Her gaze snaps to mine. “What?”
“Just never seen you so carefree and…happy. You high from the stunt on the bike?”
She smiles sheepishly. “Maybe a little. Not just the bike though.” She takes my hand. “You might also be a factor.” Her eyes sparkle up at me and she tells me, “I meant what I said on the bike: I love you, Neil.”
Christ, those words from her and the look on her face send a warmth right through my fucking bones. I squeeze her hand gently. “I love you, beautiful girl.”
Ever since I told her how it was in the kitchen and she finally stopped running, she’s been opening up more and more every day we spend together. She’s stopped holding back. The only thing fucking with what we got is her work and the club. Several of the boys have been texting me ‘bout me shunning church and taking off without a word. After I left, Trig sat in church and told ‘em all we weren’t gonna go to war. And they were all pissed. They want me to step up and do something. But I already fucking tried and all I had to show for it was a black eye, a split lip and a bloodied cheek. Trig’s too stubborn. Nah, ain’t going there. Ain’t worth it.
My priorities have shifted over this last week or so spent with Rox. Ain’t had the urge to go after Broker at all. It hit me, from being away from all that bullshit for a bit, that all there is down that path is darkness and death. It’s all I’d known…’til her. She brings the fucking sunshine into my life.
So, I’ll get my mission done: kill Skinner.
But that’s it. After that…well, I dunno no more.
My whole life, the club and all the down and dirty shit that comes with it is all I’ve ever known.
It was.
Now there’s her.
She’s shown me something more. Something different. Better. And I like it. A lot.
“Neil?” she calls to me.
I blink outta my thoughts to find her standing in front of me, holding my hands between us. “Yeah?”
“You were spacing out. Are you okay, baby?”
“Just thinking.”
“About the club?”
“Yeah.”
“You wanna talk about it?” She grins. “You know, the none-club business parts anyway.”
Funny. She’s teasing me ‘bout club secrecy and shit. I pinch the bridge of my nose and slump against my bike. “Life with the club and your life in Brockford, it’s…dark, Rox.”
“Yeah, it is,” she agrees. “And it’s just become darker recently with the Mavs’ threats.”
I shake my head to myself. “I dunno if I wanna be a part of it all no more. It ain’t what it used to be when I was younger.”
“Since your mom?”
“Yeah. I left the club for a couple of years after that.”
“And Trig brought you back in and you agreed, cuz he was offering you the tools to kill your father.”
“Wow. Smart.”
“I just added up all the facts and came to that conclusion.”
“What ‘bout you?” I ask her.
She shifts her weight and says, “Ralph’s out. He warned me to do the same. Thinks the shit we’re involved in is getting old too. As we are. You’re in your thirties, right?”
“Thirty-five,” I tell her.
“Thirty-one,” she tells me.
“Seriously?” I ask, wondering why the hell we never bothered finding that out ‘bout one another already. Crazy. Guess it weren’t that important. Weren’t in Trig’s files on her either.
“Yeah. You’re surprised?”
“I figured you as early twenties. Shit.”
“Like them young, do you? Am I too old for you, old man?”
I raise my eyebrows and tease, “Well…”
She slaps my arm. “Neil!”
I hold up my hands. “I’m fucking with you.” I look her over. “You got the body of a twenty year old, that’s for damn sure.”
She winks. “I know. And your dick has the stamina of one.”
“What choice you giving me with your appetite, babe?”
She slaps me again. “That is mostly you. Insatiable.”
“Oh, okay then. It’s me. Yeah, if we’re lying, it is. But to keep you happy, we’ll go with that.”
We both laugh.
Then I mount my bike and hold my hand out to her. “Wanna check out my place?”
She nods excitedly and grabs my hand, letting me help her on behind me. I know she don’t need my help, but she’s doing it playfully, keeping me happy, knowing I’m always gonna do shit like this for her whether she likes it or not.
Finally, we both get the meaning of the word compromise. It’s cut down on a hell of a lot of fights.
***
Neil shuts the door behind us. We’ve barely made it two steps into his house when he suddenly freezes and throws his arm across my chest, holding me back.
“Someone’s here,” he whispers.
I listen carefully and then I hear what probably tipped him off. A TV is on. Some sort of football game. I can hear the commentator’s voice.
He draws his gun. “Get behind me,” he orders, pushing me back.
“I don’t fucking think so,” I say, drawing my glock and pushing back to his right side. He scowls at me and he’s about to say something. But, instead, he thinks better of it and just blows out a breath of frustration.
We make our way through the little hallway into the living room.
“Shit!” someone cries.
It’s Runner. He’s sitting on an oversized cream couch beside Smiter. Both of them have their feet up on a coffee table, each with a beer bottle in hand.
“Jesus, Ax! Put that fucking thing away!” Runner cries, almost dropping his beer.
“Yeah,” Smiter adds, his eyes wide.
“Fuck. You idiots,” Neil grumbles, holstering his gun. I do the same with mine and follow him into the living room.
“Finally you show,” Smiter says.
“Yeah, we’ve been here for hours waiting on your ass, dickhead,” Runner tells him.
“Why?” Neil demands. “What the fuck you doing here? And how the hell you get in?”
Runner smirks. “Picked the lock. Just like you taught me.”
