by K. A. Ware
She must’ve finished getting Stella set up in the empty room across the hall from mine. Rabbit didn’t think she’d want to go back to the house anytime soon, so it looked like we were all settling in to camp out at the club for a while.
“How’s she doin’?” I asked, reaching out and snatching Rabbits hand. I tugged, pulling her onto my lap.
“Whoa, Jesus, you don’t have to manhandle me.”
“I do and I will,” I said, placing a kiss on her exposed shoulder. “She asleep?”
Rabbit sighed, leaning into my touch. “Not yet, but she’s resting. Your mom gave her something to take the edge off the pain, but there’s not much we can do until she comes down. Other than our matching black eyes, her injuries are more emotional than anything. It’s gonna take a lot of therapy to get her back to where she was. And then there’s her sobriety. Fucking bastard shot her up with meth, fucking meth, Baz. Is she going to get hooked on that shit?” Her voice had gotten higher the more she spiraled.
“Shhh, stop. You’re gonna fall down the rabbit hole thinkin’ like that. She’s a tough girl. She’ll get through it.” Slipping my hand under the fall of her hair, I gripped the back of her neck, kneading at her stiff muscles.
“I hope so,” she said on a sigh, her eyes falling slightly closed.
The front door slammed open, causing us both to jump. Sliding Rabbit off my lap, I stood, turning in time to see Z barreling in, Jester hot on his heels.
“What is it?” I asked, noting Z’s immediate pacing.
He was either ready to rip someone’s heart clean out of their chest, or acting like a fucking robot. There was no in between. At the moment, he looked about as aggravated as Stella had on the ride back to the clubhouse.
“He wasn’t fuckin’ there,” Z hissed, prowling back and forth behind the couch.
“What do you mean?” Rabbit asked, scrambling to her feet beside me.
Z halted his pacing, bracing his hands on the back of the couch and leaning toward us. “We went to the house, and he wasn’t fuckin’ there.”
Rabbit’s head jerked with her surprise. “What?” she whispered, her hand coming to gently touch the bandage on her chest.
“Are you sure it was the right house?” I asked. Maybe Stella had been confused. She was high, and her adrenaline had to have been through the roof, it was possible.
“Nah, it was the right house. Blood everywhere, but no body,” Jester said, putting a hand to Z’s shoulder.
He shrugged it off but didn’t take up his pacing again. The only physical sign left of his agitation were his fingers tapping out a rhythm on his thighs.
“I’ve seen people bleed out, that much blood,” Jester said, shaking his head. “Unless he gets medical attention pretty quick, he’s not gonna make it.”
“Frogger might be able to check the hospitals,” Z offered, starting to come back to himself.
“Yeah, go fill him in,” I said.
Z was gone before I could even finish my sentence.
“How you wanna play this, babe?” I asked, gently pulling Rabbit to my side.
“What do you mean?” she asked, eyes searching my face—for what, I didn’t know.
Reaching out, I stroked my knuckles down her jaw. “You want to tell Stella about this or do you wanna keep it under wraps?”
She looked down at my cut where her fingers were worrying a loose thread, considering my offer. “You mean we just don’t tell her?”
I shrugged. “Up to you, babe. If you think her knowin’ he might not be dead will fuck with her head more than thinkin’ she killed ‘em, then I’ll tell the boys to keep it quiet.”
“And you’re sure he won’t live unless he gets to a hospital?” she asked, turning to Jester.
He grunted and lifted his chin. “Can’t live without blood. He’d need a transfusion to have a fightin’ chance in hell, and we don’t even know what kind of damage she did with that knife.”
“Okay,” she breathed. “Let’s not tell her, at least not yet. We’ll see what Frogger finds and go from there. She needs to focus on getting through the moment. I don’t need her worrying about shit she can’t control.”
I was impressed with her call. It was the one I would’ve made if given the choice.
“Alright, spread the word. We’re keepin’ this under wraps, that means no old ladies get wind of it either,” I said.
