Swearing he’d fuck up Gem Outlaw-style, Val rushed forward and took his son into his arms, murmuring soothing words to him. He wouldn’t have enough time to clean Ryan up and change Zoann’s bed, so Val decided to see to his son first. He had no clue why Ryan had just remained in the bed, but chose not to question the small favor.
He snatched a clean diaper and the baby wipes from Zoann’s nightstand. He’d just removed the sopping wet one when he heard her call his name.
Fuck. At least Ryan’s wails had calmed to babbling sniffles.
“In here, Puff,” he called, his dick choosing this inopportune time to get hard. But Val always got hard for Zoann. When he’d first met her, years ago, and she’d been enamored of her big brother and her cousin.
“What are you doing in my bedroom, Matthew?” she bit out. “And what happened to my screen door?”
Val scooped Ryan into his arms and turned to her. Her beauty hit him in the gut as it always did. The gleaming strands of her chestnut-colored hair reminded Val of how it felt to glide his hands through the flowing silk. Suspicion brightened her whiskey-colored eyes. “He couldn’t sleep, so I brought him in here to feel closer to you.”
“And my ripped screen?”
He didn’t have a good answer, so he snapped his mouth shut.
One of these days, he had to broach the subject of her rape. Sooner rather than later, too. Outlaw had decided not to bring it up to her, but he had their PI, Riley, investigating who her attacker had been. Outlaw had made it clear he’d allow Val to handle the man—when and if he was found—but he’d gladly do it, too.
Shit had a way of getting fucked up worse before they smoothed out, so Val figured it might be a good idea to warn Zoann of the shit storm brewing. First, they had to get out of this shit storm with the Torpedoes.
She’d moved close to him, the light scent of her perfume and the cinnamon gum she liked to chew hitting him in his gut.
“Fine. Don’t tell me. I’m used to your juvenile behavior,” she snapped, snatching Ryan from him. “Why isn’t he dressed?”
Having no good answer for that, either, Val shrugged, coming across as an irresponsible dickhead.
She glared at him. “Would you get him something to wear out of his nursery?”
His nostrils flared and he swept a glance over her, stopping at the swell of her tits and traveling down, thinking of her pubic bush, but unable to see even an outline since her uniform top hung to right beneath her hip. She flushed, not as unaffected by him as she pretended.
She rocked back on her heels. “Would you watch over him while I take a shower?” she asked, peeping at him through the fringes of her lashes and making his dick hurt.
“Sure thing, Puff.” He reclaimed Ryan, rewarded with his smile.
“I-I have leftover chowder if—if you haven’t eaten the sandwiches I left in the fridge for you.”
Zoann was inviting him to dinner? He had a vague memory of her mentioning sandwiches this morning, but, he’d been so anxious to get her the fuck away, he’d ignored her. He could only hope Gem had eaten them.
“Yeah, I’m starving.”
She smiled, shy. The gesture sped up his heart, more erotic than the most come-hither look and more heartening than a brilliant grin, made him almost dizzy with wanting her. He searched his brain to remember what he’d told her last night. The desperation of the situation made most of his words utter bullshit. Ironic when he hadn’t been sincere, he’d gotten through to her.
She hurried toward her private bathroom, her hair fluttering behind her.
“Ma-ma?” Ryan asked, his blue-green eyes wide.
“Your mama is some kind of woman, huh, son?” Val smiled at Ryan’s unintelligible response. “Worth every fucking minute, too. A girl needs a little bit of crazy in her to keep motherfuckers on their toes.” Ryan raised his chubby arms and Val nodded. “You got it, buddy. I might be leaving here with blue balls, though. Don’t think she’ll let me fuck her right now…” His voice trailed off and he frowned. Maybe, he shouldn’t have said that to his son. “Let’s get you dressed and we’ll see what happens.”
Thinking how small Zoann’s house was with only the kitchen, eating area, living room, her bedroom and Ryan’s, he headed into the hallway—so small two motherfuckers couldn’t fit in it—and turned right.
He pushed the door open and staggered back at all the blood. Splattered on the ceiling and walls. Pooling on the floor. Dripping from the rails of Ryan’s bed. Jesus Christ.
