by Lilly Atlas
Zach wasn’t willing to give up on his friend like that, so they’d operate under the assumption that Shark wanted something and was willing to snatch Mav for ransom.
Throwing his leg over his bike and dropping his sunglasses down over his eyes, Zach said, “Let’s hit the streets. Start talking to people. Someone’s bound to know where the fuck they might have taken Mav besides their headquarters.” After receiving a nod of agreement from Rocket, he revved the engine and shot out of the lot.
On the way back, he’d call Viper and have him hand out jobs. They needed all hands on deck to scour the dregs of Tennessee in search of information.
Mav would be tortured. There were no two ways around it. Somehow, Zach would have to wrap his mind around that conclusion and come to terms with it or he’d be useless to his club. Even though he wasn’t the biggest fucker in the club, Mav was strong, mentally and physically. He also had a smart mouth and would probably make things worse for himself by giving his captors lip.
But he’d survive.
And Zach would do whatever the fuck it took to get him out of there.
Six hours later, Zach and the rest of the Hell’s Handlers had spoken to every lowlife, criminal, junkie, and general asshole in a fifty-mile radius.
And they were no further along than they’d been when the day started.
All they heard was that the Dragons hadn’t been using their headquarters for the past week. But they’d already known that. No one had any clue if the gang owned any other property, and that fact had Zach’s gut screaming. Someone knew something. Of that he was sure, but they’d yet to find motivation big enough to get someone to rat on Shark.
Zach had even brought Louie out a few times. If a few well-placed whacks with a solid wood bat wasn’t enough to loosen some tongues, Shark’s threats must be severe. They’d get information out of somebody at some point; it was just a matter of picking the weakest link and finding out exactly what would make them cave.
Probably just what Shark did.
A sobering thought, but one Zach didn’t have time to dwell on, because every second wasted was another second Mav was suffering.
“So we’ve got jack shit?” Copper slammed a bottle of Johnnie Walker down before bracing his hands on the table. He loomed over the group, looking ready to tear the clubhouse apart with his bare hands. A feeling Zach was familiar with.
The question was for Zach, but suddenly he found himself unable to answer. Fear for Mav, fury over his ineffectiveness, and guilt for not keeping the club and his friends safe clogged his throat. He shook his head, unable to meet Copper’s gaze.
It was at that moment, Zach’s phone chirped in his pocket. Under normal circumstances, Copper would castrate any man who whipped out his phone during a meeting. Instead, he met Zach’s gaze and nodded.
A lead brick settled in Zach’s stomach as he drew out the phone. It was from Shark. He knew it without even looking, as sure as he knew he wanted to fuck Toni. Christ, it seemed like years ago he’d been angling to get in her pants. In reality a few short hours had shifted all his priorities. What he wouldn’t give to have her rejection be his biggest setback again.
Swallowing down the ice-cold dread, Zach unlocked his phone to find an image of his best friend staring back at him. He couldn’t help the wildly inappropriate snort of laughter that flew from him.
Mav was in bad shape as predicted. Two black eyes. Blood running from both his nose and mouth. Wrists and ankles tied to a chair. He was slumped over, as if it was too painful or required too much energy to sit straight.
But in typical Mav fashion, he had a big fuck you for the assholes who held him. A smirk as big as the Smoky Mountains themselves was on his face. Each fist was curled except for two middle fingers. They pointed toward the ground, since his forearms were bound to the chair and he couldn’t twist his arms for a proper gesture, but he still got the point across. And the best part was, the lackey of Shark’s that sent the photo hadn’t noticed. Otherwise, they’d never have sent it.
It was Maverick’s clever way of letting Zach know that while he was down, he was not out.
Nothing accompanied the photo. No ransom requests. No demands. Nothing. More and more this was looking like nothing more than a power play. Shark letting the Handlers know he could get at them whenever he wanted and there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it.
Zach held the photo up for Copper to see.