Jester nodded. “I’ll make sure the guys know.”
“Appreciate it, brother. I mean that,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. We’d been brothers for a long time, friends for even longer. He’d had my back for years. It was good to know that wasn’t changing anytime soon.
“You got it, boss,” he said with a smirk.
“Fuck you, asshole,” I chuckled, shaking my head at him as he retreated to the hallway.
Curling my arm around Rabbit’s shoulders, I kissed the top of her head. “Come on, babe. If he turns up in a hospital or not, Butcher ain’t gonna be a threat anytime soon, let’s try to get some shut eye.”
“Yeah, okay,” she breathed, wincing slightly when she bumped her bruised face on my chest.
“Shit, you gotta tell me if I’m hurtin’ you. Not a mind reader, babe,” I said, taking her hand.
Bringing her hand to my mouth, I kissed her knuckles first, then the tender flesh on her wrists, raw and bruised from struggling against the plastic cuffs Butcher had forced her into.
Stella wasn’t the only one with a recovery ahead of her. Rabbit would need to heal from her wounds as well, even the invisible ones. I’d be there though, come hell or high water. We’d get through it together.
We stopped to check in on Stella, who was making origami animals, of all things. According to Rabbit, it was some sort of therapeutic technique she used to manage her anxiety. I didn’t understand how the two related, but I wasn’t a shrink or someone with anxiety issues, so what the hell did I know.
Once Rabbit was done fussing over Stella, we were finally able to head to bed. Exhaustion was already setting in, and I just wanted to get her in my damn arms.
“Listen,” Rabbit said once we were in the room. “About earlier, the fight, I mean…” she said, stripping off her jeans.
I sighed, laying my cut over the back of my desk chair. “Tensions were high, we both said shit we didn’t mean, babe.”
At least, I know I did. Not my proudest moment, but it was done.
“I was being selfish. I didn’t stop to think how hard it was for you,” she said, digging through my dresser.
Reaching behind my head, I gripped a fistful of fabric and pulled my tee over my head. I needed a shower, I stank like sweat and blood, but I was too tired to bother. “Babe, we really don’t have to do this tonight.”
“Look, I got Stella back, but you lost Gunner for good. It couldn’t have been easy to push through with that hanging over your head,” she pressed. Grabbing one of my white tees, she slipped it over her head.
I sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull my boots off. “Babe, come on,” I pleaded for her to drop it, but my Rabbit didn’t back down, she never did.
“I’m just trying to say I’m sorry,” she said, leaning against the dresser.
The hem of my white tee hung high on her thighs making my dick take notice. Even with a mountain of shit piled on my shoulders, I wanted her.
“Come here,” I said, opening my arms.
She didn’t waste time, crossing the distance and straddling my lap. I held her close, just feeling her. The smooth skin of her legs, her breath ghosting across the flesh at my neck, the smell of her shampoo, the rhythm of her heartbeat, all of it. Reminding myself that she was there, with me, fucking alive.
“I’m sorry, too. I was a dick.”
“Which time? You’re kinda always a dick,” she said, pulling back to flash me a smirk.
“That’s fair,” I chuckled, looking up at her beautiful face. The angry welts and red slash being held together with butterfly bandages did nothing
to take away from her beauty. I was in awe of her strength. She fought to the end, never wavering.
“I need you to understand that I’m not going to sit around doing nothing when someone I care about needs help. It’s not who I am,” she said, her fingers rubbing circles on my scalp. It felt incredible, and I wanted to close my eyes and drift off to sleep, but we needed to finish this conversation.
Swallowing, I tried and failed to organize my thoughts. No matter what, it was never going to come out right, so I just opted for honesty. “I know that, love your fire, babe. But I need you to understand where I’m comin’ from. I got a voicemail from you with someone screamin’ bloody murder, and then it just cut off. I couldn’t reach you. I didn’t know what the fuck was happening. I get to your house and find you carved up and covered in blood, one of my brothers dead. That shit was not easy to take.”
