by Blue, Jayne
It was a powder keg, and in my past, I was often the match, but now, in this new club, I had to pull things together. I would not be the reason one of my new brothers wound up in prison for murder.
There was a war, no question, between the legit GWMC and the outcasts. But I had to be sure we waged it very carefully. And I had to strengthen the tentative bonds I was trying to create with these men. I missed Hammer, Sawyer, Ryder, Steel—all my brothers in Grand City. But I had to remember we hadn’t bonded in seconds. It had taken years.
The Great Wolves M.C. Chicago was brand new, and it could easily be destroyed.
I finished the calls, reasonably assured that no one was going to do anything stupid, and that everyone was as safe as possible, given the circumstances.
Now it was time to turn to Frankie. I’d done the things, I hoped, that a good Prez would do. I’d put my club first. But now, I needed her. I needed to see her.
In the initial moments, they separated us. I knew why: no sharing of stories or alibies or lies.
They wouldn’t let me come with her. I wasn’t her husband. I was nothing to her.
By the time they let me go, I had no idea if she was at the station or the hospital or home. I hoped she was okay. I worried about her shock at what had happened.
I made my way back to Kaminski’s, hoping she was safe inside.
There was a patrol car in front of the bar. That was good. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath.
“Hold up.”
The officer got out of the squad car and came around to me.
“Can I see some I.D.?”
I complied.
“What are you doing here?”
“I rent a room above the bar.”
I was about to try to explain that I wasn’t a bad guy, for the thousandth time today, when the door of Kaminski’s swung open.
“Officer, it’s okay, he rents from us. It’s fine.”
“Okay, Miss, we just want to be sure.”
“I appreciate it, thank you,” Frankie said, and I walked in. I watched as she closed the door and engaged the locks.
“Are you okay?” I asked and she nodded. Frankie was normally chatty, ready with a line or banter. But she was quiet, still, and I knew the day had to have scarred her.
“I’m sorry about your friend.”
“I’m sorry I thought it was a gang banger. It was the leather.”
“Hey, they were Great Wolves, up until a day ago. It’s not something you need to be sorry for.”
“I made it clear it wasn’t you, but I don’t think they trusted what I was saying. They kept saying I was in shock. And, ugh, it was frustrating on top of everything else. I think I’m a crappy witness.”
“You went through trauma and the police station is more trauma. They put us all through the wringer, but we came out clean. Crank and Danny, and a few of the others? They’re going to be caught. Don’t fucking doubt it.”
I saw a shadow cross her face.
“I, uh, how did you know how to do all you did, to save Hayden, Officer Parker?”
“I’ve been through some rough stuff; bullet first aid is something I know. I’m a combat veteran.”
I was honest with her. She deserved that.
“Oh, I guess if I knew what all your patches meant I’d have known that.”
“I’m not a fan of chatting about it.”
“Uh, well, thank you. I just can’t stop thinking that he took that bullet for me.”
Her lip wavered and I reached out. I didn’t think about what it meant or if she wanted me to. I was compelled to try to make her feel safe, to comfort her if she needed it, to hold her if she’d let me.
“It’s not your fault. Standing up to bullies is a good thing. You did that. You’re brave as hell.”
“But they were shooting at me. And Parker got in the way.”
“He is going to pull through and you’re a victim in this, you have no guilt, zero.”
I held her close and felt her body sink into mine. I wanted to give her strength, make her feel better; I wanted to do everything for Frankie.
“Thank you, I, uh…I better turn in.”
And she stepped back. I looked at her beautiful face, tears streamed down her cheeks. She wiped them quickly away. The tough girl who ran this business and didn’t flinch in the face of danger was working to get back to herself.
Frankie Kaminski didn’t let life get her down, even when life served up the worst shit out there.
“You don’t have to be tough with me. It’s okay,” I said, and she nodded. She was there for everyone in her life. I wanted to be there for her.
“Turn off that kitchen light when you come up. There’s a covered dinner in the cooler if you’re hungry. Lamont says there’s not a problem big enough that food can’t solve.”
“Smart man.”
I watched her climb the back stairs to the apartments above. I wasn’t hungry. I was tired. I was also trying to figure out my next move. I needed to sort out how to protect this neighborhood. I needed to kill Crank. That was fucking on my mind too. How to kill fucking Crank, or neutralize him without getting myself thrown in prison for it?
I had a new appreciation for Sawyer, and all he balanced, on the head of a fucking pin, I swear.
I waited and let Frankie get situated upstairs. She needed to feel safe, to have her normal routine.
After a bit of time, I climbed upstairs too. I kept my door open a crack. I didn’t know what might happen, what I might hear, but I needed to keep one foot on the ground, and one ear to the street for a while.
Until some of this was resolved.
Or until I died. Whether it was for Frankie or for the M.C. that was really the commitment I’d made now. To keep them all safe.
Shit, it was a tall order, but I was a big man. I shrugged off the doubts.
I shed my jacket, kicked off my jeans and t-shirt, and crashed into bed. I needed to sleep, but I feared there wasn’t a chance in hell.
