I printed off the posters and stuffed them in a bag, ready for tomorrow.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
LIBBY
He was looking at me like that again.
I had no idea what to do with myself. My hands fluttered around, my smile plastered to my face. What the hell was happening to me?
Bullet had gotten under my skin.
Truth is, I wanted him even deeper.
I watched him eat, tearing into the chicken with his teeth with gusto, the tip of his tongue licking his lips, and it took me right back to the last time we were alone. We’d come so close.
And yet, we’d ended so excruciatingly far from satisfaction.
I sat across from him, staring at him like a starving woman. He’d lit a fire inside of me and if I didn’t feel his hands on me again soon, I was sure I’d die of longing and frustration.
“They took us in like family,” he was saying, going on in between bites about his new Gods of Chaos family — they sounded like amazing people and I truly wanted to meet and hear more about them — but my eyes kept trailing between his lips and his flexing forearms, then sliding down to his fingers, and I just wanted to learn more about Bullet.
I wanted to learn how it would feel to have those lips and hands all over me again.
I wanted to know what those fingers felt like inside of me.
I wanted to see what he looked like the moment before he came.
The whiskey had done its job. It took the edge off just enough to make me forget just how insane this situation was and allowed me to just enjoy the moment.
And in this moment, I was anxious to finish dinner and pick up where we left off. By the way he was looking at me, I was pretty sure Bullet was thinking along the same lines.
I almost shouted with glee when he threw his napkin into his plate and pushed it away from him.
“About earlier,” he said, his voice growing serious. I bit my lip, willing myself not to speak. “I know it was a little fast, and I just wanted to —.”
“—I’m sorry we got interrupted.” So much for not speaking.
He paused, slowly nodding, a small smile forming on his face, his eyes crinkling. “That was rather unfortunate.”
I nodded.
“What I was going to say, Libby, is that you deserve more than what I can offer you right now.” He leaned over close, grabbing my hand in his and rubbing my palm with his thumb. “As much as I want to rip your clothes off and start devouring you all over again, I just feel like perhaps we should wait until we can go out on a proper date or two and I can court you like a gentleman.”
My mouth dropped at his words. It was charming, really it was. It was also an antiquated, dated philosophy, even under the best circumstances.
“I’m flattered, thank you,” I smiled at him. “But no.”
“No?” he repeated, his eyes widening.
I nodded, “That’s right. No.”
“Libby?”
“Listen,” I whispered, suddenly wondering if the cameras could hear what we were saying. “We could die tomorrow. We don’t know. Or, they could come down and take one of us away and we’d never see each other again. I don’t want to take the chance, Bullet.”
He stared at me for a long time, before sighing.
“My first inclination is to reassure you once again that we’re going to get out of here safe. I promise you that, Libby. But you’re a sharp woman, and I’m not going to lie to you. You’re right, anything could happen,” he paused, his eyes dilating as his voice lowered with lust. “And I want you, Libby, don’t for a second think I don’t. I want you so fucking bad that it’s killing me right now.”
Emboldened by the whiskey, I jumped up from my seat and quickly walked around the table. Bullet turned to face me and I straddled him, my center pressed against him firmly, the evidence of his desire for me throbbing between us.
“I told you,” he growled.
I nodded, my heart racing.
“And I told you, I don’t want to wait, Bullet,” I whispered, my lips inches from his. “Please don’t make me wait.”
He took a deep breath, his body pulsing against mine. His hands reached around, gripping my ass, as he lifted me up with ease and stood up.
“A gentleman always gives the lady what she wants,” he growled.
“That’s more like it,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck as he carried me into the bedroom. “Take me out of here, Bullet. Take me somewhere else, just for a little while.”
His eyes raged with a storm that ripped right through me, a rush of passion that flowed between us like a river. Crashing into mine, his lips were white hot heat, urgent, demanding, taking everything I had to give.
He placed me on the bed, hovering over me, never breaking our kiss, his tongue delving into my mouth, searching, possessing.
Our hands pushed and pulled our clothes away. I pulled away from his kiss, my eyes raking over his body, my fingers reaching up to gently trail over the scar near the middle of his chest.
“I forgot,” I said. “I don’t want to hurt you…”
“Stop,” he said, grabbing my fingers. “That’s for me to worry about, not you.”
I nodded, biting my lip as I drank him in. His long blonde hair hung down towards me, his eyes smoky and dark as he brought his lips to mine. I closed my eyes, forgetting about the bullet in his chest, forgetting about our captors upstairs, forgetting about Slade, unconscious in the next room.
Instead, I concentrated on his fingers sliding over my skin, digging into my hips, his kisses trailing down my neck, capturing my nipples in his teeth, biting gently until I cried out.
Abruptly, he stopped and pulled away.
“Hold on,” he muttered as he swooped his discarded T-shirt from the floor and walked over to the corner of the room, draping it over the camera mounted there.
I smiled, having forgotten about that, too.
“This is for us,” he growled, “not for them.”
I smiled, opening my thighs, welcoming him back as he dropped to his knees, his mouth finding its way back to my skin, his lips hot and wet on my belly, sliding down further and further until I felt the heat of his breath on my clit.
