by E. C. Land
Cy grins and nods to one that’s sitting next to him. “You were asleep. Didn’t want to wake you. How is he?”
“Awake,” I murmur, moving for the to-go coffee mug he has for me, finding it still warm—thankfully. “He wants to see you.”
Cy and Axe nod and look at me when I don’t start back to Rogue’s room.
“You coming?” Cy asks, quirking a brow at me.
“I’ll give you both a chance to talk to him without me. I’m sure there’s stuff you wanna talk about without me in the way,” I say, sitting down and pulling my phone from the pocket of the hoodie. “Plus, I need to check on things at my office.”
“Right,” Cy says, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t be long.”
“I won’t.” Nodding, I pull my feet into the seat and curl my legs up to my chest and wait for them to leave.
Soon as I know they’re both down the hall far enough, I look at my phone and find Grant’s name. We might’ve stopped sleeping together, but that doesn’t mean he’s still not one of my best friends.
Touching the call button, I bring the phone to my ear.
“Rebel,” Grant answers on the second ring, “Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in almost a month. What the hell is up with that?”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper as tears slip down my cheeks. When I’m not at work or have my shield up, as Grant calls it, I’m an extremely emotional person. I can cry at just about anything. Shoot, I cry at Christmas every time I hear the song “The Christmas Shoes.” I can’t help it.
“What’s wrong?” Grant demands, “Where are you? Do you need me to come get you?”
“No, I don’t need you to come get me. I’m okay,” I murmur. “I just needed—”
“Sweetheart, I know you’re not okay. I can hear it in your voice. What’s going on?” This is why Grant is my best friend. He knows me better than anyone else.
“Rogue,” I sob, unable to say anything further.
“What did he do? I’ll kill him if he’s hurt you,” Grant snarls, coming to my defense.
“No, he—he didn’t,” I utter through the tears, and tell him everything that’s happened. Grant quietly listens to me. I don’t leave anything out. Not even the part about coming home to Rogue in my room and us ending up having sex. “I don’t know what to do, Grant. I’m scared. Truly scared when it comes to him.”
“Rebel, sweetheart,” Grant says soothingly. “I can’t tell you what to do. You know I told you, you needed to figure things out with him. But what you also need to do is stop letting your mind make every single decision for you and allow your heart to do some of the work.”
“I don’t know if I can,” I murmur, my breath hitching.
“You can. All you gotta do is trust him. I know for a fact Rogue’s in love with you and will fight for you if he has to. Stop looking at everything through lawyer’s eyes and start seeing through the eyes of the woman you are. As much as I don’t want to admit it, you are meant for him just as much as he’s meant for you.”
Oh God, Grants going to make me cry again. Dammit.
“Thank you,” I whisper, wiping the tears from my eyes.
“No problem, sweetheart. I’m always here for you. Now go be with him, and I’ll talk to you later.” Grant hangs up before I have the chance to say bye.
Pulling my phone from my ear, I let out a heavy breath and stand. I can do this. Or at least I hope I’m able to do this.
Chapter Eight
Rogue
Sitting in the passenger seat while Rebel drives is definitely not my favorite thing to be doing. I’m pissed. I can’t ride my bike and won’t be able to for a while. At least not until the doctor back home clears me.
I’d demanded they release me from the hospital and told them if they didn’t, I’d still be walking my ass out of that place. I fuckin’ hate hospitals. I can’t stand them. The smell of them reminds me so much of my childhood when my mom was fighting breast cancer. She was in and out of the place for months at a time for either surgery or chemo. In the end, my mom didn’t make it.
My dad, Scorn, had took it hard, but stayed strong for me growing up. He’d finally decided to head out to the Tennessee charter when I turned eighteen. I didn’t mind him moving up there. The man needed to heal, and the memories here were just too much for him.
Cy told me back at the hospital, our Prez had called Scorn to let him know. Due to him being out on club business, he’s made sure to get updates daily on my condition. My dad knows I’m awake. I’d kick his ass if he was sitting around the hospital.
It’s bad enough Rebel had refused to leave my side. I’m not going to complain about her being the first face I saw waking up. But that doesn’t mean I like the fact she looks to have not slept in weeks.
Rebel didn’t want me to leave the hospital, but I explained to her, I can’t be there. She knows how much I hate even having to walk into one, let alone staying in the place. Now going home with her in the driver’s seat, I should be relaxed. However, I’m not. Cy is riding my bike behind us instead of trailering it. He claims this will give Rebel and me a chance to talk. There’s plenty of time for her and me to talk. The asshole only wants to ride my girl to piss me off, I think.
The ride so far has been quiet. I’m sure Rebel’s in her head, overthinking like she normally does.
“Do you wanna stop anywhere for food?” she asks, breaking the silence after nearly three hours of being on the road.
“Stop wherever you wanna stop, Duchess,” I grunt, twisting my head and to look in her direction. Taking in her features, I notice two things right off the bat. One, she’s lost weight, meaning she hasn’t been eating right. The other being her eyes are puffy. They only get that way when she’s exhausted or crying. “You sure you’re okay to be driving?”
