His thrusts became jerky, his breath coming in short, hard pants as he curled his fingers painfully in her hair. Then suddenly he flung back his head, the tendons in his neck standing out, and let out a ragged cry.
She couldn’t take her eyes off him as he came, his beautiful face twisting with vicious pleasure, his big body shuddering with the aftershocks. The salty taste of him lay heavy in her mouth, but that wasn’t bad, either.
Resting her head on his stomach, she stroked him, moving her hands in a gentle, absent caress up and down his thighs, feeling the muscles tense and relax.
He was panting, his breathing harsh in the confined space of the shower. “That was good, baby.” His fingers uncurled from her hair, rubbing gently over her scalp. “That was so fucking good.” Those fingers moved lower, down over the back of her neck to curl around it, holding her. Possessive. Territorial. “You’re not doing that for anyone else, ever again. Only me. Understand?”
A dark kind of thrill went through her. One she’d never experienced before. She dug her fingers into the hard muscles of his thighs. “Ever? This is temporary, Leon. Remember that.” Her voice sounded thick, strange.
There was a silence. He didn’t like that, it was clear, and whether it was her objection or the fact that he didn’t like the sound of temporary, she didn’t know.
Too bad. What she did know was that his skin was warm and wet against her cheek, and she wanted to turn her head and put her mouth to it, lick the water from him.
“We’ll see,” he said at last. “Now go get me a towel. I want us both dry and in bed in five minutes. I have plans.”
Chapter 5
“She fucking did what?”
Blue folded his arms across his chest and stared into Ajax’s hostile blue eyes. “You heard.”
The Priory was quiet, the doors not yet to open to the public. Outside, the humid Louisiana heat was already building despite the time of year and the earliness of the morning.
Blue barely noticed it. He was used to heat. Just like he was used to Ajax being pissy. And his president was being extremely pissy now, not that Blue could blame him.
Nothing like being told a longtime club member had switched sides.
“What the fuck was she thinking?” Ajax demanded from his place behind the bar. He’d been doing some restocking with Sophie, who was eyeing Blue with the same hostility.
“She was trying to protect herself,” Blue said flatly. “She and Pete had Ministry trouble after we left, and then Pete died, so she was alone. She had to do something.”
Cold anger burned in Ajax’s gaze. He’d never been one to tolerate disloyalty no matter what the extenuating circumstances were. “I don’t care what she was trying to do. She’s a fucking Deacon. She could have left New Orleans or gone to Priest. She didn’t have to go get herself a fucking Ministry tattoo.” Slowly he put his hands on the bar and leaned forward. “Besides, she was your goddamn friend. I wouldn’t have thought you’d be defending her.”
Blue didn’t look away. Ajax was a scary bastard, but he could hold his own against the guy; he had before and he would again. He might be the Deacons’ president, yet that didn’t mean Blue was going to let the prick walk all over him. “Yeah, well, we talked about it last night. She’s—”
“You’re fucking her, in other words.”
Blue set his jaw, trying to ignore the tension in his neck and shoulders. “So?”
“So?” Ajax gave him an incredulous look. “She’s a traitor. Do I seriously need to point out the problem with that to you?”
“She’s my old lady, Ajax.”
The other man said nothing for a moment, staring at him. Always a bad sign. “Say that again,” he snapped.
“Fuck that. You heard me.”
“No.”
“What the hell do you mean, ‘no’?”
“I’m not having you take up with a fucking traitor. You know what we do with traitors, Blue. I don’t give a shit who she was to you. Can’t have any disloyalty, especially not now.”
Well, shit, he always knew this was going to be a battle. And he could understand it. The Deacons weren’t exactly a force to be reckoned with at the moment and it was going to take time to build that back up again. They had to regain respect, their reputation, and that wasn’t going to be easy. They couldn’t afford to be lenient, not with the Ministry breathing down their necks.
