by Lilly Atlas
“We don’t run drugs Lila. That’s something our club decided long ago because of the violence and destruction it brings to the community. Not to mention we’d become an easy target for the cops. We are far from saints, but we don’t seek out violence.”
Hook took over where Jester left off. “To commit an act that goes against the charter is bad enough, to commit an act that harms our club, and puts our families in danger, is an unforgivable offense.”
Lila nodded, she understood all this, and even accepted it. Didn’t make the situation any less horrifying.
“Trust me, Lila,” Jester said. “The guy that did this did so fully aware of what would happen if they got caught. If Snake didn’t claim him we’d have taken care of it ourselves.”
“Jester.” Hook’s voice held a note of warning.
Lila waved him off. “It’s okay, I truly get it. I’m not going to freak out over this, nor will I tell a soul.” She paused, not sure if she wanted to continue.
“What is it, hon?” Jester asked.
“I’m just worried about Striker.” She was a little embarrassed to put her emotional cards on the table in front of them, but she’d started down this path, and might as well see it through. Lila cleared her throat. “I mean this was a serious betrayal by someone he trusted. Yesterday the guy was a brother, today he’s a traitor, and now he’s probably dead. I know he feels some kind of misplaced responsibility as your vice president.”
Hook huffed out a laugh. “Hon, you’re going to make one hell of an ol’ lady.”
Her eyebrows drew down. “How so?”
“Here we are, all worried you’re going to think we are a bunch of barbaric murderers, and you’re mostly concerned about how Striker will deal with all this. You’re a good woman, Doc.”
Her face heated as they both looked at her with respect and appreciation.
“It does wear on him, a lot,” Hook said. “Having your goodness in his life is going to bring him peace, help him sleep at night. I’ve already seen it calming him.”
Lila looked away as she recalled their earlier argument. Her presence in his life seemed to be doing the exact opposite. Striker appeared overly troubled by her, not comforted as they claimed.
Jester shifted to the couch, and sat next to her. One baseball glove sized hand reached out, and drew her head to his shoulder. “Whatever you’re thinking, knock it off. I don’t know what happened before we got here.” He chuckled. “Though I can guess by the torn panties on the floor over there.”
“Jester! What is it with you?” She buried her face in the bulk of his arm as the humiliation of him catching them for the second time washed over her.
Jester threw back his head and cracked out a laugh. “I get a kick outta making you blush, Stitch. But let me finish. I don’t know what Striker said to you, but I want you to remember one thing. All this shit that’s happening? Worst part for Striker is that it touched you, that he couldn’t protect you from it.”
“Jester’s right, Doc. Give him time. Striker will pull his head out of his ass.”
Exhaustion set in, and her eyelids became heavy. “What makes you think he has his head up his ass?”
“I’ve known him a long time, hon. I can guess how he’s reacting to his feelings for you. Go ahead and doze off, Doc. We’re not going anywhere until Striker gets back.” Hook rose from the couch. “I’m gonna grab a beer. Want one, Jest?”
Jester nodded at Hook, snatched the remote control from the coffee table, and skimmed channels until he found a documentary on something motorcycle related. Lila didn’t bother to pay attention.
She allowed her eyes to drift closed, and curled her feet up on the couch, with her head against Jester’s substantial shoulder. The events of the day caught up with her, and she felt drained, both emotionally and physically. She should probably head on into bed, but wanted to be out in the den when Striker returned. Not to mention, she wasn’t sure which bed she should sleep in tonight.
Chapter Thirty
The scene that greeted Striker when he walked through the door had him smiling his first genuine smile since leaving the clubhouse with Lila the morning before. No one noticed him, which allowed him a few seconds to observe the trio.
Jester sat in the center of the couch with Hook at the right end. The TV was on with the volume turned down low, just loud enough to make out what was being said. A UFC fight played on the screen, and the guys argued over who was a better fighter in voices barely above a whisper. Lila lay curled up on her side with her head pillowed on Jester’s shoulder as she slept. Someone had covered her with a blanket.