His president’s face hardened and he bowed his head for a moment before saying, “Fuck.”
The weight of that word crashed down upon Zach like a sledgehammer. Copper was never without an idea. Never without confidence. Never defeated. He tried to inhale, but it felt as if a heavy rubber band had wound itself around his chest. With each passing second, it grew tighter and tighter until he couldn’t breathe.
Zach shoved back from the table and stumbled out of the meeting room. As he lurched past the bar, two of the Honeys tried to get his attention. He wasn’t even tempted, but normally he’d at least have said hello and let them down easy. Now, he just didn’t give a shit.
“Get the fuck out of my way,” he barked at Becky, who dropped her jaw and scurried behind the bar.
He didn’t care who he pissed off. All he knew was he needed out of the clubhouse. He needed oxygen.
Shoving through the door, he stumbled out into the quiet night. A cool breeze washed over him, loosening the grip of the rubber band and allowing him to draw in a breath.
“Fuck!” he yelled when he had enough air.
The panic that had been rushing through his system transformed into an anger so great he could think of nothing but wreaking havoc on whatever was near.
Balling his fists, he rammed them into the nearest tree again and again with no regard to the damage he was causing himself. The skin over his knuckles split and tore, but he welcomed the pain. It was nothing compared to what was in store for Maverick, and the sting only fueled his anger and need for blood.
When all his energy was spent, he was sweating and gasping for breath. He propped himself against the defeated tree and tried to get his head straight.
He had no idea how long he stood there before Copper walked up, liquor in hand.
“Better?” Copper asked, holding the bottle out.
Zach accepted the bottle and tipped it to his lips. After a good eight second guzzle, he handed it back to his prez. Blood ran in streams from his hands, coasting over the bottle and dripping to the grassy ground.
Copper wouldn’t give a shit. If there was ever a man not afraid of a little blood, it was Copper.
“Better.”
“I’m gonna say this one fucking time, Zach, so listen the fuck up.” Copper took a long drink. “I didn’t appoint you enforcer because I thought you’d be able to anticipate every problem that would come our way. I didn’t give you the position because I thought you would somehow know shit the rest of us didn’t.” He passed off the bottle then lit a cigarette. “I made you enforcer because this club is in your blood and you will rain holly hell down on anyone who fucks with it.”
That was the damn truth.
“So stop beating the fuck out of my trees and yourself because of some misplaced guilt. Save your fury for Shark.”
After another long drink, Zach tried to return the bottle, but Copper waved it away. “Finish it,” he said. The orange tip of his cigarette glowed as he returned it to his mouth.
“You know, Cop, Shell was at the diner when we tore out of there this morning.”
Copper grunted. “Feels like years ago.”
Zach swallowed the last eighth of the bottle in two large gulps. “She’s gonna be worried. Probably heard something about Mav by now. You should swing on by. Might want to warn her to be vigilant.”
“Yeah,” Copper said as he flicked ash off the end of his cigarette. He spoke as though it was no big deal. As though he wasn’t in love with the woman he refused to take. And as though it didn’t break her heart to be in the same room
as him. “Both she and Toni are gonna be wondering why we had prospects tail them home.”
“She’s gonna get on your ass if you show up smelling like a tobacco factory.”
The cigarette was midway to Copper’s mouth. “What are you my mother now, Zach?” He tossed the thing to the grass and ground it under his size thirteen heel before walking halfway back inside. “Have Jig give you a ride home. You drank half that bottle.”
“I’ll have Jig drive me around and search a little longer.”
Copper nodded. “Make sure you get some rest at some point, brother. You’re no good to Mav if you can’t function.”
Alone again, Zach stared up at the starry sky. Heading home was the best thing. He was fried, half drunk, and not thinking clearly. He could hit it hard again in the morning. But he couldn’t do it. Not with Mav out there enduring fuck knew what. He’d give it another hour or two.
