“Shouldn’t matter what I wear,” she murmured.
He spun on her. “Cait, normally would say you’re fuckin’ right. Now, I’m not. Hangin’ by a fuckin’ thread here. Problem is, I make a move, you ain’t sayin’ no. You want it as much as me. Ain’t smart, so I need to resist makin’ that move. You walkin’ around the room in some silky fuckin’ nightie or whatever, ain’t gonna help me resist. You like my touch, I like touchin’ you. That’s a problem.”
It was only a problem because he was making it a problem.
No.
No, he was right. He knew the tension and the issues it would cause. They both did.
And honestly, it pissed her off that she couldn’t have what she wanted. Instead, who she didn’t want forced himself on her.
Life was so damn unfair sometimes.
She wanted the man who stood before her. The biker who talked roughly, cursed a lot, was covered in tattoos, smoked pot, sometimes drank too much, and could be violent when required since that was his job. He was no-nonsense, said only what he meant, took no shit and would be fiercely loyal.
Everyone else expected her to be interested in a man like Nate Gallo. A seemingly polite man who wore expensive suits and watches, worked out in a gym— though, not enough to actually become as strong or big as Magnum—held a “respectable job” in his father’s agency, had a lot of family money due to that agency and got “respect”—whether real or fake—from his peers. He also knew how to play society’s game.
Magnum didn’t give a shit about society or games.
Nate Gallo was considered “put together.” Unlike what the world saw in Magnum. A rough and tough grab-the-world-by-the-balls-and-squeeze-them, tattooed “thug.”
He knew her past, where she came from, who she grew up with. He also knew her family, at least on the DAMC side, and heard about her family on her mother’s side.
She knew nothing about him. Where he came from, how he was raised, who raised him, or why he was who he was.
What little she knew about him had come from the DAMC sisterhood, some by eavesdropping on her father’s conversations with his club brothers, and the rest from watching the man every chance she had gotten. Which wasn’t often, but if she heard the Knights would be at a DAMC function, she made sure to be there.
Now she had him all to herself, away from the DAMC, away from his club, too, they could simply be Cait and Malcolm.
The only problem was, when they went back home, they’d go back to being Dawg’s daughter and Magnum, the Dark Knights’ Sergeant at Arms.
And if something happened between the two of them while they were here, would they be able to forget it ever happened once they drove away?
Even if Magnum could, she wasn’t sure she could. And that made the whole thing even more frustrating.
Even if she said, “Hey, Mag, how about you bang my brains out this week and once I drop you back off at Dirty Dick’s, we’ll pretend nothing ever happened?” she didn’t think he’d agree.
She also knew the age difference between them bothered him. He’d mentioned it after the kiss they shared at Diesel’s wedding. He’d mentioned it again the other day.
Did it bother her? She didn’t care what his age was. No one else should care, either, since they were both consenting adults. And it wasn’t like she was barely eighteen and he was sixty. She had recently turned twenty-five and he was knocking on forty-one’s back door.
And, anyway, they weren’t talking marriage or having babies, or even doing anything more than hooking up and having fun, right?
She closed her eyes and once again pictured Magnum with an infant cradled against his chest. He’d probably fiercely protect his children.
“Caitie, tell me you heard me.”
Her eyes popped open. “I heard you. I’ll ask around for a prairie dress, knee high socks and a bonnet.” What was supposed to be funny, fell painfully flat. “I understand your worry about my father, but do you think he’d have a hard time with us if I wasn’t sixteen years younger than you?”
His expression turned grim. “Don’t know. Probably the biggest reason but not the only one.”
She considered the other possibilities. “My dad wouldn’t care you’re black.”
Magnum tilted his head, his brown eyes searching. “You sure?”
She would be extremely disappointed in her father if he did. She really doubted that would be a problem since she’d never seen any signs of Dawg being a racist. The DAMC wasn’t even all white since Crow was Native American. They were more diverse than the Knights who only had black members.
Now, the Knights’ ol’ ladies were a different story. From what Cait had seen, they were all colors of the rainbow. They liked a variety of women.
“My dad also wouldn’t care you’re a biker.”
One thick brow rose. “Again, you sure?”
“He’s one.” That would be hypocritical if he did.
“Yeah, Caitie, he’s one. Don’t mean he don’t want better for his daughters.”
She had no doubt Dawg wanted that. For all three of them. But still... “Do you think someone like Nate Gallo is better than someone like you?”
He grunted. “Need to ask that?”
“I don’t want to be with someone who would judge my own father or my family. And when I say family, I mean the club.”
“But you’re afraid of the people you work with judgin’.”
“I’m not the one who introduced you as Malcolm. I’m not the one who told you to wear a long-sleeve shirt in sweltering weather.”
“No, but you don’t want ‘em knowin’ who your pop is. You said it, Cait. Heard it. Think they’d be any less judgmental if they knew your ‘boyfriend’ was a biker? That we can hide. Can’t hide the fact I got dark brown skin.”
“And that shouldn’t matter.”
“Right. Shouldn’t. Remains to be seen. Hadn’t had much interaction with any of ‘em yet. Did notice Gallo don’t hire folks much different from himself.”