I don’t know how many minutes went by. I swear, she was fucking stealthy. I looked up, and there she was.
Frankie was standing in the door, moonlight from the window in the other room making the t-shirt she wore almost glow. Her curves were dark next to the white fabric.
“Can you please hold me?” she asked, and I opened my arms wide.
She crawled into bed next to me. I felt her legs, soft, against mine, her curves fitting perfectly with my rough edges.
If all she ever wanted was this, it would be enough.
I fucking loved having her next to me, having her need me.
But she didn’t want just this. Her need and mine had crashed into each other, and it was fucking explosive.
Twelve
Frankie
Nothing about today was right, nothing.
Except Ridge.
Watching Ridge fight to save Hayden Parker’s life was right. It was a beacon. It was the strength I needed to get through those awful minutes.
And then, when I saw him outside the bar tonight, and when he held me, I knew. I knew it wasn’t just lust.
There was something deeper with Ridge. He was more than the tough biker he appeared to be. When I watched the blood pump out of Parker’s chest and sat helpless as he struggled for air, there’s no other way to say it: I was in abject panic. I was desperate. I was at a loss for how to help him.
Ridge did help him, and me.
And it was more than the way he handled himself. His physical presence attracted me, yes, but it also calmed me. It made me think things were going to be okay, more than okay. Even in a sea of chaos, violence, and the decay that wanted to claim this place, he was like a support beam, something solid.
Something about him gave me faith that it was all going to be okay, good even.
I couldn’t explain it, but I listened for him. I wanted him to follow me up the stairs. I felt bereft that he wasn’t coming into my room, that he wasn’t actually following me.
And th
at’s when I decided to take a risk.
It was a risk. Maybe rolling with me the other night was just a game he played. I was gambling to some degree that he wasn’t just trying to get in my pants.
Even after he stopped us yesterday, maybe that was a part of it.
He very well could have turned me out, and I very easily could get hurt, in a million different ways, by Ridge Callahan.
But I wanted to be in bed next to him and I knew it was the right place to be.
He held me and I instantly felt warmer, and like the ground that had been shifting and heaving all day, was solid again.
After that safety, came the next thing, the thing that I knew I needed just as much as the safety. I needed his body.
I needed him to take me. I nuzzled into him, my back to his chest. He brushed my hair to the side, and I felt his lips on the back of my neck. Every cell in my body felt alive when his lips touched my skin.
He was moving slow. His lips first, and then his hands, ran the length of my arm, my legs rubbing against his, like they had a mind of their own.
I leaned back to him, melted into him. Ridge pulled my t-shirt over him head and his hands reached over and cupped my breasts. Then he squeezed my nipples, his head still buried in my neck. I slid to my back and his lips were on mine.
I needed to feel his skin. I pulled his t-shirt off and gasped. His body, his chest, was hard. I leaned up and kissed it. I felt his hard muscle under my lips. I sucked his nipple, in answer, to let him know that I wanted more.
The pace between us, which was languid and sweet, became intense. We’d had a taste of each other, and it had showed us both how starving we were for more. Our kisses and caresses had only been a drop in the desert. I wanted an ocean.
He leaned down and sucked hard on the bud of my nipple and tweaked the other with his fingers. His hands were everywhere. I licked at his neck. He tasted of sweat, and salt, and something that was just him. He ripped down my panties and, somewhere along the line, his boxers disappeared.
We were skin to skin, no barriers between us. I opened my legs, and he was there, hard, almost to my entrance. I honestly didn’t think of the things I should have. I was lost in the sensation. But Ridge was prepared. He produced a condom, and because he was being responsible, and protecting us both, it let me be loose, free of worry. Ridge cared about keeping us safe.
Yes, I had taken a risk, and instead of making me pay for it, Ridge was making sure I was okay about it.
That was something.
He was there and I rocked my hips. I wanted it. I was ready.
“You’re sure?” he asked me.
“I came to you, I want this,” I told him and almost as the last word escaped my lips, I felt his hard cock dive into my heat. I gasped at the feeling of him, of how he stretched me, filled me, and then it was gone. He pulled almost completely out, slowly, and then in again.
My body screamed for more, for him to go deeper, to stay, and then he pinioned in and out again. I clawed for him, grabbed him closer, pulled him in to me, to stay, and our bodies did this heated dance, this push and pull that had my toes curling.
“Please, I need it, please.”
I was begging this man to have mercy on me, to let me have my release. And then he did! Ridge dove in harder. I didn’t think he could go deeper, but he did, and he stayed there, pulsing in me. I felt myself tightening around him.
“Mine,” he said, and he grabbed the headboard of the bed. My body wanted all of this. His hips battered into mine, his length finding something new, something explosive in me.
“Ridge!” I cried.
A wave of heat, pleasure, and—for the first time in my life—ecstasy blew down my walls.
I was laid bare to him.
My life was now before this kind of sensation and after.
Oh my God.
“I, uh—”
I wanted to say thank you. I wanted to tell him how amazing this all was. But I could barely catch my breath.
