by Vi Carter
“Thorn.” Snapper’s call has everything in me ceasing, not the old man. I find him huddled over someone else. Now all I can think of is Flood, but as I move closer, I see it’s Trench. He’s bleeding pretty badly.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Get him to a hospital.” Snapper doesn’t miss a beat, Everest helps him lift Trench, who doesn’t flinch; his paling face is the timer on his life. He needs attention now, or he wouldn’t survive.
Cole is hunched over one of his men, checking for a pulse. He looks up at me, blood is sprinkled across his face, and I see it in his eyes. He’s lost another man.
The wail of sirens in the distance has me looking to Flood. He nods at me knowing he had to clear out the safe and anything that would land us in trouble. He’s moving.
“Ghost!” I call when I remember Brooke in the back. He falls into step behind me.
“Get Brooke out of here.”
“Where will I take her?” He asks as I open the door into the room that holds a shaking Brooke.
“To my place.”
“I heard gunfire. Was that gunfire?” Brooke’s voice rattles with emotion.
I ignore the sense of relief I feel at seeing her safe and nod to Ghost. He isn’t stupid this time. He grabs her and hauls her over his shoulder. Her shouts disappear out the back as I step back into the bar.
Officer Caldwell’s heavy gray eyes land on me, and I smirk just for him. My insides quiver with the threat to my club and to my family, but I won’t let this son of a bitch know how shaken I really am.
“You want to tell me what happened here?” He steps across broken glass, and it crunches under his boots. I wipe my hands on my jeans; they are slick with blood from small cuts that happened as I crawled across the floor.
“I was hoping you could tell me. It is your job to catch criminals.”
His men fan out, and I hate the fuckers touching our place. Cole lost two men, and I hate what I see in his eyes. He thinks this was me.
I was surrounded by so many fucking stupid people.
“One day Thorn, I’ll have you rotting behind bars.”
“Right now, do your fucking job and find out who shot up my bar.” I step up to him in no mood for his condescending crap.
His gray suit hangs on his thin frame, but it doesn’t fool me. He was one cunning motherfucker, and I was on his hit list.
CHAPTER FOUR
BROOKE
I’M SITTING IN Thorn’s apartment with an ice pack pressed against my cheek. Ghost decided it would cause less of a scene to carry an unconscious girl across the street as opposed to a girl who was kicking and screaming. Clearly, it worked because here I am.
Thorn’s apartment is what I was expecting. A large open plan living and kitchen area. Dark laminate flooring running throughout. Everything is black, from the leather sofa to the high-gloss kitchen, right down to the motorcycle canvases hanging on every wall.
Whistling, Ghost re-enters the sitting room with a glass of brandy in his hand. A white rag wrapped around his knuckles. The moment we make eye contact, I frown.
Ghost places a hand on his heart. “Ah, don’t look at me like that; you gave me no choice.”
My face is still on fire from where he hit me. I glare up at him. I’m about to say something, but decide it’ll be better to say nothing.
Ghost raises his brows expectantly, “Got something you want to share?”
I refuse to answer him.
Bending down, he slides the brandy across the table toward me.
“Drink. It’ll take the edge off.”
With shaky hands, I reach across the table and take the glass. Part of me wants to throw the drink in his face, but he’s right; I need something to calm me down.
“Is anyone hurt?” I ask. All I can think of is if Carter had been there while someone fired on the pub, I could be getting a call right now. My stomach twists and tightens at the thought.
Ghost joins me on the sofa with his own fresh glass of whiskey. “Do you really care?”
I’d never seen this side of Ghost. Every time he was in my apartment, he had manners. His grin manages to slide deep under my skin and fire up my rage.
“Fuck you, Ghost.” It’s he who brought me here. It’s he who knocked me out, not once but twice.
“Fuck me, yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
I slide further away from him and sit on the edge of the couch. Where the hell was Carter? My brother had to know that I was in trouble.
