“Exactly what I mean,” Repo argued. “We earned his respect and that of his men. Why would they throw that all away on some sleazy vato with delusions of grandeur? I just don’t see it.”
“Maybe you’re right, maybe you’re wrong,” Blake said, the exhaustion they felt apparent in his voice. “All I know is something ain’t right. We’ve been picking the city apart and turning over every rock we find, and nothing. But this? This is something, and it holds some weight. Tanner has direct access to all of us. I hate to say it, but it’s plausible he’s the leak we’ve been looking for.”
“I’ll look into it,” Country volunteered, needing the distraction now more than ever. “If there’s something to be found, I’ll find it.”
“No, you’ve been burying yourself in this shit for too long. You’re over your head.”
“The fuck I am,” Country almost shouted. “I’ve been pouring my blood, sweat, and tears into this to ensure the safety of the club and everyone tied to it.”
“That’s what I mean,” Blake told him, his hard gaze meeting Country’s. “You’ve thrown yourself into the deep end on this one, and I appreciate it. I really do. But you’re close to coming unglued, and that’s the last thing we need happening. You got too many people depending on you to fuck up.”
“Who says I’m going to fuck up anything?” Country was a thin inch from losing his shit. He could feel it, the anger and indignation, boiling in his veins. “You know me, Blake. I’m cool under pressure. Always have been, always will be. That’s what made me so good at my job. I can investigate Tanner and Blaze, and no one has to know besides us.”
“I know, but this isn’t the Middle East, and you aren’t part of that world anymore. You’re ready to go to war. I can see it in your eyes, and I don’t want you launching that warhead unless or until it’s necessary.”
So, what he was saying was that he had no faith in Country to do the job right. Wasn’t that some shit. “What are you saying, you want me off the job? You want me to back off while you let someone else take the reins?”
Blake’s slate gray eyes held something in them that County didn’t like, not one bit—pity. “Tucker,” he said on a sigh, “I know about your problems at home. I know you haven’t been sleeping, and judging from that extra notch punched in your belt, I’m thinking you’re not eating much either lately.”
Country gritted his teeth. He’d been busy, not purposefully neglecting his life or his health. He’d been down this road before on other jobs, other missions, but it always leveled out eventually. Once this was over, the mystery solved, and the problem handled, he’d be one hundred again. What he didn’t need was people telling him what to do. But he wasn’t going to say that. Instead, out of respect and fear of what might come out that he couldn’t take back, he shut his damn mouth and stared right back at his Prez, telling himself he wasn’t about to reach out and strangle the life out of him.
Which probably had been his first clue that the man was on to something.
“I think it would be best to turn this over to some of the other guys, Taco maybe, since we can’t be sure about Moose until you can handle your business.”
“So, you’re cutting me out.”
“No. I’m telling you to scale back for now. Take a breather. You’re still part of everything, just let someone else handle the grunt work for now.”
His words were meant to placate him, but Country saw it as a castration. He was being stripped of his power to help, and at a critical time. Add that to the secrets and lies, coming from his woman, no less? He was about to blow his top off.
“You know what, fuck you,” he growled. “I do everything for this club, and this is how I’m thanked? Bullshit.”
“Don’t be a dick,” Repo told him. “This isn’t just about you.”
“No, it’s not. It’s about everyone. I’m one of your strongest assets, and you’re sidelining me?” Country stabbed a finger at Blake. “If you can’t see how that adversely affects us all, then you’re no better than your father.”
He didn’t wait around for a reply. Country was down the deck steps and pounding through the grass toward the front of the house. He probably should have called for Talia to get her ass out there, too, so they could go home, but he wasn’t much in the mood for seeing her face right now and he damn sure wasn’t planning on going home. Country needed space and time to clear his head, and he knew just how and where to do it.
***
“I wonderrred how long it’d take for you offend me,” Country slurred.