She couldn’t argue now that she’d noticed it, too.
“This world... this small world you work in is just a small piece of a bigger one, Caitie. That’s a fact. ‘Cause of who you are and what you look like, you have no fuckin’ clue. You’re in a bubble.”
“I’m not in a bubble!”
“You’re in a goddamn bubble. You didn’t put yourself there, but the world did.”
“Then I need to pop that bubble.”
“Not with me you don’t.”
She took a step back as he ripped his T-shirt over his head, threw it on the couch, grabbed her wrist and tugged her into the bedroom. He didn’t stop until they were standing in front of a full-length mirror. He pulled her in front of him, facing the mirror, and held onto her shoulders, forcing her to look at the two of them together.
The physical difference between them was startling.
“Look,” he grumbled. “We’re so goddamn different. Yeah, it’s our age. Yeah, it’s our skin. But look beyond that.”
“You said I was property of the DAMC.”
“You are.”
“Then there’s no difference.”
“You denied it.”
She couldn’t argue that, either.
“You got a whole goddamn life ahead of you, Cait. A good career. Eventually a family, kids. You can have it all. With me? What you fuckin’ see in that mirror’s all you’d fuckin’ get.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
His fingertips pressed harder into her shoulders. “Lotta folk wouldn’t agree with you. Includin’ Dawg. For him, the sun rises and sets on you. You were my daughter, I’d want better for you, too.”
“But—”
“But nothin’. He’s a good fuckin’ man, Cait. He’s gonna want to make sure you’re on the right path. He’s the kind of man who’s gonna want grandbabies. He’s the kind of man who’ll wanna make sure you’re financially secure. He’s gonna wanna man who can give you the fuckin’ world beca
use he wants you to have the world, somethin’ he didn’t have himself ‘til Emma. ‘Til you. ‘Til Lily and Emmalee. You are his fuckin’ world. You’re his baby girl no matter how fuckin’ old you get. You get that?”
Yes, she got it. She really did. It was one reason she never wanted anyone judging him. He might be a rough-looking biker on the outside, but on the inside, her father had a heart of gold. She saw it the first time she met him almost eleven years ago in that diner for their first supervised visitation.
Her mother had been forced by the courts to tell Cait who her real father was and to admit Paul was her stepfather. She remembered the fear, the betrayal and the shock of finding out the truth. Her mother never said anything nice about Dawg. Not one fucking thing, which made her even more scared about meeting him.
The judge had left it up to Cait whether Dawg was awarded regular visitation—at first supervised, then eventually unsupervised—after that initial meeting because her mother and stepfather kept fighting it. And they had the money to do so. Unlike Dawg.
But that day... That day she met him, he didn’t hide anything. He wore his cut proudly and he told her about his life and asked about hers up to that very moment. He had been completely honest with her. That day changed her life completely.
When she had decided she wanted a relationship with her biological father, it was because she could see past the exterior the world saw and saw what really counted. The same way she saw Magnum.
Her father opened her eyes in a lot of ways. She had been sheltered somewhat and Dawg’s life was completely different. So different.
She ended up immersed in that life. So, when Magnum said their lives were completely different, that wasn’t quite true.
“I wasn’t born into it, but I spent the last almost eleven years around an MC. You know I moved in with Dad and Emma as soon as I graduated high school. My mother did nothing but tear my father down, while Dawg said nothing bad about her. Not once. And I’m sure he had plenty of things to say.”
“So, there you go, your mother tears Dawg down when him bein’ your father ain’t a choice. I’m a choice, Caitie. Wanna alienate her by bein’ with someone whose lifestyle she hates?”
“She apparently didn’t hate it when she got pregnant with me.” Which Cait brought up endless times.
“Biggest mistake of her life,” he echoed her mother’s response.
“Yes, that’s what she says.”
“But she got you out of it.”
She said that, too. “She also almost lost me because of it. If I hadn’t moved out of her house and in with Dawg...” She shook her head. “Our relationship might have been irrevocably broken.”
“Another good reason why us doin’ anything together is a bad fuckin’ idea. Not just Dawg but your mother, too. Really wanna lose her?”
“She’d never know.”
His head jerked back, and their gazes locked in the mirror. “Whataya mean?”
“She hasn’t met everyone I’ve...”
“Everyone you’ve what?”
“Dated,” she ended weakly. She not only felt the heat of her blush but saw it in the mirror.
“Dated,” he muttered under his breath. “Yep, not a fuckin’ discussion we’re gonna have.”
“I wasn’t a virgin before...” Before.
“Yep, not a fuckin’ discussion we’re gonna have.”
“I’m one hundred percent sure you’re not one, either.”
He released her and took long strides out of the bedroom. “Not a fuckin’ discussion we’re gonna have,” he yelled over his shoulder and slammed the door shut behind him.
Chapter Six
Cait quietly opened the bedroom door and stopped dead.
Magnum was sprawled out on his stomach, the sheet under him in a bunched ball, the sheet that was supposed to be covering him... wasn’t.
Not quite anyway.