What will he do about it? Against the likes of Thorn, he didn’t stand a chance. My hope dwindles further when I question exactly what they will do to my brother when they catch him.
Laughing to himself, Ghost climbs off the sofa. “Fuck you.”
Grabbing his crotch, he looks me up and down, disgust skating across his features. “In your dreams.”
Bending, he grabs the ice pack from the floor and tosses it, landing it beside me. Retrieving the pack, I place it on my cheek. I get there’s some kind of hierarchy in their club, and Ghost is at the bottom of the pecking order, but here, I’m at the bottom of the pecking order.
Ghost cups his hand around his ear, “The ice pack. Is that a thank you I heard?”
I can’t believe this is the friendly giant I welcomed into my home. He ate at my table, slept on my couch at times.
“Thank you,” I say, my teeth pressing down on the inside of my mouth until a metallic taste coats my tongue.
Ghost smiles. Seemingly satisfied, he sits on the armchair to the left side of the room. Kicking off his boots, he places his feet on the coffee table and switches on the TV. His attention is fixed on the screen, while mine is on the door leading out of the apartment. I could run while he was occupied. Would I get far? Did it matter? I had to try. I shuffle closer to the edge of the couch and freeze as the front door swings open and Thorn bursts through.
Thorn’s face is paler than it was earlier; his features are unreadable. Dark eyes move past me and land on Ghost. They exchange glances, Ghost nods and gets his shoes on before making his way to the door.
My heart beats rapidly as Thorn’s hand springs out, and he grips Ghost’s arm, stopping him from leaving.
“Send for Snapper.”
Ghost turns, looking down at me. “She’ll be fine.”
Thorn raises his hand, which is covered in blood. “For me.”
Ghost nods, closing the door behind him.
Thorn doesn’t move from the door, and when his gaze swings to me, my hands sink into the couch like I can cling to the last bit of bravery I have. I hate being alone with him. I hate how he makes me feel. It’s a battle inside of me, I’m attracted to him, yet I’m afraid of him—a really bad combination.
“Leave, and we will find you. Hurt me, and you will get hurt. Respect my home, and I will respect you. Am I clear?”
He doesn’t linger in the doorway, tossing his leather jacket on the floor, he makes his way to the open plan kitchen area where he grabs a carton of OJ from the fridge and drinks from the carton.
It’s at this moment my body starts to shake, in fear, in shock, I don’t know. Every inch of my body is throbbing; it’s impossible for me to pinpoint where the most pain is coming from as all my earlier wounds come slamming back into my system.
Thorn closes the fridge door and leaves the room like I’m not even here. I’m tempted to lie down and let my head rest, but I can’t take my eyes off the door. Only moments ago, running seemed wise; now, I wasn’t so sure. They would find me. I had nowhere to go but my apartment, and I’m sure that was being watched for Carter’s return.
The rattle at the apartment door has me freezing. Snapper steps in, his soft eyes resting on me; he scans the room, and when he sees I’m alone, he closes the door.
“We’ll have you sorted out in no time.”
“Please, Snapper, just let me go home.”
“I can’t do that, Brooke.”
He smiles. I know he’s trying his best to make
it look sincere, though I can see the uncertainty in his gaze. I feel safe around Snapper; he’s the only person this evening who’s shown me an ounce of humanity.
Thorn re-enters the room. A white towel is hugging his waist. His ripped torso is glistening with droplets of water that travel from his hair down his face. I can’t help but look over all the ink on his body, the sleeve tattoos he has on both arms, the Celtic style patterns covering most of his broad torso.
“Can you fix the mess Ghost has made?”
Snapper nods, “I can fix most things.”
Snapper wipes his nose with the back of his hand then uses the same hand to examine my face. My faith in Snapper has diminished somewhat, seeing that hygiene isn’t on the top of his agenda. What kind of doctor is he?
“Brandy.” He points to the kitchen.
