Puck's Property: A Bad Boy Biker Romance (The Demon Squad MC Book 5)

by Monique Moreau

  Ava’s mouth parted. She opened and closed it several times. He was what? “Whoa there, what did you say?”

  “You mean the panic attack he pretended he wasn’t having? The one he needed to rush out of your house for, so you wouldn’t notice? Yeah, that one.” She looked at Ava with a mixture of commiseration and pity. For a social worker, it felt like a travesty when a loved one refused to communicate or confide in them. Ava swallowed down the pain of such a failure as tears pricked behind her eyeballs and her nostrils burned.

  Her spine smacked the back of her chair. Memories of yesterday flittered to the forefront of her mind; Puck insisting he had to leave and clutching the sides of his head. Evident signs of distress—of a possible attack coming on—that she’d completely missed. This only proved their relationship was a farce. She wouldn’t have looked down on him. He knew that. She would’ve stopped everything, even in the middle of an argument, to support him in any way she could have. He knew that, too. And yet he’d continued to hold back, just as he had when he stepped into the Squad Bar and found it was wrecked. Instead of reaching for her in his time of need, he’d distanced himself. Like when his mother had died. Ava had no idea if it was something about her, if it was their dynamic, or what. Regardless, it was a moot point.

  “Yet another reason I need to kick his ass,” Sammi persisted. “I can’t believe he kept this from me. I mean, I can believe it, but I’m mighty pissed about it. He can’t keep treating me like I’m thirteen years old. He’s such a macho dumbass. In the middle of a fight, he didn’t want to look weak, so he ran away. I’m sure he came back and waited outside your house, mentally shouting out, ‘Open the door, Ava! Ava!’ as if you could hear in all that silence. Like I said, i-d-iot.”

  Ava barked out a laugh of disbelief. “I-I don’t even know what to say. Hearing that just makes it worse,” she confessed.

  Abby inclined her head to one side. “How so? Loki talked to him. He’s twisted Puck’s head back on straight. Got his priorities in line.”

  “His priorities should’ve been in line all along. I should’ve been at the top of those priorities. Is he going to run away from me and knock on Loki’s door for advice every time something comes up? He’s uberprotective of everyone in his orbit.” Her shoulders sloped inward. “Except me.”

  She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Face it, actions speak louder than words, and his actions are screaming that he doesn’t care. At least not enough to put me first…when it counts.”

  “But, he’s going back to the Squad for another emergency Church meeting to propose a solution,” Abby insisted.

  “Whatever. If this were the first time, I could justify it. The first time around, I was a liability. I’ve changed, but he still chose another obligation over me. I’m not asking to be number one in every decision, but to not even include me in the equation? For someone who’s so concerned about the people who matter to him, he has a blind spot when it comes to me. It didn’t even occur to him to fight for me. No, I’m simply supposed to step aside and let him walk over me and my family,” she finished in a tight voice. Again, she forced herself to look away and concentrate on the far wall to get her emotions under control.

  “Don’t say that, Ava. It’s not true.” Sammi’s tinny voice came through the phone. “This is breaking my heart.”

  Ava’s eyes fell on the phone. She leaned in closer and rasped out, “How do you know it’s not true, Sammi? He would’ve never put your business in jeopardy. It’s your heart and soul, just like the bike shop is Kat’s. Let’s assume that Loki helped him come to his senses. It will happen again because it’s clearly a pattern.”

  “Oh, sweetheart…” Abby crooned, coming around Ava’s desk and wrapping her arm around Ava’s shoulders.

  “I already had my heart crushed once. I have to protect myself because he clearly doesn’t have the sense to take care of me,” she concluded. Sniffling, she twisted her face in Abby’s shoulder and burst into tears. Dammit! She’d battled not to cry over him, but this talk on top of her sleepless night, she could no longer hold back. Abby tightened her arms around her, making cooing and shushing sounds through her sobfest.

  Blindly, she patted her desk until she felt the corner of the cardboard box of tissues and shook a tissue loose. Shoulders slumped, Ava blew her nose and released a defeated breath.

