The Nomad Series-Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  Tearing our lips apart, I lay her down on the bed and take a step back, allowing my eyes to sweep over her and burn the image to my soul.

  Tangled wet hair sprawled out on the pillow.

  Body drenched in sweat—hers, mine, ours.

  Legs spread wide.

  Chest heaving, tits bouncing with every breath.

  Lips parted.

  Eyes.

  Beautiful eyes that were once dull are full of life.

  Full of need.

  Of want.

  Reaching into the nightstand I grab the box of ribbed condoms and pull five out.

  It’s going to be a long night.

  A long, long night because I plan on fucking her until this bed is soaked with my sins.

  Until her legs are shaking and everyone in this hotel knows my fucking name.

  “Ready?” I ask her as I roll the condom on and kneel on the bed. She widens her legs and lifts her arms, wrapping them around my neck. Dragging me between her legs and into her arms she touches her forehead to mine and as I stare into her eyes I get my answer.

  “I’m ready because it’s you,” she whispers.

  I peck her lips softly.

  Once.

  Twice.

  And then I pull back, brace my hands on the sides of her head and bring us both back to life as I push my way inside her.

  She gasps.

  I pause.

  Then she lifts her hips and I lose my fucking mind altogether.

  Driving as deep as I can, as deep as she can take, I fit myself inside her and I love her.

  I love her like she’s never been loved.

  I rewrite her past with every thrust.

  She burns mine to ash with every moan.

  And when we both come, we create fire.

  The kind that never goes out.

  The kind that lasts all night.

  -Thirty-five-

  ALLY

  “Rise and shine,” Deuce whispers against my shoulder as he gives my ass a squeeze. I lift my head from the pillow and stare at the digital clock on the nightstand as he peppers my shoulder with kisses.

  “But we just fell asleep,” I groan, dropping my head back against the pillow. He doesn’t argue and I smile against the pillowcase in satisfaction. Closing my eyes, I’m about to pass out again when I feel his body slide over mine. He tickles my sides and jolts me away into a fit of giggles.

  “Okay,” I laugh. “Okay, I’ll get up.”

  “That’s my girl,” he says, kissing the middle of my back before he crawls out of bed.

  How he has the energy to do anything is beyond me. I don’t know if he’s a bull or an immortal. Whatever cup he’s drinking from, I need that in my life. The man doesn’t stop.

  My favorite was when he flipped me on top of him and made me ride him. Being in control of sex, setting the pace and being the one responsible for making us both come was invigorating and I felt like a badass when he growled my name. What’s that saying? Save a horse, ride a cowboy. Yeah, that’s it. I think it should be changed to save Ally and let her ride the cowboy.

  I wasn’t the only one riding hard. Deuce ravaged me in the most delicious way, teaching me sex could be crazy beautiful. I also learned it could be exhausting.

  Throwing the covers off me, I moan as I sit up and throw my legs over the bed. Every part of me aches, reminding me of everything we did; all the positions, all the kissing and the amazing way we spent the night.

  When Celeste dropped me off at the motel, I had every intention of talking to Deuce about taking that step. I was well prepared and planned everything I would say, especially if he decided to use the excuse of me not being ready. Then I found him in the shower with his hand wrapped around his dick and I forgot my name as well as my well thought out plan.

  My brain might have turned to shit but my confidence remained intact and I didn’t jump into sex with Deuce, I spread my arms wide and leaped. It was wild, rough, raw, dirty, but most of all it was breathtaking.

  Absolutely breathtaking.

  I feared Deuce was stealing more than just my breath. He was stealing all the chambers of my virgin heart. However, as scared as I was, I wanted to hang onto this feeling for as long as I could.

  I wanted to hang onto him.

  Walking into the bathroom, I meet Deuce’s gaze in the mirror and the familiar fluttering sensation takes flight in my belly.

  “Sex looks good on you, Ally, real fucking good,” he says, dropping his toothbrush in the holder before wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing a kiss to my cheek.