Val’s gaze fell on the body pieces, identifiable as Gem’s thanks to the head on the changing table. The breeze from the gaping window fluttered the curtains. That must’ve been the escape route. Tightening his hold on Ryan, he squinted at the words written in blood on Ryan’s light blue walls.
Torps rule.
Val slammed the door shut, considering his limited possibilities. Zoann and Ryan weren’t safe here. That was fucking sure. Obviously, the Torps were watching them as closely as they were watching the Torps. Those fuckers were hitting where they were most vulnerable. Their women.
He could only be grateful Meggie and Kendall were safe on the compound.
Relieved at the knowledge, he considered his options again and got the same fucking result—not a fucking clue as to what to do.
If he told Zoann about Gem—no way would he ever allow her to see that fucking gruesome bloodbath—he’d have to confess about some of the other shit. And she’d really fucking hate him.
Wasn’t he fucking hateable at that moment? He’d put Ryan at risk and couldn’t imagine—didn’t want to fathom—what he would’ve done if—
He glanced at his son, part him and part Zoann. Shaken to his core, he dialed the club number and explained the situation to Arrow when the man answered, sounding so much like K-P Val forgot for a moment the man was gone.
He went back into Zoann’s room and closed that door, too, glad to hear the shower running. Zoann was too fucking nosy and suspicious for Val to even attempt to keep her in the room. The moment she heard the clumping of boot falls she’d want to investigate. For that matter, the moment she saw Ryan undressed, she’d try to take care of the matter herself.
Any way he approached it, he was fucked.
Unless…
He lifted a brow at Ryan, then glanced at the closed bathroom door. Not wasting any time to contemplate the logic of his idea, Val sat Ryan on the bed and stripped, grabbing his son again and tearing open the tabs on his diaper as he hurried to the bathroom.
Stepping into the humid little box of a room, he paused, appreciating the steamy outline of her body, the clear shower curtain fogged by the hot water she loved. He thought of the blood again and swallowed.
That pieced up body in there could’ve been…her.
Zoann’s scream pierced the space and both he and Ryan jumped.
“Get out!” she snarled.
He smiled at her outrage. She was very much alive. As prickly as ever, but alive.
Stepping forward and ignoring Ryan screwing his little face up to cry because he picked up on his mother’s distress. Zoann wrapped the shower curtain around her and Val laughed.
“I can still see you pretty cunt, Puff,” he told her, lying like fuck.
“Pig!” she screeched. “Get out of here. I don’t know what you intend to do with our son here…” Her voice trailed off and she jerked in frustration, pulling the lightweight rod down. She yelped when the edge of it hit her head. Rod and curtain hangers bent and dangled over her hands.
“Let go,” he told her.
“Get out,” she countered, her lips trembling.
A boy through and through, Ryan rose to the occasion and came to Val’s rescue. He started to cry and reached for Zoann. She’d never refuse their son. She glared at Val, but released the curtain, allowing Val to untangle her, so she could grab Ryan.
He didn’t care the little boy was screaming right now, only that he kept Zoann preoccupied enough to allow Val to climb in behind her and se
ttle his hand on her hips. He pressed his erection against her ass and she stiffened.
The water rained between them, hitting Val’s chest and splashing against Zoann’s and Ryan’s head.
“I want to fuck you,” he murmured, bending and biting her neck.
“You’re a pig, that’s why. You don’t care that my son is here.”
“You got it fucking right the first time,” he growled, squeezing her ass cheeks. “Our son.”
“Whatever! Just go. There’s no way I’m fucking you with him in here with us.”
He grabbed the soap from the holder that contained her shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, and began lathering his body. He’d smell like a girl, but who gave a fuck?
She went to get out, but Val stopped her. “Let’s get Ryan clean.”
“I’ll give him a bath later,” she argued.
“He’s here with us now. And the water isn’t bothering him.”
Anger lit her eyes to sparkling amber, but she stiffened and nodded.
“Now, hand him to me. I’ll hold him while you soap him.”
“This isn’t right,” she complained, following his directions. “I’m breaking every good mom protocol in the book.”
