She shook her head and her eyes filled with tears. I reached over, putting my hand over hers.
“We were at a carnival. It was his birthday, actually. We were having the time of our lives. We’d just gotten off one of the rides, we were in line getting cotton candy. He loved it. He’d end up a sticky mess every time, but my parents didn’t care. My mother went to the restroom while we waited in line with my dad. A couple behind us starting arguing. I could tell it was getting bad, because the man started shouting louder and louder and the woman was crying and begging him to forgive her. I found out later she’d told him she cheated on him just moments earlier. He pulled out a gun. My dad pulled us away as soon as he saw the gun, but it wasn’t soon enough. Liam was hit by a stray bullet, right in the middle of his back. It went straight to his heart. I held him while he died in my arms.”
“Jesus, Libby,” I said, pulling her into my arms. The pain ripped through me, bringing up so many memories that I’d rather keep buried. I had to tell her. A woman doesn’t confide in you like that without you revealing your truth in return.
“My brother died, too,” I said, my voice gruff, my lips buried in her hair. She looked up at me in surprise.
“Really? What happened?”
I swallowed hard. I hadn’t told this story to anyone in a very long time. It was easier to pretend it didn’t happen if I kept my mouth shut.
“That’s why the bullet’s in my chest.”
“Oh,” she whispered, watching me through wet eyes.
“My brother was my twin. We were thick as thieves. Our senior year in high school, we started hanging out with the wrong crowd, I guess you could say. Bunch of older guys. They were into drugs and guns, every night was a party. Sammy and I thought they were cool as shit. One night at a party, things got out of hand. A few of them got into a fight, pieces were pulled and gunfire starting flying around the parking lot we were hanging out in. I jumped in front of Sammy to try to keep him from getting shot. The bullet pierced my chest and just missed my heart. Sammy was leaning over me, trying to put pressure on the wound so I wouldn’t bleed out when another bullet hit him — right in the forehead. He was gone in an instant.”
“Oh, my god,” she cried. “Bullet, that’s horrible.”
“Life is fucking horrible sometimes,” I replied, trying to shut down the flood of flashbacks.
Sammy’s panicked eyes as he thought I was dying in front of him…
The sight of his head popping backwards from the force of the bullet hitting him…
All the blood…
The screaming…
I shook my head, holding on to Libby for dear life.
She felt solid. Real. I never wanted to let her go.
And as she wrapped her arms around me just as tightly, I hoped I’d never have to.
I buried my face in her hair, holding her close, doing my best to give her the same comfort she was giving me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
LIBBY
Bullet’s pain was palpable.
We held each other for hours, eventually lying back on the bed together, my head resting on his chest as we talked. I hated that we had such horrible tragedies in common.
I told him about my classes and I went on for probably way too long geeking out about sculpting. Surprisingly, he encouraged me to go on, instead of falling asleep from boredom.
His arms around me were addictive. I wanted to languish there forever, forget where we were, forget the nightmare we were living, but that was impossible. Pangs of guilt crept in repeatedly as I wondered what Slade was going through.
The hours dragged by slowly and we talked them all away. The pain we had in common seemed to draw us closer, and the intense lustful feelings I’d felt during the kiss we’d shared began to deepen into something else entirely.
“Tell me more about the Gods,” I requested, thirsty for knowledge about him.
He paused, as if not sure where to start.
“Life at the clubhouse can be either overwhelmingly intense or completely peaceful. It kind of depends where we’re at in a case. We travel a lot, too. It’s unpredictable and thrilling and rewarding, all at the same time.”
“Tell me about the clubhouse.”
“It’s nestled deep into the Tillamook Forest. Nothing but trees as far as the eye can see. It started out as one cabin, but as the God’s grew, so did the compound. These days, it consists of a small group of cabins. We still have the clubhouse, where we eat and have our meetings and Riot and Ryder have offices. But Ryder and Grace have their own cabin. As does Lacey and Riot. And Frankie and Wreck. The rest of us all live together in a few smaller cabins.”
“Sounds like summer camp,” I said.
“Sure, I guess it does,” he replied. “Cherry is another woman who works there. She’s been around since the beginning, I guess. She does all the cooking and some of the cleaning. She’s always fussing over all the guys, making sure everyone gets enough to eat and is where they’re supposed to be.”
“She doesn’t have a partner? Sounds like everyone else is paired up.”
“She doesn’t,” he replied.
“That sounds sad,” I said, not sure why I thought that. Cherry sounded great and like she deserved a good man for herself.
“She seems happy,” he replied. “I wish you could meet her, you’d love her.”
I nodded, wishing the same thing. A lump formed in my throat as I realized I would probably never get the chance to do so. Not if we didn’t get out of here.
The silence that fell over Bullet told me he was thinking the same thing. Neither of us wanted to say it out loud.
Neither of us wanted to break the spell.
“There’s also these two owls,” he said.
“Owls?”
“They’re amazing. Oliver and Olivia. They hang around, let us feed them. You’re going to love them, too, Libby.”
I lifted my head, staring into his smoky grey eyes. He gazed back, the heat that had been simmering between us shifting once again into a slow burn.