“I know, baby,” she whispered, brushing her lips across mine.
“Don’t think you do, babe. Fuck, I love you so fuckin’ much, and I thought I was gonna lose you, that’s about as heavy as it gets, babe.”
She stilled in my arms, her hands coming to my shoulders and pushing away so she could see my face. “You love me?”
I narrowed my eyes at her, didn’t we cover this shit earlier, before everything turned to shit? “Yeah, babe. Told ya before.”
“Um, no, you definitely didn’t. You said ‘Yeah, babe’ on the phone, not ‘I love you’. Big difference.”
“Not gonna argue with you over who said what,” I warned. I was done fighting for the night.
Her eyes softened, and she smiled down at me. “I love you, too, Micah,” she said softly.
Goddamn, but she was so fuckin’ sweet when she opened up and gave me a glimpse inside those walls. I’d never get sick of hearing my name on her lips. She said it like it was a secret, like my name was something precious just for the two of us.
My dick hardened in my jeans, straining for her heat. She was hurt, and I didn’t want to cause her any more pain, but I fuckin’ wanted her. I needed to fill her up and let the day melt away.
Rabbit must’ve been thinking the same thing because she scooted back on my knees and went to work on my belt. As soon as my cock was free, she raised up on her knees and pushed her underwear to the side before sinking down and taking all of me.
She was perfection. The woman of my dreams come to life. And she was mine.
Twenty-Nine
FINLEY
Gunner’s death hit hard. Having been with the club for almost fifty years, he was the oldest standing brother at seventy-two. His tenure as a Knight brought with it an army of brothers and friends, many who’d traveled from all over the country to pay their respects to the fallen biker.
My father hadn’t had a funeral or even a wake, and I wasn’t around for any funerals the Sinners had when I was growing up. When I offered to help with the preparations for Gunners service, I had no idea what an undertaking it would be.
The funeral procession in and of itself was an organizational nightmare. Over a hundred and fifty bikers had ridden into town to send off one of their own, not to mention the military processional that he warranted being a Vietnam veteran. It’d been hectic, but we’d pulled it off, giving Gunner the sendoff he deserved.
Of course, the processional and formal service was only the tip of the iceberg. The real work started when those hundred and fifty bikers and their women poured into the compound for the wake. Thankfully, it was nearly June because there was no way that many people would’ve fit inside.
Blondie, being the saint she was, had made the executive decision to cater the party, taking a huge task off our plates, but there was still plenty more to go around. People poured into the compound after the funeral, spilling out of the clubhouse and onto the lawn where we set up tables and chairs.
I never thought I’d say it, but thank God for club whores, quite a few of them had stepped up to help. Cleaning, serving food, refilling coolers, you name it, they did it, and without complaint. They stayed out of the way of the old ladies and did what they were told, it worked.
Later, when things had started to die down—at least as much as they ever would at a biker party, the boys built a bonfire on the blacktop. We all gathered around as the brothers took turns telling stories about Gunner and saying their final goodbyes. Chains was last and he kept it short, giving his predecessor the respect he deserved without getting sappy.
Once he was finished with his speech, Chains raised his drink and toasted his fallen brother as he tossed Gunner’s cut into the fire. We all watched in silence as it burned — each thinking of our own memories of the old man.
When the black leather vest became lost in the flames, people started breaking off into groups, and the party picked back up again. It wasn’t a funeral. It was a celebration of life, Gunner’s and everyone else’s.
As needed as the celebration had been, I was glad when it was over. Groaning, I pulled off my boots, releasing my tired feet from their constraints. I’d been on my feet nonstop since six yesterday morning, and with dawn only a couple hours away, I was ready to fall into bed and sleep for a week.
My thoughts drifted to Stella as they often did when I wasn’t careful to keep my mind occupied. The habit of constantly worrying about her came so naturally, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to escape it.
