by Paula Cox
Gunner considered it a moment, then nodded. “I think it’s worth a try, anyway. I’ll give him a call.”
“Okay,” Horse said. “If you’re still leaning towards keeping the cops out of this, then I think that’s the next step. Set a meeting, set it here if you can, gravel pit if you can’t. You know what to do from there.”
“I do,” Gunner said. He was quiet for a moment again, then sighed. “I just need her back, Horse. I’m gonna tell you the truth right now. I will do absolutely anything they tell me to do to save that little girl’s life.”
“And Laurel?”
Lola could feel the pain twisting up inside of the man in her arms, and she squeezed him just a little tighter without even thinking about it.
“If I can get both of them out alive, then I will,” Gunner said. “But if I have to choose between them? It’s always gonna be Grace.”
Horse nodded. “I’m glad you know where your limits are. That’ll help. We’re heading into dark times now.” The older man sighed. “Sam always wanted you to stop riding and take care of that kid, Gunn. Maybe this is a sign.”
“You need me.”
“I needed you. I’m used to you now. I’d rather you didn’t go, but the kid’s more important than anything else. You take care of the kid, and yourself, and let the Teach help.” Another wide grin. “I’m pretty sure she’s ready to help in all kinds of interesting ways. I’ll take care of the club and me. Okay?”
“Yeah,” Gunner said. “I’m going to go upstairs. Wash up. Make the call. I’ll let you know what I find out.”
“You do that,” Horse said. Gunner stepped forward, and Lola hopped off the desk, landing on her kitten heels without wobbling. She was very proud of that. “And enjoy yourself while you wait. Hear me?”
Lola laughed and hooked her arm through Gunner’s. It was part a show for the members outside the door that was now opening, and part because she was concerned that without the support, Gunner would lose his balance and stumble. He was walking a tightrope now, and she was pretty sure it was just going to get narrower and more difficult as time went on. She wondered if he knew that. If there was going to be a way for her to help when things got tight.
Chapter Nine
Lola didn’t resist as Gunner led her out of the garage and around to the side of the building. He had a small apartment above the garage, both to keep an eye on the clubhouse, and to also have some privacy. A lot of the others didn’t mind living in close communal quarters; for Gunner himself, after an adolescence in foster care, he liked to have a door he could close, that no one else was allowed inside.
Except for this odd, beautiful woman, who seemed happy to follow him wherever he might need to go. He had no idea what he’d done to earn her trust or her interest, but he was absolutely not going to waste the chance she was giving him. If she’d said the word, he would have found somewhere else for her to sleep — although he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to let her out of his sight entirely — but the way she hooked her arm through his made him surge with delight, and things much more primal.
He hadn’t liked seeing her with Horse, even though he could tell neither one of them was specifically into the kiss. He’d never seen Horse with anyone in a relationship, and having been on the receiving end of a passionate kiss from Lola, he could tell she was showing off. But he still hadn’t liked it. Something inside of him had surged up, wanting to claim her, push Colton off of her and make sure that there was no confusion about who the woman belonged to. Which was screwed up alpha male nonsense; Lola belonged to herself, even if she was willing to be with him for a little bit.
He pushed the more complicated thoughts to the side and made himself stop on the small landing that led up to his apartment.
“This is where you make your choice,” he said, his voice low and heated. “You come in here with me, you’re choosing me. We’ll go inside, and we’ll make sure both of us get rid of these bothersome aches, and we make sure we can focus on what comes next. You want to do something else, you say so, and I’ll take you somewhere else, and then I’ll come back here and take care of myself. I won’t be upset with you, and we’ll find the girl together, same as we were going to. But you come in here with me, I’m going to stop being a gentleman. We clear?”
Lola raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you going to open the door or are you going to stand here flapping your gums? I can think of a much better use for that tongue of yours.”
Well. That settled that. He opened the door for her, but she walked in under her own power, turning to face him as he closed the door behind him. He had every intention of waiting for her, but thankfully, she did not make him wait long. With a rough little sound in her throat, she pressed herself against him, molding to him from shoulders to knees. Her arms wrapped around his neck and he sealed their mouths, eager for the contact. He let his hands wander, cupping her ample ass and pressing her more firmly against him.
“Tell me you have condoms,” she said when she tore free of him for a moment.
“Yes,” he said and kissed her again. A lingering tension seemed to loosen in her shoulders, and her tongue flicked against his lips. He opened to her, tangling with her, pulling her harder against him. He was so hard he thought he might tear through his jeans just to gain access to her body. “We should take this to bed.”
She looked up at him, her eyes smoky and heated. “Why bother?”
Oh, that was a tempting thought. To turn her around and press her up against the door, yank down her jeans and spread her legs, fuck her here, his hands full of her tits while she pressed that ass back into him? That would be so very nice. “Because I like to save the filthy shit for the second time.”