But Blue knew it wasn’t entirely the disloyalty that Ajax had a problem with. If Alice had gone to another club, it might have been less problematic. But she hadn’t. She’d gone to the club who’d had Priest killed, and that was something Ajax wouldn’t forgive.
Still. There was no way Ajax was touching Alice. No fucking way.
“She’s my old lady,” Blue repeated. “She’ll wear my patch and I’ll take responsibility for her. I’ll guarantee her loyalty. End of fucking story.”
Ajax stared at him, his eyes like blue lasers. “I’m your president, Blue. Are you seriously telling me ‘no’?”
Actually, what he wanted to tell Ajax was “go to hell.” Which would not go down well. At all. A strange thing to want to tell his president when up until this point, loyalty to the Deacons had been everything. What the fuck was wrong with him? One night of great sex with a woman and he was ready to ignore the principles he’d been living by for the last ten years?
She’s not “just” a woman.
No. She was Alice, and that made everything different. He’d left her once before. He wasn’t leaving her again.
Blue met the other man’s stare head-on. “You questioning my loyalty, Ajax?”
“No. I’m questioning whether or not you’re letting your dick do your thinking for you.”
“She says she’ll investigate the Ministry for us. She’s got access to them; she’ll be able to find out just what the hell was going on with them and Priest.”
The look on Ajax’s face darkened. “We know what happened. Blade paid for a hit. Cash found records of the payment. We don’t need any more proof than that.”
“Yeah, but we don’t know for certain what that money was used for. And starting a war based on suspicion and assumption is just fucking stupid. Especially when we’re not at full strength.”
Ajax cursed under his breath, low and vicious. “Okay, so why would she investigate them if she’s a Ministry girl now? How can we believe anything she goddamn says?”
“She doesn’t believe Blade is part of it and she wants to find proof.”
“Justifying her own fucking choices,” Ajax muttered with some disgust.
“It doesn’t matter why she’s doing it. We need more evidence than what we have to justify a fight, and Alice is perfectly placed to find it.”
The other man was silent a moment. Then he said, “And if they catch her at it?”
They hadn’t actually talked about the finer points of their arrangement the night before, both of them far too intent on doing other things, most of which involved using up Blue’s meager store of condoms.
But it was a good question. Doing this would place Alice at considerable risk.
“Then I’ll get her out of there,” he said curtly. “And I’ll make sure we’re not implicated.”
Ajax’s eyes narrowed. “You’d better make fucking sure of it, Blue. Because if you’re going to take responsibility for her, it’s going to rebound on you if things go to hell.”
Like he didn’t know that already. But if that was the price for keeping Alice safe, then that’s what he’d pay. “It won’t rebound.”
The other man stared at him. “You trust her that much? After ten years?”
Another of Ajax’s perceptive, uncomfortable observations. Because the guy was right: taking Alice on as his old lady, even if it was only an act, did involve trust. Especially if he was taking responsibility for her actions. But like her, he didn’t have much of a choice, not if he wanted to protect her.
“She was my friend before that, brother,” Blue said flatly. “And I owe
her for leaving her like I did. So yeah, I trust her.”
Ajax muttered another curse. “She must give mighty fine head for you to come ’round so goddamn quickly.”
Blue scowled. Ajax didn’t know he’d been celibate for the last ten years, because the guy sure as shit wouldn’t understand. And Blue didn’t feel like going into explanations. But whatever Ajax thought, this wasn’t a purely physical decision. Well, okay, so his demand for Alice to be in his bed while she was pretending to be his old lady was purely physical, but hell, after ten years why shouldn’t he make up for some lost time? Especially if she was into it too.
But the bottom line was all about keeping her safe. All about making up for the way he’d left her and for the things she’d had to do because he hadn’t been there.
She had been his friend, and he had a loyalty to her, too.
“I don’t give a fuck what you think,” he said. “She’s gonna be wearing my patch before the day’s out.”
