Hold Me Down (The Deacons of Bourbon Street #3)

by Jackie Ashenden

  Her face was set as she held it out in her hands, displaying it for everyone to see like she was giving a performance on a stage. Then she lifted it and put it on, turning around as she adjusted the shoulders, giving them all a view of the words on the back.

  Cheering erupted, loud shouts, whistles, and claps, the earlier tension dissipating.

  Blue couldn’t take his eyes off her as something deep and strong uncurled inside of him. That possessive, hungry part of him loosening up. Fuck, she looked good in that vest, like he knew she would.

  She’s not really yours. This is temporary. That’s what you agreed.

  He ignored the thought. It didn’t matter and it didn’t change the fact that tonight she was wearing his patch. She was his for now. And something about it felt right, felt true in a way putting his own cut back on had felt true. Like riding down Bourbon Street on his Harley had felt true.

  Alice turned around again, her gaze locking with his, and then she was walking straight toward him, determination in her eyes. He waited unmoving, his heartbeat accelerating the closer she got, wanting to see just what the hell she was going to do now because knowing Alice, it would be something unexpected.

  She reached him, throwing her arms around his neck, pulling his mouth down on hers in a passionate, hungry kiss in front of the whole bar. Claiming him as much as he’d claimed her.

  Pretend. She’s only pretending.

  Maybe, but he didn’t fucking care. Her mouth was hot and she tasted sweet and he couldn’t get enough of her kiss. He wrapped his arms around her, hauling her close. And, God, she smelled so good, that delicious flowery smell of hers now mixed with leather, making him want to eat her up right there in the middle of the room. Instead he slid his hands beneath her butt, lifting her, and obligingly she wrapped her legs around his hips, the heat between her legs pressing against his cock. The heat of her mouth on his. Fuck, she might only be pretending to be his, but this was not a pretend kiss. She’d gone soft in his arms, her body lush and pliant.

  Around them he could hear the shouts and catcalls, people laughing and congratulating them.

  “Okay, shut the fuck up!” Ajax shouted, and everyone instantly quieted. “I’ve got a fucking announcement to make.”

  Blue was sorely tempted to ignore the man and just haul Alice straight back to his apartment, but seeing as he was now the VP, that wouldn’t exactly be a good move.

  Lifting his mouth from hers, he let her slide down his body, unable to stop the soft growl that escaped him as her curves pressed against his rapidly growing hard-on. She didn’t look at him, but her cheeks were flushed.

  Ajax had leapt on top of the bar, a glass of bourbon in one hand. With the other, he reached down for Sophie, hauling her up there with him, his arm wrapped around her. She wore a black leather vest too, Ajax’s property patch, loud and proud on her back.

  The Deacons president raised his glass. “Watch out, Bourbon Street. We’re the fucking Deacons. And we’re fucking back!”

  The crowd in the bar roared their approval, raising fists and beer bottles, glasses and whatever else they were holding, cheering the return. Showing respect.

  Blue couldn’t stop the smile that spread over his face. Yeah, he was home. With his goddamn family at long last. The thing he’d been waiting for, for ten lonely fucking years. Christ, life was good.

  He reached forward and pulled Alice back against him, wrapping his arms around her as up on the bar, Ajax buried his fingers in Sophie’s hair and tugged her head back for a kiss.

  Alice was strangely stiff in his arms, her body rigid against his, all that earlier softness and warmth fading away.

  Yeah, remember the pretend part?

  Oh, fuck no. She might only be pretending to be his old lady, but they had an agreement. He wanted the real deal while she was here, and that included a warm, willing body in his bed. She’d damn well promised him.

  The people around them were still cheering loudly so he bent his head, his mouth near her ear. “You’d better not be thinking of leaving anytime soon.”

  The rigidity in her posture didn’t lessen. She turned her head toward him. “I need to talk to you. There’s some things we need to discuss.”

  —

  Alice sat at the table and watched the crowded bar, her heart thundering in her chest, reaction to what had gone down with Ajax and then, on top of that, Leon’s kiss, finally setting in.

