“We’re makin’ a scene.” Grim’s soft chuckle is warm and comforting. I don’t know what I would have done without him by my side when everything went to hell.
“I don’t care if you don’t?”
“Nah, I don’t give a fucking shit if they stare.” He presses me tighter to him and leans down, his face buried in the curve of my neck, and I lose it completely. I sob like a little kid and Grim holds me. He’s careful with my injuries, but he squeezes me just hard enough to make me feel safe.
I wish to God I could love him the way he loves me. He’s a biker, yes, but he’s a good man at heart, and he deserves to be loved. He deserves to have someone take care of him for once. I wish it could be me, but my heart already belongs to two men, and there just isn’t room for one more.
JETT
I CALLED THE BROTHERS to church five minutes ago and I sit at the head of our table and wait for them to file in. One by one, my boys arrive. Some are already here waiting alongside me, but others are taking time to kiss their old ladies like they’re going off to war. I suppose we are. Those Russian bastards need eradicating. And we’re gonna annihilate every single motherfucking one.
“Kick, get your arse in here!” I glare at him through the open door as Indie hugs him tight and side-eyes me over his fucking shoulder. Jesus. No wonder he couldn’t put a bullet in her head when they first met—it’s like they’re the same goddamn person. “Now!”
My Sargent‐at‐Arms pulls away from his old lady and hurries into church, taking the seat to my left. “Sorry, Prez.”
Tank leans across the table and smacks him in the head. “Arsehole.”
“Ow! Fuck you, cuntsicle. What the hell was that for?”
“For making the rest of us wait while you felt up your woman.”
“Jealous?”
Tank just glares at him.
“Alright, boys. We have a problem, and that problem has been going after our women, and they came after my clubhouse with a fucking bomb. So, I want leads on the Russians. I wanna know where their new warehouse is, what kind of guns they’re pushin’, and I want Ryzhanov dead. Someone find me some fucking leads! Until then, your old ladies, your families, your fuckin’ dicks wait until I have that Russian cunt’s head in my hands. Are we clear?”
The boys let out a chorus of agreement.
“Get the fuck out, and find me something useful.” I lean back in my seat as they all file from the room and interact with the women and children. It isn’t long before my gaze is drawn to the bar. If Tank would move his huge fucking body, I’d have an unobstructed view of my bartender. Which reminds me, she shouldn’t be out of bed, period, much less serving these idiots drinks.
I get up and stalk out of the room, across the main clubhouse lounge and directly behind the bar. Raine spins on her heels toward me, stumbling back when we come face to face. I grab her arm and yank her out from behind the bar into the closet we use for supplies. For a minute, I forget that she’s injured, and that my goal in coming over here is to stop her from doing the very thing I’m doing now—hurting.
Raine gasps and I let her go once she has her footing. Her brow is creased with pain and tears well in her eyes. Fuck.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask.
She sniffs as her gaze meets mine. “I’m working, or I was until you manhandled me.”
“No more work until you’re better.”
“Jett—”
“I mean it,” I snap. “The last thing I need is a fucking lawyer breathing down my neck demanding compensation.”
“I’m not going to sue you, if that’s what you’re thinking?”
I don’t know what the fuck I’m thinking. I lose all fucking sanity when we’re in the same room. I exhale loudly and tug at my hair. “Did I hurt you?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fuckin’ fine.”
“I—”
“I’m losing my goddamn mind, Angel.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Havin’ you here, seein’ you hurt. I can’t ...” I run my hands over my face and stare at the popcorn tiles on the ceiling. Fuck! I gotta get a goddamn grip. My wife is here, probably saw that whole goddamn exchange, and all I wanna do is wrap Raine in my arms and never let go.
“You can’t what?” she prompts.
I take another step toward her and press my hand against the shelf by her head. “I can’t stop fuckin’ wantin’ you.”
Raine sucks in a sharp breath, and the hurt in her eyes, on her face—it’s the final fucking straw. The last thread of my restraint snaps, and I kiss her. My hand cups her face, and I drive my tongue into her mouth the way I want to fuck her: hard, cruel, and like every part of her is mine. She kisses me back, just as vicious, just as needy, and it does my fucking head in. Since I met her, I’ve thought of nothing but owning her, and when it comes to this woman, I’ve thought a lot. My dick strains against my leathers and I pull her body against mine, needing to feel every inch of her petite frame.
“Prez?” Killer says from the doorway. Fuck! “Woah. Sorry.” The kid averts his gaze to the laptop in his hand. “I didn’t ... er ... I found ... I’ll ... I’ll come back.”
“What the fuck are you talkin’ about, kid?”
“The Russians. I found them. They’re at a warehouse on the bay in Rozelle.”
“You’re sure?”
“One hundred per cent, Prez.”
I slide my gaze back to Raine, the pink in her cheeks, her swollen lips that I just want to keep kissing. Those Russian fucks almost killed her, not once or twice, but three goddamn times. I’m gonna make sure none of them are left alive and breathing. “Round everyone up. Tell them to get their arses back here. We’re riding out.”
Killer glances at Raine and then at me, and the cocky little shit smirks before walking away. I may just murder that kid before he even has a chance to move up in our ranks.
I exhale loudly. “I gotta go.”
“Jett, that kiss. We shouldn’t have—”
“Yes, we should’ve.” I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and glance at her lips. I miss them already. “Later. We’ll talk later.”
She nods. “Be careful.”
I grin. “I ain’t ever been careful, darlin’, and I ain’t about to start now.”
I CLIMB OFF MY BIKE and remove my helmet, tossing it over the handlebars as Trigger and Kick come running back up the abandoned road. They stop in front of us and Trigger grins like a fucking maniac. “The warehouse is packed—Russians, grunt workers, coke on one side, guns on the other.”
“What kind of guns?”
“AKs,” Kick says.
“How many?”
“A lot, Prez. A lot of fuckin’ guns. Assembly line runs the length of the warehouse.”
“Security?”
Trigger shrugs. “The usual goons, eight, maybe ten. Nothin’ we can’t fuckin’ handle.”
“No one but us comes out, you understand?” I look at each of my boys, all capable of some truly fucked up shit, but my gaze lingers on Tank and Trigger.