Steel Cobras MC Complete Box Set: Books 1-6

by Evie Monroe

I felt like a piece of worthless shit.

  I turned to the wall, my body shaking. I was wired, primed to kill. A second later, she touched my shoulder gently, and I was so incensed that I flinched. “I’m gonna kill them, Nora. Every last one of them.”

  She came around and whispered, in a voice so gentle, “Just hold me, Jet.”

  Instantly, my wound-up nerves relaxed. I couldn’t deny her. Her voice was so fragile I thought she’d break. I pulled her in, closing my arms around her little body, feeling every one of her little bones as she leaned into me.

  She tilted her face up to me and kissed me, first just on the lips, but then long and slow. When I pulled away, I sat down on the sofa. “Let me look at you. Show me where else they hurt you.”

  She slipped off her shredded blouse and unzipped and stepped out of her skirt. Her body looked perfect, not a bruise or mark on it.

  Then she knelt in front of me and reached for my belt buckle. “Let me see you. You haven’t been checked by a doctor yet today, have you?”

  I lifted my ass and helped her pull down my pants and underwear, then yanked my shirt up over my head. “No . . . esiveration. I’m good.”

  She smiled. “Evisceration.” Her finger trailed down over the bandage, stopping at the tape, then treading slowly over it. Then she lifted my dick, leaned forward, and gently laid a kiss on the tip. “I love your cock, Jet. May I?”

  My anger drained off as I watched my sexy surgeon kneeling between my legs. Whatever had happened hadn’t scarred her too much, if she was sitting here, looking at me like that. I nodded. “Yeah. Be my guest.”

  She smiled, then sat up and unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the ground. She moved closer to me in just a little black thong, planting a knee on the cushion by my hip, another on the other side. Her perfect breasts hung in front of me, tempting and teasing me like something out of a dream. She reached between her legs, lifting my cock and pushing the swath of fabric out of the way. Slowly she slipped down onto me, her wicked eyes never leaving mine.

  As she did, she let out a fluttering breath. “Oh, Jet. I’ve been thinking about this all day,” she said when she settled down on me. I was buried in her to the hilt.

  I ran my hands down her sides, lacing my fingers at the small of her back. Then I leaned forward, intending to take one of her perfect nipples into my mouth. But this was just too good. After what I’d been through, worrying about her, wanting to kill and maim and destroy, all I wanted to do was relax into her and keep her safe.

  So I leaned forward and burrowed my face in her cleavage, inhaling her scent, listening to her heart beating all around me.

  Yeah. This was good.

  She rose onto her knees a little, trying to ride me, but I held her firm. “Not yet,” I murmured into her tits, wrapping my arms tightly around her small body. “Let me just feel you like this. This is good.”

  No. It wasn’t just good. This girl was making me crazy. Crazy and content, at the same moment.

  She started to squirm a little. “Jet,” she said, her hands on my shoulders, her pulse fluttering under me. “I need to move. I want to.”

  “All right, baby.”

  She lifted off me, only to come back down. I slipped a nipple into my mouth and she moaned, pushing against me. Her body grazed my chest, warm and soft. She moved on me, over me, in exactly the right way, hitting a chord in me that had never been struck before.

  I couldn’t explain what was going on with me, but all I knew was that I’d never been this close to heaven before.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nora

  I walked through the hallways of the hospital after my late shift, ready to call it a day. The halls were dark and completely still. The rooms I passed were empty, and even my footsteps were silent as if the whole world was swathed in cotton.

  When I reached the nurse’s station to find someone to tell me where everyone had gone, that was empty, too. That was a problem. Where had everyone gone? I looked out the window, and the sky was red. Not pink from a sunset. A bright, cherry red, like you’d expect at the end of the world.

  My pulse thrummed inside me.

  Something was wrong.

  I opened my mouth to call for someone, but that sound was drowned out, too.

  I started to walk toward the doors, but suddenly, someone was pulling me back. I looked down and saw an enormous paw clamped onto my arm. It started as a hand, but then thick dark hair began to curl out from the skin, and the fingernails sharpened to claws.

