just club shit,” I grumble, and while it isn’t a complete lie, I realize the other half of the truth is the reason why I haven’t thought of Ari once in the last few days. Damn.
“I suppose I wouldn’t expect a straight answer. So anyway, I was calling because Boyd…” Her words might as well be in Japanese; I don’t understand or hear a single one of them. Pulling open the door to my apartment, I bypass Doc at his usual post at the table and go straight for my bedroom—right where I left Vera. Who isn’t fucking there.
What. The. Fuck.
“And so, I thought maybe you would want to be there,” Ari finishes her spiel, bringing me back to the conversation. That’s when Vera decides to walk out of the bathroom, her hair piled up on top of her head and a towel wrapped around her body.
“Yeah. Ari. Text me the details. I’ll be there,” I tell her, the asshole in me not caring one bit that I hang up the phone before even saying goodbye. “Thought you might have split,” I find myself admitting as I back up from her to lean against my dresser to calm my racing heart. The fuck is all that about?
“I thought about it, but your window in the bathroom is too small, and the tub is a lot less uncomfortable to crawl into.” She tries at a joke, but her rigid stance tells me we are back to square one again. It’s the same way she looked at me when she walked out of this room and passed out in the hall. On guard and ready to bolt. She is scared and doing a shit job hiding it.
“Something wrong?” I cross my arms over my chest and stand from the dresser, gauging her reaction to my fast movements. Her slight flinch and the stiffness in her posture give me all the answer I need. Something is up. She shakes her head. “No? ’Cause I think you might be lying.” I drop my arms and step closer, making her step back.
“Stop. Please.” She clutches at her towel for security.
“What happened while I was gone?” Another step, and another, until she hits the wall and gasps at the contact. I get closer. Watching every inch of her. The quickening pulse threatening to burst from her pale skin. Her chest rising and falling in quick succession as her hand turns white from gripping the towel in her fist.
“Nothing,” she whispers.
“Bullshit.” I move just a little closer. “Know where I was this morning?” She hesitates for only a second before nodding. “He is my brother, part of the club, and would never have done what he is being accused of,” I say, but she still doesn’t relax. “Something else bothering you?”
“No,” she lies again.
“Then why are you looking at me like I’m about to slice you from end to end?”
“I don’t—”
“Our club might not be squeaky clean—far from it, actually—but we would never hurt a woman, let alone one who worked for us and was involved with a brother. She was carrying his kid. Not a damn chance in hell he would have laid a finger on her,” I defend my club and Nixon.
“I believe you,” she says, but it almost sounds like she’s trying to convi
nce herself of the declaration.
“Do you? Because the way you’re still clutching that towel tells me otherwise.” I nod down to her white fist, then look back up into her green eyes. They still hold the fear she had just seconds ago, but it’s starting to ebb away, replaced by something I can’t put my finger on.
“I read the article and how she died…it was just a little overwhelming. Then I come out of the bathroom with you standing here…it was just a little much all at once.” Maybe not a complete answer, but I take it. “How…how did it go?” she asks, and I watch closely as she lets up just slightly on her grip, though she still doesn’t move. I give her the space, stepping back over to the dresser to toss her a shirt. I don’t miss the way she takes it and pulls it over herself, covering the towel.
“Judge denied bail.” I go back to my relaxed state, leaning against the dresser.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Not what I was expecting to happen, but they claim to have all this evidence on him, and him being part of the club, the judge decided she was going to be a bitch. You wouldn’t happen to know any good lawyers, would you?” I ask in a joking tone, but catch the wince she almost succeeds in hiding from me.
“Nope.” She offers a pathetic excuse of a smile, but I let it go. Lying again. “I’m a little hungry. I’m just going to—”
“Not even going to say a word about last night?” I raise my brows as she pulls on a pair of jeans from the floor. I can’t take my eyes away as she slides them up her legs and will myself to not get hard knowing she doesn’t have any panties on under those jeans.
“It was good.”
“Good,” I echo, forcing myself not to barrel into her and show her just how good I can be.
“Yes. I enjoyed it very much,” she says, matter-of-fact. Taking my annoyance to her advantage, she darts out of the room, using the fact that Doc is in the kitchen to further evade me. She has no damn idea how patient I can be.
Thirty-Four
Premo’s arms tighten around me every now and then as we sit by the fire. He is talking to his brothers about this and that, mainly the bike rally coming up in the next few days. I can’t help but wonder if he’s planning on leaving me here with a babysitter while he goes. We haven’t talked about or had sex again since last week when he came through the bedroom door in such a rush. Nor has he tried to get to the bottom of why he had me nearly jumping out of my skin when he rushed through the room. Of course, neither topic is something I will or would even bring up.
“You ever been camping before?” Premo asks, bringing me into the conversation.
“Camping? Like as in sleep in a tent and squat in the woods?” I ask, getting a chuckle from the people around the fire.
“Yeah. Ever been?”
“No. Can’t say I have.”
“Gonna break your Rally cherry then,” Wick says, gripping the woman sitting on his lap. Izzy, I believe her name is. She lets out a giggle and turns in his lap to return the favor, only her hand doesn’t squeeze his ass. She goes between his legs, and he lets out a long groan. “Woman, you just sucked me off and you’re getting me going again.”
“Take her to your room, Wick,” Premo laughs as Izzy continues to stroke Wick over his jeans. Wick doesn’t listen at all, only waves his hand in Premo’s direction and thrusts his hips. I try not to keep watching, but when Wick’s hand drifts down Izzy’s stomach into her jeans, I seem to be a little transfixed. “Maybe I should take you back to my room.” Premo’s voice is right in my ear, causing goosebumps to break out all over my skin, despite the warmth of the fire. I blink myself out of my voyeurism, catching the wink Wick shoots my way. Crap. I shift slightly, trying to pretend I wasn’t watching, but it’s no use. Premo is already lifting me up and standing behind me.