  “Is that an invitation for more?”

  “No invitation needed, darlin’, I’m all yours,” he says against my cheek.

  “All mine,” I say thoughtfully. “I like that.”

  “Good,” he replies, giving me one last kiss. “Now, hurry up,” he adds before giving my ass another playful squeeze and exiting the bathroom.

  I wash and dress myself as quickly as my sore body allows and when I emerge from the bathroom Deuce is already outside cursing up a storm. Grabbing my helmet, I hurry out of our room to find him standing in front of his bike with his hands planted on his hips.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask as I fasten the strap on my chin and follow his gaze down to the flat tires on his motorcycle. “Oh.”

  Silently, he kneels and runs his hands over each tire, inspecting the damage. The light mood he was in a moment ago disappears. His jaw goes rigid and a murderous gleam fills his eyes. Wanting to help, I lay a hand on his shoulder and lean over him. Instantly, I spot the angry slashes in the tires.

  “Get in the truck,” he orders, pulling the keys to the Suburban from his back pocket.

  “What about the bike?” I ask as I extend my hand to touch the rubber.

  “Leave it,” he says, grabbing my wrist before I can lay a finger on the bike. “Come on,” he adds, pulling us both to our feet.

  “It was probably a delinquent kid looking for trouble,” I offer. “There was a bunch of them hanging out on the corner when Celeste dropped me off,” I continue, climbing into the truck.

  “Maybe,” he grunts, closing the door once I’m inside.

  I watch as he walks around the front of the truck and glances all around the parking lot as if he’s going to find the culprit in pure daylight. He pauses in front of the door and I hear him mumble something I can’t make out before he pulls it open and meets my worried gaze.

  “Why don’t I call Celeste or Jagger and ask them to take me?”

  “It’s fine,” he hisses, climbing into the truck.

  “It’s not,” I say as he turns the key in the ignition.

  Turning to me, he glares at me. I’ve seen that look on him before. Back when we first met, in Rush’s office, Now I know him well enough to know his anger isn’t directed toward me. Something’s brewing inside that head of his. Something he won’t share with me.

  “What are you going to do about the bike?”

  “Nothing,” he says, turning his attention straight in front of him. He peels out of the spot and slams his foot on the gas then just as quickly he brakes and I jolt forward.

  “Jesus, Deuce,” I say, bracing a hand on the dashboard.

  “Did you see that?”

  “See what?” I ask, reaching behind me for the seatbelt.

  “The black car that just drove past the entrance,” he growls.

  “No, I was too busy flying head first into the dashboard,” I snap, fastening the belt.

  That seems to snap him out of whatever he’s going through because he turns to me and his features soften. Reaching over the console he lays his hand on my thigh.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

  “It’s okay,” I say, cocking my head to the side as he removes his hand from my leg and swipes it over his face. “What about the black car?”

  “Nothing, I’m just paranoid,” he replies, shaking it off. Turning back to the wheel, he grips it and starts to drive. The drive to the clinic is
silent and I try to make sense of his sudden mood change. I understand him getting pissed but the paranoia throws me for a loop. It shouldn’t though. Me out of all people should know what he’s thinking because I lived the MC life. I was a prisoner to it, and like Rush had a slew of enemies I’m sure Deuce does too. I’m sure all of them do, my brother included.

  I’m not comparing him to Rush, I’m not comparing any of the men of Brooklyn to that mess of a man. I’m sure things are different here. I know they are just by the way they’ve all rallied around me to bring me back to life. Still, they all carry guns. They own a shooting range for crying out loud. The Satan’s Knights of Brooklyn, while they are good-hearted men, they’re not angels.

  They’re outlaws.

  Good guys who bend the rules.

  And what’s an outlaw without an enemy?

  Nothing.

  “Smoke’s coming out of your ears,” he says, glancing over at me. Taking his hand from the wheel, he grabs mine and laces our fingers together. “Sorry, I let that shit get to me. It was a great morning until I fucked it up.”

