“Fuck,” he part-whispers, part-cries, part-bites against my damp skin as he cums. He shudders above me, his body trembling, his fingers flexing in the roots of my hair.
We rest in that position a while, silent, limbs still tangled together. After a few minutes, he lays a gentle kiss on my neck, pulls out, and rolls onto his back beside me. I close my eyes, taking in his scent that’s still fresh on my skin until a light sleep comes for me.
Chapter 14
Sabrina
“Whatever happens, you’re staying here. Under my roof.”
Sure, under the roof that’s charred in one corner, in a soot-covered clubhouse that’s in shambles due to a bombing by God knows who.
I look over at Silas with disbelief as he moves off the bed and finds his jeans. “Why?”
“Until we figure out who’s after you and why you’re on their agenda, you’re not safe. I can keep an eye on you here.”
An eye.
And his hands.
And his tongue.
And that thick, pleasure-creating mass between his legs.
I shake my head. It’s no safer here than anywhere else in the world. Especially with who’s hunting me.
He’ll never stop.
Silas is still talking, but I tune him out, ignoring that somewhere in his rant, he’s probably being ridiculously sweet. None of it matters if he thinks he’s still making decisions for me. Those choices are mine for a reason, and by not listening, he’s making things worse for himself.
“Silas, you can’t keep me around indefinitely.” I breathe out a sigh and roll onto my side. “I’m not your pet.”
That sweet sex session has done nothing to soften his stance. “You’re staying here. End of story.”
I’m about to say something when he completely ruins my buzz by walking out shirtless and pulling the door shut. I’m barely breathing as I bolt up in bed, snatching the sheet to my chest.
He’s gone.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groan, running a hand through my messed up hair.
It’s not that I was expecting him to take me into his arms and hold me all night, but to leave the room right after telling me I had to stay? It’s damn unnerving. The sexy possessive alpha was just all about his control and my pleasure. He’s probably satisfying some weird guilt complex where my safety is concerned.
Or his own.
With a long, frustrated exhale, I flop back on his bed and stare at the ceiling. Is it safe to live in a place that was bombed less than three hours ago? Aren’t there fire codes and hazards or something? Anything so I can find a way out.
It’s time to get up, have a shower, and start working on options B, C and D.
Maybe an E if I have to.
Whatever it takes.
I’m retying the drawstrings of my borrowed sweatpants when Silas opens the door again.
I give him an annoyed sideways glance. “I need a shirt. You ripped this one.”
“Check the top drawer.”
“Thanks.” I turn to look him straight in the eye. “Silas, if you want to have a discussion about letting me go instead of telling me what to do again, I’m very much open to suggestions.”
“Okay. If there’s anything else you want to tell me before I find it out on my own, now’s the time to do it.”
I have no verbal response, and turn to find the t-shirt so he doesn’t have a chance to read my eyes for a reaction.
“Whenever you’re ready,” he adds, then he turns and steps out of the room, leaving the door ajar.
“You’re not letting me go, and you won’t discuss it?”
No answer.
His silence isn’t horribly surprising, but he can at least try to give me something to work with, like a groan, or body language, something. What, now that we had sex I’m supposed to elevate to the level of mind reader?
“Seriously, Silas?”
There’s no one in the hallway.
He’s gone again.
Ready to give him another piece of my mind, I tuck the t-shirt into the sweatpants, pull my hair into a bun and walk out the open door, looking each way down the corridor to see where he went. No one’s around. Only a half-opened door across the hall.
An eerie calm prickles at the base of my spine. My brow furrows. Something is off. There isn’t that sense of overwhelming heat in the air like when Silas comes around—and part of me doubts that he’d leave me alone with the door unlocked, knowing that I’ve repeatedly asked to go. I feel my hair falling out of the bun I just made, and consider going back to the room to find a bandana or something I can use in his dresser.
“Silas?” I say his name in a question in the direction of the stairs, but not too loudly, just in case this is my one shot at getting the hell out of here.
No.
It can’t be this easy.
Can it?
Of course, it can’t. As I turn to go back to the bedroom, my foot catches mid-pivot when a hand yanks me by the throat. It pulls me backward, slamming my stunned head against the wall and causing that weird, dizzying ricochet effect as it bounces back.
“What the fuck?” I manage to gurgle, clawing at the strangely feminine hand wrapped around my throat. “Who. The. Hell. Are. You?”
Sharp bursts of pain cloud my vision. My whole upper body sings with pinpricks of agony while my mind desperately makes an effort to catch up to the random ambush from an unknown hell-bitch. My instincts kick in right away, my hands reaching up to rip away her forearms. I know I’m making a dent through the other woman’s flesh, maybe drawing blood as well. But the woman doesn’t budge. Not an inch. I sneak a painful sideways glance and see the looming brunette stranger leering at me, showing pearly whites behind her blood-red lipstick.
She presses more firmly into my personal space and tightens her grip around my neck.
“Here’s how this is going to go down, sweetie,” she sneers. “You’re gonna stay away from Silas for the rest of your short stay, and that way I can leave your pretty eyes inside your skull. He’s mine. Got it?”
