Neil (The Uncompromising Series Book 2)

by Sybil Bartel

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” Was he crazy?

  “It will protect you and your son.”

  My heart took a giant hit. But then reality surfaced. “Who’s going to protect you?”

  “I can handle myself.”

  From what I’d seen in the warehouse, I didn’t doubt him but numbers were still numbers and the Lone Coasters had a lot of members. This wasn’t a fair fight. “They out-number you.”

  “I know.”

  And it hadn’t stopped him yet, not that I knew of, but shouldn’t he be teaming up with André on this? I didn’t ask because there was something else I wanted to know that was bugging the shit out of me. “Why did Jason have Conner and my car? I would never put my son in danger.”

  “Tanner used your trust. You told me he asked to spend the day with your son.”

  I wasn’t surprised, that was his MO, but I just couldn’t believe I was stupid enough to fall for it again. And I’d involved André and Viking in my mess. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

  “I am not.”

  As I stared up at this warrior, I felt like little pieces of the puzzle were falling into place but all the big chucks were still missing. Viking had killed for me. He’d risked his life to save me and my son. He had the battle scars to prove it. But none of that explained why he’d done it. And I was too chickenshit to ask or even acknowledge the door he’d opened with his last statement. I took a deep breath. “What happens next?”

  “I treat your wound.”

  YOU WOULDN’T THINK A MAN whose hands were bigger than my head could be gentle but Viking was exactly that. He’d lifted my shirt, smoothed on antibiotic ointment and put a bandage over my wound with minimal pressure or discomfort.

  “You’ve done this before.” Perched on the end of his bed, him sitting behind me, all I wanted was to lie down in his arms.

  “Yes.” He eased my shirt back down. “You need to eat.” He closed his first aid kit and stood.

  The thought of food turned my stomach. “So do you.”

  “I ate earlier.” He held a hand out. “Come.”

  I was beginning to see a pattern. Viking hadn’t slept in the same bed with me. He didn’t eat in front of me. He’d treated his own wounds. He always appeared already showered and dressed. My heart sank as it dawned on me. He said he didn’t do attachments but maybe that was because he was already attached. Oh God. I glanced at his left hand but there was no ring. “Are you married?”

  “No.” He dropped his hand, took my arm and helped me up. “How sore are you?”

  I hated the relief I felt. “I’m fine. Thanks for the bandage.”

  He cupped the back of my neck and dropped his voice. “I was not referring to your back.” His thumb stroked my cheek.

  My nipples hardened, my pussy clenched and everything south went achy with need. “All good.” Shit.

  “I did not intend for last night to be a single occurrence.”

  It took everything I had to keep my expression neutral. “Pretty sure I made myself clear.”

  “I am making myself clear.” He cupped me.

  I bit back a squeak but I didn’t move away. God, I needed to walk away but he was like a fucking drug you couldn’t not take a hit of. “You said you don’t do relationships… or attachments.” Jesus, he felt good. “What are you doing?” My voice shook.

  “Touching you.” He stroked me.

  “Take your hand off me.”

  He did the opposite. He increased the pressure. “You like my touch.”

  Oh my God, he knew exactly what he was doing. “You fucked me and I let you.” I soaked the leggings and fought a moan as I tried to navigate his abrupt form of conversation. “What I like isn’t the issue.”

  “Then what is?”

  Everything about him was a weapon. “You’re not the commitment type.”

  “You do not want commitment from me.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was saying he knew what I wanted or if he was merely saying I didn’t want it from him. Either way, it didn’t matter. This wasn’t happening. “You don’t get to speak for me.”

  His hand slipped under my leggings and same as last night, his finger penetrated me and instantly curled. He stroked me deep, once. “Then tell me you do not want this.”

  My hands flew to his wrist, except I didn’t pull him away. I shoved him deeper and ground my hips like a fucking addict. “I don’t,” I panted.

  A second finger slipped inside, stretching me. With the perfect amount of pressure, he swept a path along my front wall and concentrated a tight circle exactly where he knew I would fall apart. “Do you want to come?”