  I scrabbled to escape, but nothing worked. As I was dragged backward, I turned to see the face of the Fury man.

  I screamed, but even that made no sound . . .

  I bolted awake to the sound of fierce knocking.

  Dream. It was a dream.

  My eyes flickered open, and the first thing I saw in my line of sight was Jet’s wrist, with that cartoon dog tattoo. His arms were around my head, cradling me.

  I lifted my head from his arms and realized I was on the beaten old couch in the living room, on my stomach, using Jet’s body as a mattress. I’d slept with my cheek on his shoulder, my breasts pressed up against his chest, my abdomen against his bandage, his cock nestled between us, legs tangled together. For someone so hard, he’d been so comfortable that I’d slept deeply and well. We were both naked, our bodies smeared with come and sweat from the countless times we’d fucked last night.

  I shivered and slipped off him, then poked through the strewn clothing to find his t-shirt. I slipped it on, swimming in it, and padded to the door. My muscles hurt, whether from the attack or last night’s exertions I couldn’t say, but what bothered me most was the feeling of that paw on my body. I could almost still feel it clamped on me.

  When I reached the door, Jet’s eyes blinked open. He was on his feet and slipping into his boxers before I could undo the chain lock. “Wait. Let me.”

  I stood on my toes and peered into the peephole. My pulse sped up. “Oh, God. It’s Michael.”

  He reached for his jeans. “Want me to go?”

  I shook my head. “No. It’s fine.”

  I took a deep breath and pulled open the door. “Michael,” I murmured.

  He looked at me, and his jaw dropped. “Oh, Nora. What did those lowlifes do to you?”

  He was inside the house, gently touching my face before I could stop him. I stiffened and took a step back, my eyes trailing toward Jet.

  Michael followed my line of sight to the living room, where Jet was standing, bare-chested and barefoot, his thick arms crossed in front of him, like he was staking his claim. The concern on Michael’s face gave way to confusion.

  “Aren’t you . . .” he started, taking in his half-dressed condition, and then my attire. He held up a finger. “Now, wait . . .”

  “Michael,” I said softly. “I told you, it’s over between us.”

  He stared at me, then at Jet. Paused a beat. That was Michael. He never spoke until he knew exactly what he was up against. Understandable that this would take some time to process. I still hadn’t been able to process it myself.

  “Are you telling me,” he said calmly, evenly, “That we’re over because you’ve moved on to this?”

  Michael needed to watch himself. He could insult Jet all he wanted in the hospital, but here? Jet would rip his head off. I shook my head, trying to keep Jet out of it. “No, we’re over because it’s just not right. I felt it. For a long time, I felt it. Jet is a symptom, not the disease.”

  He studied me, his face dawning with about a thousand emotions before it settled on one. Disgust. “Jet? That’s who you’re leaving me for?”

  I held out my hands. “Michael—”

  “So those thugs last night were coming after you because of your association with this man. Am I right?” He spun around to look at Jet, who was staring at him like he was an insignificant insect. “Did you tell him that you nearly got yourself raped last night because of him? You want to live like a thug? You want to live like a wild, baseless, d
irectionless animal?”

  “No, she just doesn’t want to live with you, prick,” Jet mumbled. “Get over it.”

  I shot eye daggers at Jet, begging him to stay out of it and quit egging Michael on. The last thing I needed was Jet and Michael duking it out in my living room. Jet would kill him.

  Michael’s eyes brushed over Jet as if he weren’t good enough to stay in his line of sight. He ignored Jet’s comment and took a step closer to me, reaching for me.

  I stepped away.

  Michael sighed in disappointment. There it was. The look I’d told myself I never wanted to see. I knew Michael and I weren’t right for each other, but it didn’t make it any easier. He was my mentor and had been for my entire adult life. All this time, I’d worked to please him. And I’d completely let him down. Hell, I completely let me down.

  “Nora, he’s your patient, for God’s sake. You know if the board found out about this, you could lose your license.”

  “You won’t tell them, will you?” My eyes pleaded him.

