by Zoey Parker
But that makes no sense. Because first of all, Frankie Caserta had been exactly where we were tipped off that he would be. It was his weekly poker game, and he was known for hanging around outside afterward and shooting the shit with the other guys.
And second, if they could do all that to find Lauren and suss out her identity, they could have easily grabbed her a lot sooner over these past few weeks.
And then I'd have been getting pieces of her sent to me along with Growler's.
That image in my head sent a violent shudder through my whole body.
When it came to this kind of stuff, Bard had a saying. “I believe in coincidences, because I know they happen every day. But I certainly don't trust them.”
So if it wasn't coincidence that brought us together again tonight and it wasn't some play the Bonaccorsos were making, what was it?
Maybe fate is a real thing after all. Maybe it just keeps on knocking until we finally decide to open the door to it.
As if on cue, the door to the bathroom opened and Lauren stood there with a pink towel wrapped around her, framed by billowing clouds of steam. Her hair was damp and clinging to her neck, and the droplets forming on her face reminded me of the morning dew I used to see when the Reapers slept out under the stars during a run. She was very pale and she'd clearly been through a lot, but she was still gorgeous.
Without a word, Lauren walked over to the couch and sat on it, drawing her knees up to her chest and hugging them. She was shaking despite the hot shower she'd taken, and her teeth were chattering. She noticed that I was looking at her, and forced a laugh. “Yeah, sorry, I've actually, um...never...been...shot at before...”
Suddenly, she completely fell apart in front of me, crying loudly. I went to sit next to her, wrapping my arms around her shaking shoulders and holding her tight. I've never been good at comforting women before, and I hoped I was doing it right. All I could think to do was keep patting her on the shoulder and whispering, “It's okay, don't worry, everything's okay” over and over. I felt pretty goddamn silly doing it, but it seemed to help her calm down.
“Those men were going to hurt me,” she said through a series of hitching sobs.
“I know,” I said, “but they won't hurt you or anyone else ever again.”
“Thank you,” she breathed, and I felt her tears soaking through my t-shirt. “Thank you, thank you.”
“Hey, I'll never let anyone hurt you, baby,” I answered, stroking her wet hair. Jesus, what the hell am I promising her that for? Am I supposed to be her bodyguard or her boyfriend from now on with everything else that's going on?
But I knew that I couldn't take it back, and what's more, I knew I didn’t want to. It was a promise I meant to keep.
Lauren wrapped her arms around my neck and looked at me with red-rimmed eyes, sniffling. “Do you really mean that, Nic? Do you promise you’ll protect me?”
“Do you know what you're asking?” I whispered hoarsely. I was thinking about all of the fights and shoot-outs I'd had since joining the Reapers and wondering if she really felt like she could stay safe and sane if she were regularly involved with that stuff. Most people couldn't, after all. Why should she be any different?
She leaned in close, her lips inches away from mine. “I know what I'm asking. I’m asking for us to be together,” she replied, wiping away a tear. “I feel like I could handle anything if I knew you were there to keep me safe.”
No one had ever said anything like that to me before. Plenty of wild chicks who were into the whole biker thing had tried to propose to me over the years, desperate to become my old lady and achieve a position of respect and stability within the Reapers. They were hot and they knew the score, but none of them had ever really depended on me or wanted to get close to me. I'd known that they were basically whores and party girls who couldn't be trusted if things went bad.
But looking into Lauren's eyes, I could let myself believe that she meant every word she said. Even though she barely knew me, it was clear that she cared about me and wanted to be close to me, even if it meant taking risks.
I didn't know whether she'd still feel that way if I let her get close enough to see more of the ugly side of my world. But at that moment, I didn't care. I just knew that I wanted her more than I'd ever wanted anyone.
I leaned forward and kissed her.
Chapter Eighteen
Lauren
Our lips met, our tongues rushing to embrace each other like long-lost lovers. My damp palms caressed his face and shoulders, and I pressed my body against his, desperate for the shelter it provided. His hands were on me too, moving beneath the loose towel draped around me. It came undone and he pulled it away, tossing it aside to reveal my wet and naked body.
Nic stood, and for a terrible moment, I thought he was having second thoughts about us. I knew that I had asked a lot of him, and even though he might agree in the heat of the moment, it would be easy for him to reconsider once the meaning of it really sank in. After all, aren't bikers supposed to be obsessed with freedom and not getting tied down? In his promise to protect me, he had tied himself to me.
But instead, Nic leaned down and slid his muscular arms under my knees and behind my back, picking me up and cradling me as though I were weightless. I had never felt so safe in my life.
I'd meant what I'd said to him. Even though the violence I'd seen earlier tonight shocked me and made me sick to my stomach, it still somehow felt more right to me than the time I'd spent without Nic. I didn't want to be without him for another moment. And if that led to more shoot-outs and high-speed chases, well, maybe it wouldn't be what I was used to, but it would be better than an empty bed every night and memories of one night of happiness. I felt like I could endure any pain, any fear, anything life could throw at me, if it meant knowing that Nic would be there to take care of me.