He liked to give Jester shit for being affectionate with Lila, but it was in a brotherly manner, and there wasn’t anyone he trusted to take care of her more than the two men on his couch. There was no way in hell Jester would ever try to move in on his woman.
Both men glanced up at him as the door clicked shut. Without a word, he entered the living room and scooped Lila up off the couch. He took a moment to enjoy her soft, warm weight cradled in his arms as he moved toward his bedroom.
“Striker?” Her voice was groggy with sleep, and slightly confused. “You’re back?”
“Yeah, baby, I’m home. I’m going to tuck you into bed, then I gotta talk to the boys for a few minutes, but I promise I won’t be long.”
When he reached his room, he nudged the door open with his foot, and turned to fit them both through. Gently, he laid Lila on the mattress, and brushed soft kisses over her face.
Lila looked at him with troubled eyes. “I wasn’t sure you’d want me in here tonight.”
“I always want you, Lila. It was never about me not wanting you,” Striker whispered, and kissed her once on the mouth. He hated that he put doubts in her mind about how much he desired her. “Wait up for me.”
When he reached the living room, both men stood, and Hook nodded his head toward the front door. “Want to talk outside? I could use a smoke.”
“Sounds good.”
They filed out the door and stood in the driveway. The air still held a hint of warmth from the heated day. Hook pulled out a pack of cigarettes and inclined it toward Jester who grabbed one.
“What the fuck, man?’ Striker asked as Hook stuffed the pack into his pocket.
“You think your doctor lady is going to let you smoke?” Hook laughed as he asked the question.
Striker made a point to look around dramatically. “You think she’s watching out the window? Give me a fucking cigarette.”
“Your funeral man, just don’t tell her I gave it to you. So what’s Shiv’s take on all this?”
Striker blew out a stream of smoke and watched it swirl into the dark night. “He’s in agreement with us. Lila’s safe and unharmed, but that doesn’t address any of the shit that happened before Snake snatched her. We can’t let his attack on Kenny and you slide,” he said with a nod to Hook. “Makes us look like pussies. But he also agrees we have plenty of time to plan something smart while Snake’s preoccupied with his club’s shit.”
An evil smile grew across Jester’s face. “Damn, it will feel good to take that fucker down a few pegs.”
“You ain’t kidding. I could easily tear him apart, but I’d like to see his club crumble around him first.” Striker watched Hook drop his cigarette down and crush it under the heel of his heavy boot. Orange sparks drifted up from the ground and glowed bright against the blackness of the night.
All of a sudden the need to be with his woman slammed into him with a force that almost stole his breath. “Thanks for staying with Lila. I’m gonna head back in.”
Hook and Jester nodded. “No problem, VP,” Hook said. “We’ll take off, let you and the Doc have some time. She’s a good one, brother.”
His words were light, but there was a warning to his tone. He liked Lila, his wife liked Lila, and Hook would have something to say if Striker hurt her. Hook gave him a manly hug, and slapped him on the back before he climbed on his bike.
Jester
did the same. “None of this is on you, Striker.”
Striker took one last drag before he tossed his cigarette to the ground, and made his way inside to be with his woman. He found her curled on her side, staring out the window at the quiet and starry night.
He spared a moment to study her unseen. She still wore his shirt, which engulfed her upper body and ended just below the seductive curve of her hip. Her legs were bare, the smooth, skin nearly glowed in the dark of the room, like a beacon calling to him. Reflected in the window, her face was tight with worry, and guilt sliced at him for causing her to doubt his feelings.
It was only a few seconds before she realized she was no longer alone and rolled over. An entire army of men couldn’t have kept him away from her in that moment, and she must have felt the same because she sat up and reached for him with welcoming arms.