“You’re one of the best fucking moms I know, Puff,” Val muttered, fascinated by the play of her slim fingers spreading the soap on Ryan’s arms, legs and torso.
“Let’s hold him up to remove the soap,” she instructed, not commenting on his compliment.
“What about his dick?”
She jabbed him. “He doesn’t have a dick!”
Confusion knit Val’s brow and he turned Ryan to look. All this time, he’d sworn his child sported a bat and two balls. Confirming what he already knew, he pointed. “Then what the fuck is that?”
“A penis. He’s too young to have a dick.”
Oookkkaaayyy. “Whatever the fuck you want to call it, shouldn’t you wash it?”
“Not without a washcloth, asshole.”
“Oh. Right.”
“I hate touching him there even with the cloth. It doesn’t…” Her voice trailed off, a haunting look on her face. “You’d never understand what it’s like to be defenseless and at the mercy of a sexual deviant.”
He stilled, his heart twisting at the pain in her eyes. Adjusting Ryan in a one-arm hold, he rubbed her wet cheeks with his other hand and knew it wasn’t only water, but tears. “And you do, Puff?” he croaked.
She trembled and stared at him, her eyes huge. Instead of opening up to him, she shook her head. “I’m cold, Val. I want to get out.”
If he calculated correctly, someone should just be arriving about now. Fucking insanity possessed him, thinking they could cover this shit up. He had to get her away from the house, anyway, so he needed to say something. But, fuck, he didn’t want to give this up right now. And, he knew Zoann. Knew the derision she held for bikers. Although he was now aware of the reasons she’d push him away, once and for all, and, more than likely, limit his visits with Ryan or put a stop to them altogether.
She’d also find some fucking dickhead to marry who wouldn’t be right for her. Not like he was.
Sighing, he turned the water off and grabbed a towel from the rack to wrap Ryan in. His heart skipped a beat. The baby thing—similar to what Meggie put Little Man in—sat just inside the door. She paused and glanced at it, lifting a brow in question.
Val cleared his throat, spotting her hair dryer. “I wanted to dry your hair and I thought we could lay him in there.”
He expected her to argue, but she nodded. “Okay. That’s where I put him sometimes when he wakes up before I’m finished dressing.”
As she gave her explanation, Val bent and secured Ryan in the contraption. She stepped around him and pushed something on the side, starting a gentle, side-to-side motion.
“He needs a diaper.”
“He’s fine. Let me play in your hair for a little while.” He led her to the mirror and stopped her, then turned her to face Ryan. “You can keep a watch on him while I do this.”
Meekly, she obeyed him. He plugged up the dryer and turned it on high, not wanting to risk any noises reaching Zoann while he collected the comb and brush he needed. Maybe, he wouldn’t have to take her away to keep her safe. Maybe, he could spend a few days here with her.
Halfway through, she elbowed him and he lowered the dryer’s speed. “Ryan’s asleep,” she whispered. “For some reason, my hair dryer lulls him.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him, stared at his chest, and met his eyes. Her breath hitched and Val groaned, unable to deny his body what it most wanted. Zoann.
He slanted his mouth over hers, unapologetic in the possession in his kiss, tasting her need and her surrender. He wouldn’t last long enough to eat her pussy. Twisting his hands in her hair, keeping his mouth over hers, he tweaked her hardened nipple, skimmed his hand over her belly and, lower, massaging her pussy bush.
He fingered her clit, swallowing her moan, and inserting two fingers into her. Her cunt was hot and wet, ready for him. Lifting her around the waist, he didn’t question her capitulation. He aligned his dick with her slick entrance and thrust into her, not having to urge her to wrap her legs around his waist.
“Val,” she murmured softly, nipping his chin. The tears in her eyes surprised him but he shuddered when she clenched her pussy around his dick. He clutched her ass, grunted at her consuming heat, and ravished her mouth. She threw her head back, her hair cascading over his arms, her breasts thrust up.
He licked her nipple before biting gently. Keeping one hand around her waist, he shoved the other between them and thumbed her clit, rewarded when her orgasm broke over her. He pushed into her a final time, cum jetting into her.