  Oh my God. “Yes.” I shamelessly humped his hand like a dog in heat.

  His thumbnail slid across my clit and exquisite pain shot out from the sensitive nerve. His fingers curled inside me, pushed up and into my G-spot and he practically vibrated his hand.

  I fucking exploded.

  But before I’d finished coming, he jerked his hand out, spun me, and yanked my pants over my ass. Kicking my legs apart, the leggings stretched to a constraint around my upper thighs and he barked out a command. “Bend.”

  My core still pulsing, too far gone to pretend I didn’t want exactly what he was about to dish out, I braced my hands on the bed and raised my ass in the air.

  He slapped my pussy.

  My mouth popped open to gasp in shock but his fingers drove into me and the protest turned to a groan. I thrust against his assault.

  He fucked me with his fingers and brought me back to the edge.

  “Oh God,” I pleaded. “Don’t stop.”

  He pulled out and ran his fingers up the slit of my ass, soaking my tight entrance with my own arousal. My hips jerked back in protest but it was too late. Two fingers sank into my cunt and a third penetrated my ass.

  My back shot straight and I cried out at the invasion. The pressure, the stigma, being more turned on than I’d ever been in my life, I whimpered as he began an opposing thrusting rhythm. As his fingers sunk into my cunt and hit my G-shot, the finger in my ass pulled out and down. When the two fingers pulled back from my pussy, he drove the other finger hard into my ass. Over and over in an opposing rhythm, he worked me.

  My hips started pumping with his thrusts and my hands found my aching nipples. Pinching myself harder than I’d ever done, I started to shake.

  Both his fingers drove deep into my core and with one hard press, I screamed.

  Coming and coming and coming, shaking, pulsing, I fucking shattered. My weight braced on my hands because my legs were rubber, I moaned as Viking thrust his fingers once more then slowly pulled out.

  The second he wasn’t touching me, regret set in. But when he pulled my leggings back up like I was a cheap whore, embarrassment hit. Feeling defensive and too vulnerable for words, I opened my stupid mouth and shit spewed out. “Guess I was wasting my time with younger men. Over a decade more experience than me, you sure know how to work a woman, don’t you?” I straightened and yanked my shirt down, refusing to look at him.

  “Men or man?”

  The question was like a slap in the face. “You should know,” I snapped. “You know everything else about me.” I moved toward the bathroom, hating myself for wondering why he hadn’t fucked me and worse, feeling cheap and dirty that he didn’t.

  “Stop.”

  I sucked in a breath but I didn’t pause. Instead, I held my middle finger up and—not gonna lie—it felt good as hell.

  André pounded on the door. “Get out here. Fed’s gone.”

  Viking raised his voice. “Two minutes.” Then he moved. He was at the bathroom door before I could slam it in his face and there was no mistaking his expression. “Do not walk away when I am speaking to you.” He stepped back and barked out an order. “Clean up. Living room, two minutes.” He pivoted and walked out.

  I slammed the door anyway. Pacing the stupid bathroom, heat flaming my cheeks, I hated him. And wanted him. And hated him. And
I wanted a new goddamn life. Motherfucking asshole Jason. And fuck Viking. He could fucking clean up. I marched out of the bathroom, through the bedroom and stormed into the living room. “What the fuck are we doing about this?” I demanded.

  Both of them had their backs to me but André turned first. “We’re handling it.”

  My finger popped up and was pointing before I could think twice about it. “You’re handling it?” I jabbed my aim in Viking’s direction as he turned, all calm and collected. “Or he is? Because he said he was returning the guns and he wanted the LCs coming after him.”

  André turned on Viking. “What?”

  Viking crossed his arms and stared at me.

  I knew it. He was a one-man show. “Guess he didn’t tell you.”

  André looked mad enough to spit. He glared at Viking. “This isn’t what we discussed.”

  “You are correct.” Viking spared André a glance. “We did not discuss anything.”