Repo stared down at him, shaking his head. The asshole was three sheets to the wind—make that four. And he was at The Tavern, making a spectacle of himself.
After Country had stormed out of there, he and Blake had let the subject drop for the time being. There wasn’t much more that could be done without holding church anyway. They needed all the guys in on this.
Plus, the women were listening. They could tell by the way the blinds kept shifting every other minute. Since they’d already shown what they would do with sensitive information, he and Blake silently agreed that they’d shelve this until later.
Then Repo and Ginger had ridden out of there, following Blake in his truck for a few stop signs as he took a visibly upset Talia home, before branching off toward his own place. Ginger had been quiet the whole way, and he aimed to get to the bottom of that one, but he’d needed to find Country first to make sure he wasn’t getting himself into any trouble.
Looked like he was a just a little late to the party.
“So, this is how you handle your shit? Get your sloppy ass up. I’m taking you home.” Repo grunted as he bent and tried to lift Country’s dead weight from the chair. Repo wasn’t a small man; the fucker was deceptively heavy. Plus, he wasn’t fully healed yet. God bless the man who invented painkillers.
“I’m gathering information,” Country said with a hiccup. “It’s my…my job.” At least he’d put his feet under him, which helped Repo walk-stagger him out.
“The only thing you’re doing is gathering witnesses. You’re drunk, bro, and in the wrong place, too.” If Talia’s information was even half true, then the last place they needed to be was here. If it turned out they couldn’t trust Blaze, then that meant they couldn’t trust Lou, the owner of The Tavern, either.
They needed to leave, now, before things took a bad turn. Repo was still holding out hope that they were wrong, but he liked to play it on the safe side. That’s how he’d lived this long. Sure, he liked to take out kneecaps and revoke some basic privileges, like a man’s right to breathe, but he was careful. That’s what mattered.
“She lied to me,” Country bemoaned.
Catching Lou’s eye, who stood behind the bar with a look of concern aimed their way, Repo lifted his chin as he stumble-walked his brother through the door and into the parking lot.
The air was humid as fuck, the sky overcast, indicating that a storm was coming. And wasn’t that just fucking ironic as hell.
“She told you the truth,” Repo informed Country as he led him past his bike and to his truck. He’d have to call ahead and send for a prospect to come pick it up. No way should a piece of machinery like that be left alone for too long. Didn’t matter where they were or who they associated with. Someone was always out to take what wasn’t theirs eventually.
“She lied first.”
Repo depressed the button on the key fob to unlock the doors then shoved Country toward the passenger side. The little princess was as wobbly as a newborn foal, but hey, he was going to have to pull his shit together. Repo wasn’t about to scoop him up like a bride and strip them both of their manhood in the middle of biker central.
“Talia was trying to help, so stop being an asshole,” he scolded. “Should she have come to you right away? Yes, but that’s not what happened. But she did come to you. Cut her some slack.”
There was a reason why women weren’t involved in club business. They thought with their hearts and that invited
trouble. Men were more cut-to-the-chase. They got shit done, while women tended to drag shit out, think too much.
He was upset too that Ginger and the other two went off and did something so stupid, but he realized that they had stepped foot into a world they didn’t know nearly enough about, so, like children, they deserved some leeway.
Country shot him a scathing, glassy-eyed glare. “You got a hard-on for my woman?”
“Right now, the only hard-on I have is for my bed and the redhead that’s waiting for me in it. Pull your shit together, bro.”
With one hand on the open passenger door to hold him steady, Country looked him over as if Repo were a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. “You better hope—”
Repo took two long strides, bringing them face to face, nose to nose, and grabbed hold of Country’s arm like he was an insolent child who needed directing. And direct him he did, right into the passenger seat. “You’d better hope you don’t finished that sentence,” he warned, “or you’ll be spending tomorrow morning getting fitted for dentures.”