  She knew coming in here with her tattoo showing was a bad idea, but she’d felt hiding it was wrong. Like she was pretending to be someone she wasn’t.

  You are pretending. You’re pretending to be Leon’s old lady.

  Her gut tightened. No, it wasn’t pretense exactly, because she’d promised him she’d wear his patch and sleep in his bed. Do everything an old lady should; he’d have no complaints about that. She’d be his in actuality; she just wouldn’t be his in spirit. But he knew that, knew that what they had was temporary.

  Regardless of her own feelings on the subject, though, her decision to put that patch on had clearly been the right one, especially when she’d seen the fury in Ajax’s blue eyes. He’d always been a frightening son of a bitch and clearly nothing had changed. The years away had hardened him like they’d hardened Leon, except she didn’t have the advantage of an old friendship with Ajax like she had with Leon.

  She swallowed, watching as Leon leaned against the bar, talking to Sophie, Ajax’s woman. Alice had always liked her. Sophie looked like a sweet thing until she opened her mouth. Until you saw that hard tilt to her jaw and the fire in her eyes. She’d always been a woman who definitely didn’t like being told what to do and would give as good as she got. Tough, in other words.

  Yet for all that, she wore a property patch like the one currently on Alice’s back over her tiny little crop top, and laughed like she didn’t give a fuck she was someone’s property. Like she didn’t care that Ajax, who was standing next to her, had his arm around her, his hand splayed possessively over her flat, bare stomach, one thumb playing with her belly ring.

  Alice’s chest tightened inexplicably and she had to look away, back down to the pitted wood of the table. Why the hell the sight of Ajax and his woman made her so…achy, she didn’t understand.

  There were reasons she didn’t want to get that involved with a man, trust being the main one. She’d trusted only two men in her life: her father and Leon. And both of them had up and left her. Shit, women weren’t much better—like her mother, for example. Taking up with Leon’s father for the thrill of being wanted by a rich man, then fucking off completely to California after he’d dumped her. Leaving her daughter, and the husband that had actually loved her, behind.

  And as for the goddamn Deacons…She’d thought they were her family for life, that no matter what happened, she’d always have them. Then Katrina had come and her world had turned upside down.

  Leon had gone, the Deacons had gone, and then her father had gone, too.

  Leaving her with nothing. No one.

  Luckily Blade, who’d been a protégé of her father’s and who’d remained a staunch friend no matter their MC rivalries, had stepped in to help. Blade had made a promise to Pete after the cancer diagnosis that he’d look after Pete’s daughter once Pete was gone. And look after her he had. In fact, she trusted him more than she trusted these Deacons fuckers.

  Especially now that they were here, proclaiming they were back and she was the one who was on trial, she was the fucking traitor. Pricks. They were the ones who’d left her, not the other way around.

  Left her to Ditch and a lifetime of being alone.

  “Here.” A cold bottle of beer appeared on the table in front of her. Then Leon dropped into the chair opposite. He was in a black T-shirt tonight, the usual faded blue jeans worn low on his lean hips, his cut slung over his broad shoulders. His shaggy, deep gold hair brushed the collar of his T-shirt and there was the gold gleam of stubble along his strong jaw. His deep brown eyes were unwavering, staring at her intently,
and she knew that the heat currently stealing through her had nothing to do with the humidity of the Louisiana night and everything to do with him.

  Bastard. She’d been half thinking that perhaps the desire that had gripped her the night before had been a one-off. A weird combination of anger, celibacy, and a years-old secret crush mixing together and exploding like a petroleum tanker full of gas. But apparently not. Apparently her body was still very interested in getting naked with him.

  In fact, she could still feel the pressure of his mouth on hers from when she’d launched herself at him in front of the whole bar. Could still taste him. Could even still feel those large, capable hands of his sliding up her thighs and cupping her butt, lifting her against him.

  All she’d wanted to do was give him a kiss to prove to him and to Ajax that she was serious, to give them no reason to doubt her. She hadn’t meant to wrap her legs around him and rub herself up against his hardening cock.