  “My father was right, damn him. He had several concerns. First, he told me the Squad was smuggling illegal goods across state lines—”

  “Not anymore,” Sammi interjected.

  “Yes, I know. I brought it up with Puck, and he explained the changes that were made to the Squad and why. But my father also brought up his fear that Puck wasn’t capable of being serious. He was thinking in terms of cheating, because that’s where his mind goes first when it comes to betrayal. He may not have been right on that front, but he was right in essence, because Puck hasn’t proven he sees me as a partner. That he sees us a couple, sharing our lives together. You can’t pick and choose. Either you’re all in, or you’re not.”

  Abby looked down on her with concern, but she said nothing. Nor did she bring up another argument. That, in and of itself, spoke louder than words.

  “I agree, Ava,” Sammi said, firmly. “All I ask is that, after I leave a mark from my stiletto heel on his face, you’ll give him another chance.”

  Ava’s spine bent forward. Flattening her lips, she replied, “I don’t think I can do that. It’s time for you to accept the same thing I have to accept. It’s over, Sammi.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Ava refused to pick up his calls or reply to his texts, leaving Puck with no choice but to go to her house. It had started to fucking blizzard outside, a match for the bleakness in his soul after Abby told him about her conversation with Ava earlier in the day. Shivering in the cold, he hunkered down and waited. Too preoccupied to check the weather and needing an outlet, he’d ridden his bike to Ava’s house before the snow began to fall. If she didn’t let him in, he was going to have to call Whistle to pick him up in a cage. The sleet—hail, whatever the hell it was lashing down on him—was like miniature knives cutting into his face. He poked away on his cell for an hour as he waited, allowing cold, wet snow to settle in the gap between his nape and his collar. Another hour passed, and his fingers were too numb to mess with his phone. Tucking his freezing hands into the pockets of his jacket, he continued his watch. Worry began clawing at his throat. Where in the fuck was she?

  About a half an hour later, her car came rolling slowly through the haze of falling snow. Fucking finally. Hurrying up the walkway to her front entrance, she hitched her tote bag higher up her shoulder and glanced sideways at him before passing by as if he didn’t exist. Alright, he deserved that. Muscles stiff, he got off his bike and made his way to her. She was about to close the door in his face, but he jammed his boot in the gap and planted a hand on her door.

  “What do you want, Puck?” she asked in a dejected tone. Her gaze darted to the side. “Oh.” Two large bags spilling with clothing were thrust at him. “Here you go. This is what you came for.”

  Ignoring the bags, he said, “I didn’t come for my stuff.”

  “Take it anyway.” She shoved the bags at him again.

  “Can’t. Won’t fit on the bike.”

  “Fine, I’ll drop it off at your place once this blizzard is over,” she replied in a harried tone. “Go home. It’s setting in.”

  “I’m not leaving until we talk.”

  “Go away, Puck. We have nothing to talk about.” Her face was drawn and her eyes red-rimmed.

  Christ, it felt like steel claws were tearing into his chest and shredding his heart. He was a fucking asshole to make a girl like her cry. “Baby girl—”

  “No, don’t baby girl me. Go away, I don’t want to see you,” she countered and shoved him hard in the chest. He stumbled back a step, dislodging his boot from her door, and before he could say another word, she’d slammed it in his face. Tipping his head
forward, his forehead thumped the door. He was freezing his ass off, his head began pounding again, and melted snow dripped down his nape.

  Pivoting around, he stalked back to his bike. Sleet hacked at his uncovered head and face, needling his skin until it was numb with cold. Shivering, he crouched down on his bike and waited, the wind chime the only thing keeping him cold company. Close to an hour passed, and every so often, the curtain of her front window flickered. Good, she was checking on him. Darkness encapsulated him. The wind howled in his ears, and they got so cold he had to cup his hands over them to keep them from freezing. His jaw went tight as he braced against another cold gust of air.

  He didn’t know how much time had passed, because he was too cold to yank off his gloves and check his cell, but eventually, the light of her porch turned on and the front door swung open. Stepping into the lamplight, she called out, “Go home.”