Ajax shook his head, letting out a long breath. “All right. It’s on your own head then. But if she fucks up, I’ll be taking action. Get me?”
Masking his relief, Blue nodded. “Yeah, I get you.”
“Okay then.” The other man turned around abruptly and pulled a bottle of bourbon off the bar shelf. Then he grabbed a couple of glasses and poured out a healthy measure into each glass. Putting the bottle away, he pushed one of the glasses over the bar toward Blue.
Blue eyed it. “What’s this?”
“It’s bourbon, what the fuck does it look like?”
“What for?”
“You got yourself some property.” Ajax knocked his glass against Blue’s. “Welcome to the funhouse, brother. And you’d better pray you survive with your balls intact.”
—
Alice unlocked the garage door and stepped inside, closing it behind her and leaning against it for a second, allowing the familiar smells of metal, engine oil, and grease to settle her. It always had, even from the time when she’d been small and her father used to bring her in while he worked. He had a toy wrench that he’d given her and she’d play at “working” on her tricycle, sitting on the ground right next to him as he worked on one of the members’ bikes.
She’d loved watching him work. He was like a doctor, bringing dead bits of machinery back to life, making them purr, making them roar. She’d wanted to be able to do that too, and since he’d never been able to refuse her anything and because she had an aptitude for it, he’d shown her how.
The brothers, Neanderthals that they were, had always been skeptical of a woman as a mechanic, but they’d given her a pass because of her father. And after he’d died, it had just seemed natural to keep her on. She knew their rides, knew the little foibles that each bike had. Better the devil you know and all that shit.
Pushing away from the door, Alice walked through the garage to the lockers and pulled out her dark blue, grease-stained overalls. Standing on a table in the center of the workshop was the current project she was working on: Nickel’s Harley Softail. A bench ran the length of the far wall, while metal shelving units and cabinets full of tools filled the opposite wall, where the lockers were.
It wasn’t a big garage by any stretch of the imagination, but her father had loved it and now that it was hers, she loved it too.
She let out a breath, the tension she’d been feeling ever since she’d left Leon’s apartment slowly beginning to release. Here was her true home; here she felt at peace. Where there was nothing to think about but machinery, giant metal puzzles to be put together and taken apart. Machines were simple, at least. You figured out what was preventing them from working, then you fixed it. Problem solved.
People, loyalties, MC politics, not so much.
Crossing over to the bike on the stand, she took another look at the exhaust pipe she’d been working on. It was good to be here, to focus on something that was familiar and not on the situation she’d gotten herself into with Leon.
Dammit, she should never have gone to The Priory the night before. Never have let her curiosity and need to see him get the better of her. But she’d just been so pissed. That he’d been in New Orleans all this time and hadn’t come to see her, not even to say hello. Like she hadn’t even existed. Well, shit, she didn’t know what she’d expected. She clearly hadn’t existed for him for ten years, so there was no reason to think that when he came back, he’d suddenly remember she was alive.
Except that wasn’t exactly the case anymore.
Not only had she spent the night with him, he now expected her to be his old lady.
Christ, she had no idea how that was going to work. Even thinking about it annoyed the shit out of her. As the Ministry mechanic, she had some autonomy, more so than any other woman in the club. But as Leon’s old lady? Not so much.
It’s only pretend. Until you can get proof Blade had nothing to do with Priest’s death.
That was true. But now she was going to have to find that proof and hope to God no Ministry brother found out about it, otherwise she’d be screwed. They wouldn’t care that she was only trying to clear Blade’s name. All they’d see is her passing on Ministry secrets to the Deacons.
Fuck, being a double agent sucked. Especially when it involved sleeping with the enemy, her once best friend.
She reached out to pick up the socket wrench, only to find that her hand was trembling slightly.
You’re not only annoyed. You’re scared.
Disgusted at the thought, she slammed down the wrench, catching a glimpse of herself in the shiny chrome of the bike’s exhaust pipe.