  He let out a sigh. “No. Of course, I won’t tell them, but . . .” His eyes volleyed between us. “Nora, sweetheart. You need to get your head on straight. I know the last few weeks have been crazy, with the move. I understand it’s been stressful. But you have to come back to reality. Risking everything you have . . . everything we have . . . for him? It doesn’t make sense.”

  He said the word like Jet was lower than low. I bristled. Jet did, too. With his temper, he was probably only a couple more taunts away from coming out swinging.

  I turned to Jet. “Can you please . . . leave us?”

  He sucked in his teeth and nodded, then dug his hands into his pockets and walked into the kitchen.

  I lowered my voice. “Not for Jet, Michael. For myself. I will always care about you for everything you’ve done for me. But you and me? It’s not working. I’ve been fooling myself. Pretending.”

  Michael pushed his glasses up on his nose and sniffed. “You’re not thinking correctly, Nora. You have to remember everything you’ve been working for. Please. Think about it. He’s going to get you killed.”

  I swallowed. “You’ve cared for me for so long. Even when I had no one else. I’d never be a surgeon if it wasn’t for you. But Michael . . . you don’t have to, anymore. You’re released from the obligation. Any mistakes I make, it’s about time I’m held accountable for them.”

  He looked at me for a long time, unblinking. Then he stepped away. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  Then he turned and walked out the door.

  Leaving my whole world spinning. He was right. I’d had no idea what I was doing. I felt like I was walking a tightrope, and the net had just been pulled out from under me.

  Jet came back a second later, grinning. He kissed my neck, and I stiffened as he said, “So long to the prick, huh?”

  I shook my head, tears coming to my eyes. Michael wasn’t a prick. He was a good man. I’d worked for years to get away from the life my father had promised me. And now, in three days, I was back in the thick of it.

  Michael wasn’t my true love, far from it. But he knew me. He knew every last struggle I’d had over the past ten years.

  And yes, it was undeniable. I was being an idiot.

  Jet ran his warm hands under the big shirt of his I still wore, skimming my hips. Suddenly his touch felt wrong. I wiggled away from him, swatting at his hands. I couldn’t meet his eyes directly. I hugged myself and turned away, feeling like one touch would set me off.

  Jet never looked surprised. He gave me a lazy smile, like he thought I was playing hard to get, and reached for me again.

  “Can you go?” I snapped.

  His smile fell. “What?”

  “You heard me. Go.”

  “Go?” He said it like he’d never heard a woman say the word to him before. And maybe he hadn’t.

  Now he was just annoying me. He and his so-gorgeous, charming, irresistible everything that had gotten me into this situation in the first place. “Yes. Or are you so dumb that you don’t understand? I want you out of here. It’s your fault those men came after me. You and your stupid club. I don’t want anything to do with any of it, ever again. Do you hear me?”

  He rubbed his chin coolly, making me feel even more out of control. His voice was so steady, even as everything about me was breaking apart. “’S okay, baby. Give me my shirt back, and I’ll go.”

  I looked down. Suddenly I couldn’t lose it quick enough. I ripped it off my body and threw it at him. He snatched it out of the air before it could hit his face.

  He slipped it over his head, grabbed his boots and phone, and sauntered through the door, not looking back.

  It was no skin off his back.

  But me? Hugging my naked body, still covered with his scent and his come, I dropped down into the sofa and started to cry.

  I felt like I’d been ripped raw, right to the bone.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jetson

  I didn’t have a way back to the club, so after tying up my boots on the sidewalk, I walked.

  Five fucking miles.

  It was dark, and I had no clue what time it was. Late. I kept my head down, every once in a while looking around for any Fury that was supposed to be patrolling the area, but I didn’t see any.

  Most of the walk I thought about Nora.

  At first, I told myself it was a damn good thing she wanted me out of there. I’d already gone past my self-imposed limit that second night I’d spent with her. Three nights? What the fuck was wrong with me? I didn’t need her to become a habit.

  But then I started thinking about the way she’d looked at me. She was thinking I’d go the way of her daddy, and maybe I’d drag her along with me. I should’ve explained to her that wasn’t the case. The Cobras looked out for one another. We would never let anything touch her. I kicked myself for not telling her that. Now, she didn’t want me near her.

  Fuck.