He slammed the door in Country’s face then rounded the truck, eager to dump the drunken bastard on his doorstep. He hoped the guy puked his guts out all night, having an attitude like that. No one spoke to Repo that way—no one. The only reason Country stepped to him like that was because he didn’t know what he was talking about. That’s what Repo told himself as he traversed the dark roads back to town. Otherwise, he’d be feeding his long-time brother a knuckle sandwich, and that was something he tried to avoid—tended to screw up friendships. So tonight, he got a pass. Come tomorrow, Repo was going to remind the kid of his place, though, so it didn’t happen again. He only gave a free pass once. After that, he wasn’t responsible for his actions.
Unfortunately, Drunk Country didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut. A block away from the apartment he and Talia shared, he turned to Repo and said, “Did I ever tell you about the time Red sucked my dick?”
Instantly, Repo saw red. His hand left the steering wheel in a blur, and then it was lights out for little Gracie.
THIRTY-ONE
Ginger fell asleep waiting up for Repo to get home. She’d spent the drive back from Blake’s silent as a church mouse, praying he’d hold off on laying into her, like, forever. But she knew his wrath would eventually come. She didn’t want to fight.
She’d gotten a reprieve when Blake had asked him to check on Country, make sure he wasn’t out doing anything stupid.
She’d breathed steady for about an hour, and then the anticipation and anxiety kicked in again. When this came to blows, as it inevitably would, she knew nothing good would come of it. They were too evenly paired. Neither would give an inch.
Ginger wouldn’t back down. Repo wasn’t one to let shit slide. He liked to air grievances, and he didn’t always do it quietly. He was always one of two extremes: silent or in your face. Unlike most, he didn’t have an in between. And Ginger didn’t respond well to being told what to do.
So, she’d waited and prayed, hoping for the best. Eventually, pure exhaustion had sucked her in, leaving her dead to the world. Her dreams were no escape, however, and she replayed that visit to The Tavern in her mind’s eye, heightening her nerves. Running from killers in her dreams had never been her favorite, and when they were killers she knew, it made it all the more terrifying and real.
Fortunately, the nightmares eventually shifted to something more pleasurable, something more erotic, and Ginger’s breathing escalated for a totally different reason altogether.
Lying on the bed, she felt the side of the mattress dip down and the vibration of him coming closer as he crawled across the blankets toward her.
Ginger kept her eyes closed tight, feigning sleep. A smile twitched at the corners of her lips, but she managed to hold it at bay, curious to see what his next move would be.
The covers slipped gently down her body, exposing first her breasts, then her stomach, and when the cool air touched her warm core, she shivered, her skin pebbling.
Still, her eyes remained closed, waiting for his next move.
His fingers touched the outside of her right ankle then slid slowly up her calf to her thigh, her hip, then in, skating across her smooth, tautt belly. Her breathing escalated, her heart fluttering wildly as he switched to only one finger and moved lower, tracing a line from her navel, over her mound, to her swollen clit.
Still, she somehow managed to remain still and quiet as he pushed that thick digit between her lips and circled her entrance, collecting the silky moisture and spreading it around in slow, deliberate circles.
Ginger’s thighs began to tremble as he flicked her clit lightly back and forth and dipped down again, this time pushing inside her. He didn’t go slow. Instead, he went all the way, burying that finger inside her until she let out an involuntary moan.
She couldn’t open her eyes now, even if she wanted to.
A soft chuckle was the only response she received, and then, as he continued to finger her, she felt his big body shift.
She didn’t dare look. As long as he continued touching her, wringing pleasure from her needy core, she didn’t really care what else he was up to.
A moment later, her thighs were split wide open to make way for an even wider set of shoulders. Had she been curious what would happen next, he quickly satisfied it.
Adding a second finger to her pussy, he stretched her inner walls as he fit his mouth over her aching clit.
This time, Ginger moaned long and loud, leaving no doubt that she was, in fact, wide awake. Her back arched, pressing her naked breasts toward the ceiling, as his tongue licked up her juice and rapidly circled her clit.