Instead of drinking the spirit, Snapper pours some onto a rag and presses it against my aching face. I bite down on the inside of my cheek until a metallic taste fills my mouth.
“I’m sorry, Brooke, I know this hurts like a bitch, but I’ve got to clean the wound.”
Snapper tightens his hold at the back of my neck to hold me steady. “You don’t want an infection, do you?”
My head and face had ached, but I didn’t even realize the skin was broken. He pulls a discolored cotton handkerchief from his pocket and uses it to dab at my face.
“There, good as new. You need a good night's sleep.” He softly taps my thigh. Snapper glances at Thorn, who points to the sofa.
“She can sleep there.”
Snapper shakes his head before going to examine Thorn’s hand. I lie my head back on the pillow and close my eyes, hoping that when I wake up that this will all have been one horrible nightmare. After a few minutes, I hear the men say their goodbyes, and the front door opens and shuts.
I’m alone with Thorn. I can hear his footsteps grow nearer and feel the cushion dip at my side.
“I know you’re not asleep. Your eyelids are moving.”
Damn it.
I open my eyes, and we sit, staring at one another. It doesn’t escape my attention that all he has on is that white towel. My heart rate quickens, knowing he’s as good as naked next to me.
“You’ve had your fun, now let me go.”
Thorn laughs, “Your brother has stolen sixty grand of my money. You think this is fun?”
I swallow hard.
Thorn grabs my legs, lying them over his thighs. My instincts are telling me, yelling at me to pull away, but I don’t. He rubs his hand up and down my calf before holding his hand out.
“Phone.”
I wrap my arms around my chest.
“I don’t have it.”
Thorn tuts, “Brooke, Brooke, Brooke, I’m disappointed. This is your first lesson for the evening: when I ask for something, you give it to me.”
His hand is still held out.
I don’t move, “I don’t have it.”
“Final answer?” There’s a dare in his voice, and part of me thinks he’s enjoying our little exchange.
I nod, “yes.”
He laughs sardonically, “Okay.”
The hands placed on my calf drag their way up my thigh, where he pats my pockets. I attempt to push him off me when he pivots around and moves so his body is aligned with mine.
My breath hitches in my throat when his torso is flush with mine. His arms cage me in, I slam both my hands against his solid chest, but he doesn't move.
“Now, I can either search you…” His words are brushed against my cheek. “Or you can just give it to me.”
My stomach squirms and I tighten my legs together, hating the wetness that starts to pool.
“If I ask you for something, you give it to me, or I will take it. Do you understand?”
I look up into dark eyes that bore into mine. I can’t stop my gaze from flickering down to his lips. His harsh breath brushes against my face. I turn my head, pulling myself out of the moment. My gaze skips to the white towel that’s pooled on the floor. The white towel that he had wrapped around his waist only moments ago.
I swallow before my gaze returns to his. His lip tugs up slightly into a grin. He’s completely naked on top of me—my brain stalls on that fact.
“Are you going to be a good girl and give me your phone?”
My heart is pounding too fast, the blood rushing to places it shouldn’t. I shouldn’t feel this way for him, but I do. His head dips lower, and everything in me freezes as his lips brush my jawline. That kiss that’s so feather-light makes a pathway deep into my skin and infiltrates my system. My body can’t take much more. I try and push him away again, but it only has him pushing himself closer to me—his erection pokes my stomach and my face flames.
His gaze dances to my lips. “Give me your phone.”
I know I should. I know handing it over would have him no longer on top of me, but I think that’s what’s stopping me. His head dips a bit closer. His cock feels even heavier against me.
“Phone, Brooke.” This time when he demands the phone, it holds no real threat; it’s a request. I’m shaking my head, and then his lips are on mine. This kiss steals my breath, and he deepens it quickly. There is hunger as his lips devour mine, and my hands reach up and grip his shoulders, only this time, instead of pushing him away, I’m dragging Thorn closer. Muscles shift and flex under my fingertips. His large hands roam along my side brushing my breasts, and I groan into his mouth as he uses his hips to nudge my legs apart. They fall so easily, and he buries his lower body in-between my legs.