Nic carried me into the small bedroom and lowered me to the full-sized mattress. He pulled off his shirt and threw it onto the floor, then bent to his knees at the foot of the bed and gently pushed my knees apart.
He went down on me, and this time, the remains of the evening's adrenaline rush made it even more intense than it had been on Christmas. His tongue's steady and insistent rhythm made me ache with delight. I could feel his fingers pushing inside me, locating the soft and willing wall of my G-spot and stroking it so hard I was sure that I would pass out from the pleasure. I arched my back and let a moan escape my lips. My voice was so ragged and husky in my throat that I barely recognized the sound of it. My lower body vibrated as I climaxed, and I heard a sound of satisfaction from between my legs as Nic realized the happiness he'd given me.
Nic stood up and moved to lie down next to me on the bed, but his fingers remained inside of me. Their pace quickened, thrusting deeper and deeper inside of me each time until it seemed like he'd shove them through the wall of my uterus and all the way up into my belly. He put his other arm around me and I pressed against him again hungrily, gripping him tightly and hoping he would never let go. He kissed me deeply, his hand's middle and ring fingers continuing to explore every inch of my pussy as his thumb pressed against my clit and rubbed it urgently in a circular motion. My gasps drew in tighter and tighter, and I knew that soon I'd scream whether I wanted to or not.
Suddenly, I felt a strange sensation I'd never experienced during sex before, almost as though I had to pee without warning. A split-second later, a tsunami of warm fluid sprayed from me in a hot gush, drenching Nic's hand. For a mortifying moment, I actually thought I had somehow peed myself during sex, and wanted to curl up and die. But then I realized that what was coming out of me was something else—a thinner fluid with a cleaner scent.
Oh my God, I just squirted. No one has ever made me do that before.
The clear juices were gleaming on my inner thighs and the sheet beneath me was soaked. I was trembling all over. Nic withdrew his hand and undid his belt and zipper. He wriggled out of his jeans and boxers and threw them over the side of the bed. Then he
settled back against the mattress as though waiting for me to mount him like I had the first time. His cock was erect and pointed toward the ceiling like a compass displaying true north.
I rolled onto my side and met his eyes with my own, cupping his face in my shaking hands. “I need you on top of me,” I whispered. I needed to feel him on top of me like a blanket, covering me and keeping me safe. More than that, I needed him to cradle me and show me that I belonged to him.
Nic leaned back, his arm reaching down to find the pocket of his jeans. I was confused for a moment until I saw him yank out his wallet and pull a condom from it.
A bit late for that, I thought wryly.
I reached over and put my hands over his before he could tear the wrapper open. “Not this time,” I said. “Please. I want to really feel you.”
Nic hesitated for a moment, then nodded and flipped the condom onto the floor next to his clothes. He climbed on top of me, and his weight was just as warm and comforting as I'd known it would be. He put his knees between mine and nudged them apart softly, then put the palms of his hands under my neck and kissed me deeply. I felt his quivering tip pressed against my labia, and a moment later he pushed inside me with every inch, finding the back wall of my pussy easily and plunging against it. He continued to kiss me, swallowing my moans as our hips moved together with a single rhythm.
I had never felt so satisfyingly full—not just physically, but also full of joy and passion. It felt like our souls were meeting and interlocking somewhere in my abdomen, and that we'd be tethered together by this invisible force long after he'd withdrawn from our sexual embrace.
I remembered the collection of cells growing inside of me, and I realized that in some way, this strange and permanent bond had actually been formed weeks ago. Our souls—in the form of the genetic materials that shaped who were were—had already intertwined to create something separate and new. Something unique that would represent both of us and our love for each other.
But tonight, it felt like this connection was finally being acknowledged and nourished.
I wrapped my arms and legs around Nic as tightly as I could. My knees hugged his sides, and my fingernails dug into the taut muscles of his back. Nic's hips were thrusting more quickly, the root of his cock grinding directly against my clit until I thought I would explode. Sure enough, I felt the same wet and insistent tug inside of me moments before I climaxed hard, drenching us both in my fluids. Nic moaned, and I felt him come inside of me a moment later, his semen roaring against my G-spot like a tidal wave.
We held each other for a long time, our sweat and juices mingling in a beautiful musk. I knew that I wanted him again, but after all of the excitement and terror I'd been through that night, I could feel the adrenaline high quickly fading into deep fatigue. Even though my heart was pounding, my limbs and eyelids felt like there were heavy weights tied to them. My thoughts cartwheeled off into the distance as I thought about what tomorrow would bring and whether I could tell Nic about the baby.
Eventually, I slipped into a dreamless sleep in Nic's arms.