She smirked. “You so sure you’re going to get a second time?”
He reached down, cupping her breast and flicking at the nipple. She groaned and arched into him, though there was no way he was getting any kind of solid contact with her body. If he could reduce her to moans and whispers with this?
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m very sure. And a third. And more than that.”
“Are you insatiable?”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Then we’re going to do just fine.” He reached down, his hands grasping her thighs, and lifted her with ease. She squeaked when he did it; he doubted too many guys made that sort of effort with her, which was a damn shame. She wasn’t a skinny rail of a woman, and he loves it. When he put her knees over his shoulders and slammed himself into her, he could trust that she would take it without breaking. Assuming, of course, that she wanted to. It felt good to have that kind of assurance.
The apartment was just a small studio, the bed area curtained off. He carried her through and tossed her onto his mattress with a little bounce. He followed her quickly, pushing her shirt up her belly as he kissed the flesh he was revealing. She wiggled out of her vest and then helped him with the T-shirt, pushing it up over her head until that beautiful purple bra was visible, barely hiding any of her soft brown flesh. Her nipples were a darker brown, and he homed in on them quickly and eagerly. Tugging the cup of her bra down, he pulled her nipple into his mouth, and she gasped, hooking her leg around the back of his thigh to grind her pelvis against his.
He had to laugh. “You trying to get me to fuck you hard?”
“Yes,” she said. “If you’re so sure you’re good enough to get a second round, there will be time to be all soft and gentle — or kinky and filthy — later. Right now, I just want to get fucked.” She sighed and pulled him tighter. “I want to feel alive. I want to believe in hope.”
“Yes ma’am,” he said and got his own jeans off. Hers were more awkward; why women’s jeans were made to be so tight and inaccessible, he’d never know, but they managed it, and he didn’t even rip her panties off.
This time.
Condoms he kept in the small nightstand by the side of the bed. He managed to grab one and roll it on without losing contact with her body. Her
thighs were open, and she helped him inside, urging him and rolling with him until he was seated fully within her.
“Holy shit, yes,” she murmured, rocking against him, showing him the rhythm she needed. He found his hips moving, his lips closing over her nipple again, his back arched awkwardly to keep the two points of contact, but it was so worth it.
She bucked against him harder, her breath coming in desperate little rasps, and then his fingers slid down her body, finding the tight nub of flesh above where they were joined. When he began to circle there, adding in the sensation to his movements and her responses, she cried out, rippling around him, so harsh and eager that she almost took him over the edge as well.
When she sagged against him, lax with release and relief, he found his own pleasure, thrusting against her in eager, hungry pulses. After a moment, she came back to herself, urging him on with words and gestures, pressing her breasts together and letting him watch as she flicked at the nipples, her gaze locked with his.
He came quickly, the orgasm bursting through him in harsh waves that choked his breath and left him blinking back tears. But it took his fear and his anxiety and his anguish with it. He collapsed over her, letting himself luxuriate in her nails tracing soft, light patterns on the skin of his back, and just rest. For a few moments, anyway.
Chapter Ten
Lola let herself rest, finally, for the first time during the long afternoon into evening. She wasn’t silly enough to think that what she and Gunner just did was going to mean something in a long, durable kind of way. It had been just sex, and while it had been good sex, it had been for a direct purpose. She needed to feel powerful; he needed to burn off some of the adrenaline that was coursing through him. They could help each other with this.
She forced herself to ignore the seed of comfort that was flaring through her as she played her fingernails over Gunner’s shoulders. He was still breathing hard, big gasps that shook his frame. There was no logical basis for feeling like there was the beginning of a connection between them. She needed to stay focused on what was happening, right in front of her. She and Gunner were going to work together with the Satan’s Breed club to get back Grace and Laurel. Gunner’s daughter and his sister-in-law. If God were good, they’d both be back in their beds before the night was over. And then Gunner would, most likely, fade out of her life and her awareness. She was busting her ass to build a life away from — she sighed. Here, in this bed, it was hard to remember exactly what it was she wanted to get away from. Rough and tumble guys who only asked once, and then took it for granted that your answer counted until you gave a different one? The smell of motor oil and sweat blended together in a haze, baked into the ground and the walls? No. Those were the things that didn’t bother her. The violence and the murder and the threats were the parts that needed to be changed. Because kids got hurt. Kids like her. She didn’t know it for a fact, but she would bet that kids like Gunner had been once, too.
