by Love, Amy
For a moment, Darren just stared at her, his expression incensed; Liam was almost certain that he was going to hit her again and prayed—something he never did—for composure. If Darren put his hands on Vicky again, he might have to kill the man.
However, Darren's expression softened once more. Slowly, he loosened his grip on his sister's hands, only to raise his hands to cup her face firmly between them. When Vicky winced at the gesture, Liam's fingers curled into the arms of the chair in which he sat.
“Swear to me,” he demanded lowly, in a voice so soft and dangerous that it gave Liam chills, “swear to me that there's no one. Say it to my goddamn face, right now.”
Stolid, steadfast Vicky never wavered. Her eyes never even flickered to Liam on the couch. “I swear, Darren.”
For a moment, the man seemed to be searching for something in her face. It was something he must have found because within moments he had folded his sister into his tender embrace, holding her against him tightly. “Good. That's good. Because if I find out otherwise, I'll kill the son-of-a-bitch.” He drew back to catch her gaze for the last time. “And you,” Darren's voice lingered lovingly over the single syllable, “you won't see the light of day again.”
With that, he turned from her, barking a command at Liam so his fellow Saint rose and trailed him from the apartment. When they were just down the hall, Darren paused, yanking the man up next to him. Though he hadn't continued to hit Vicky, it was obvious that his attitude was still foul. “Now, what the fuck is it, Beck?”
Liam let fly with the first excuse that came to his mind. “I got a tip from a guy. The Black Eagles might be going for the storehouse tonight. They've wanted in for a while, and they might think they can take us since you're here.”
Far from being upset by the news, Darren seemed to relish it. His eyes glowing with a fierce light, he smiled at his companion, letting go of the collar of his jacket. “Those bastards,” he breathed lowly, “are getting nowhere near my warehouse.”
He glanced out the nearest window where he could just see Sean and Matt, still in their hiding places. “Listen, Beck. I'm taking Sean and Matt and some of the other boys. We're going to head over and cut these motherfuckers off.” He pointed back down the hall towards Vicky's door. “Which mean that you're staying with her. All night. She doesn't move, she doesn't go out, she doesn't take a fucking piss without your say so, you got it?” Liam nodded emphatically, plastering his face with a neutral look. “That doesn't mean that you touch her.”
In an instant, Darren had drawn his handgun, cocked it, and placed it against Liam's temple so the man could feel the cold steel. “You touch her, and I start shooting shit off. And I ain't gonna start with your brains, chum. You hear me?”
“I hear you, boss.”
“Good.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
With that, Darren put away his weapon. Without another word, he strode towards the elevator, leaving Liam standing there wondering how on earth he'd just survived the encounter. In an instant, he remembered Vicky, and he bolted back to her door. When he rang the doorbell, it took her a moment to answer.
When she did, her eyes were red.
“Jesus, Vicky.” Liam quickly let himself into the apartment, shutting and locking the door behind him. Making sure they were far from the window, he took her into his arms. She was clad in what would have been a stunning navy dress, but her hair and makeup were mussed from her interlude with her brother. The bruise rising on her cheek was going to be a nasty one, but even worse was the hollow look of sadness in her eyes. “Are you OK?”
“I'm fine.” Her voice came in a whisper before she shook her head slightly, seeming to draw herself out of a trance. “I'm fine.” She was firmer the second time and attempted to withdraw from his grip; however, Liam wouldn't let her. As she tugged, he only fixed her with an open, raw expression.
“Oh, baby, I'm so sorry,” he murmured quietly, “I got here as quick as I could.”
“This isn't your fucking fault.” From the stiff way she was carrying herself to the tone of her voice, it was clear she was repressing a deluge of desperation. Liam couldn't exactly blame her. She must have been doing that shit for most of her adult life. “It's mine. I should have said no to you. I should have never—” She jerked wildly at his grip on her wrists, her voice cracking. “Let go of me!”
“Vicky, come here.” Liam drew her writhing form against him, willing her to calm. “It's ok, I'm here now. I'm here.” The young woman struggled emphatically for a moment more before she collapsed against his chest, sobbing.
The strength of her grief was astounding, every cry sounding as if it had been wrenched up from the very core of her. Though all the Saints knew enough of the woman to know she was a tough girl, many of them were also under the impression that she never showed her emotions. It would be dangerous, they assumed, to act like a normal woman when one's brother was the volatile leader of the Saints. What they didn't understand was that it was Vicky's right to be normal—and as much as it made men uncomfortable, normal women cried.
Liam held her as she clung to him, less uncomfortable than he was miserable at her pain. He knew he had asked a lot when he'd demanded to know how she felt about them together, but he'd had no concrete idea of the havoc their deception would wreak. At this point, it might be better for him to just let her go, rather than be party to her destruction at her brother's hands.