  “What the hell does that mean? We went over the plan.”

  “You went over your plan,” Viking clarified. He tipped his chin at me. “I am taking her out to eat.”

  “You’re what?” André practically levitated. “The hell you are. The LCs will be all over you in half a second!”

  “Hopefully.” Viking shoved past André. “I am going to get dressed.”

  “You’re not using her as bait. I won’t allow it,” André barked. “She has a kid.”

  Viking stopped and leveled André with a look I wouldn’t wish on anyone. “Do you think I would endanger her son?”

  “Do you want him growing up without a mother?” André countered, not even fazed by Viking’s lethal look.

  “We are not hiding out and we are not waiting for them to make the first move. Pietra’s, seven o’clock.” He named one of the most expensive restaurants in South Beach.

  “Have you even asked her what she wants?”

  Viking turned to me without an ounce of emotion. “Would you like to accompany me to dinner?”

  Jesus fuck, he was a cold bastard. “Do I have a choice?”

  “Yes.”

  That was it. That was all he said. He didn’t elaborate and I knew a test when I heard one. He wanted to gamble with both our lives. My mothering instinct was screaming at me hard to hide out but that didn’t bring me closer to getting Conner back. More, I’d never been one to back down and I wasn’t stupid. Showing fear to a motorcycle gang, or any opponent, was as good as throwing the towel in. I made a decision. “I have nothing to wear.”

  Viking studied me a second then glanced at André. “Have one of your men get her clothes from her apartment. I will meet him in the garage when he gets here.”

  André’s glare didn’t lessen but resignation filtered into his frown. “You’re asking for trouble. If we do this my way, I’ve got my guys in place ready to take Candle when he surfaces.”

  “He is not going to surface where your men are watching.”

  “So you wanna draw him out to a crowded restaurant with a bunch of innocent bystanders?”

  “Get her clothes.” Viking walked out of the apartment, leaving me and André standing there.

  “Where is he going?” He’d said he was going to change.

  André swore under his breath then pulled his phone out. “No clue.”

  “This isn’t his place?” He’d said it was.

  “One of them. What do you want from your apartment?”

  I was so far out of my element that I didn’t even balk at a strange man going through my shit or question why Viking was going somewhere else to change. “A dress and heels. And some makeup.” I wasn’t going out to a five-star restaurant with a black-and-blue face.

  He dialed and held the phone to his ear. “Get the suitcase out of the guest unit upstairs then go to Ariel’s and grab a dress, shoes and makeup… I know. I want you followed… Text Christensen when you’re in the garage.” He hung up. “You sure you want to go through with this?”

  “I don’t want to hide up here forever.”

  His jaw ticked. “It won’t be forever, just long enough to get Candle.”

  “That’s not going to eliminate the threat.” Viking said there was more than one LC looking for the guns.

  He exhaled. “It’ll go a long way in handling it.”

  Something in the way he sighed seemed suspicious. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  His hands went to his hips and he ducked his head for a moment. When he brought his gaze back to mine, he looked resigned. “You really don’t remember me, chica?”

  Something close to alarm prickled across the back of my neck. “When is Neil coming back?”

  “Shit.” He drew the swear out. “He got his hooks in you that deep already? You know he won’t keep you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the little man who’s got your laugh. Hasn’t he been through enough with your ex?”

  It felt like a knife sank into my heart. “You know Jason?”

  André snorted. “Yeah, I know him.”

  Embarrassment stiffened my back. “I protect my son from Jason’s bullshit.”

  “And Christensen’s?”

  Wow. Okay. “You got a reason to be jealous or are you just an asshole by nature?”

  A wry smile touched his full lips. “Hard to believe you lost your memory, chica, because your fire hasn’t taken a hit.”

  I barely refrained from telling him to fuck off. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  His face sobered. “I’m not jealous, I’m concerned. We’re both from the same neighborhood and I look out for my own. I’m just being straight with you. I’ve never seen Christensen stick to a woman and I’ve known him years. You’re a good girl, chica. You want a man, you’re barking up the wrong tree. Christensen’s more elusive than the fucking wind. That’s all I’m saying.”