During the conversation downstairs, Horse had something about Sam, and how she’d begged Gunner to stop riding. Sam sounded like the name of Grace’s mother. If Gunner hadn’t given up the club and the darkness for the woman he’d had a child with, what were the odds that he’d do it for some chick he’d just met? And even if she didn’t mind, what job would hire her to work in social services knowing that she had ties to the local motorcycle club? Gunner’s story about them being the good kind of outlaw sounded great, but how true was it really? How much did he personally control of the club at large?
She forced herself to keep all of these things in mind as he carefully withdrew from her, tied off the condom, and sat up on the bed.
“Thank you,” he said. His features were soft, his eyes more relaxed than she’d seen all afternoon. “Normally, I’d either offer to take you for a burger, or stay in bed and cuddle you until you were ready for round two, but I think we both know that we need to get focused and get moving.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I get it.” It wasn’t a rejection, she told herself firmly. It was all going according to plan. There was no point in being upset or angry or anything. This was what she’d signed up for, and she wasn’t going to flip out now. It wouldn’t help at all. She sat up and started digging around the bed for her panties and jeans. Her bra hadn’t even come off.
He came up behind her, his arms closing around her gently. She didn’t mean to lean into him, but she couldn’t help it. He was nearly magnetic in his pull, and it felt so good to have him close to her.
“Hey,” he said, his voice a delicate rasp in her ear. “What are you thinking right now?”
“Nothing much,” she replied. It wouldn’t do to let him know she wanted him.
“Because I want you to know, I wish to hell I’d met you in different circumstances. But I’m glad as hell that I did meet you.”
You say that now. But what’s going to happen when this situation is resolved. Especially if, God forbid, we don’t get them back? Are you still going to be glad? Will you even pretend? But none of that was worth saying, so she just smiled.
“Me too,” she said. It was the truest thing she could manage.
His lips pressed down, just at the corner of her jaw, and she couldn’t contain the shiver that flitted through her. She was still hot and aching; that quick tumble had taken the edges off her need for him, but if he’d crawled back into bed, it wouldn’t have taken any real time at all to stoke her fires for another round. She was hungry for him, so hungry that it hurt. A function of emotional overload, she tried to tell herself, but it didn’t make a damn bit of difference.
“I’m not just running my mouth, Lola,” he said. “I don’t do that. I’m not that guy.”
“I’m glad,” she said because what else was there to say? No one thought they were that guy — or that person — up until their actions proved them wrong. And even then, they’d have some excuse as to why this time didn’t count, they were provoked, whatever it happened to be.
“Hungry? There are some cold cuts and stuff in the fridge. I need to make this call.”
She nodded because she was hungry. It had been hours since she’d had anything to eat; it felt like days since she’d offered Grace those crackers in the classroom. With the edge taken off one hunger, there was plenty more room for the other kinds. And for the growing fear in her heart. Both Horse and Gunner seemed entirely convinced that Grace and Laurel were both alive, somewhere. She found herself more and more worried. What if it wasn’t about gathering favors or getting out of a tight situation? What if it was just about punishment? What if Gunner had overstepped some line in the sand, and the woman and child were paying the price? It was painfully common; she knew that much. The men didn’t seem to think it was even possible, but what if Grace’s asthma had been triggered? What if they didn’t know enough to give her an inhaler? There were just so many ways for this to go horribly, horribly wrong. And that was before she really even knew much of anything about Laurel, and what could be going wrong for her.
She forced her mind onto the mundane concerns of constructing a sandwich. Bread, turkey, mustard, some sliced cucumber, and radish. Spicy and warm and full of bite. Exactly what she needed to fortify herself.
There wasn’t really any way for Gunner to leave the room without walking out onto the porch, but he didn’t seem to mind. He tapped his phone on and dialed a number, his gaze focused on the middle distance as he raised it to his ear and waited for it to ring.
“Billy,” he said, after a long moment. “This is Gunner. We need to talk.”
Chapter Eleven
This time, as Gunner headed out to the gravel pits, he put Lola on the back of his bike. He’d suggested that he drop her off at home, but she’d just raised her eyebrow until he shrugged and agreed that she could come along. It was obvious that she wasn’t going to be swayed, and truth be told, he liked having her nearby. He liked the way she stayed focused and cared about what he was feeling and thinking. He’d liked the way she writhed under him, reaching down t
o stroke her body between where they were joined until she was squeezing him tight and firm. He wanted that again.
He understood intuitively that she wasn’t going to trust him. He didn’t know why not, and ultimately, it didn’t matter. A parent who hadn’t been there for her, a relationship that had gone sideways and been hurtful, or just a trusted mentor who hadn’t followed through despite promises. He could waste his breath insisting that he was going to be a good guy, or he could just show her. She’d believe it, or she wouldn’t, but one way or the other, he would know he’d done what he could.
Maybe after this whole nightmare was resolved, he’d reconsider and realize that whatever was sparking between them was never going to be real. But that wasn’t how it felt at the moment.