His eyes took on faraway quality, as if picturing the hours of sanding and painting again. “It wasn’t always this nice, and Mav totally paid an interior decorator.” He grinned. “That’s a little secret, though. Don’t tell him I told you.”
“Oh, I’m going to tell him,” Felicia teased, as if she actually had real conversations with the leader of the Sentinels. She had a couple of times, sure. But she wouldn’t tease him about hiring an interior decorator, that was for dang sure.
Jordan chuckled and leaned toward her. She pulled in a breath, and the light-hearted air between them evaporated as he brushed his lips against her cheek. “Sorry our day together got ruined.”
“It’s not ruined,” she whispered, taking a deep breath of his aftershave. His cologne. All of it together, combined with his nearness made her every cell vibrate.
“I have to have a pow-wow with Tyson,” he said. “You’re welcome to stay. He’s a man of few words. But it’s club business, and you might not want to.”
“How long do you think?” she asked as they went down the stairs. Jordan went first, and he wasn’t moving fast. After all of this excitement and a meeting with another biker, he’d probably sleep the afternoon away.
Felicia found she didn’t mind that. She liked being with him in his house, and all of the hot chocolate ingredients were there. Maybe her blissful time with Jordan hadn’t been erased by a call from Maverick Malone. Maybe it had just been postponed.
“An hour?” Jordan guessed. “I can’t imagine it will be longer than that.”
“Okay,” she said. “I could run home while you guys talk and get something to do.”
“Something to do?” Jordan reached the bottom of the steps and turned to look up at her. “What would that be?”
Felicia glared at him and folded her arms. “You already know what it would be.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m ready for the teasing.”
“Your knitting?” he asked, a smile blooming across that gorgeous face. “You’re going to bring your knitting to my house?”
“You’re going to fall asleep the moment I get some hot chocolate in you and put a movie on.” She shook her hair over her shoulders, because she’d worked much too hard on it for him not to notice. “So yes, Mister. I’m going to bring my knitting to your house.”
He laughed fully then and took her into his arms. “That’s awesome. Let’s go.” He led her down the hall and past doors and windows to the garage where she’d parked. A man had already folded himself into the backseat, and she sobered when she saw him there.
“Tyson Pike,” Jordan said as he got in the passenger seat. “This is Felicia Cheswick. She’s my chauffeur and girlfriend.” He chuckled while Felicia clasped her seat belt.
“Nice to meet you,” Tyson said politely.
“And you,” she said back. But she was nervous as she drove the two of them along the somewhat icy roads back to Jordan’s house. They went in together, but Felicia backed out and headed toward her house to get her yarn and knitting needles. The hobby soothed her, and she’d made dozens of potholders in the weeks after breaking up with Jordan last time.
“There’s not going to be a this time,” she told herself as she dashed inside to get her knitting bag. When he’d first found out about her somewhat geriatric hobby, he’d teased her about it. She hadn’t minded it. In fact, being able to show him something like her knitting had brought them closer together.
She checked her bag for all the things she wanted. The correct colors of yarn, the right size of needles. She hurried into the kitchen and took out a granola bar and a couple of the mini-sized Kit Kats she never let run completely out. She may work out every morning and spend the majority of her shifts at the grocery store on her feet, but that was so she could eat the Kit Kats when she wanted to.
By the time she returned to Jordan’s house, almost a half an hour had gone by. He met her at the front door so she didn’t have to knock, and he and Tyson hadn’t paused their conversation either.
“I’m just saying that there might be a concession to make,” Tyson said. He didn’t look happy, and though Jordan didn’t look like he was ready to pounce, he wasn’t smiling either.
“I think that concession is too high.”
“Then it’s the club,” Tyson said. “It all goes away, and the drugs are in town anyway.”
The door closed behind her, and Jordan locked it. “You really think they have the power to shut us down?”
“I think they have guns and bombs and things we can’t even think of,” Tyson said darkly. “We did in the Hawks, and we had regular trainings for how to use them.”
Felicia looked between him and Jordan, not really wanting to listen to a conversation that included the topic of bombs. Or things she couldn’t even think of.
She did remember the scarred, inked face of the man who had burst into the back of the supermarket. He’d been lethal in every way, and when he’d threatened her, Marc, and Dante, they’d all believed him.
She closed her eyes, and his voice still existed right there in her head. A shiver ran down her arms, and she retreated into the kitchen to set her knitting bag on the kitchen table. Worry accompanied her, an old friend from her childhood and teen years. She hated the writhing feeling in her gut, and she took a deep breath to try to quell it.
That didn’t work—it never had. Deep breathing and meditation had never stopped her father from hitting her mother, and it had never stopped her mother from bringing home a man who was no good for her. Or for her daughters.
Felicia stepped into the kitchen to get the hot chocolate going, one ear still on Jordan’s and Tyson’s conversation. They had a few pieces of paper spread on the coffee table in front of the couch, where they both sat. Tyson pointed to something and said, “We shouldn’t underestimate the power of him either.”