“You’re confused, lady. I don’t want him.”
“Shut your fucking mouth, slut.” She brings her lips to mere inches from my ear. “I worked way too hard and far too long in this club to have a princess like you show up and wreck all my building blocks. You didn’t put in the time. You’re nothing. Not to me, and sure as shit not to him. So, do yourself a favor. Let me keep my freshly done manicure. Save your skull a beating, and leave the big boys to the big girls. I won’t ask you again.”
She hammers her point home by shoving her palm into my forehead, bouncing the back of my skull against the wooden wall again.
“We can’t settle this with a civil conversation, can we, you crazy bitch!” I half shove the woman off, fighting for air.
“Aww, isn’t that cute. She thinks she has permission to speak.” The woman cocks her head and pouts as her syrupy brown eyes glaze over with malice. “Shut your trap and open your ears, princess, or we’re gonna have a bigger problem.”
She steps around and tightens her fingers around my windpipe. Instinct kicks in and I stomp my bare foot on the top of her arch. I swipe a hand across the slut’s breast, punching her with all the force I can drum up. I grab a breast in the process, twisting it with everything I have. It’s fighting dirty, but what choice do I have? The deranged bitch set the terms with her sneak attack. The brunette cries out, and her hand finally falls away from my throat to clasp at her own chest. Now, the chick is wearing a look of shocked horror. One I desperately wish I could take a picture of to have as a keepsake. I guess she didn’t realize who the fuck she was dealing with.
“You don’t know me or my intentions!” I point out, choking out the strained words through my painfully sore throat, thanks to her. “If I were you, I’d back the hell off before you find out what I can do with a loaded gun and some fishing wire.” I rub at my throat, taking two steps forward despite the dizziness coming on from the temporary lack of air and the
searing pain in my neck. “I have friends where it counts. Touch me again and they’ll be lining up to kick your pathetic, cheap ass.”
The brunette measures me with a suspicious look. She must see some truth behind my glare, because she takes a few steps backward, crossing her arms over her chest. “Stay the fuck away from him.”
“Go fuck yourself.” I can’t leave the hallway until the woman knows her place. It doesn’t matter that I don’t know heads or tails about the brunette. She has to be some crazy stalker chick, because I’d never be inside this clubhouse if Silas didn’t want me there. That means I have some position, but I don’t give a shit about some two-bit, slut-faced whore from an outlaw motorcycle club. I have to hold my ground because if I don’t, this bitch will try this again and again for the duration of my hopefully short stay.
Shoving that thought to the back of my brain, I remember all the convenient items hanging on the walls on the way from the main stairs to Silas’s bedroom. I can fight with my hands and kick with my legs if I really want too, but this woman needs a message that’s as clear as day. I take four giant steps down the hall and pull down the baseball bat I’d seen.
It’s probably a collector’s item.
Maybe rare too.
Fuck it.
At this point, I don’t give a crap if it was used by Babe fucking Ruth.
I swing the bat up to one shoulder and take three long, quick steps closer to the brunette. “You don’t want to play games with me, bitch. Trust me, I’ll break your shins and crack that dense skull of yours before anyone notices…or maybe I’ll come find you in your sleep.”
The woman’s eyes go wide. I have her full attention now.
“Fine,” the clubhouse twat bares her teeth and trots away with all the fuss of a dwindling tornado. After that show, I stand in the middle of the corridor, clutching the bat and waiting for other unseen threats. This place has more surprises than a Halloween house of horrors. If there’s one thing that remains constant throughout the craziness, it’s that I need to Get. The Hell. Out of here. It’s way easier to face what’s waiting for me at home than put more people in the crossfire while having to sleep with one eye open for however long Silas thinks he can keep me here.
Wait a second.
Silas.
Where in the hell did he disappear after leaving the room?
If he had anything at all to do with the catty brunette attacking me, I’ll take a fucking swing at him with the damned baseball bat too, next time I see his smug, domineering face.
There are only three reasons he’d be a part of letting someone jump me like that. Maybe he wants to warn me against falling hard for him because he’s the bad boy I can’t have. It can also be that he found out that my skeleton closet is full to overflowing. Hell, it may be as simple as the brunette bitch believes she has some kind of claim to him. No matter which one is true, none of them can end well for me if I stick around. Come hell or high water, I’m finding a way home the second I can steal away.
Chapter 15
Silas
Fuck, do those birds outside have to chirp so fucking loud in the morning? I rub my temple and move closer to the pool table to take my shot. Ever since I had my cornflakes with whiskey instead of milk and minus the cornflakes, Axe has been looking at me funny. Neither of us has seen Sabrina all morning, except for the five-minute wake-up call where she thought she could start calling the shots again. A timeout is a good idea after driving her wild in bed last night. To keep my distance, I slept on the creaking leather recliner in the MC den, surrounded by sack demons trying unsuccessfully to remove my pants, and overcompensating for their failure by pouring me more shots.