Chapter Nineteen
Nic
I was just starting to doze off when my burner buzzed in my pocket. Shit. I can't even have a single fucking moment to be happy and forget about this Giovanni nightmare, can I? I couldn't kid myself that my troubles were over just because I'd reunited with Lauren, but I'd thought that I would at least have a few hours of sleeping next to her to put it out of my mind.
Well, so much for that. Fuck.
I moved my arm to reach for my jeans and Lauren groaned quietly in protest, trying to pull it back over her. “What is it?” she slurred sleepily, her eyes still closed.
“It's okay, darlin',” I whispered. I gently removed her arm and draped it over her body, kissing her forehead. “It's just my phone. I need to answer it, but I'll be right back.”
She murmured something else and rolled over. It looked like she was already asleep again. I pulled the phone from my jeans and walked into the living room, trying to keep my voice down. “Yeah?”
Bard's voice answered. “We need you at the Nest. Now.” He sounded worried.
“What happened?” I asked.
“It's Growler. He turned up.”
“Holy shit,” I answered. I immediately realized that my voice had raised in surprise, and I lowered it again so I wouldn't wake Lauren. “Growler? Is he alive?”
There was a long pause before Bard answered. “You could say that.”
“Well, what kind of shape is he in? How does he look?”
“About as bad as you'd expect,” Bard replied. “Maybe worse, depending on your level of imagination.”
“Fuck,” I said, sighing. “Okay, I'll be right there.”
I hung up and returned to the bedroom, listening to Lauren's steady breathing as I pulled my clothes on. Once I was dressed, I leaned over and kissed her, waking her up. “I have to go out for a little while,” I said. “I want you to stay here until I get back. It shouldn't be too long.”
Lauren looked up at me, confused. “Is everything okay?”
I highly fuckin' doubt it, babe.
“Everything is gonna be fine,” I reassured her. “They just need me at the Nest for a bit, and it's not safe for you to come with. You'll be fine here, though, I promise.”
There was fear in her eyes. “Are you sure? Should I go back to my place?”
I wish to hell that I knew. I wish I could be 100% sure that those wiseguys really did attack her randomly. But if there's even a slight chance that they singled her out because they somehow knew her connection with me, then they'll know where she lives for sure. That's a chance I can't afford to take.
Bard had another favorite saying. “The absence of evidence is not the evidence of absence.” Maybe Bard would be smart enough to see whether an angle was being played here, and if so, what it was and whether it involved Lauren. But just because I couldn't see it didn't mean I could assume it wasn't there.
“You might be safer here,” I answered. “For the moment, anyway.”
“What do you mean, Nic? Am I...not safe now? Is there something I should know?”
I sighed. I sucked at comforting people. But for her sake, I had to try harder. “Look, you're fine, okay? Everything's going to be fine. I just need to go straighten some stuff out with the Reapers. But it's no big deal, and after that I'll come back and tell you more. I'm sorry, I know you're probably confused as hell and I don't mean to sound mysterious, but I really need to go now.”
“Okay,” Lauren replied in a small voice. I hoped that what I'd said had helped, but she still looked anxious. She leaned forward and kissed me again. “Don't worry. I'll be here when you get back.”
I kissed her one more time, then walked out and down the back steps. As I retrieved Lola from the shed and walked her through the alleys to a safe distance, I was certain that Lauren would be fine. After all, she was tougher than she looked, and nothing could hurt her while she was here at the safe house.
Fuck, I wish I'd been right about that. But it turned out that I was dead wrong.
Chapter Twenty
Lauren
I tried to go back to sleep after Nic's phone buzzed. My head was still aching from the panic I'd felt earlier and I felt like I could have used another twelve hours of rest.
But when I heard Nic's half of the phone conversation, I felt fear creeping over my entire body like spiders' legs and I knew that I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep again.
“Holy shit. Growler? Is he alive?”
I remembered that Growler was the huge, heavily-scarred man who was tending bar the night I met Nic. Yikes. If Nic sounds that surprised he's alive, what could have happened to him? I tried to picture the kinds of people who'd be able to hurt someone who looked like Growler, but I couldn't.
“Well, what kind of shape is he in? How does he look?”
I thought of the shooting again, and what Nic had said afterward about how they were at war. It was h
ard to convince myself that what had happened to Growler wasn't related to that war. Had he been shot? Stabbed? Beaten to death? Blown up?
If I really do decide to stay with Nic, could those things happen to me too? Even with the feelings I have for Nic, was I wrong to tell him that I wanted to be with him? Did I make a mistake I can't take back?
And if so, how will I end up paying for it? In heartache or in blood?
I heard Nic's voice from the next room again. “Fuck.”
Whatever happened to Growler, I guess it didn't leave him looking good at all.
“Okay, I'll be right there,” Nic said. I heard him hang up the phone and tried to tell myself that the conversation wasn't necessarily about anything violent. They're bikers. Maybe Growler was in an accident and got injured. Maybe Nic just has to go see his friend in the hospital. He'll come in and tell me that's what happened, and there won't be anything mysterious or sinister to it at all.