I still hadn’t told her about Butcher. The guilt of lying to her about something so huge, killed me, but I didn’t want Stella constantly worrying, I did enough of that for the both of us.
There were no signs of him at any of the hospitals in the area over the past week, and like Jester said, with the amount of blood at the house, he wouldn’t have made it without medical attention. His bank account and credit cards remained untouched. Frogger told me he’d keep an eye on his credit report and online information, but in all likelihood, Butcher was probably lying dead in a ditch somewhere.
We might never know what happened to him, but I wasn’t going to let that ruin Stella’s life. She deserved to be happy. Or as happy as she could be.
I grabbed a change of clothes from my duffle on the floor and headed into the bathroom to take my makeup off and brush my teeth. Living out of a bag wasn’t exactly glamorous, but it would do for now.
Stella still wasn’t ready to go back to the house, opting to stay at the club indefinitely. Surprisingly, the guys hadn’t had a problem with it. She kept busy cooking and cleaning, which benefitted them, and she got to stay somewhere she felt safe, it was a win, win.
I was actually thinking of putting the house on the market. I’d only been back once to get some clothes for Stella and myself, and even though the guys had cleaned up the blood and gore, I could still see it as if they hadn’t touched the scene at all. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready to live there again.
Finished with my nightly ritual, I slipped back into the bedroom to find Baz had finally made it back to the room. He’d gotten caught up in a conversation with Chains when we were heading to bed, and I’d just left him, too tired to care about being polite anymore.
“There you are, I thought you got lost,” I joked, rolling onto my toes to kiss his cheek.
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I need to ask you a question, but I need you to know somethin’ before I do.”
What the hell?
“Okaaay,” I said, drawing out the word. He was acting strange, fidgety almost. I didn’t like it, at all.
Baz sighed, running his hand over his head. “I’m gonna take the gavel soon. I mean, club’s gotta vote, but Chains is steppin’ down and nominating me for president,” he blurted. He glanced up for my reaction, his eyes tight with worry.
I winced, reaching out to take his free hand. “I know, Blondie told me.”
Pushing out a breath, he looked to the ceiling. “Of course she did, no one can keep a damn secret around here,” he said, bringing his gaze back to me. “It wasn’t because I didn’t want to tell you, Chains asked me to keep it q
uiet.”
Holding up a hand, I shook my head. “You don’t have to explain. I get it. I’m sorry to hear about Chains. I know how close you two are.”
“Yeah, it’s gonna be tough on everyone.”
I took a step closer, wanting to take away the pain I saw in his expression. “It will be, but we’ll get through it. The club will bounce back, and you’ll be here to show them the way,” I said, letting my palm flatten over his heart.
“You said we’ll get through it. Does that mean you’re plannin’ on stickin’ around?” he asked. His face was so open and vulnerable in a way I’ve never seen it before when he looked down at me.
My heart squeezed in my chest. Did he think I wanted out? Did he want out? No, he loved me, he told me every day and the way he was looking at me, he didn’t want out.
“Micah, of course,” I breathed, inching even closer to him. “Baby, I love you, I’m not going anywhere. All in, remember?”
His eyes fell closed, and he bent to press his forehead against mine. “All in,” he said quietly.
I would’ve never guessed my big strong biker needed reassurance. He felt so…formidable like he could take on anything that came his way, I forgot sometimes that he was only human.
“Is that what you wanted to ask me?”
He pulled away, taking a step back. “No, hold on.” Opening his dresser drawer and pulling out an impressively wrapped gift box, he offered me the package. “Here,” he said.
“Who wrapped this?” I asked, raising a brow. It was too good for him to have done it himself, if he had a club whore wrap a present for me I was going to gouge his eyes out with a rusty spoon.
His chin dropped and he licked his lips, looking up at me through his lashes. “Blondie,” he admitted with a wince.
Barking out a laugh, I rolled my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” Sitting on the bed, I ripped off the sticky bow and stuck it on top of my head like I used to do on Christmas when I was a kid.