  “They’re only tires,” I tell him. “They can be fixed.”

  “You’re right,” he agrees, bringing my knuckles to his lips. “Do over?”

  “Nope,” I say with a smile. “It was still the best morning ever.”

  “It was,” he replies, peeling his eyes off the road to sweep them over me. “Can’t wait to get you home.”

  “You know…” I trail off, biting my lip.

  “Uh oh,” he laughs.

  “If I skip therapy we can get there sooner,” I suggest, wiggling my eyebrows in hopes he’ll go along with it.

  “No.”

  “Oh come on, it’s just one session.”

  “Fuck no,” he argues. “You’re doing too good to fuck it all up now.”

  “Deuce, it’s one time. I promise.”

  He doesn’t budge and I curl my lip thinking he’ll realize I’m pissed. Instead, he laughs.

  “And here I thought you liked to live dangerously,” I say, rolling my eyes for good measure.

  “Not with you, never with you,” he replies, glancing over at me. I know he means it, I can feel the words prick my heart the moment he speaks them.

  “That’s not a very Clyde thing to say,” I reply.

  “Sure it is,” he retorts. “There isn’t anything he wouldn’t have done to see her through the end of the line. He left his own brother to die for her.”

  “He didn’t give up the life.”

  “She never asked him to.”

  “If she had, do you think he would of?”

  “If it was possible. If he wasn’t too far gone. If she came into his life a little sooner, before he made a mess of things, I think he would have straightened out for her.”

  Thinking about that, I turn my head and stare out the window. Would Bonnie and Clyde be as famous as they were if they were straight shooters? Would she have been drawn to him if he wasn’t an outlaw? I think what made them so iconic is that they were two people who lived hard but loved harder. She saw past his mistakes and loved him just as he was and when she knew there was no turning back, that she was fully invested in him, she still chose him. Whether he failed of flew high, she stood right by his side.

  “Maybe,” I agree, turning to Deuce. “But I don’t think she would have asked. I think she loved him just the way he was.”

  “Ride or die,” he mutters.

  “What’s that?”

  “The kind of love they had,” he says as he stops at another light. “I tell you what,” he continues, twisting to face me. “After therapy, we’ll go shooting again. Fuck Wolf’s party.”

  “Wolf is having a party?”

  “A welcome home party for Linc,” he explains, cringing slightly. “All right, so we can’t skip the party, but we’ll still go shooting. We’ll just be late.”

  “You just like seeing me with a gun in my hand,” I tease.

  “Hottest thing I ever saw,” he admits.

  Our playful banter comes to a screeching halt as a car slams into us from behind, sending us both forward. For the second time today, I brace my hands on the dash. The difference is this time; despite my seat belt my hand slams against the windshield. The car jerks a second time and then a third and the next sound I hear is my own scream.

  “What’s happening?” I shriek.

  “Son of a bitch bastard,” Deuce hollers as everything around us fades. He lifts his eyes to the rear mirror and I glance over his shoulder as a shiny black car makes it way around us.

  “Fuck, are you hurt?” he asks.

  His voice sounds like it’s miles away but still I shake my head.

  “Stay right here,” he orders, opening the door. Placing one foot out the door he leans over and points to me. “I mean it, Ally, don’t fucking try any funny shit. Just stay put.”

  As he’s about to slide out of the truck the car swings alongside us and the world stops moving for me as the tinted back window slides down.

  “Sorry about that,” someone says.

  Someone I know.

  He leans forward and his eyes meet mine.

  That sinister smile.

  That accent.

  It all comes flooding back.

  “It’s all right, there isn’t anything to fear,” he says slowly, enunciating each word.

  No, no, no!

  Please.

  Someone help me.

  Please.

  HELP!

  No, no, no!

  “Yeah, how about—”

  The blood drains from my face as I gasp and Deuce turns to me.