“I’m okay.” She nods and puts on her blinker to exit the highway. “I’m just going to stop at this fast-food place and grab something for us.”
“Sounds good to me,” I say, not pushing her anymore right now. I’ll find out more when we get to her house.
Fifteen minutes later, Rebel has us back on the road. She had tried to order me something that would be light on my stomach, but I won’t have that shit. Then the damn woman had tried paying for our food. That right there wasn’t gonna fly with me.
We still have about three hours until we’re even at her house, and I’m not ready to tell her where I want her to take me. The argument could wait for when we’re closer to town. For now, I’ll enjoy being with her while coming up with a plan to get her to understand I’m dead serious about us.
Closing my eyes, I relax into the seat and let her drive. I’ll admit I’m still weak as hell, and the pain is starting to get to me. Once we get to Rebel’s house, everything will be better.
“Xander, wake up,” Rebel says, waking me from my nap.
Groaning, I open my eyes and look in her direction, “What’s wrong?” I ask before scanning our surroundings, seeing we’re not too far from town.
“I’m just trying to find out if you need me to drop you off at the clubhouse or your house,” she says, giving a quick glance my way.
“Neither,” I grunt, preparing for the argument.
“What do you mean neither?” she demands. “Where the hell am I taking you?”
“Your place.” I shrug nonchalantly.
“My place,” she mimics. “You are not going to my place.”
“Yeah, Duchess, I am.” I chuckle. “Think about it this way, at least with me there, you’ll know I’m not doing anything I shouldn’t.” The nurses had given Rebel my paperwork telling her that I needed to still be resting and not doing anything strenuous.
Rebel’s shaking her head and lets out a breath without saying anything. Before I know it, she’s pulling into her driveway. “I’ll get you inside, then I have to go to the office for a while,” she says, putting the car in park.
“Why are you going to the office?” I demand. “It’s closed right now anyway.” Cy and
Axe gave me a rundown of what I’d missed while out of it. Evidently, Cy fired Rebel’s receptionist and had the ol’ ladies find her someone. From what they said about the new girl, everything was gonna work out.
“Because I have a case coming up this week I have to prepare for and haven’t even had a chance to completely go through everything yet,” she huffs. “Plus, I need to make sure my office isn’t in complete disarray.”
“Baby, you ain’t goin’ anywhere except for in the house and resting with me,” I proclaim. “We’ve both been on the road, and you need to relax. Maybe even take a bath.” I remember how Rebel had loved to take long baths when she was younger.
With a heavy sigh, my woman gives in again. It’s not like her to simply give in without an argument. I’ll have to remedy that the first chance I get.
Chapter Nine
Rebel
One Month Later . . .
I swear to all that’s almighty I’m going to go insane from sexual frustration. Rogue has done nothing but drive me up the ever-loving wall.
First, Rogue’s moved into my house. Yes, moved himself into my house. I came home from the office one day at lunchtime to check on him, only to find a few prospects for the club unloading his stuff inside. I’d ended up going back to work without a word edgewise. I didn’t want to argue while he was recovering.
At the office, I’ve got to hand it to my cousin for his help in finding me a receptionist. He’d gotten Hammer and Malice’s ol’ ladies to find someone, and they did. Alanna is a friend of Willow’s from college. She’d been desperately looking for a job that would provide enough income to take care of her and her little sister, Charlotte, who is two years old.
After meeting Alanna and seeing the work she’s already done is impressive. Where my schedule was a disaster, it’s now sane enough for me to understand. I’m lucky to have her, except for the fact she seems to listen more to Rogue than me about my taking work home with me. This is the second thing he’s done to get under my skin.
Rogue’s made it very clear when it comes to me being with him, my focus is on him rather than a case. I’ll admit I do like this. Time with Rogue is nice. He’d healed enough the doctor has cleared him. In my opinion, I think he’d twisted his doctor’s arm into clearing him.
For the past week, he’s been touching me more often. Ever since we got back from Florida, he’s been in my bed. At first, I’d attempted to sleep on the couch, but quickly learned that wasn’t going to happen. To say Rogue can be the most stubborn man I know is an understatement. He knew he wasn’t supposed to pick me up, but he did it anyway. The fact he didn’t end up hurting himself is a miracle. Then this morning, Rogue had kissed the daylights out of me before I left for the office.
With it being Friday and the weekend in front of us, I’m unsure of what it will bring. But if he doesn’t do something about the fire that’s been smoldering inside me, because of him, I just might blow up. Sighing, I go through the mail. I’ve been expecting something to come in for one of my clients, and it’s yet to show up.
I frown as I open one of the envelopes. There’s no name on the return label. Only an address. I pull the paper from inside and unfold the crisp white paper. I scan over the words and my stomach clenches.
You should learn your place. It’s not at his side, and you know it. You’ll never be enough for him. He needs more than a fat cow like you.
What the hell? Looking at the envelope again, I furrow my brows together in confusion. Who’d send me this? Is this some sort of sick joke?
Placing the envelope on my desk, I search up the address on Google to see if I might be able to find my answers. My answer pops up quickly, and I realize it’s an address for an abandoned warehouse where homeless people stay to keep out of the weather when they can.