“And I think we should definitely call the Rough Riders,” Jordan said as he nodded. “They’re more vigilante than outlaw, like us. They might have some ideas for how to deal with this.” He looked at Tyson, and Felicia couldn’t see Jordan’s expression. “Do you know anyone down there? It’s hours from here, but it seems like the Hawks had a better pulse on the motorcycle club scene than we do.”
“I can put out some feelers,” he said. “But I don’t remember having any contacts there. We had our dealers and our contracts, and we used outside people as rarely as possible.”
“Just a boat captain, right?”
Tyson shifted on the couch, and there was definitely a story there. “Right.”
Felicia focused on her task in the kitchen, because she didn’t need to be afraid to go home alone at night. She didn’t need to worry about drug dealers or what Jordan’s involvement with them would be.
But this was exactly why she hadn’t wanted him involved in his motorcycle club. Exactly the reason she hadn’t gotten to know the Sentinel side of him.
She got out some baby carrots and made turkey and cheese sandwiches, and by the time the early lunch was ready, Tyson and Jordan had finished their little talk. They all ate together at the table, and it almost felt normal.
Normal, if no one really spoke to each other beyond, “I can’t believe it’s snowing already. It’s not even December.”
Felicia had said that, and Jordan had at least hummed in response. Tyson had said nothing, sticking true to Jordan’s description of him not being a chatty man. He left a few minutes later, ducking into the passenger seat of a sedan driven by a pretty woman who had a little boy in the backseat.
“Who’s that?” she asked as Jordan closed the front door again.
“His girlfriend and her son,” he said, smiling at her. “Thanks for lunch, sweetheart.”
Tyson had a girlfriend, who had a son. Felicia found that fascinating, and a whole new door opened for her. Maybe she and Jordan could make things work.
“The hot chocolate is ready too,” she said, pulling herself together and preceding him into the kitchen to pour their sweet drink. “Whipped cr
eam?”
“Of course,” he said.
She served them hot chocolate with dollops of whipped cream and sat beside him on the couch. A sigh came out of her mouth, and Jordan took a sip of his hot chocolate before he asked, “Are you okay?”
“Overwhelmed,” she admitted. “And a little scared.”
Their eyes met, and Jordan’s were hard and soft at the same time. “You don’t have anything to be afraid of.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Because,” she said. “I may not know a lot about motorcycle clubs, Jordan, but I know the bad ones will do whatever it takes to get what they want. And they want something from you guys you’re not willing to give. So that puts you in danger. And me, because I’m with you.” Her chest heaved then, and Felicia couldn’t imagine taking a sip of hot chocolate. Or a bite of anything.
In fact, the sandwich and carrots she’d already eaten lurched in her stomach.
“Baby.” Jordan gathered her into the safety of his arms. “It’s going to be fine.”
“I don’t need to be patronized,” she said.
He tensed beside her, his arms tightening around her. “Do you want to break up?”
“No,” she said immediately, and everything between them relaxed. “I know this is part of who you are.” She looked at him. “And you’re fiercely loyal and committed to a good cause.”
“I am,” he whispered.
“So….” She shook her head. “I’m not sure where that leaves us.”
“The club rarely has anything exciting happen,” he said. “In two years, there’s been three things, Leesh. This will blow over like everything else, and we’ll go back to our lame ice cream meetings and our events where we help the underprivileged.” He touched his nose to hers. “I promise.”
And Felicia wanted to believe him. So she snuggled into his chest and listened to the steady, comforting beat of his heart. “Okay,” she said. “I trust you.”
“Thank you,” he murmured, sliding his lips down the side of her face. Fire erupted along the path, and Felicia was scared for a whole new reason now.
Chapter Eleven
Hearing Felicia say she trusted him meant a great deal to Vice. More than she knew. He pressed his lips to her cheek, then to the spot just below her jaw. He kissed her earlobe, feeling her press into each touch.
For some reason, he didn’t move to claim her lips with his, probably because he wasn’t quite sure he could keep the promise he’d just made. But he would do everything in his power to keep Felicia away from the Devil’s Breath and in his life.
“Okay,” he said, regaining control of himself and his hormones. “So what movie are you hoping will lull me to sleep? Because I’m tired.” He gave her a smile, every muscle inside him releasing as the last of the tension left his body and his house.
She smiled back at him. “I knew you’d take a nap.”
“You can too,” he said. “We’ll both fit right here on the couch.” He slid sideways, his ribs pulling only a little bit as he lay down on the couch, lifting his feet up. She snuggled in his arms, barely perched on the edge of the sofa, a soft sigh coming from her lips.
“Jordan?” she asked.
“Hm?”
“Tell me the good things the club does and why you find them boring.”
Vice sucked in a breath. “I didn’t say they were boring.”
“You implied it.”
“I just meant they’re not dangerous.”
“Tell me about the Bikers and Books.”
Vice didn’t want to talk about what the Sentinels did, but he sensed Felicia needed a solid ground to stand on when it came to his motorcycle club. “I organized that one,” he said. “It’s the eighth year we’ve been doing it. The general concept is to provide books to anyone who needs them.”
“The website said up to age twenty-eight.”