  “What?” he questions, but I can’t talk.

  I can’t even breathe.

  I’m fading.

  Tires screech across the pavement as the car speeds away.

  Gone.

  Gone without a trace.

  “Darlin’?” Deuce calls.

  Nothing, I say nothing as the words play over and over.

  “Ally,” he shouts, shaking my shoulders, forcing me to come back to him.

  Back to the life I’ve worked so hard to reclaim. Reminding myself I’m no one’s prisoner anymore, I force myself to find my voice.

  My voice.

  My life.

  He can’t hurt me anymore.

  “That man,” I rasp.

  “What about him?”

  “That’s the man who took me,” I reveal, lifting my eyes back to Deuce. “That’s Yankovich.”

  -Thirty-six-

  DEUCE

  I try to keep my head and not lose my composure in front of Ally. Squeezing her hand, assuring her I’ve got her as I speed through the streets of Brooklyn, when all I want to do is hunt.

  Maim.

  Brutalize.

  Torture.

  Kill.

  Satan finally has a face.

  There is no more guessing. No more wondering where the motherfucker is. He’s right here, in our backyard and rear-ending us was no fucking accident. Yankovich’s been watching us. He’s been watching me. He’s been watching Ally.

  Glancing over at her, I watch as she stares out the window, her mind a million miles away. Expecting to find her clawing at her arms, my eyes drift downward and see her small hands balled into angry little fists.

  “Ally,” I start.

  “I’m okay,” she says automatically. “I’m okay.”

  “Yeah, darlin’, you are,” I reassure as I turn down Wolf’s street and pull the truck recklessly into his driveway, running over his finely trimmed grass as I do. Jumping out of the car, I slam the door.

  “Are you fucking crazy? There are kids here!” Jack shouts from the front porch. If I wasn’t so fucking worked up, I might’ve felt a little guilty, especially since his young son was killed by a reckless driver. Violently, I pull Ally’s door open and shoot him a look.

  “We need to talk. Now,” I seethe, holding my hand out for Ally.

  “You son of a bitch! Look what you did to m
y lawn,” Wolf bellows, running down the ramp with a fucking party hat on his head. It’s no wonder why we couldn’t place Yankovich all this time; we’re too fucking busy being clowns, the whole fucking lot of us.

  Not bothering to close Ally’s door, I pull her toward the house as Wolf stops to stand in front of me, blocking my way.

  “Whoa, Cowboy,” he says, straightening his party hat as he glances between me and Ally. “Shit,” he mutters, simmering down. “What happened?”

  “What’s all the commotion about?” Blackie chimes in, stepping out of the house.

  “Is Lacey here?” I question, ignoring all of their questions.

  Fuck them.

  It’s time they fucking answer to me.

  My job was to take care of Ally. Their job was to find Yankovich so we could make him pay for every fucking heinous thing he’s done. I did my part and they failed to do theirs. Staring at me cautiously, Blackie seems to notice I’m not fucking around and he calls over his shoulder for his woman.

  “I suggest you tell your women to take the kids and bring them out to the yard,” I growl as we make our way up the ramp. Silently, Jack and Blackie exchange looks, and Wolf lays a hand on Ally’s shoulder.

  “Everything okay, sweetheart?”

  “She’ll be fine,” I snap, pulling her against my side.

  “Deuce, I’m okay,” Ally whispers.

  “I know you are,” I tell her. Then not giving a fuck what anyone says, I peck her lips as Lacey emerges with Cobra and Celeste right behind her.

  “What’s going on?” Lacey ask concerned.

  “Ally missed her methadone appointment,” I tell her. “Is there something you can do? Call the clinic or something?”

  “Damn, what the hell happened to your truck?” Rocco questions behind me. Turning around I watch the mobster hand the bakery box over to his goon and inspect the damage on the truck.

  “I have a better question,” Cobra snarls. “How about you explain why Ally missed her appointment?”