I gasp at the contact as he pushes his cock against my core. Each movement causes friction that has wetness pooling between my legs. His hand continues to run the length of my body before dipping into the waistband of my trousers. I freeze and break the kiss, but his face doesn’t move away from mine. Instead, he stares at me as he raises slightly and unzips my trousers with one hand. I don’t stop him. I know I should, but I want to know what it will feel like to have his strong fingers inside me.
My head falls back, and I groan as he shows me exactly how it feels.
“You’re a dirty girl, Brooke.” His head dips down as he takes an earlobe in his mouth and bites as he sinks his fingers inside me and pulls out slowly. He stops what he’s doing, and it’s like waking up from a dream that you don’t want to wake up from. His fingers glisten in front of my face, and my core tightens as he licks them.
“Where is the phone?” He asks while running his hand down my leg.
“In my pocket,” I whisper into his mouth.
His lips smile against mine as he dips his fingers inside me, my body burns, my back arches and groans fall quickly from my lips as he quickens his pace. “That’s a good girl, Brooke.” I hear the mocking in his voice, but right now, at this moment, I don’t care. All I care about is the climax that’s so close as he pummels my pussy with three fingers.
My nails dig into his shoulders, and I scream out my release as my juices pour all over his fingers.
CHAPTER FIVE
BROOKE
“CODE.”
“No,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. Thorn retrieved the phone from my back pocket as I slowly came down off the high he had brought me to.
My mind feels fragmented as he gets off me and gathers his towel off the floor. I try not to look at his perfect ass as he bends over and picks it up. The moment he turns to me, my cheeks flame.
“Code.” He asks again, but there is no malice in his words. He sounds like he just might be enjoying himself.
He nods towards the kitchen, “I have knives in my drawer, knives that I sharpen regularly. If you don’t tell me the code or press your finger on the touchpad, then I will take it.”
He’ll take what? Then it hits me; he’d cut off my finger. “You wouldn’t.”
He raises a brow, “Sweetheart, try me.”
I attempt to stare him down, though his stare intimidates me right to the core. Lifting my hand between us, I press my fin
ger on the touchpad, unlocking my phone.
He smiles, “See how easy that was.”
My phone was my only connection to the outside world, my only way of getting help. I couldn't get a signal in the bar earlier, but I was planning to call for help later.
Thorn’s gaze drags across my body, and it reminds me my trousers are still unzipped. His hard-on presses against the towel, making a tent.
“Goodnight, Brooke.”
He turns and waves my phone at me as he makes his way down the hallway into his bedroom and closes the door.
I spend hours tossing and turning. I can’t get Carter out of my mind or what I just let Thorn do to me or even what I wanted him to do to me. I groan and turn on the couch again.
Light filters in, and Thorn storms out of his bedroom and straight toward me; I’m scrambling, trying to get off the couch. His jaw is clenched, and I think the worst. He’s had word about Carter, and it’s not good. My instinct has me curling in on myself. Strong arms wrap around me, and I’m airborne. Cradled against his chest, Thorn carries me to his room. I’m waiting for an explanation, but I don’t get one as he lowers me onto the bed. I had wanted him earlier but not like this. I crawl to the top corner and squeeze the duvet to my chest.
“What are you doing?”
Thorn laughs, but it holds no humor. We hold each other’s gaze for a beat, but it feels so much longer. My gaze trails across his wide chest all the way down to the bulge in his black boxers; he hasn’t moved.
“I’m not going to lay a finger on you. I can’t sleep with you making all that damn noise. You take the bed, and I’ll take the sofa.”
His feet stay rooted to the floor as his eyes work their way over me. “There are t-shirts in the drawer. Put one on.”
I nod and watch as he sits on the edge of the bed. Sighing, he runs his fingers through his hair.
“You and your brother are close, aren't you?”