  A shiver shook his entire body. He yelled back, “I can’t. It’s too slippery to ride out, and my phone’s dead. I can’t call anyone to get me.”

  Her eyelids sank down for a moment. Hauling in a belabored breath, her eyes snapped open and she glared at him. “Fine, come in and use my phone. No funny business, Puck. I’m not joking.”

  Slowly, he peeled himself off his bike and made his way toward her. His upper body was soaked to the bone. He stomped on her snowflake-themed welcome mat and shook his iced hair with his gloved hands before stepping into the warm glow of her home.

  Through the chatter of his teeth, he said, “Th-thanks.”

  Staring at him angrily with her fists on her hips, she accused, “You’re frozen and wet. What were you thinking, coming out here on your bike? You’ll catch your death of cold.” Not being able to help herself, she tugged at his open jacket and helped him strip it off. Striding toward the kitchen, she called out, “I’m going to hang your jacket to dry. Go grab clothes in the bag by the door. I’m going to run you a bath. You need to warm up.”

  He didn’t want to appear eager, but he was thanking God above that his ruse had worked and gotten him access. His eyes glided across the furniture and objects he’d become accustomed to in the weeks he’d lived there. Being in the warmth and comfort of Ava’s home transferred the ache from his bones straight to his heart.

  Ava poked her head into the living room. “But don’t think you’re staying. Who do you want me to call? I want to make sure someone’s here to take you away the moment you’re done with your bath.”

  “Loki,” he croaked out. Loki was working tonight, so he’d have to get someone else to come get him. Fucking sue me if I try to snatch what time I can.

  “I’ll call Abby to tell him,” she said, and then the door to her bedroom slammed shut.

  Puck slowly toed off his boots and peeled the frozen, wet clothing off his shivering body. He might be a big man, but it had to be around thirty degrees out there. Add sleet on top of the low temperature, and he was clenching his teeth to keep them from clattering against each other. Scooping up his clothes, he walked to the bathroom buck naked.

  He breathed in a sigh of relief the moment he stepped inside the steaming heat of the bathroom. A full-body shudder overtook him. His frozen toes wiggled in the soft strands of the fluffy bath mat beneath his feet. After dumping his clothes into the dirty hamper, he lowered himself into the bathtub with excruciating slowness. He gave a hiss at the first contact of his red, chapped skin with the hot water. Bit by bit, he dipped in until he was able to submerse his entire body. Twiddling his toes, he worked to get feeling back into his numb feet.

  Sagging back against the lip of the old-fashioned claw-foot bathtub, his eyes drooped in the bliss of being in the hot bath, of being in his woman’s house. His eyes drifted over everything that was hers, the bottles of shampoo and other beauty products, along with a large shell filled with bath bombs on one end of the tub. She’d corrupted him, dammit, because he no longer felt comfortable anywhere else. Not his house, not the clubhouse, not Loki’s apartment. This was his home, and he damn well knew it was because of her. A slight moan slipped out of his parted lips. It was going to be a fight to get her back. The anger he could handle. It was the look of hurt and dejection that drove him to the brink. Sitting in the steaming, blazing-hot water, the depth of his loss settled in his gut. She should be in here with him now, lifting and impaling herself on his hard cock.

  After Loki’s rant last night, Puck had called Kingdom and given him the rundown of what had happened. In an unprecedented move for the Squad, who had a rep for reacting first and getting answers later, Kingdom had made a unilateral decision to abort their plan and set up contact with the president of the mother chapter of the Renegades. After a few hours, the president came back with a statement that it wasn’t the Renegades who’d busted up the bar. Proof was yet forthcoming, but whatever the president had said to Kingdom was enough to convince him. The Renegades’ president was cooperating fully to figure out what the hell happened. On the upside, Ava’s family and the Harley dealership were safe. That was one of the things he’d wanted to tell her. On the flip side, it gave her more ammunition to keep his ass kicked to the curb.