“What—?”
“Let’s go for a walk.” His hand captures mine, and he threads his fingers through mine. I can’t deny it sends little schoolgirl butterflies fluttering through my chest.
The compound is almost the size of a small town. A large shop sits off to the back, while the main clubhouse is toward the front, adjacent to the entrance, which is guarded at all times by a tall fence surrounding the whole area. The same fence we’re walking along right now. Premo leads me past all the tiny homes the officers own and behind the garage where he stops. “Looked like you might need a break,” he says, letting my hand go.
“They weren’t bothering me.”
“Not what I meant. I could tell they weren’t bothering you,” he says, a mischievous smile on his handsome face. He shaved two days ago, but the stubble has started to come back with a vengeance, hiding the small dimple on his chin. “Look to be deep in thought. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
My eyes drift from his chin to his eyes, where I catch a devious twinkle. “I was just trying to decide if I like the clean-shaven look or the rugged beard. Could go either way.”
“I know how to solve that dilemma.” He steps closer, making my heart speed up even more.
“Yeah. How would you do that?”
He lets out a long hum, and I find my back hitting the cold metal of the shop. “You’ll find out.” His hands drag along the sides of my stomach, then up to cup my breasts in his hands. A soft gasp leaves my lips when he pinches my nipples through the material. It causes him to let out a thick, throaty chuckle. “Keep quiet, or you might bring an audience.” I can’t even ask him what he’s talking about because he drops to his knees in the dirt. His hands pull up my long-sleeve shirt to expose my stomach, then he drags his lips along my heated flesh. Oh, that beard. Teeth nip at my belly button, then at the hem of my jeans, unbuttoning them for his further exploration. “Decided yet?”
“No, you might need to keep going,” I pant, my voice not my own. It’s been claimed by the sex gods and Premo himself. A man going down on me isn’t something I have much experience with. It’s happened a handful of times, if that. So, what Premo is doing now has me turning to jelly, and his mouth hasn’t even made contact with my—
“Oh God,” I yelp, gripping as hard as I can on his short hair as his tongue swipes along my seam. My pants aren’t completely off, so there’s no way for him to get full access, but what he just did has me buckling my legs.
“Easy, V. Can’t have you collapsing on me. Turn around, baby. Hold onto the wall.” Hold on to the wall? How the hell am I supposed to do that! I listen anyway, hoping he’ll keep putting his mouth on me. “There you go. Just like that. Fuck, your ass is amazing.” His hands drift along my hips, his thumbs together down the crack of my butt, until they reach my clit. He parts my folds, then swipes his tongue along my now fully exposed sex. “Like fucking honey.” He lets out a groan that vibrates against my skin, eliciting even more pleasure as he buries his face between my legs. My knees try to give out, but I hold them firm while keeping my shaky arms straight with all my strength. The strain hurts, but I don’t care. What he’s doing to me with that tongue of his…oh, and that spiky beard…
“Oh,” Two of his fingers slip inside me, and my orgasm shoots off through my body unexpectedly.
“Shit, you are sexy, V.” His mouth stays there, riding me through the last waves before disappearing. I don’t move. I’m not sure I can. “Need to be inside you, baby.” The sound of Premo’s zipper coming undone is like music to my ears.
“Yes.” I move only slightly to see Premo gazing down at my backside, gripping his cock in his hand. He steps forward, and pushes the tip inside just enough, then pulls back, frustrating me. “Don’t tease,” I whimper, wiggling my hips to encourage him.
“Wouldn’t think of it.” I hear the grin in his tone before he plunges forward and wraps his strong arms around me to keep me from falling to the ground. “Shit,” he growls, pulling me up far enough so my back makes contact with his chest. One hand loops around my waist, while the other voyages up toward my neck. The rough, calloused skin of his palm circles around my throat and squeezes with each thrust of his hips. Thrust. Squeeze.
Thrust. Squeeze. The rhythm makes me dizzy and has me coming again in seconds. “Jesus, baby.” His groan and the swelling of his cock lets me know he’s close. Suddenly, I’m all too aware he’s inside me once again, without a condom.
Panic surges through me, and before I know it, I find myself yelling something other than “yes, more.”
“Nate. Nate, stop. You need to pull out,” I shout.
He stalls his hips, then lets out a curse before pulling completely away from me.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I hear him stroking himself, but can’t bring myself to turn around. What was I thinking? Having sex with him again without protection. With my back still to him, I pull up my jeans and take an extra-long-time zipping and buttoning them up before I decide to stop being a coward and turn to face him. Our heated, blissful moment has taken a turn with my freak out.
He already has himself back to normal and is staring directly at me. “I’m clean,” he explains, trying to put me at ease, but I shake my head.
“I—that wasn’t—”
“I get it. Let’s go on back to the fire.” He bypasses my half attempt to explain my freak out and reaches out to snatch my hand back into his. Slowly and quietly, we start back to the fire.
Thirty-Five
To say I didn’t know what I was thinking taking Vera again without protection would be a lie. I knew. Knew what I wanted in that moment. Her. With me. Forever. The hell with the rest of the bullshit. Clearly, she didn’t agree with me. The panic in her voice broke through at the last second, bringing me back to reality, and I pulled my dick out of her sweet pussy just in time. “Would you like to go into the clinic and maybe get on the pill or something?” I offer, breaking the awkward silence. We’re only a short distance from the fire now, but I get the feeling going back right now isn’t the time.