  I wasn’t an idiot but hearing André say it, it made it a hundred times more real and stung a hell of a lot harder. “I’m not with him.”

  “He sure as shit is acting like you are.”

  “Acting how? Like an alpha asshole? Like the exact same thing you’re doing right now?”

  André shook his head and his shoulders relaxed. “All right, all right, I hear you.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “Honestly?” André rubbed a hand over his face. “No damn clue. The high-rises he builds are like fucking mazes to me and they all blend together after awhile. A bunch of steel and glass and right angles.”

  “He built this place?”

  “His company did. This and lots of others just like it along the ocean.”

  Jesus, he wasn’t just rich, he was seriously loaded. “I’m not going to fall at some guy’s feet because he has money.” I didn’t know why I was trying to justify myself to him.

  “Most single moms would.” He shrugged like it was no big deal.

  “Are you saying I’m cheap?”

  “You’re practical and he’s the opportunity of opportunities.”

  “I’m no gold digger.” Was I?

  He held a hand up. “Never said you were, but you’re raising a kid on your own and Christensen shows up. He throws down a little cash, drives you to your friend’s wedding in the Keys.” He raised an eyebrow. “And now he’s pulling your ass out of the fire, or with his crazy-ass plan tonight, placing you directly in it. Either way, it’s a hard temptation to resist. You wouldn’t be the first to fall for it.”

  The second he said wedding, an image of tea lights and soft ocean breezes surfaced in my memory, but then nothing. “Wow. Do you hate all your friends as much as you hate him?”

  “I never said he was my friend, chica. Remember that.” His phone rang and he answered. “Luna… Copy that. Five minutes.” He hung up. “I’ve gotta go. You sure you want to do this tonight?”

  I wasn’t sure of anything. I just wanted to see my son and get my damn memory back. “I want Conner with me.”

  An
dré nodded like he understood. “Wait for Christensen. You’re safe here.” He walked to the door and I swore I heard him mutter under his breath, for now.

  MY STOMACH GROWLED. I FOUND some fruit on the counter in the kitchen but a few bites in, anxiety twisted my gut all to hell, making me more nauseous than hungry. I stared at the panoramic view of South Beach as the day slipped into dusk and the aqua water turned every color of the sunset. I could remember a lot of sunsets but none with Viking.

  A clock ticked somewhere but other than that, all I could hear was the sound of my own breathing and it was making me more anxious by the second. I couldn’t even go sit on the balcony because I couldn’t figure out how to get the damn glass door open. There wasn’t even a handle anywhere.

  I contemplated a shower for the hundredth time in half an hour but I didn’t want to be surprised by someone walking in on me. The tenuous grasp on fake calm I had was slipping with each second I spent alone. I hated not remembering how this all had happened and worse, I felt helpless as hell. I didn’t have any money or a way out of here and I was at the mercy of men I didn’t know or trust. And if the LCs got to André or Viking, then I was really fucked because I couldn’t even think of a single person I could call.

  I leaned my head on the window and a sharp knock sounded at the front door. My heart jumped but I told myself an LC wouldn’t knock, neither would Viking. With no peephole or chain on the stupid fancy condo door, I raised my voice. “Who is it?”

  “It’s Tyler. I’ve got your clothes.”

  I opened the door a few inches and a clean-cut guy in the same exact outfit as André—but with his left arm all bandaged up—pushed past me. Pulling a rolling suitcase I recognized with a garment bag folded over the top, he stopped a few feet in and turned to me. “Hey, babe.” The hand on his good arm reached to my forehead and gently pushed my hair back as he grimaced. “I’m sorry about that.”

  Why the hell did all these men think they could touch me? I stepped around him and tried to act casual. “Not your fault.” I guessed.

  “I know but I’m still sorry. I should’ve been quicker.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about. “How’s your arm?”