“Don't look at me like that.” Jolted slightly from his thoughts, Liam looked down to see Vicky's tears had quieted and she was gazing up at him with an irate expression. “Don't you dare fucking say you feel sorry for me, now.” She sniffled loudly. “I said I wanted this, and I fucking meant it, Liam. If you piss out on me now, I will hunt your ass down and…and—”
Liam cut her off by pressing his mouth to hers heatedly.
This woman was something else.
She could endure Darren's wrath and still come back to her lover wanting more. Liam could imagine few women who would be so strong in similar situations. His own mother had run away from his father rather than fight for her son; yet, here was a woman he had barely known a month, fighting to hold onto him as if he wasn't just some trailer trash trying to make it in the world.
It was as if he really meant something.
Where the hell would he ever find something like this again?
Her mouth was salty from her tears, and he was careful not to aggravate the jaw Darren had wounded; but, she was still the most captivating thing he had ever tasted. Her strength and her mettle amazed him and, overwhelmingly, he suddenly wanted her.
As his mouth trailed down over her jaw to nip and suck at the fine line of her neck, he groaned. “Vicky, babe, if you don't want it, say no.” He tasted the sweetness of her perfume as his hands trekked down to find the divine curve of her ass and pull her flush against him. When he felt her curves slide across the length of his torso, his cock sprang to life in his pants.
“Yes.” Her gray eyes fluttering shut, Vicky melted against him as if they were made for one another, her arms twining about his neck as his tongue flicked at the hollow of her throat. “God, yes.”
Liam's hands moved from her hips to span the width of her waist, before they moved even further upward to spill her breasts free of the strapless navy number she'd been wearing.
At the sight of her chocolate colored nipples hardening on contact with the air, he growled lowly, lowering his head to take one of them into his mouth and suckle copiously. Vicky gave a little indulgent cry, arching against him in just the way he liked. As he licked, sucked, and nipped at the peaks of her breasts, she made sounds that had his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans.
If he didn't have her soon, he would drop dead—of that, he was certain.
“Bedroom.” His demand was low and husky between the valley of her breasts, and the young woman merely pointed down a nearby hall. Liam tried to gather his wits enough to avoid all lines of sight from the windows as he lifted her int
o his arms and carried her out of the living room. Luckily, Vicky's room only had one small window, and it didn't face the main road. Liam didn't dare turn on the lights, instead he merely lay her on the soft sheets of the queen-sized bed.
As he looked down at her half-clad, wanton form, he imagined Darren striking her.
And then again.
And again.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
His anger flared, eating him alive as he lowered himself over her, cupping her face with the utmost gentleness to gaze into her eyes. “I won't let him hurt you again, Vicky.” As if to quiet him, she rose slightly from the bed to kiss him once more, her eyes sliding closed. However, Liam didn't falter on his promise. “I swear he won't ever touch you again,” he whispered, low and fierce, against his lover's mouth, and Vicky shuddered at his conviction.
Slowly, Liam stripped her dress from her, dropping the garment over the side of the bed and onto the floor to pool in a silky heap. Beneath the moonlight, sprawled out beneath him, Vicky Platt was his goddess, and he was going to protect her come hell or high water.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, as he lowered his mouth to draw briefly on her breasts again before trekking lower. His tongue laved her belly button with moisture as his hands fumbled with the lace panties she wore before shredding them entirely. Then, he parted her tanned, strong thighs and admired the slick flesh of her sex. She was more than ready for him
Resisting the urge to shed his pants and drive home to the hilt within her immediately, Liam slid his fingers over her lower folds, touching and playing there until she was thrashing at the pressure of his thumb on her clit. Then, he added his tongue, relentlessly giving her pleasure as she sighed and stifled her impassioned cries in the pillow beneath her.
By the time he truly knew that he could take his self-imposed torture no longer, his jeans felt like a vice. Straightening, he quickly stripped his shirt over his head and unbuttoned his jeans, groaning as the zipper rasped over the bulge of his erection. From below, Vicky watched him as if entranced, eyeing his cock with such hunger that he took hold of her waist, lifting her hips to plunge into her in a single, smooth thrust.
Vicky moaned his name almost deliriously, her inner muscles squeezing him so tightly that he had to exercise restraint not to come on the spot. Instead, he clenched his behind, gritted his teeth and started a slow pace within her. The little hellion wrapped her legs around his waist, arching her hips against his with every forward movement until he saw stars. He was supposed to be protecting and comforting her, but instead, he found she was doing the same to him.
He wasn't just a member in a gang.
And he wasn't a nameless college drop out.
Vicky was thrashing, clawing, and moaning his name. Despite all odds, he would give anything to keep her with him, even if it meant fighting her insane older brother, the entire organization of the Saints or, the whole goddamn world.