For a moment, he let himself wonder what it would be like to have a woman in his life for more than sex. Might be kind of nice after the day he’d had. To go home to a warm, soft woman he could lose himself in. A woman who’d let him use her body to drown out the horrors of the day.
Toni’s face came to mind. And Toni’s body came to mind.
It was then he recalled telling Toni he’d meet her on her porch to watch the sunset.
Shit. She was going to be pissed he bailed on her. Not that anything about the day was normal, but she wouldn’t appreciate it.
Still, he couldn’t help but indulge in the fantasy of having her waiting at home warm, wet, and his for the taking.
Chapter Fifteen
Drinking a cup of coffee at midnight was always a foolish idea, but Toni was exhausted to the point of blurry vision. And she needed not to be.
No matter what time he rolled in, she planned to be awake when Zach returned home. Something had transpired earlier in the day, something that scared the fuck out of a tough group of men who were usually the ones scaring the fuck out of others.
When Zach had been a no show around the time the sun was setting her concern turned to full-on worry. Even though she didn’t have any right to inquire about Zach’s business, she’d called Shell in the hopes of at least learning if he was okay.
All her friend had been able to do was ratchet the worry up another notch with her own anxiety. Both of them had bikers follow them home from the diner. Then, Copper had called Shell and told her to stay put with Beth until she heard from him again. The call had been hours ago.
So that left Toni sitting outside in the rocking chair for three hours with her mug of coffee, in a slightly stalkerish manner. The porch lights were off in the hopes that Zach wouldn’t notice her watching out for him. She just needed to know when he arrived home and that he was safe.
And every one of those one hundred and eighty-four minutes was spent trying to think about anything other than why she cared so much. Cared to the point she couldn’t stop her knee from bouncing and her stomach from churning with apprehension.
Twenty minutes and a fresh cup of coffee later, headlights popped up in the distance. A caravan of two single lights followed by a double traveled down the road toward her. Two bikes and a car. Toni straightened as they drew near and slowed.
One of the bikes turned into Zach’s driveway while an SUV and the other motorcycle rode the extra few feet to her property. Before her mind had a chance to process what was happening, she shot to her feet and started down the walkway toward the vehicles.
A man climbed off the bike and removed his helmet. As he came into clearer view, Toni’s steps faltered. She’d assumed it would be Zach. But it wasn’t. It was the really severe, unsmiling man who hadn’t spoken but two words to her when Zach introduced them at the bonfire. Rocket, if she recalled correctly.
“Is Zach okay?” she asked. No point in social pleasantries. She wanted one thing from the man in front of her and it was to learn about Zach.
“In the car.” Rocket jerked a thumb in the direction of the car.
Zach sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window with a vacant expression.
“That didn’t answer my question.” The temperature had dropped over the past few hours, and Toni now regretted the denim shorts and thin T-shirt that read Sunny with a Chance of Wine. She crossed her arms over her chest feeling somewhat naked under Rocket’s assessing gaze.
Instead of talking, he focused on observing and seemed to see so much.
“Shit day,” he said.
Guess that was all she was gonna get out of Rocket. Whoever was in the driver’s seat spoke to Zach and he blinked as if just realizing the car was no longer in motion. With a nod for the driver, he opened the door and climbed out, stumbling before he got his footing.
“Is he drunk?” she asked without taking her eyes off the man whose blue eyes were devoid of their usual verve for life.
“Nah, not really. Just exhausted. He needs to sleep. He won’t hurt you.”
“What? No. I wasn’t worried about that. I know he won’t. I’m just concerned for him.”
As Zach closed the distance between them, Toni gasped and rushed forward. “What the hell happened to your hands?” She lifted one large hand and stared in horror at the ravaged knuckles. The skin resembled meat fresh out of a grinder.
“Picked the wrong opponent.” His voice was so flat, so dead, a prickle of fear coasted up her spine. This was a man in pain. Suffering. “Way too tall and hard for me to beat.”