“Sort of,” he said. “A couple of years ago, we met a man—a widower who’d lived alone for twenty years—who couldn’t read. Through our program, we provided him with a tutor and all the reading materials he needed to become literate.” Vice had a soft spot in his heart for Luther, even to this day. He hadn’t seen the older gentleman for about six months, and he made a mental note to go visit him.
“He went on to go to college and graduate and everything.” Vice smiled to himself, the warmth of Felicia’s body next to his on the couch so welcome. Good memories. A good woman. A full stomach. All things Vice hadn’t always had, and he took a moment to appreciate them.
“He worked in an accounting office for a year, and then he retired. He volunteers at the library now. That’s how Lucas got his gig there.”
“Lucas is House, right?”
“Right,” Vice said.
“Tell me about the names,” she said. “Like, some of them I get. Gramps because he’s literally the oldest member of your club.”
“Bomber worked in the military as an explosives expert,” Vice said. “Electron is a science teacher and loves making concoctions in the kitchen. It seemed fitting. Before Maverick founded the Sentinels, he was known as Phantom, because he can come and go as silently as anyone I’ve ever met.”
Felicia twisted in his arms, her face coming within inches of his. It would be so easy to kiss her and keep kissing her. “What about you?” she asked.
“I’m the Vice-President of the Sentinels.”
Her eyes searched his, and Vice had never been great at lying to her. Lying to anyone, but especially this woman he liked so much. It was as if he couldn’t do it, because he wanted so badly for her to like him back. He hadn’t always been the most honest of men, that was for certain.
“There’s more to it than that,” she said. “How long have you been the VP?”
“Four or five years,” he said evasively. He could remember the day Maverick asked him to be Vice-President as if it were yesterday. It had been a winter day in January, and the club was going through some restructuring after a couple of their older members wanted to retire from club activities as voting members.
Python and Double-Jack still came to meetings sometimes, but they couldn’t cast a vote, and they were just there for the camaraderie and ice cream.
“And before that? What did you go by?” Felicia asked.
Vice smiled at her, though a slip of frustration moved through him. “You’re a pushy little thing, aren’t you?”
She grinned back and asked, “I hit a nerve, did I?”
“You’ve never asked me anything about the club before,” he said.
“I thought maybe if I ignored that part of your life, it would go away,” she said. “But I was wrong, and I think I should know who you are as Jordan Waterhouse and as Vice, high-ranking member of the Sentinels Motorcycle Club.”
“We’re actually called the Sentinels Rebels,” he said.
“You are?”
“Yeah, but literally no one knows that.” Vice took a breath to center himself. “Some members get named by the President. Some choose their names. I chose mine.”
She said nothing, and Vice liked that she’d just listen without asking a ton of questions. His last girlfriend always had something to add to the story, and before long, she was off on something else that mattered to her. Vice had never thought Jenn had listened to him all that well.
“Maverick found me and Lucas living on the streets,” he said, very quietly. “He busted us for being in his alleyway, and he told us life didn’t have to be one bad day after another. We didn’t really know any other way, but he was older than us. Wiser. So much better.”
Vice could see the man who’d literally become his Savior.
“Is he very much older than you?” Felicia asked.
“No,” Vice said. “Seven or eight years is all.” He pulled her tighter to his chest, glad when she tucked her face against his collarbone. He liked the way her breath wisped across his skin there, and he worked to contain a tremor from sliding down h
is spine.
“I was hooked on meth,” Vice said, this part of his past not something he talked about with very many people. No one for years, in fact. “And various other…vices. Women. Booze. Maverick took me back to Ruby’s, which didn’t used to even be Ruby’s. He renamed the shop after one of his girlfriend’s. The one he thought he’d marry and life happily ever after with.”
“Wow,” Felicia said.
“Yeah. Anyway, Mav took me and Lucas in, and he got us cleaned up. He gave us jobs and put us in vocational courses so we could have a future beyond fast food and our next fix.” Vice could sometimes still feel the uppers as they moved through his bloodstream and took him on a high he couldn’t get any other way.
But he never wanted to go back to that life. Never, ever.
“Anyway, I have an addictive personality, and I replaced drugs and whiskey with chocolate. I gained a lot of weight, and that’s when Maverick told me I’d have to figure out how to get over all of my vices if I wanted to really be happy.”
“Wow, chocolate as a vice,” Felicia said, giggling into his neck. “I think I have that one. I eat a Kit Kat every day.”
“I ate like seven…teen,” Vice said.
Felicia burst out laughing, and Vice joined her. The man he’d been a couple of years ago wouldn’t have believed he could be so happy just staying home with a woman. He’d lived his life for the next big adventure for so long, and he still didn’t like sitting home with nothing to do.
But he was talking to Felicia, revealing important things about himself, and that was definitely something.
“And the soda,” he said. “So much sugar. It definitely kept me hopping for a couple of years. I finally figured out how to manage my stress, but I’d chosen my name by then.”
“Vice.”
“That’s right,” he said.
“Do you still have any vices?” she asked. “Besides normal stuff like pizza and Kit Kats.”
“Oh, yeah,” Vice said, dipping his head and touching his lips to her ear.
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