There were shadows under her eyes, faint purple bruising at her neck. Signs of her night with Leon. She’d gone back to her own place that morning before going to the garage, to shower and get clean clothes. She hadn’t bothered to look in the mirror before she’d come here, but maybe she should have.
“Fucking hell,” she muttered into the silence of the garage, gingerly touching the bruise at her neck.
That was bad. She couldn’t have Ministry members in here noticing, and they would notice, she was sure of that. Blade especially was pretty sharp. They’d also know immediately how she’d gotten a bruise like that, mainly because they were the ones dishing out similar marks to the various women who hung around the Ministry clubhouse.
Crap. They’d want to know where she’d gotten it and who from. She could say, of course, that she’d taken up with a regular citizen and was seeing him out of hours. But they’d want to investigate to look after club interests, and if they found out she was seeing Blue…Oh, God, what if they discovered her wearing his patch?
Before she’d left his apartment that morning, he’d made her promise to come back that night, when they’d talk about what was going to happen. Set some ground rules, or so he said. He was going to tell Ajax and he wanted her to know the outcome of that, too.
She was going to have to be discreet about all of it if she didn’t want any of the Ministry coming after her and discovering what was going on. And naturally enough, she couldn’t have Leon coming here, not into Ministry territory.
Goddamn him. This was all his fault.
“Hey, Red,” a voice behind her said.
She turned to see Gator coming in through the door. He was a likable guy, laid-back and easygoing, who always had a friendly word to say to her. He wasn’t one of the guys who’d come on to her when she’d first joined the Ministry, and she’d always liked him for that alone.
“Hey, Gator,” she said, giving him a smile. “What’s up?”
He stopped near the table where she had Nickel’s bike, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. His dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail and a beard hid the line of a very fine jaw. He was a good-looking guy and maybe, if she occupied a different place in the Ministry hierarchy, she wouldn’t have been averse if he’d shown an interest in her. He wasn’t the possessive type from what she’d seen, which was definitely a point in his favor.
Bullshit. Like you
didn’t get off on Leon being all possessive in the shower.
She ignored that particular thought. No, she didn’t like possessive, never had. Not after the fiasco with Ditch, and then with Colt trying to get into her pants. She was independent as she could be now and she wasn’t giving that up, not for anyone. No one was ever going to leave her in the lurch again.
Gator’s mouth curved into a smile. “I’m needing some paintwork looked at. Bike got scratched up a month back and it could use a touch-up.”
“Sure. Drop it by anytime and I’ll take a look at it.”
“I will.” He wandered over to where she stood, casting a glance at the softail on the stand, then back at her. “You coming to the party tonight?”
Oh, shit, she’d forgotten. There was a Ministry party planned for that night to celebrate Snake getting out of jail and she was expected to go. Hell, everyone was expected to go. Snake had been inside for five years, so him getting out was a big thing.
God. What the hell was she going to tell Leon?
“Yeah,” she said, turning back to the bike and continuing to tinker with the exhaust.
Gator stood next to her, watching for a moment. “I know Blade said you’re off limits. But I’m not the worst you could do, if you catch my drift.”
Oh, she caught it all right. “I’ll be sure to keep it in mind,” she said, staring fixedly at the pipe she was fiddling with.
“I’d want you to keep your job here,” he went on quietly. “You’re the best damn mechanic we’ve ever had, so if it’s that you’re worried about, don’t be.”
That was one thing she was worried about, but it wasn’t the only thing. Gator might have been even-tempered, friendly, and, according to the other women pretty generous in bed, too, but he was still a biker. Women were still property to him, no matter what he said about not wanting her to give up her garage.
She wouldn’t be anyone’s property.
Bit late for that, isn’t it?
No. Leon didn’t count. That was only pretend.
She gave Gator a quick glance before going back to what she was doing. “I’m really not looking for anyone, Gator. And you know I don’t do hookups.”
Hold Me Down (The Deacons of Bourbon Street #3) Page 7