Her face screwed up and she looked to Rocket. What on earth was Zach talking about?
“Tree,” was all he said.
A tree? Zach had attacked a tree? In all the time she spent with him, she’d never seen him lose his cool. Sure, he was the enforcer for an MC, so she was well aware he had a capacity for violence, but she always imagined it was meticulous, calculated. Pounding a tree until he decimated his knuckles was an act based purely on out of control emotion.
Whatever happened that day had devastated him. He needed care, softness, and she could give that to him. She could put her reservations about men like him on hold for one night to care for him.
“Come on inside,” she said.
He stared at her for a moment, then nodded and trudged toward the house.
With a heavy heart, Toni gave Rocket a sad smile. “Thanks for bringing him here.”
He scratched at the dark stubble covering his square jaw. “Take good care of my boy. Be gentle with him.”
His message seemed to have a deeper meaning than just being gentle as she doctored his wounds, but she wasn’t in the mood to decipher riddles. As it was, those were more words than he’d strung together in the two times she’d met him.
“Will do.”
Without further discussion, he returned to his bike and followed the car down the drive. The second biker must have been returning Zach’s bike because he deposited the motorcycle in Zach’s garage then took his place in the passenger’s seat of the car. Probably not the easiest to ride a motorcycle with hands that were falling apart.
Face expressionless, he waited for her on the porch. “Didn’t want to bleed all over your door,” he said raising his bloody right hand as though she’d forgotten.
“No worries. I’ll get the door.” When she reached the top of the three steps leading to the house, she grabbed her recently poured mug of coffee. The porcelain was still warm to the touch, so the coffee would be as well.
“Here,” she said taking extra care with him as she placed the cup in his hand. “Drink it. It will help sober you the rest of the way up. Hope you like it sweet.”
She opened the door and moved to let him pass. Once he was in her home, she wrapped an arm around his waist and guided him to the bathroom. “Sit.” She pointed to the closed toilet lid.
Listening to her for once, he sat. “Ugh, shit.” He spat a sip of coffee back into the mug. “That’s fuckin’ sweet.”
Her lips quirked. “I warned you. Drink it anyway.”
He grunted then sipped
again, swallowing this time.
While he choked down the coffee, Toni rummaged through the cabinet under her bathroom sink for first aid supplies. There wasn’t much, but at least she found some antibiotic cream and bandages. She also grabbed a wash cloth and an empty basin.
Zach’s gaze never strayed from her, heating her skin with its intensity. So many thoughts swirled through her head. The situation was so far out of her normal, she had no idea how to proceed. Did she ask him what happened? Should she play it off and act as normal as possible? How the hell was someone supposed to know what to do when a sexy outlaw biker ended up in their bathroom injured and distraught in the middle of the night? Why was there no precedent for that?
Oh, because things like that never happened.
After she’d filled the basin with warm, soapy water, she placed it on the countertop next to the sink. Taking the wet cloth, she moved over to Zach. Without her asking, he widened his legs and let her move in close.
The second she stepped between his spread thighs, she realized her mistake. He may have been injured, and his head may have been fucked up at the moment, but he was no less potent. In fact, his slightly vulnerable state only drew her more. Playing on every caring, nurturing, feminine instinct she possessed.
And then there was the heat; his body radiated it. And the scent; woodsy, fresh, masculine. And of course, the arms; muscled, inked, and so close they could wrap around her with ease. But worst of all was the fact that his head was now breast-height. If he wanted, all he had to do was lean forward and capture her aching nipple in his mouth. Her thin T-shirt and even thinner lace bra did nothing to hide the effect he was having on her.
She could ignore the pull to him. The pheromones. The chemistry. The need. Hell, she’d been ignoring those things for years. This was no different.
Except it was. Everything about this was different because he wasn’t trying to get in her pants. He wasn’t flirting, joking, flashing her that panty-melting grin. He was just himself. Completely open and at her mercy.