Gasping, Vicky clung to him writhing and bucking. It was so intoxicatingly that within moments he was jerking against her, his abdominal muscles contracting as she milked his orgasm from him with an almost frightening intensity. Groaning, he clutched her against his sweat soaked form as she shuddered. Reaching her own peak, her sex contracted spasmodically around him.
Then, they were both still.
“Fuck...” Vicky swore, her eyes fluttering open as she gazed up at him. “Did you even wait until Darren left the building?”
Though the joke shouldn't be at all funny, it was, and Liam found himself chuckling. Laying his head against his lover's shoulder, he inhaled the scent of musk, intimacy, and sex.
Christ, this woman got him every time. “I can't stay,” he finally managed lowly, knowing that she would understand their precarious situation. “Not in your bed anyway.” Turning over onto his back, he gazed up at the ceiling as Vicky snuggled against his side contentedly. “Darren will have guys watching your apartment. He assigned Matt, Sean and I to watch you tonight.”
“Watch me?” The young woman snorted, her amusement bitter. “I thought he was fucking watching me already. I'd feel freer in Guantanamo Bay.”
“Vicky, Darren is not fucking around. He hit you once, and he'll hit you again.” He turned to her, taking in the bruise on her cheek with a frown. “He was this close to finding out about us tonight. If I hadn't managed to get him to leave with that Black Eagle bullshit—”
“Wait, you pinned something on the Eagles?” Vicky eyed him with no small amount of skepticism. When his expression didn't change, her eyes merely widened.
“Liam, when they get to wherever they're going and there are no Eagles, they're going to turn right back around. They'll come for you.”
“There will be Eagles.” Liam replied swiftly, with a small, smug smile. “They pass out by the Saints' Warehouse every Friday night around this time. True, it's a joyride, but I'm sure that Darren won't be too happy to find that their route takes them so conveniently close to his goods.”
The explanation made Vicky open and shut her mouth several times in search of an excuse. Ultimately, she simply sank back down against the mattress, groaning in exasperation.
“You're an idiot, Liam. An idiot.”
“A smart idiot.” He couldn't help the witty reply that escaped him. “I saved our asses.”
Gray eyes appeared over his shoulder. For a moment, the two merely stared at one another, appreciative of the moment and of the fact that their secret was still secret.
For how long it would remain that way was negotiable.
Next to Vicky, Liam found himself falling into a comfortable doze for what seemed like the first time in weeks. After what seemed like an eternity of looking over his shoulder—first for the Black Eagles and then for Darren—he stole a single moment of peace.
***
Liam didn't know why he woke up.
Something jolted him in the middle of the night, and when his eyes opened wide, the clock on the bedside table read three-thirty in the morning.
He breathed a sigh of relief. He still had plenty of time to get up and be decent before Darren might think to send someone to relieve him.
With a wicked smile, he reached for Vicky. They had a while to get up to some additional mischief.
He was surprised to find the space next to him empty.
All at once, a muffled scream caught his attention.
Liam jerked upright, his head whipping around.
His still foggy brain caught sight of none other than Reggie and his two favorite goons, looking completely out of place in the feminine, pastel décor of Vicky's bedroom. When he saw that they had Vicky, clad in only a sheet and bound from head to foot with a pillowcase stuffed in her mouth, he reached for where he'd left his gun on the bedside table.
But Reggie was quicker.
The thin, grinning man drew the crowbar he held high over his head. “Surprise, motherfucker.”
And Liam knew no more.
Be on the lookout for Vengeance Rising, part 2 of the Dark Saints Motorcycle Club trilogy
Available soon!
FREE for Kindle Unlimited customers!
Vicky Platt is hopelessly addicted.
Their first encounter left her breathless, and every moment with Liam is pure bliss for Vicky Platt. But when her older brother and club president Darren tells Vicky what he intends to do when he finds the man she's secretly with, Vicky realizes that Liam won't be the only one in danger if the two of them are caught.
Liam is pushing his luck.
When Liam finds himself falling deeper down the rabbit hole with Vicky, he must come to the sobering reality that his days with the Saints may already be numbered, to say nothing about what else might be at stake here.
There's no such thing as a safe secret
Careful as they may be, both Vicky and Liam ought to know that there is nothing in the world as a safe secret. Someone always talks, and when they do, someone will always get hurt.
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***
Book 1 of the White Wolves MC trilogy - FREE for all Kindle users
Chelsea Shore is running for her life
Running from an abusive boyfriend, Chelsea finds herself in the small town of Pinemont--home of the White Wolves motorcycle club. Scared and in need of shelter, she walks into the club house not knowing what to expect
Elias Neal never liked bullies
When he sees the scared woman walk into his club house, he accepts her without a question and promises to keep her safe.