Their mouths met in a fury of passion, and the simmering flame that always burned for her ignited into a wildfire. He fused his mouth to hers, so hard that for a second he worried he might bruise her tender lips. But she moaned and clung to him with a desperation that echoed his.
Striker shifted, and pushed her back down to the bed. He settled his body over her. Lila’s soft form cradled his much firmer one in all the right places. Her breasts cushioned the hard planes of his chest, her thighs clasped his sides, holding him tight to her, and her heated core burned into the rippled muscles of his stomach. It was the perfect metaphor for their relationship, her soft, comforting, him hard and willing to kill to protect her.
He tore his mouth from hers, and sucked in air before grazing her jaw with his teeth. When he reached the spot just below her ear she shivered, and Striker smiled at the familiar response. He continued down her neck, trailing kisses until he met her collarbone. Gently, he laid his head on her chest and listened to the steady rhythm of her heart.
Lila had been panting and squirming beneath him, one hand fisted in his short hair, while the other stroked his back, but she froze when he rested against her. “Striker? What is it? Why are you stopping?” Her voice was breathless and a slight tremor alerted him to her unease.
“There are two main reasons we don’t tell the ol’ ladies any club business.”
She remained tense beneath him, and he lifted his head to press a soft kiss to her lips. Some of the starch left her, and Striker shifted his weight slightly to the side, so he was still flush against her body, but wouldn’t crush her with his weight.
“What are they?” Her calm tone encouraged him to continue.
“First, is so the cops leave them alone. They don’t know anything, so there isn’t any point in dragging them in for an interrogation, and trying to turn them against the club. They can’t be arrested for withholding information, or forced to turn evidence against the club, because they just don’t have it and never will.”
Lila nodded. The light from the moon shone through the window, illuminating her face and making her look beautiful, despite the serious expression she wore.
“The second reason, is so that our enemies have one less reason to snatch them. Again, no point in taking someone and trying to torture info out of them if you know they don’t know anything.”
She winced at his last statement, and he experienced a moment of guilt for being so blunt, but he needed her to fully understand where he was coming from.
“With you, we ignored our usual practice in favor of letting you help us out. You know things about the club that I’d never normally tell you because you’ve been helping us with medical needs. You’re vulnerable to the police, and rival clubs. This involvement with me could literally destroy your life, Lila. You could end up in prison, dead, or even worse.”
Understanding flashed in her eyes, and he blew out a breath of relief, confident that she was catching on to what he was saying.
“Striker,” she began.
He silenced her with a kiss. “Hold on, let me finish. I found out what it felt like to have someone get to you. When Snake took you, and there wasn’t a goddamn thing I could do about it…” His eyes closed and he shook his head, fighting the onslaught of emotion the memory resurrected. “I felt a rage I can’t even describe. It was like a beast inside me clawing to get out. I always stay in control of my emotional shit, and yesterday I wasn’t. You do that to me.”
Striker wasn’t entirely sure what he was trying to convey to her, he was so out of his element. This was why he normally limited his involvement with women to sex only. That wasn’t an option here. It was like Lila had cast some kind of spell over him.
“I get it, Striker.” Lila stroked through his hair, the gesture comforted and soothed his battered soul. “I felt the same way when they hurt you and pointed a gun at your head. The same things you worry about happening to me could happen to you. Hell, they are more likely to happen to you.”
She was right, and the realization surprised him. He hadn’t given any thought to what it would be like from her perspective, or any of the ol’ ladies for that matter. They frequently dealt with the threat of their men being arrested, incarcerated, and issues with rival clubs. They handled it much better than he had.
“It’s something we’ll both have to find a way to deal with if we want this to work, and I don’t know about you, but I feel this is worth the risk.”
He closed his eyes, enjoying the play of her fingers over his scalp.
“I love you, Lila. But part of me thinks if I love you, I shouldn’t drag you into this shit.” Jesus, he couldn’t believe he was having his conversation. He was turning into a pussy. If his brothers’ found out, they would torment him mercilessly for the next fifty years.