My hips rose to meet him as he engulfed me with his mouth, his tongue darting out to taste me. I moaned quietly at his touch, electric shocks of pleasure shooting through me. I reached down, my fingers sliding through his hair, pulling him closer as his mouth brought me over the edge. His fingers slid inside gently, and I pressed towards him, wanting more, needing more.
“Bullet,” I cried, on fire for him.
I thrashed around under his mouth, moaning and writhing until his fingers and tongue left me shaking and trembling uncontrollably.
He raised himself to look into my eyes, his hardness throbbing against me.
“Libby…,” he growled, my name both a question and a warning on his lips.
“Please,” I begged, pressing my hips up. “Now.”
“Oh, Libby,” he groaned, his cock pressing into me, sliding into me smoothly, the weight of his body pushing me into the bed as I melted below him. I wrapped my thighs around him, pulling him closer, deeper. He moved slowly, his eyes searching mine
I lost myself in his smoldering gaze, finding the home I’d always dreamed of.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
GRACE
A mile away from Mona’s grandmother’s house in Lake Oswego, all of the Gods were gathered inside the hotel room Ryder and I rented. We’d driven by last night, and it was quiet and peaceful — an adorable Craftsman-style home tucked back into the woods on a quiet tree-lined street — but both of us agreed that something didn’t feel right.
It was too quiet.
Too peaceful.
Too clean.
One light shone in a corner window, yet there was no apparent sign of movement inside.
“By all appearances, nothing’s going on there. But we owe it to Slade and Bullet to check everything and look under every rock. The
plan is that I will go to the door by myself, and you guys hang back,” I said. They gave me their complete attention. “I’ll give Ryder a sign if I need help. If there’s any sign of the guys, we’ll bust in and search the place.”
“And if they aren’t there?” Wreck asked.
“Then we’re back to square one,” Riot said. He looked terrible. Huge dark circles had formed under his bloodshot eyes and he’d lost weight. Even with Lacey and Cherry’s best efforts, I knew he’d not been eating much. Despite that, his energy was up. He was hoping for the best, I could tell by the glimmer in his eyes.
I guess we all were.
“Let’s get on the road,” Ryder said, putting a hand on my back.
We trailed out of the room and down the hallway, a convoy of leather and testosterone lumbering through the lobby amidst curious looks from passing guests. We ignored them all, completely used to the stares.
Lined up by the street, the God’s bikes stood waiting like a band of loyal soldier’s horses. One by one, the bikes were started up, the roar of the engines growing to a crescendo that shook the windows of nearby cars. I jumped on behind Ryder, and we roared off down the street, with the guys following us.
Within minutes we were near the house. The guys stopped about a block away and Ryder and I continued on, pulling into the driveway. The house was just as quiet as it had been the previous evening. Lace curtains were drawn on all the windows, making it impossible to see inside.
I had no idea how long her grandma had been dead, but by the looks of things, it must have been a while.
No flowerpots in sight. No rocking chairs on the expansive front porch. No bird-feeders. If Mona’s grandmother lived here, it must have been a long time ago. Plenty of time to turn the inside of it into whatever you needed it to be.
Ryder turned off his engine and we hopped off the bikes, listening to the symphony of birds singing in the tall Oak trees gently swaying overhead. Gravel crunched under our boots as we walked slowly down the driveway. The curved walkway leading to the door was made of large stones like the ones we have at the clubhouse and it made me miss home. I just wanted this to all be over, so we could go home and get on with the next chapter of our lives.
It wasn’t going to be easy. I looked over at Ryder and a wave of guilt washed over me. He deserved to know what was going on. He should know by now, but there was no way I could tell him in the middle of all of this. I could only hope he would forgive me for not telling him sooner. He’d have to understand.
The front door of the house was painted bright red, with a big black iron knocker hanging from it. I reached up, lifting it and letting it fall a few times. We stood back to wait, listening intently for any sign of movement inside.
Silence.
Ryder glanced over at me questioningly.
I knocked again, with my fist this time, louder.
A rustling sound broke through the silence and Ryder and I took a step back from the door. He pulled his gun from the holster on his hip.
“Hello?” I called out. “Is anyone home?”
More rustling came from just inside the door, but nobody answered.
“Someone's in there,” I whispered to Ryder.
“Let’s pull back,” he said. “Call the guys.”
I nodded and we walked back to the bike. I watched the house while Ryder called for the guys and in seconds, the roar of their bikes echoed through the air as they pulled into the driveway.
“We heard someone rustling around in there,” Ryder said, as they gathered around him. “Nobody’s answering, though.”
“We breaking in?”
“Normally, I’d say no, but if Slade and Bullet are in there, we gotta do whatever it takes.”
“I agree,” Riot said.
Ryder turned to me and put his arm around me, walking me back behind a big tree.
“Stay here,” he said.
“What!” I protested. “I’m going in with you guys.”
“No, you aren’t,” he replied.
“What the fuck, Ryder?” I demanded, infuriated. “I can hold my own.”