  The door to the bathroom creaked open, and two fluffy white bath towels materialized on the stool beside the sink. Patchy had slipped through the crack of the open door and jumped on the towels. Fuck, he even missed the flea-bitten cat. He had every intention of exploiting Ava’s natural good-heartedness and sympathy, but it was her stubbornness that concerned him. After he was warm enough, he washed himself down and stepped out of the tub. The warmth, along with the scent of her and her home, had pushed his looming migraine away. But with the relaxation came stimulation, and he was currently sporting a hard-on. Not just any hard-on either, because his erection was for the woman he couldn’t simply sweep up into his arms and carry into the bedroom to fuck to his heart’s content. The ache of knowing she was beyond his reach kicked him in the gut again.

  Finally dressed, he padded into the living room in his socks. Ava was sitting primly on the edge of the couch, her arms folded over her chest, one leg crossed over the other. He took in the sight of her, looking soft in a red sweater dress that hugged her shape and showed off her creamy skin. Damn, her skin was begging to be blemished by his tongue and teeth. Standing before her, he took his time to memorize her features.

  “It seems like everyone’s too busy to pick you up right away.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you do this on purpose?”

  “’Course not,” he replied gruffly. Hell yeah, I did. “I’d never pull shit like that.” I’ll do it again in a hot second to get you under me. “What kind of man do you take me for?” The kind who’ll do whatever it takes to get you back.

  Her slitted eyes tracked him suspiciously as he sat down beside her. “Puh-lease, do you think I was born yesterday, Puck?” You’ve used blackmail before, or have you forgotten?

  “I don’t have to do shit like that anymore. I’m not in jail.” Hell, I don’t need to re-use the same tools. He leaned in and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “How you doin’, baby?”

  Her chest lifted and fell in response to his touch. He knew the effect he had on her. Fuck, he didn’t need his hard cock choking in his boxer briefs to tell him it was mutual.

  Between pinched lips, she warned, “Don’t call me that.” Smart woman that she was, she moved away from him.

  “Ava, I called it off,” he started. “You don’t have to worry about your father and sister. About the shop.”

  Her shoulders fell, and she unconsciously let out a puff of breath. “Good.”

  “We’re good, then?” he asked.

  She barked out a bitter laugh. “No, Puck, we’re not good. We’ll never be good again.”

  “Damn, woman,” he replied, riffling his hair in frustration.

  “Don’t act as if you don’t have something to do with that. You walked away, for the second time. You bullied your way back in my life, and I allowed it to happen, but you won’t get a third opportunity
to hurt me again. Anything else?”

  Scrubbing his hand over his face, he let out a heavy sigh. “I want you back. I made a mistake. Realized it when it was happening, but I wasn’t in the right state of mind to do anything about it. I’m back now to repair whatever I did wrong.”

  “Yeah? And what did you do wrong, Puck? Spell it out for me. Prove to me that you know, because I’m not sure you’re aware of it.”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m a kid or one of your clients. I damn well know I didn’t come to you when everything went down. I didn’t fight for you, and I put you in a fucked-up position. Instead of putting you first, like I should have, I got caught up in my responsibilities to the club. I’m a solider, and it was my knee-jerk reaction. I was fueled by guilt that I was responsible for what happened. It pushed me to rush and fix the problem ASAP, without thinking about the repercussions for you or your family.”

  Her shoulders slumped forward into a hunched posture of defeat. “It’s obvious you have a blind spot when it comes to me. I understood eight years ago. But now? There’s no excuse.”

  Incredulous, he replied, “You think I have a blind spot when it comes to you? That’s goddamn bullshit.”

  She gave him a brittle smile, all pressed lips and no teeth. “No, it’s not. It’s a pattern. You’ve done it once, twice. You think I’m foolish enough to allow this to occur a third, fourth, fifth time?” A deep notch furrowed between her brows. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “I don’t have a blind spot,” he growled in frustration. Of all the things she could come up with, that one was ludicrous.

  “Sure about that? Because you didn’t factor me into your decisions,” she finished, swallowing a sob. She looked so small and vulnerable, her chest caving in, that he wanted to grab her and cradle her in his arms. Caress her hair and murmur in her ear how much he loved her.