“I hope I get the chance,” I whispered.
“You will,” he said, his voice low and husky. “I promise.”
Our lips collided, a desperate attempt to keep the reality of the danger we were in from bringing us crashing to the ground. It worked. So well.
He shifted, lifting himself on top of me, his lips never parting from mine. His tongue slid between them, searching for the closeness we longed for. My arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, the weight of his body crushing me deliciously into the bed.
His desire raged against my thigh, the warmth of his skin radiating through our clothes. I reached up, sinking my fingers into his long, blonde hair, yearning to pull him closer in every way. My hips rose, pressing boldly into him, without hesitation.
We had nothing to lose.
Why wait?
What if death lay just outside that door?
What if we never saw each other again?
Anything could change at any moment. We had no control.
And yet, this? This breathtaking connection was something we owned.
Something that was ours, right now, however fleeting.
However wrong.
However right…
All my hesitations from earlier melted away.
I moaned into Bullet's mouth, arching my back and pressing my breasts against his chest, silently begging for his touch.
He tore his lips from mine, his eyes a storm of lust as they crashed into mine.
“Libby, are you sure?” he growled.
My thighs were wrapped around his waist, my tongue had been buried deep inside his mouth just seconds before, and I was wantonly pressing my breasts into his chest, and he asks if I’m sure?
“I’m sure,” I smiled, my heart swelling. “I’m so sure.”
He growled again, his eyes dilating with desire.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
His lips crashed into mine again, a
nd I melted beneath him.
CHAPTER THIRTY
BULLET
She was pure sugar.
I wrapped her up in my arms and didn’t come up for air. ExpAliceng every inch of her exposed skin with my hands, I followed those caresses up with my mouth. Tearing my lips from hers, I brushed them across her cheeks, her eyes, her temples, traveling down to capture the lobes of her ears in my teeth.
Her gasps set me on fire.
I licked the side of her neck so slowly I thought she might come out of her skin. Each enticing quiver, each delicious shake of her body only encouraged me to continue.
My hands trailed down to her breasts, my thumb sliding over her hardened nipple under the black t-shirt she wore. She arched her back, pressing herself into my hands, her body begging for more.
I couldn’t stop now if I wanted to.
I needed to be closer.
I needed her skin. Her sweet, smooth, sugary skin…
I pushed her shirt up, pulling it over her shoulders. She stared up at me with shining eyes, a little vulnerable, a little daring. She bit her lip, and the lump that had formed in my throat seemed to explode. I kissed her again — hard — probably too hard, but she whimpered just a tiny bit and pressed up against me, her breasts barely covered by her blue lace bra.
My lust for her consumed me, our tongues dancing together as we melted into each other. After fumbling with the clasp, her full, round breasts fell into my hands, the tiny pink nipples begging for my mouth. My lips fell on them as she cried out into the dark room.
Slowly, I kissed my way down her belly, her jeans the only thing between my raging desire and the sweet promise of ecstasy.
I reached down and unbuttoned her jeans, my mouth watering as I pulled them down her thighs, exposing a pair of pink satin panties. I bent my head, kissing her belly, and trailing kisses down to the edge of the satin. Inhaling the sweet scent of her, my cock twitched painfully, threatening to throw this entire train off the rails before I’d even begun.
She was so fucking beautiful. She felt so incredible, so right, so real.
And it had been so very long…
I reached down, gripping myself tightly, desperately needing my body to cooperate. Just a few more minutes…
I took a deep breath, before hooking my thumbs around the sides of her panties and pulling them down her thighs. She wiggled out of them, lying completely naked in front of me.
Breathless, my words caught in my throat.
The faint light from the hallway fell over her skin, illuminating her body like candlelight, creating shadows and crevices that called out to me to explore. I growled with lust, gladly heeding the call.
My hands wrapped around her thighs, spreading them slowly as she watched me. With a slow grin, I leaned down, my mouth just inches from her center.
I inhaled again, breathing in her essence before bringing my mouth to her clit, my tongue reaching out to slide against it —
The sound of the lock sliding open on the door upstairs echoed through the quiet basement like a bomb had exploded.
We jumped like we’d been shot, quickly scattering away from each other and frantically searching for our clothes, our eyes wide as a couple of deer caught in headlights.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
GRACE
“If it is just a coincidence, then I’ll be surprised,” Ryder said, before sliding on his helmet. He hopped on his bike and started it up and I swung onto the seat behind him. My arms wrapped around him instinctively. I wouldn’t let go until we’d arrived at Mona’s mother’s house.
We waved goodbye to Cherry as we drove past the clubhouse. She stood out on the porch, feeding leftover bacon to Oliver and Olivia. The two owls ignored us entirely as they ate, the sound of a roaring bike as routine to them now as the caw of a crow.
I couldn’t wait to get back home. Honestly, all of the mess that happened with Mona was so long ago and it was the last thing I wanted to think about. I hoped we’d quickly find that she wasn’t involved and we could move past this and find the guys somewhere else safe.