“Grace, I have a really bad feeling about this one. Just stay here, once we get in and make sure it’s safe, then you can come in.”
That wave of guilt I’d felt a few minutes ago came rushing back as he stared down at me with such concern. The feminist in me was raging, though. The ex-cop in me was appalled that I would agree to stay behind.
“Fine,” I conceded. “But I’m coming in right after you.”
“Fine,” he said, kissing my forehead and walking away.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath after he was gone. I watched from afar, my heart racing. The guys spread out, several of them running around to the back of the house, as Riot, Ryder and Wreck went back to the front door.
“Open up!” Ryder shouted out as he banged on the door. A loud metal clanking sound broke the silence for two seconds. I watched nervously as Ryder tried the doorknob, shocked to see it turn in his hand. He opened the door slowly and the three of them went inside.
“We’re coming in!” Ryder’s voice called out. I heard footsteps shuffling around and then a quick shout of surprise and a single gunshot.
I ran as fast as I could, my own gun drawn at my side. Bursting through he door, I stopped in my tracks when I saw the guys surrounding the fireplace.
“What the hell happened?” I cried.
“It was a raccoon,” Ryder replied, pointing at the wall. “He went straight up the fireplace.”
“Why did you shoot him?”
“We didn’t,” Ryder said. “Riot got spooked, nobody got hurt.”
“Oh,” I said, turning to Riot. He looked shaken.
“Fuck,” he muttered, shrugging. “I’m on edge big time. Sorry, y’all. I’m glad I didn’t hurt anyone.”
“I’m glad you didn’t hurt the raccoon,” Mayhem said. Ziggy laughed and the rest of us joined in.
“It’s okay,” Ryder said, patting Riot on the back. “We needed something new to tease you about.”
“So no trace of anyone else?” I asked.
“Nope,” Wreck said, coming around the corner. “Place is empty. Looks like it hasn’t been lived in for quite a while.”
“Shit,” I said, my heart sinking.
“Yep,” Riot said, his eyes full of disappointment.
“Don’t fucking give up,” Ryder said, storming out. “We’re gonna find them.”
I watched him leave, his shoulders solid, his chin lifted, his eyes fiercely determined and I remembered why I fell in love with this man.
If there was ever anyone you wanted on your side, he was the one.
Slade and Bullet might be going through hell right now, but they were two of the luckiest guys in the world.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
MONA
“You haven’t called me in six months!” My mother’s voice made me cringe. When I saw she was calling, I was sure someone else in my family must have died, because that was basically the only time she called me. And yet, she was bitching at me about not calling her as soon as I answered. Typical.
“I could say the same for you, Ma,” I replied. “Did someone die?”
“No,” she replied, her disdain and utter disappointment in me almost palpable in her tone. “But someone came looking for you.”
“What? Who?” My heartbeat surged.
“What have you done, Mona?”
“I didn’t do anything,” I said. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, the cops are looking for you. You’re going to go back to jail if you’re not careful.”
“The cops?” I asked, my heart racing. “Tell me what the hell you’re talking about, Ma! Stop beating around the bush!”
“Well, this morning, I was at home, having coffee, watching Good Day Oregon. I saw you on there the other day, by the way. You could have told me you were going to be on, a little notice would have been nice. You look like you’re gaining weight, though, h
oney. Are you exercising?”
“Mom!” I shouted. “Tell me about the cops.”
“The cops?” she asked, momentarily forgetting. “Oh, right…”
I rolled my eyes, taking a deep breath, mustering all the patience I had.
“Well, she said she wasn’t a cop anymore, actually. But I’m sure you remember her. Oh, what was her name? Wait, she gave me her card. I just need to fish it out of my purse. Hold on, sweetheart….”
“Mom!” I called out. “Who are you talking about?”
“That woman that arrested you all those years ago. Remember her? She seemed like a nice lady, but she did send you to jail, I guess.”
“Grace?” The blood drained from my face.
“Yes!” she cried out. “That’s her name! Thank you. I guess my memory isn’t so great anymore. You know, Mona, I’m not doing so well. Anything could happen. You should check on me more. I’m going to end up one of those ladies who dies in her home all alone and her dog eats her face.”
“Princess would never eat your face, Ma,” I said, my heart pounding. If I wasn’t so stressed, I’d laugh at the thought of my mother’s Pomeranian eating her face. “Tell me what Grace said.”
“She just said she was looking for you, wanted to talk to you, but I don’t know why,” she said. “She gave me her card, but now I can’t find it. She said to give her a call. Tell you what — why don’t you come out and visit me today and I’ll find the card and give it to you then.”
“I can’t, Ma. I gotta go,” I said.
“Mona, do you know how long it’s been since I’ve seen your face?”
“You saw it on TV a few days ago, Ma.”
“That’s not the same and you know it!”
“I’m really busy right now.”
“You always have an excuse,” she replied. “Mona, if you don’t come see me today, I’m going to call Grace and tell her where you are.”
“You don’t know where I am!” I protested.
“Yes, I do!” she insisted. “You’re hanging out in that dumb ghost town that guy from New York gave you. If you’re not in Portland, then where else would you be?”
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