  Certainly giving him a whole St. Patrick’s Day worth of green lights wouldn’t make the no-sex discussion any easier.

  “So, who are you meeting?” Leon asked, as if the whole confrontation with Ajax and the kiss hadn’t happened.

  Trust him not to forget that little piece of information.

  She reached for her beer and took a sip, hoping the cool liquid would ease the heat inside her. “One of the brothers.”

  “For information purposes only, right?”

  “Yes.” She met his gaze across the table. “Like I said on the phone, they’re not going to tell me anything unless I get one of them to spill it somehow.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “And how exactly are you going to do that?”

  She sighed. “He’s given me his bike to do a touch-up on and he’s…interested in other things too. I thought I could use that, get him to give me some information about what went down when Priest died.”

  He stared at her, clearly pissed about this idea. “You don’t sleep with him. You don’t touch him. You don’t—”

  “Hey,” she cut him off, beginning to get a little pissed herself. “When are you going to get it into your thick head that I’m not yours?”

  He didn’t even blink. “You’re wearing my patch, Ally. That makes you mine.”

  “Only to protect me from Ajax,” she hissed, leaning forward. No one would be able to hear them over the noise of the party, but it paid to be careful. “It’s temporary, remember?”

  Leon didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he put down the glass of bourbon he was nursing with a definite click, his dark gaze locking with hers. “You made me a promise last night. I gave you a choice and you chose.” He paused. “You chose me.”

  “And you left me.” The words were out before she’d even had time to think about them, edged and raw with emotion.

  Something flared in his eyes and unexpectedly, he looked away, out over the crowded, noisy bar. “I had to. Priest ordered us to go. Me, Ajax, Cash, and Prince. He had us on track to going straight and…one last job got fucked up. A guy was killed and we had to leave before it all blew up in our faces. We weren’t supposed to come back.”

  Alice blinked, memory drifting through her. Of the day he’d gone, and her father coming home that night to tell her what had happened. That there had been some “trouble” and Blue had had to go. Then he’d followed it up with his cancer diagnosis. She hadn’t remembered much after that.

  She stared at his averted face. “But you did.”

  “Yeah, we did.” He turned back, his dark eyes very direct. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was. And I’m sorry I didn’t contact you. But you have to understand that I couldn’t. It was easier not to, not when we had no idea when we’d ever come back.”

  She’d often wondered how she’d feel, when and if he ever returned and gave her an apology. Back when the wounds were still raw, she’d imagined she’d throw it back in his face. Tell him to fuck off right back to where he came from. She still wanted to in so many ways.

  “Easier for who?” she demanded. “For you or for me?”

  His mouth twisted. “Fuck, Ally. What else do you want me to say? Do you think I didn’t miss you? Christ, I thought about you a lot while I was away. So many times I wanted to call you, just to let you know I was okay, just to hear how you were doing. But I couldn’t. As far as Priest was concerned, he didn’t want us coming back, not ever. So I thought…” He stopped. “I thought it was easier for both of us.”

  The anger had started up again, sharp as acid burning on metal. She’d thought she’d put this behind her, thought it didn’t matter anymore. But it did. He’d left her, like so many other people had left her.

  She leaned back in her seat, took another sip of her beer. “You know what happened to me after you left? I screwed Ditch.”

  He went still. “What the fuck? That asshole—”

  “I got pregnant, because we were drunk and we weren’t being careful. It was an ectopic pregnancy. It ruptured and I had to be taken to the ER and I…” Ten years, and it still hurt. It always would. “I had to have a partial hysterectomy.”

  Leon said nothing, staring at her. His face had hardened, his eyes gone black in the dim light of the bar.

  “I can’t have kids,” she said flatly, because it was easier to say without emotion.

  Around them the party raged, the music heavy and loud, people shouting and laughing. But they were in their own little circle of silence.

  Abruptly Leon shoved back his chair with so much force it went careering into the wall behind him before crashing over. Then he went past her without a word, shouldering his way through the crowds to the doors before disappearing through them.