That was what really mattered, of course, but unearthing the past has a way of gnawing at the corners of your mind until every last ugly detail has been exposed to the sunlight.
It’s uncomfortable.
Like putting on a pair of pants that fit you twenty years ago. The style is all wrong. The fit is for an entirely different person.
These memories? They happened to someone else.
These mistakes, haunting me, tormenting me? They were made by a different woman than I was now.
Looking back on it all now, I hardly recognize myself.
And as much as I didn’t want to remember, my brain wouldn’t cooperate. Instead, it kept playing out like a movie every time I closed my eyes…
I’d been a cop for a year. Sometimes I rode with a partner, but tonight, my partner, James, was sick and I was riding all alone on a dark, rainy Portland night. I spent so many of my evenings just like this — driving through the ever-present rain, my wipers beating a steady rhythm against the windshield. The biting cold wind kept me locked up in my warm car as much as possible and I drove around praying I wouldn’t be called to any incidents that would force me from my cocoon.
In order to ensure that would happen as much as possible, I spent my time patrolling the curvy roads of the West Hills. Just west of downtown, the manicured lawns of the well-to-do lined the charmingly winding streets, ensuring a healthy boundary between the cars and their palatial homes that stretched out on the other side. Due to the popularity of home security systems in this area, criminals were few and far between. I could roam the streets for almost the entire evening without being summoned for a call.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be a cop. I enjoyed most of the elements of my job. I suppose I just hadn’t entirely anticipated what it would feel like to put people in jail. Because the truth is, mostly we arrested homeless people or poor people — folks who were put in a situation that forced them to do illegal things to survive.
You could see the pain in their eyes every single time.
It wasn’t easy to ignore. My fellow officers told me it would get easier in time, but I was still waiting on that to happen. In the meantime, I volunteered for the easy route and waited for my heart to harden just a little more.
I traveled down the hills and back into downtown, winding into the park blocks and past the bundle of buildings that make up the Portland Art Museum. I drove slowly, scanning the park that stretched between the museum and the Schnitzer Auditorium.
At almost four in the morning, all was quiet. I parked on the edge of the park, watching the shadows of the trees dance over the grass below. The rain picked up, a steady downpour drenching the city and turning the roads to shiny black glass.
Half a block away, the far door of the museum opened and a tall security guard stepped out. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, standing under the large awning to light it, before stepping down the steps and disappearing around the corner of the building.
Hanging from the building, a huge sign advertised the current exhibit - a collection of Egyptian mummies that were three-thousand years old. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been to the museum. Maybe in high school. I made a mental note to go on my next day off. I had a habit of spending my off time passed out in bed or binge watching television.
Looking back at the Schnitz across the park, I remembered a night long ago when I’d gone on a date there with a guy I’d met in the police aZanemy. We’d gone to see the symphony, and it was lovely and moving, but my date spent the entire night complaining about how boring it was, which was boring in itself. He was just one of many guys I’d only gone on one date with. I had no tolerance for flaws back then.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement by the door of the museum. When I turned, I caught two dark, hooded figures going into the same door the guard had come out of. I scanned the perimeter for any sign of the security
guard, but he wasn’t there.
“Shit,” I muttered, waiting for the guard to come back. Moments passed, and I finally shrugged and got out of my car. I jogged down the street, cold wet drops hitting my face. I cursed myself for not grabbing my jacket out of the car, but kept going. I reached the door and paused, peering around the corner of the building and realizing I was all alone.
I took a deep breath and walked into the foyer of the museum, my boots leaving splashes of water on the marble floor. The lights were dimmed and it was quiet and eerie. A huge statue of an embracing naked couple loomed over me in greeting. My eyes trailed around the room looking for the trespassers.
Inching around the statue, I turned on my flashlight and walked through the large lobby. The room opened up into three separate arched doorways that led to different exhibits, with a huge white staircase to my right, leaving me wondering which way they’d gone.
I reached down and flipped open the tab on my gun holster and ventured through the archway closest to me. This room was even larger than the lobby, the walls a stark white and lined with old and elaborate portraits and paintings, with a few sculptures scattered around the room that were encased in glass. I was drawn into it, momentarily forgetting why I was there, distracted by the sheer magic of the masterpieces in this room. I wandered back out, easily recognizing the names popping out to me below the pieces; Monet, Rembrandt, Cezanne…
Yes, I was definitely coming back, I told myself.
Walking back into the lobby, I glanced once more at the door, checking for any sign of the missing guard. I knew I should call for backup at this point, but I didn’t want to make any noise. In this tomb-like darkness, the smallest sound would echo through the place like a drum.
A giggle.
I froze halfway across the room, my head whipping around in the direction of the farthest archway, the sound of laughter and frantic whispering ringing out. I walked over, staying close to the wall. Peeking into the room, I saw it was filled with Egyptian artifacts in low glass cabinets that lined all four walls. In the center of the room with a spotlight shining down on it, laid a golden sarcophagus opened to reveal its contents — a disintegrating mummy.
CAGED: GODS OF CHAOS (BOOK TEN) (Gods of Chaos MC 10) Page 10