My cell vibrates against the top of my desk, taking my focus off of the letter. Glancing down at the screen, I find a text message from Rogue.
Rogue: I’ll be at the club when you get off. Want me to pick up dinner?
A small smile slips into place at his offer.
Me: No, I can make something.
I don’t need him to pick food up for me. I could honestly use the time alone. Maybe I’ll be able to find some relief while he’s at the clubhouse. Then again, when he broke into my house the first time we had sex since we broke up ten years ago, he’d broken all of my toys. Well, not all of them. There’s still one left he didn’t get ahold of. It’s the one I keep in the back of my closet. It’s only to be used when the bench is pulled out.
Which has been never.
Sure, I’ve had plenty of chances to use both with Grant, but I couldn’t do it. Not with him.
Turning to my computer, I pull up my email as my phone alerts me to another message.
Rogue: Okay. After I finish at the club, I’ll be home. Be ready for me.
Be ready for him?
What does he mean by that?
Me: You want to elaborate on that?
Rogue: Been far too long, Duchess. We’re due, and that’s happening when I get home later.
My body reacts to reading his words.
Whoa boy!
Me: Before anything, I think the two of us should talk.
God, I’m an idiot. I should seriously be committed for suggesting such a thing. Not when my body is humming for him to be inside me.
Rogue: Plenty of time to talk, Rebel.
Rogue: After I fuck you.
It takes everything in my willpower not to message him back, begging him to do so now.
With a shake of my head, I place my phone off to the side on top of the envelope and get to work. I need to check my emails, make a few calls before heading home.
Opening my email, I start going through them, responding to the ones needing my direct attention. I delete the ones that are junk. As I’m going through it all, I have one come in. I don’t recognize the email address.
Clicking it, I gasp at the images popping up. There’s an image of Grant fucking me while I’m strapped to a swing, another of us with me—oh God no—tied up. Not to a bed. I have a fascination with Shibari and have only ever done it twice. One of those times was this picture. The other being with Rogue when he was first introducing me to his kinks.
Swallowing down the bile threatening to come up. I scroll further down, trying not to freak out more than I already am.
This has to be some sick joke. My heart’s going rampant in my chest right now. The last picture attached is of Rogue and me.
How did this person get these pictures?
Going back to the top of the email, I finally read the message attached to it.
It would be a shame if it got out how naughty a respected lawyer is. Leave him or suffer the consequences.
This has gotta be some sort of sick joke someone is playing to scare me.
I wanna keep thinking this, but how did they get these pictures?
Standing, I shut down everything. I can’t handle anything else right now. I need to get out of here. I don’t feel safe.
Grabbing my purse, I walk out of my office in a hurry, waving to Alanna as I bolt out of the building. I make it outside and rush over to my car. Unlocking the doors, I hop in behind the wheel. Without thinking, I back out of my parking spot and head for the clubhouse. I don’t know if I can go home or not, not after seeing that image of Rogue and me in my bed.
There’s only one place I feel safe at this moment, and that’s with Rogue.
Chapter Ten
Rogue
Texting Rebel isn’t how I’d intended to tell her our plans for tonight, but I did. I’ve been patient enough over the past month. The past week, I had attempted to give her a chance to show me she was ready for me.
If I didn’t have to get some work done at the clubhouse, I’d make sure to be there when Rebel gets home. My naughty woman doesn’t realize I’ve found her stash of toys she’s collected for playing. One of them being a bench I can easily see strapping her down to while I pleasure he
r to the point of begging me to fuck her. Then, of course, there’s the rope still sealed in its wrappings. The thought of tying her up and leaving her vulnerable to my every will has my cock throbbing. I remember the first time she’d allowed me to show her the meaning of being tied with the Shibari method. It wasn’t just about her being tied, but about the connection she’d feel with me.
Dammit. I need to hurry up here so I can get the weekend started. I’ve got everything planned out for what we’ll be doing the entire time.
Sitting at the bar, I’m scanning over some paperwork with Bruiser. With him being the Treasurer of the club and me being the Secretary, we tend to try and work together whenever we can to make sure everything is good. Together we handle all of the accounting for the club. This keeps us from getting an outsider looking into what the club brings in.
Taking a sip of my beer, I hold up a paper for my brother to look at and ask, “Do these numbers add up?” For some reason, as I go over the account for Tip-Top, one of the club’s businesses, something doesn’t add up.
Bruiser takes the papers from my hands and scans them over. “What the hell? Why is it the waitresses and bartenders seem to be making less than they should be?”
“So I’m right. Something’s not adding up with this.” I knew I wasn’t seeing things.
“Yeah, and it’s going to be something we need to bring to Hammer and Malice’s attention,” Bruiser mutters, shaking his head in frustration. “And here I thought this would be a simple night where I did get this shit done before finding a slobber-crawler to sink into for the night.”
“Brother, you’re still gonna be doing that,” I chuckle, picking up my beer and bringing it to my lips. The cool brew goes smoothly down my throat.
My phone chirps next to me, and I lift it up, thinking I have another text from Rebel. Maybe telling me she’s on her way home.