When he came back to himself and caught his breath, Zoann had her arms wrapped around him and her head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head.
“Puff?”
“There was a bombing,” she whispered. “At the Torpedoes MC. It’s all over the news. Rival clubs at war. All I could think about was Christopher and Johnnie. And-and you.”
Holy fuck.
She squirmed against him and blinked back more tears. “I came in, swearing I’d be angry with you. And I-I was. Especially when I saw my screen. But then…then I started th-thinking about our conversation last night and…and how scared I was when y-you were shot. I’m sorry f-for everything, Val. All the things I made you pay for that wasn’t your fault. I don’t know…I can’t imagine what I would’ve done…if the Dwellers...” Her voice trailed off and she throbbed around him. She brushed her nipples against his chest and trembled.
He knew how sensitive her fucking tits were and growled at the sensation traveling through him.
“When was the last time you fucked?” he asked, sucking the skin on her neck.
“The last time we were together.”
Almost two fucking years. He stilled at the realization, knowing he wasn’t anywhere as pure. He’d just participated in an orgy two days ago…fuck.
He started moving inside her again. A sudden, loud crash interrupted his rhythm and startled Ryan awake.
Zoann pushed at his shoulders. “Oh my God, Val! Let me down. Someone’s breaking in. I have to get my bat.”
He’d discuss the odds of a bat winning against a bullet another time. “See to Ryan. I’ll investigate the noise. I’ll call when it’s all clear.”
He didn’t wait for a response, hurrying away and stopping long enough to put on his pants. Rushing to Ryan’s room, he found Arrow, Bowlie and Slipper, staring at the overturned changing table.
The body parts were gone. Most of the blood wasn’t.
“I can’t keep her in her room much longer,” he growled. “Especially now that you assfucks fucking tipped this over.”
Arrow scratched his jaw. “Sorry,” he whispered back. “We didn’t bring enough supplies for all this fucking blood, Val.”
“What was the fucking noise?” he hissed.
“A disa
greement.”
“A—“
“Matthew,” Zoann interrupted, walking into the room and coming to a halt, losing her color when she looked at the blood…the words.
She stared, took it all in, and Val knew he was completely and irrevocably fucked.
Heaving in breaths, she turned in a slow circle, her gaze finally falling on Val. She didn’t ask for an explanation—Zoann wouldn’t. Not with her history. She’d just assume the worst.
“Who’s bl-blood?”
Val stepped forward and she backed away. “Zoann—“
“Who are the Torps? Torps…Torpedoes.”
“Listen—“
The accusation and hurt in her eyes cut him to the core and she hiccupped. “You dirty, evil, fucking biker,” she snarled, bitter tears and hatred welling in her eyes. “Get out. I don’t ever want to see you again.”
“Clean this up, you two,” he ordered, grabbing Zoann’s arm and yanking her to her bedroom, ignoring her screeches. Ryan moved restlessly on her bed. He clapped his hand over her mouth and pinned her robed body to his. “Shut up. You’re waking up Ryan and I need your full attention right now.”
Her tears rained on his hand and he shoved aside his rising guilt. He shouldn’t have taken advantage of her vulnerability but he was fucking human and couldn’t pass up the chance to get inside of her again, enjoy the gentle Zoann that she rarely showed anyone.
“I’m not asking, Puff. I’m telling you that you have to either let me stay here with you or come to the clubhouse for a few days.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what the fuck you think went on here—“ Probably not half as bad as what had really gone on. “I don’t give a fuck right now. But you have those two choices and I want an answer about what’s it going to be.” He slid his hand down.
“Fuckhead, murdering bastard,” she cried. “I save lives and you take them and ruin them—“
Yeah, yeah, yeah. He knew that. She knew that. For whatever reason, she’d chosen to ignore it this evening and several times before. He covered her mouth again to cut off her insults. “I don’t have fucking time for this, babe,” he growled against her ear, angry that he’d fucked up again with her. “We’re going back to the clubhouse. You’re taking a couple days off until we settle this with those assfucks. Nod your fucking head so I know you understand me.”
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 111