“Fuck!”
“Skylar,” Jake says soothingly. “We’re pretty sure your old man had a gambling problem. Did you ever see any men around the house that may have been collecting money from him? Or that he could’ve been placing bets with?”
My eyes water with tears. “It was usually only George over here. They played checkers together sometimes. If he had anyone else over, I didn’t see them.”
“I’ll go talk to George,” Hunter says. “Jake, take her back to the clubhouse.”
“George wouldn’t know anything about gambling,” I tell Hunter.
“If he was Dad’s closest friend, he’ll know something. He was probably placing fucking bets with him,” he replies and points to the house. “This was a damn message to us. They knew we’d come back for the auction. Dad’s debt isn’t fucking settled.”
“I’ll get her back to the clubhouse,” Jake assures Hunter. “Check in after you talk to him.”
I go back to where Don is parked and get my purse out, telling him I have a ride back and that I appreciate him bringing me. I wave at him as he drives off before following Jake over to his bike. He hands me a helmet, and I strap it on before climbing on behind him. I take one last glance at the remains of my house, my safe haven, before he takes off.
I clutch him tightly, my arms around his waist and my chin resting on his shoulder as we ride. He gets out of Brewton, getting on the interstate and heading straight back to Birmingham. We only stop once so I can go to the bathroom.
“What were you doing there?” Jake asks me once we get back to the clubhouse.
I hand him his helmet and watch him place it on the back of his bike. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“You can’t just take off like that without telling anyone where you’re going.”
“Dr. Henson knew where I was going,” I say, walking inside.
“And Dr. Henson can’t do jack shit to keep you safe!”
“What or who do I need protecting from, huh?” I ask him, and he goes quiet. “That’s what I thought! You and Hunter both want to demand what I can and can’t do, but don’t want to give me any fucking answers!”
I stomp off to my room, and I can hear his heavy footsteps right behind me. I attempt to close the door in his face, but he catches it and slams it open so hard I fear it’s going to break.
“I can’t discuss club business with you, Skylar, but you have to trust that everything we do is to keep you safe! Stop being so fucking stubborn!”
“Club business? Let me guess, more of your idiotic rules?” I challenge, getting right in his face. He clenches his jaw. “I never knew you to be a stickler for the damn rules!” I scream, and I open my mouth to fire off another insult about their ridiculous rules when he silences me with a kiss.
His fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer to him as his mouth ravages mine. I gasp for air but pray he doesn’t stop. Stopping now might shatter my damn heart. I could kiss him forever.
I grip the lapels of his leather vest and press my tits to his chest. With a groan, he pulls my head back and moves his mouth down to suck on the curve of my neck.
“Those rules,” he says as his lips trail over my skin, “are the only thing keeping me from stripping you bare and fucking you until your throat is sore from screaming my name.”
“God, yes,” I moan.
My nipples harden in my bra and my pussy aches, desperate for him to touch me. Much to my disappointment, he releases me, stepping back and wiping his mouth with a mumbled curse.
“Jake, please,” I plead with him. “You don’t have to…”
The pained look he gives me stops me from continuing. I want to tell him he doesn’t have to walk away again. I’m a grown woman, and he’s a grown-ass man, and no silly club rules can keep us apart.
But I can see it written all over his face that they can.
“I’m sorry, Skylar,” he apologizes, already walking to my door. “I wish things could be different. “
They can.
Walking out after tasting Skylar again is the second hardest thing I’ve done in my life. She doesn’t fucking get it. Maybe she never will. I can’t just break club rules because my dick gets hard.
I know it’s more than that with her, it always has been, but the rules are put in place for a reason. Too many men have caused club chaos over fucking around with family. Members have been stripped of their patches, and feuds have started over relationships that never should have happened.
When Mason told me the rules, I scoffed at first, probably because a part of me knew I would want to break that particular rule if ever given the opportunity again but after some time and learning the history of the club, I realized it was in the club’s best interest. I have to put the club first. My selfish needs aren’t relevant.
Frustrated, I walk out of the club, intent on hopping on my bike and going for a ride, when I see Hunter pulling in. He gets off his bike and comes over to me. I pray he has some info after talking to George.
“Thanks for getting her back safely,” he tells me. “I appreciate it.”
“No problem,” I reply, leaving out how I fucking assaulted her with my mouth not even five minutes ago. “Any luck with George?”
He shakes his head. “The man hasn’t been seen since dear old Dad’s funeral.”
I frown. “That’s not good.”
“Fuckin’ A. His wife’s been dead for years, so no one has really noticed him being gone. Dad was his closest friend. Also, Dad rarely left the house, so someone was placing the bets for him. I would bet my left fucking nut the two of them were gambling together.”
“Just your left one?” I joke, and Hunter laughs. “We could have a talk with the Souls of Satan. See if they know anything about a large gambling debt. That’s kind of their area.”
“I thought about that,” Hunter admits. “But it also occurred to me the debt could be owed to them. I didn’t want to bring anything to their attention until I did a little digging.”
The Souls of Satan are another motorcycle club located in Wetumpka. They own a couple of casinos there and run some illegal gambling behind the scenes. We typically steer clear of them, and they do the same, but they could have the answers we’re looking for.
“I’m going to touch base with Savage over in Huntsville, see if he knows of anyone making any debt collections. As for the Souls, I’ll see what Mason says about speaking to the prez,” Hunter says. “On a different note, I did swing by the apartment I’m getting ready for Skylar, and we’re definitely good to go for tomorrow. You mind helping us get her things moved? I know Dash did it before, but I don’t trust that shit not to be sniffing her panties or something fucked up like that.”
I nod, not revealing the asshole has already been panty sniffing. “Of course, man. She’ll be a hell of a lot better off there than she is here at the clubhouse.”
“I wanted her gone before things get rowdy tonight, but the landlord was replacing mattresses and repainting. Couldn’t be helped,” he shrugs. “Besides, maybe if she sees the guys in our real element with the patch pussies and drugs, she’ll lose interest in the club. Mason said she was asking a lot of questions about club rules and shit. I hate that I had to fucking bring her here.”