  I wanted to go back.

  Right then, an even worse thought hit me. It struck me right between the eyes, so hard I stopped walking and just stood there for a second, stunned.

  She’d already become a habit.

  Holy shit.

  I did not do habits. In high school, when all my friends were getting hooked on heroin and shit like that, I kept my nose clean. Tried it, but never got into it. I could stop smoking tomorrow if I wanted. I prided myself on being in control, not letting anything matter that much.

  And I sure as hell wasn’t going to let Nora worm her way in. Not a woman. No fucking way. I just needed to reel it back. That was all.

  When I got to the pier, all the lights in the warehouse that was our clubhouse were on. It occurred to me that I hadn’t checked my phone since I left Drake. The screen showed messages from Cullen. He’d called church for tonight. It was after eleven.

  I pulled open the door, and the guys all swung their heads at me. From the way they were slumped in their chairs, beer bottles scattered everywhere, the ashtray full of butts, it looked as if they’d been there a while.

  “Fury went after Nora,” I growled, pounding the table. “We need to end those fuckers. Now.”

  No one reacted. Not like I wanted. I wanted anger. I wanted revenge.

  Instead, Nix took a slow drag of his cigarette. “Where the hell have you been?”

  All the men looked at me, waiting for an answer.

  “What the fuck difference does it make?” I grouched, grabbing a beer from the fridge. My throat was dry as hell from the walk. I jammed it down on the edge of the counter, and the cap skittered across the cement floor. “The thing is, we need to do something.”

  Cullen said, “Drake told us you were at the surgeon’s earlier today, and he thought she’d been attacked by Fury. Did she see who came after her?”

  I swigged half the beer in one swallow and wiped my mouth. “Who cares? It was Fury. She was sure of that. No one else it could be. They were looking for me. They fucking hit her,
would’ve done worse if someone hadn’t stepped in. So let’s quit playing around and do this.”

  “Hold on, hold on,” Nix said to me. “We were just talking about the Ferrari.”

  I’d completely forgotten that early in the day I’d tagged that car. I took it as a foregone conclusion Nix would succeed at bringing it in. I looked past them, into the depths of the warehouse. Didn’t see the sleek, bright red car. “What happened?”

  Nix pointed to something on the table. It was one of Hart’s disks, but this one looked like it’d been run over a couple of times by an 18-wheeler. “GPS fell off. Found this in the middle of the freeway.”

  Hadn’t I pushed hard enough to stick it on? I dragged a hand down my face. “Shit. All right. I’ll try again. What are we gonna do about—”

  “Try again?” Cullen scoffed. “Drake said the driver saw you. You talked to her. You really think you can just show up there again and not draw suspicion to yourself?”

  I stopped. “No, man. She’s some seventeen-year-old kid. She ain’t got a clue. I promised her I’d give her driving lessons. I’ll just call her and—”

  Cullen shook his head. “Forget it. Hart. You take care of it.”

  Hart nodded.

  I scowled. Fuck the Ferrari. Why the fuck were we talking about this when the Fury were out there, beating up on innocent women? “Look. Who the fuck even cares about that? Are we going after the Fury or not?”

  Cullen showed me his face of stone. “Jet, let’s not forget what keeps this club in business.”

  Drake nudged me, probably sensing I was about to open my mouth and unload on Cullen, something I did a lot and usually wound up regretting. “Hold on, Cullen,” he said, changing the trajectory of the convo. “Cait thinks by now they have to be thinking we had something to do with Slade’s disappearance. She and her mom think they’re planning something big.”

  Cullen looked at Drake. “Does Cait know who’s calling the shots if Slade isn’t there?”

  “Yeah. Dude named Wolf,” Drake said. “He’s been with the club forever. Cait seems to think he’d be more reasonable.”

  Cullen stroked his chin shrewdly. “All right. This is what we do. If there’s a chance that Wolf can listen to reason, I think we take it. First, we dump the body. Somewhere they can’t tie it to us. Then I’ll call Wolf and tell him we have no idea where Slade, Roxanne, or Cait are, and we have nothing to do with whatever happened to them. See if we can’t come up with a truce.”