  Alice looked down at her beer bottle and toyed with the edge of the label that was starting to peel away. Her hands were shaking.

  She shouldn’t have told him. Not here, not now. But…she’d been angry. And she was tired of dismissing what had happened to her. Tired of keeping it inside.

  It’s not his fault. You know that.

  Maybe she did know. Yet there was a part of her, a small, sharp, angry part, that did blame him. If he hadn’t left, she wouldn’t have gotten drunk, wouldn’t have gone to Ditch and let him seduce her. And she wouldn’t have woken up in the hospital with half of her insides removed. Blade had been there, holding her hand, telling her it was going to be okay. And after a while, it had been.

  But the angry part of her had never let it go. The part that had always dreamt of having her own family, of having kids with the man she loved. With Leon. That part blamed him for what had happened and probably always would.

  She looked up from the bottle. Raised it to her mouth and took a long, deep swallow. It was typical of him to be unable to deal and to leave her sitting there alone. Even though the tragedy was hers, he was the one to walk out. But then he’d never been all that good at handling his own feelings. The way he’d always coped was to fixate on something, a goal he could focus on so he didn’t have to deal with all that messy emotional crap.

  Do you think that’s maybe how he got through those ten years? By focusing on a goal, by focusing on the Deacons returning? So he didn’t have to think about leaving you?

  No. She didn’t want to analyze him or figure out his motives. She’d been doing that for ten years and had run herself ragged. If he couldn’t deal with what had happened to her, then that was his own fucking problem.

  She took a sip of her beer and set it back down on the table, looked around at the partying crowds. People were dancing, including Ajax and Sophie. Except what they were doing couldn’t exactly be termed dancing since Ajax had Sophie pulled hard against him and was barely moving. His hands were on her ass while she had hers above her head, moving sinuously against him. They had eyes only for each other.

  Alice’s throat tightened. She looked away, her gaze catching on Prince, who was leaning up against a wall. He’d changed, too, dressed not in jeans and a T-shirt like the others but in a dark suit like he’d just come
from the office. He’d ditched his jacket, the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up to reveal his ink, a beer bottle hanging loosely in his fingers. There was a slight sneer on his face, a curl of distaste at the party in front of him. A sneer that changed into a smile as a blond woman sashayed up to him, leaning in with a flirtatious palm on his chest while she whispered in his ear.

  As she watched Prince, another familiar face approached him. Dark hair and a wicked grin, his arm around a pretty, bohemian-looking blond woman. Cash said something to Prince as he and his woman went past, laughing as Prince raised a hand and extended a middle finger.

  She’d once been a part of this, been one of these people. And yet here she was sitting by herself in the middle of a raging party. Alone.

  The feeling sat uncomfortably inside her. God, she really needed to get back to the Ministry clubhouse, show her face at Snake’s party. At least there were people who knew her and whom she knew, a place where she felt at home. Where she wouldn’t be looked on as a traitor, only there on sufferance and because she was someone else’s property. In many ways, the Ministry had been more of a family to her than the Deacons had ever been.

  Liar. You’ll always be a Deacon.

  Alice ignored the thought, finishing her beer and putting the bottle down sharply. Leon wasn’t here and maybe he wouldn’t come back, which was fine. She had to leave. Gator would be wondering where she’d got to and she really didn’t need him being suspicious.

  Rising from the table, she began threading her way through the knots of happy, noisy people. Some of them nodded to her and called congratulations. She smiled back and hoped it didn’t look as forced as it felt.

  As she approached the doors they suddenly banged open again and Leon came back in. She froze. What the hell?

  He paused in the doorway, scanning the room, the look on his face familiar. Hard, focused, determined. The one he got when he wanted to do something and wasn’t going to let anyone or anything get in his way.

  A small, electric thrill chased through her. Because his dark gaze suddenly came to hers and locked on like a sniper finding his target. Then he moved toward her, long legs closing the distance between them so fast she had no time to get out the door herself.