He wasn’t going to play nice. He was going to drive her right off the cliff and straight into oblivion.
And Ginger was going to love every second.
Reaching down, she pushed her fingers through his thick hair and grabbed on tight. “Oh, Garrick,” she gasped, “don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
He didn’t. Reaching around, his thick arm circled her thigh, and his palm flattened over her mound, his long fingers spreading her pussy lips…and then he went to town devouring her.
Ginger felt the heat creeping through her body, spreading like a wave, her skin growing tighter as the sensations enveloped her. She was so close, her legs shaking and her fingers pulling. She must be hurting him, she thought idly, but she didn’t hear him complaining.
If anything, it only seemed to fuel his efforts, and God, she was so grateful for that.
If he stopped now, she’d die.
Hell, she might die if he didn’t stop.
But she was more than willing to take that risk.
Even working in such tight confines, Repo managed to pump his fingers hard and fast, and her pussy thanked him for his effort by clamping down around them and coating them until all she could focus on was the sloppy, wet sounds of her juices—evidence of the kind of pleasure he brought her.
There was going to be such a mess by the time he was done with her.
And just the idea of that sent her spiraling over the edge.
With one hand buried in his hair and the other over her head, gripping the headboard, heels planted in the mattress and her breaths heaving from her lungs, Ginger let loose, sending a cry of bliss into the universe as she came hard.
Repo rode those waves with her, fingering and licking and sucking while her whole body convulsed again and again until she simply couldn’t take anymore.
He was going for another round, his lips fastened onto her clit like a suction cup, and she had to pry him away, too sensitive for more and desperate for a reprieve.
He chuckled, the sound low and deep, as he climbed up her body, his hips fitting perfectly between her legs, and planted his arms on either side of her head.
His lips came next, touching hers softly, coaxing her to open and let him inside. And just like that, the wild, frenetic energy dropped to a low simmer, and Ginger sighed into his mouth. Her hands
once again went to his hair, gently this time, holding him to her as he kissed her languidly, sweetly—much different from the reaction she’d been expecting from him after waiting so long to feel his wrath.
Despite having already come, tasting him on her tongue, feeling his weight pressing down on top of her, quickly turned that simmer in her veins into a full-on boil, and once again, Ginger was ready to go.
Hitching her legs up around his hips, she angled her head and sucked his tongue into her mouth. Her hips rocked up, grinding her pussy into that hard cock she felt resting between them, letting him know exactly what she wanted from him next.
But she didn’t get the reaction she was looking for.
With a hiss, Repo jerked back, severing the kiss…and shattering the dream.
Ginger’s eyes snapped open, and the first thing she saw was Garrick’s handsome, pained face in front of hers.
Startled, she jolted…smashing her forehead into his nose.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Falling back on the bed, Garrick held his nose, eyes squeezed shut, and cursed up a storm. “What the fuck was that for? Fuck!”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” Ginger was quick to spit out. Up on her knees in a flash, she hovered over him, hands fluttering over his body. “What can I do? Do you need ice? I can get ice.” She was off like a shot, rushing from the room to retrieve a dish towel and ice cubes, and she was back just as fast, leaping onto the bed and slapping his hand away from his face to replace it with the makeshift medi-pack.
Garrick groaned as he lay there, allowing the cold to seep in, before finally opening his eyes and squinting up at her.
“I always knew you had a hard ass head, but shit.”
Ginger stared at him, puzzled. He didn’t seem mad. In fact, he seemed…amused.
“Why are you looking me like that?” she questioned.
“Because I’m clearly out of my mind,” he said, a smile apparent in his voice.
Okay, she was confused. Not only had her dream not been a dream—because, hello! She was wetter than the Niagara down there—but she’d hurt him! And he was behaving as if it was no BFD.
Vigor: A Spartan Riders Novel Page 21