“I recognize the risks out there for you, the very realistic and scary risks, and while I may hate that there are so many threats to you, if I want to be with you, I have to accept it. You have to do the same. If something were to happen to you, it would kill me,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “But it would pretty much kill me if you walk away now. So I’d rather reach out and grab what we could have, for as long as possible.”
Tears started to track down her face. The sight of those tears twisted his gut. He did not want her to cry for him. “Baby, please don’t cry,” he whispered as he reigned soft kisses on her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks, and finally her lips. “I can’t stand it.”
“We can take extra precautions, Striker. I’ll always listen to you, do whatever it takes to stay safe, and make you feel confident about my safety.”
Lila was the perfect ol’ lady for him, always so calm, and logical. She reasoned through problems to find workable solutions instead of freaking out and causing drama. He dealt with some deep shit as the VP of an outlaw motorcycle club, and knowing he could share his burdens with her was powerful. He could count on her to keep her cool no matter what he had to unload. She was the only woman who could ease the demons in his soul, and he’d be the worst kind of fool to let that slip away.
Done talking, he took her mouth again. This time there was nothing easy about the kiss. This time he poured all the need and desire he had for her into the act. As he continued the assault on her mouth, his hands worked the shirt up her body until her breasts were bare. Under him, Lila moaned and widened her legs, rocking her pelvis against him. God, he loved when she did that, as though her body was seeking him out of its own volition.
“Put your hands above your head. I want you to keep them there. Move them and I won’t be happy.”
Lila raised an eyebrow at him, letting him know he pushed her boundaries. But after a split second of hesitation, she slid her arms above her head and gripped the edge of the pillow. Her compliance touched something deep in him.
“Good girl. I want to spend some time on this gorgeous body, and your hands just make me lose my focus. Close your eyes and don’t move your hands. I promise you’ll be rewarded for your obedience.”
Lila watched him for another second before letting her eyes flutter closed. Fuck yeah. Her trust humbled him. She lay defenseless befor
e him, eyes closed and breasts thrust toward him like a submissive sacrifice and his dick, which was as hard as a steel pipe, twitched painfully in his pants.
“This is gonna be fun.”
Chapter Thirty-One
With her vision blocked and arms above her head, Lila felt exposed and vulnerable. It was a foreign sensation. She wasn’t sure she had ever trusted a lover enough to be at their mercy. A quiver of nerves warred with the excitement in her belly.
“Last rule,” he whispered in her ear. She hadn’t realized he moved and jumped slightly as his breath swirled over her ear. “No talking. You can moan and you can scream, but no talking until you are ready to beg me to fuck you.”
Until she was ready? Hell she felt ready to beg him right now.
“You can’t ask me to go faster, can’t ask me to go harder, and can’t ask me to move left or right. You take what I give you until there is no possible way you can stand not having me inside you. Understand?”
With a nod, she moaned. His words made her sex flood with moisture. He’d barely touched her, yet she was so turned on she felt ready to combust.
“Good girl,” he said again.
One large hand splayed over her abdomen, sending warmth through her body. He took his time and slid one palm up her torso, pausing to rest between her breasts. Her nipples ached for his touch. Having his hand so close to them without knowing if or when he’d touch them, was pure torture.
“You’re so beautiful, Lila,” he whispered.
Lila gasped. His lips hovered above one breast. When he spoke, his heated breath puffed on her nipple. She arched up, her body taking over, making her breasts seek his mouth. Her nipples were hard points of unfulfilled desire. Afraid he’d stop completely, she had to bite her lip to keep from pleading with him to suck her.
“I have this drive, this need to possess you in every way.” As Striker spoke, he ran his tongue around one areola, so close to what she needed, but not quite there, just more torture designed to drive her out of her mind. “You’re mine, and the fact that another man threatened that, touched you, sets off something dangerous inside of me.” The other breast was treated to the same maddening attention.