It draped over him from mid-thigh to barely the top curve of his ass cheeks. And, hell, his ass had the perfect curves.
He was worried about her walking around in a half-undressed state and here he was sleeping naked.
And with Magnum, that was a whole lot of naked.
He was way too big for the couch. His head was practically hanging off one armrest with his face turned away from her and his feet dangled in the air over the other one.
One dark, tattooed arm trailed on the tiled floor.
During the night she had heard a thump and a loud curse. When she rushed out to check, she found him on the floor, very naked then, too. But the sheet must have wrapped around his middle as he rolled off the couch. So, she hadn’t seen much more than what she was seeing now.
She had offered to call the front desk to get him a foldaway. But he refused, wanting to make sure there was no question to the rest of the guests whether he was her boyfriend or not. So, after going back and forth about it until he got extremely pissed off, she shrugged, went back to the king-sized bed with expensive high-count cotton sheets, surrounded by thick pillows, while he wedged himself back on the couch.
He was only in Lake George because of her, which meant he shouldn’t be the one suffering. Tonight she would insist he take the bed. And if he insisted she not share it with him, even platonically, she’d take the couch.
She moved closer and watched his back rise and fall slowly as he slept. It was getting closer to the time when she had to go to the kick-off breakfast where Hank was the keynote speaker. It would look bad if she missed it.
She could go without Magnum, but after their conversation yesterday, she was pretty damn sure he’d be pissed if she snuck out and let him sleep.
She squatted next to the couch and whispered, “Hey.”
Nothing.
“Malcolm.”
Still nothing.
She reached out, hesitated for only a second, then lightly trailed her fingers down his spine. The black ink in his skin didn’t stand out as much as it would with someone lighter, but it was still discernible. Her fingers slipped back up his spine, then brushed over the top rocker that read, “DARK KNIGHTS” then the bottom one that read “PENNSYLVANIA.”
The center emblem consisted of a sword jammed into the top of a skull that had wings. The bottom ribbon included the words: Ride Free.
Ride free.
She doubted Magnum completely rode “free.”
Her fingertips skimmed back up, over his shoulder and down the arm that had dropped onto the floor. It had quite a few tattoos. All in nothing but black ink. But one caught her eye. Or two, actually. From a distance, they had blended in with the rest. Now close up, they were easy to pick out. They consisted of two lines each with three block letters and then numbers, all written vertically and side by side down his right bicep.
She assumed they were initials. ABM with a date and MAM with a date a year later than the first one.
Did he have kids? Adult kids?
If so, no one ever mentioned them. Not even Magnum. And if it was true, the oldest was only a year younger than her.
Yikes. She was sure that could be a little weird. For both of them. Maybe that was what made their age difference more of a problem for him. Maybe his kids wouldn’t approve.
She wondered what they looked like, who their mother was, where they were, or why he never talked about them.
She hadn’t known Dawg existed for almost her first fifteen years. Maybe it was the same for his kids.
Shit, she hoped not.
His large hand curled around her ankle and slid up her calf, then her thigh, until his fingers slipped under the bottom of the above-the-knee skirt she had decided to wear for day one of the retreat. Professional but still comfortable.
His fingers skimmed the bottom lace of her panties at her thigh, then stilled. Without looking at her, his rougher than normal voice said, “Got five seconds to walk away, Caitie.”
“What if I don’t want to walk away?”
“Need to walk away.”
His large hand seared her sk
in, but it remained planted on the back of her thigh.
“Need to walk away,” he said again. “For me.”
For me.
He was here at this retreat for her, to help her. She needed to do what he asked. It was only fair.
But it was unfair, too.
He was right. She needed to walk away. They needed to get down to the breakfast before it started. She needed to make a good impression with Hank and the upper management. Show she was a team player.
If she didn’t walk away now, if she pushed him, they wouldn’t be going to breakfast, they wouldn’t be going anywhere except for that king bed where she tossed and turned all night.
And then they’d be tossing and turning but not because of sleep.
Her pussy clenched and heat flooded her belly.
“Let go, so I can walk away,” she whispered.
“Not holdin’ you there, baby.”
“Yes, you are.” He wasn’t holding her there with his strength but by his touch alone.
He held more power than he knew.
It took a few moments for him to drop his hand, to let her go, which made her wonder if he’d also struggled with his decision.
Even so, he was stronger than her.
She needed to give him space, but she needed it, too. “I’ll go down, sit by the pool and wait while you get ready. We have about fifteen minutes until I need to be in the restaurant. If you want to be there with me, then you need to hurry.”
His face still turned away from her, a grunt was his only answer.
With a nod he didn’t see, she moved toward the door.
As she opened it, she heard, “Pool. That’s it. No food, no drink, nothin’ ‘til I’m with you.”
With another nod she wasn’t sure he saw, since she kept her back to him, she continued over the threshold and shut the door behind her with trembling fingers.
Walking down the hallway, she forced herself to breathe.
Magnum half-jogged down the steps from the third story of the building, where their room was, all the way to the ground level. She had told him fifteen minutes. He’d done what he needed to do in ten.
Magnum: A Dark Knights MC/Dirty Angels MC Crossover Page 8