Ridge rolled to my side. He grabbed my hand and we lay there, side by side.
“You fucking rocked my world,” Ridge said to me.
“I, uh, still can’t form actual words.”
Ridge lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it.
As we lay there, all I could think of, sinfully, was when could we do it again.
Thirteen
Ridge
I had waited a lifetime to feel like I did with Frankie. And I didn’t even know I was waiting for her. I had never once, not even a tiny bit, given anything close to my heart to a woman. I’d given my body, yeah, sure. And I’d pursued beauties when they caught my interest. But nothing was ever deeper than that. I was satisfying an urge; a fucking strong one, but an urge was all it was.
I had never been comforted or provided it. I had never felt—shit, I didn’t want to think it—but I had never felt vulnerable. I was all that now, with Frankie. I felt like keeping her safe, happy, and near me. All of it had shifted to the center of my life. Where the Great Wolves were my universe. The club was my center of gravity.
Frankie and I lay side by side, her hand in mine, her soft skin, seemingly not offended by my rough; her light, illuminating my dark, and making it light too. I felt things change. I felt the core of who and what motivated shift. I had to keep her. I had to make her happy. I had to be a man worthy of her.
I didn’t want to scare her off with this type of soul searching. Shit. I’d never experienced this type of soul searching. I usually got up and out. No strings, no problems.
But getting out was the last thing I wanted with Frankie.
I put my arm around her shoulders, and she slid in closer.
We had a world of problems outside this room, problems that would likely show up as the sun rose, but right now, it was night. Maybe we had a few hours?
I kissed her head. Her hair smelled like honey. Even after the craziness of the day, she smelled sweet to me.
Her body did shit to me. I was rock hard just from her sliding over here.
I wanted to let her sleep, watch over her, but we both moved toward each other. Lazy strokes across her skin turned into me pulling her closer. She kissed my chest. Her hands explored my beat-up body.
Frankie found the bullet wound. She ran her fingers over it.
“What happened?”
“There’s a matching exit wound on my back. Bullet went clean through.”
“Oh my God.”
I thought back to when I’d been shot by the Devil’s Hawks assholes in Southwood. It had been a few years ago, and some of what happened then prepared me for what I had to do now. I usually told some bullshit story, but this time I didn’t.
“I was on club business and a rival club—a dirty one, not too different from Crank and his crew, tougher in a lot of ways—they shot me.”
“You’ve been through this before, getting rid of bad guys?” she asked and at the same time I felt her start to move. She was getting as turned on as I was, talking was going to be a low priority in about ten seconds.
“Yeah, I used to be a bad guy, but this isn’t the first time I’ve had to take out the trash. We’ll get through this.”
I slid my hands around to her backside; her rounded little ass was my new fucking favorite place on her. Wait, no, her gorgeous breasts. I leaned up and took a taste.
She pushed me back down and sat up a bit. I was able too really look at her.
“You’re fucking gorgeous.”
She smiled at me, her eyes locked with mine and I buried my cock in her at that moment. Her eyes went wide and then she closed them. He lifted her arms above her head, and I held her hips, guiding her, showing her how much I fucking appreciated her.
“Oh, ah.” She really did not have words when we were like this. I loved that shit.
I kept her sealed tight to me and lifted her up with each new wave.
“I, uh, uh.” She was gasping for breath already.
“Don’t you go yet, not yet, Frankie.”
I stopped us. We were still, but she tried to squirm her way to the peak. Just the slightest delay was going to send her into orbit though. I wanted to see that, feel what it was to be inside it.
“Ridge, oh, oh.”
I stayed still, letting myself feel the fire between us. I waited a beat more and then control for me was out of the fucking question.
I moved in her, hard and deeper. I held her tight to me. I heard her scream my name and I knew, without a doubt, that my body was hers, to do what she wanted or needed.
I knew that, after a lifetime of holding back, there was no way I could or would with Frankie. I watched her come and I wanted to give her that for the rest of her life.
I had told her she was mine. I had meant it. But it wasn’t mine to decide. It was hers to decide.
She leaned down and put her head on my chest as both rode a wave of fucking bliss.
“Mine.”
This time she said it to me. She kissed me and I tried not to start up with her again. She was so damn hot. I held her tight and she relaxed, her breathing steady, deep. She’d fallen asleep. I was glad. I may have had zero experience when it came to being in love, shit, in love. But I did have experience in the path we were walking in this neighborhood with Crank, and Danny, and the violence that was erupting. I did know it was probably going to get worse before it got better.
And I worried about her: she had been a target today. I wasn’t there. But that was about to change. It was going to be very fucking clear that Frankie Kaminski was mine and Crank needed to understand the world of hell he’d summoned by fucking with her.
As I held her in my arms, a new resolve solidified. I knew I was cleaning up Stickney Forest for Sawyer and the Great Wolves, but beyond that, I was doing it for Frankie.
I wanted her world to be safe.
And I wanted my world with her in it.
Fourteen
Frankie
I felt safe, satisfied, and totally obsessed with Ridge Callahan. He had turned my world upside down and it was already tilted.