Which explains my wicked hangover.
Usually, there ain’t a damn thing that more liquor and pussy can’t fix. It’s two of the three things in our holy trinity.
Booze.
Bush.
Bullets.
Not necessarily in that order. But I don’t want just any pussy now. That’s the part that leaves me in a cloud of confusion about the petite vixen upstairs in on my bed. A slight smile slips up my lips. I’m the one who gave her a reason to be tired. Straightening my shoulders, I shoot two billiard balls into their rightful pockets.
Axe walks around the pool table, analyzing all the different options. “Man, I thought getting a piece of Sabrina would fuck with your game. Guess I shouldn’t have made that bet for a hundy. Now we know she’s not your biggest problem.”
I lean against the nearby wall with my cue in one hand. “I’ve got the prospect and a small team watching the parking lot for the others to roll in. They’ll need some downtime soon. Someone needs to relieve them later.”
The sharp clicks of the hard cue balls smashing together make me wince through my hangover. Fuck. I’ll need a few more hours of sleep after this game.
“I’m on it,” Axe confirms.
I wake up in the clubhouse meeting room a couple of hours later. What we’re about to do requires a clear head.
Axe walks in like he’s been monitoring the room for movements. “Got enough shuteye?”
“No, but fuck it. Sleep can wait.”
His facial expression goes serious. He hesitates for a split second and holds on to the backrest of one of the swivel chairs at the other end of the room. “Are our plans still on the books today, boss?”
I nod.
“Nice. Then it’s time.”
“Uh-huh. Time to take action. The team’s ready, right?”
“We should be all set.”
“How many do we have altogether?”
“Seventeen officers and voting members, plus us four executives. So, twenty-one in total. By the way, I put Dean on clubhouse restoration duty.”
“Good. How’s he working out?”
“So far so good.”
“Silas!” Speak of the devil. Dean, our Road Captain prospect for the club, hurls his tall, broad frame through the meeting room door. “Everyone’s here.”
“Thanks for looking out. Is Cindy back yet?”
“Yeah. She just drove up.”
“Perfect. See if anyone needs help in the back room.”
“Sure. You got it, boss.”
“I’ll be right there.” I wait until I’m alone to dig into my pocket and find the phone. Hitting speed dial, I bring the phone up to my ear. Someone I don’t recognize picks up the call after the first ring. “It’s Corrigan,” I announce. “Checking up on how you liked the shipment after our meeting yesterday.”
“Mr. Giovanni will be right with you, sir.”
Figures, the guy would hire help answer his fucking phone. Which is funny considering that every prior conversation we had before today was man to man.
“Mr. Corrigan,” Giovanni answers. “Nice of you to check in.”
“I’m assuming we’re all good?”
“Yes, we received the items as scheduled. Everything is more than satisfactory.”
Well of course it is. Does this man not know who he’s working with?
“Good to hear.”
“I’d like to make that volume a regular arrangement if you’re able to manage that capacity.”
I have no idea why anyone would need that many weapons on a regular basis. Giovanni either has a massive nationwide operation, is stockpiling them for some unknown future use, or he’s smuggling the bulk of them across the Pacific where the demand for American brands is still high. Or all three. I don’t give a fuck what the man plans to do with them, though. I’m glad for the extra business.
“We can.” I keep my ears honed in on my newest repeat customer’s voice. “There’s one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about an attack on my club last night, would you?”
“Attack?” he asks, but it sounds more rhetorical. It’s like the fucker already knows. “No, not at all. What sort of attack?”
I grit my teeth, realizing it’s a fucking longshot to think this doucheba
g would give me any kind of information if he knows anything. “Low-grade explosives. Nothing too serious. You didn’t know about it?”
“That’s alarming to hear. It sounds like quite the mess.” Giovanni isn’t giving me direct answers to any of my questions.
“You could say that. If you hear anything through your sources—”
“Absolutely, I’ll pass along any information if I find out more about it. You’ve got a satisfied customer here. Rest assured, we’re on the same team now. I’m sure you understand.”
“Sure,” I reply through gritted teeth. “I’d appreciate that.”
“So, are we covered for the next shipment or do we need to renegotiate?”
“Same time, same place, same supply.”
“Excellent.”
Click.
I blink a few times, staring into the empty void as I wait for the man to continue. There’s nothing on the other end of the line. Fucker hung up on me. Shaking my head, I shove my phone back in my pocket. That son of a bitch might have denied any knowledge about last night, but regardless of what the motherfucker said over the phone, my instincts are on full alert. Don’t trust a soul, and Giovanni sounds like he’s hiding something. It’s not just paranoia. I’ve already seen that the man lives for power and thrives on dominance. It’s nothing I don’t already see in the mirror every fucking day. We’re both alpha-style leaders, but running a motorcycle club that’s jam packed with alpha males makes me more aware of what’s needed to handle this prick. That’s why negotiating with people like him is second nature to me. In our world, balls, brawn and boldness are a necessity when dealing with the worst of the worst.
Outlaw (Satan's Saints MC) Page 8