I shake my head with disapproval. Neil catches it. “I used to do some small time shit when I was younger. I had a talent for it.”
“I know. I’ve seen your rap sheet, remember?”
Smiter laughs.
“And you still let him in your panties, darlin’?” Runner jokes.
I shrug. “He has an extremely talented tongue.”
Neil’s gaze snaps to mine and he grins, liking my retort.
Smiter almost chokes on his beer. Runner tells me, “I’m better.”
“Sure,” I say, not believing a word.
“Seriously. You wanna find out, just say the word.”
Neil growls, “Keep your tongue and your disease-ridden dick far away from my girl.” Neil looks at me and sees the confusion on my face. “He’s a whore,” he explains.
“Huh. Got it.”
“Hey, man. I’m clean. Always wrap it up.”
“You better with the bitches you stick it in,” Smiter comments.
Neil throws him a look. Smiter flinches and eyes me. “Sorry, Rox.”
I laugh. Neil knows I hate women being referred to as bitches. I don’t expect his guys to follow that rule though. I know what bikers are like. I just don’t want Neil calling me that word. That’s all. But it’s sweet of him to try to enforce it with his boys when I’m around though.
As the three of them continue chatting, my smile fades as what Runner said about always wearing a condom hits me. Shit! How did I overlook that? That intense time in my kitchen with Neil, we didn’t use protection. Nothing. He didn’t pull out either. Oh crap.
“Babe?”
Neil’s calling my name. My gaze snaps to his. “Yeah?”
“Me and the boys gotta talk. You gonna be okay? Ten minutes tops.”
“Yeah, of course.”
Smiter and Runner smile politely at me and then make their way past me. Neil follows after them. I watch as they all file out of the front door.
And then it closes, shutting me out.
Chapter 25
~Ax~
I drag on my smoke as I pace up and down by the porch steps. Runner’s lounging on ‘em, resting back on his elbows, too fucking relaxed as usual. Smiter’s leaning against the railing, his arms folded across his chest.
“Nah. Ain’t gonna do it,” I tell ‘em, shaking my head.
“It won’t come back on you. We’re all gonna back you. Even Grit. He might be pissed at you over the biker princess, but he knows what’s good for the club,” Runner tells me.
“And that’s you, Ax,” Smiter adds.
Fuck. They want me to challenge Trig for the Prez role. Ain’t no way. I been thinking ‘bout leaving the club, so why the hell would I wanna become club President? I’d never get out then.
“I got a temper, remember? You think that’s a good quality for Prez?” I scoff. “Come on.”
“You only got a temper when downright stupid ass stuff happens that you got no control over. Like this situation with the Mavs. Trig refusing to go to war and putting us on the defensive by taking over the businesses your girl’s got under her protection in Brockford. Gonna leave us as sitting ducks,” Runner tells me.
“Not if I kill Skinner.”
Runner shakes his head. “You don’t fucking believe it. Smiter told me the shit you said ‘bout Broker taking over the club the second you bury Skinner.”
“He’s right, Ax,” Smiter says. “What’s going on with you? You were all amped up and ready to take ‘em out. We all heard you and Trig getting into it in his office before you walked out. Walls are fucking thin as paper, remember?”
“He send you guys down here to bring me back in?”
“Yeah, but we got our own agendas too. This,” Runner says.
“He knows you. We all do. Figured a few days was enough time for you to calm down,” Smiter adds.
“Is it the girl?” Runner demands, getting to his feet and walking over to me.
“What?”
“Her golden pussy fucking with your head, or what?” he asks, angrily.
“Runner,” Smiter cautions him.
“Nah, I’m serious. Come on, Ax. It’s her, right?”
Dickhead. “No. You wanna know what it is? It’s the fact that two years ago when my mom was murdered, the club didn’t have my back! Trig stopped me from going after Skinner by giving the order to Broker to take me down. Put me in a fucking coma. You remember that? And neither of ‘em had the decency to just let me walk. They both knew me real fucking well. They knew no way I was gonna go to the cops or to another club. Yet, they both decided to fuck me up…” I gesture angrily to my chest, “…cut my fucking club tattoo outta my goddamn chest. Broker had four prospects hold me down while he did it. Real fucking slow too. Sadistic bastard.”
I stop and scrub my hand over my face, tryin’ to reel in my temper before I put my fist through something. Taking a breath, I continue, “A few months ago, Trig begs me to come back. Offers me the VP role and the backing to kill Skinner, cuz I know the asshole better than anyone, him being my old man and shit. So, I come back. He sends me into Brockford not telling me the contact—Rox—had connections to Skinner and my mom’s death. Then Broker delivers a warning. Trig finds out and decides he still ain’t gonna do shit.”
I glare at the two of ‘em. “So, you wanna know why? That’s why!”
“So…what…after you take out Skinner, you’re gonna settle down or some shit?” Runner asks.
“Maybe.”
Smiter steps up to me and eyes me calmly. “You gotta do what’s best for you now.”
“Oh, fuck that. The club is what’s best for him. He’s family,” Runner says.
I know Runner’s upset, cuz we’re so close. When I left the club the first time, he had a real hard time with it. “Let’s just see how shit plays out, brother,” I tell him, slapping his shoulder.
He grunts a response.
“You okay with us crashing tonight?” Smiter asks.
It’s getting dark and it’s a few hours’ drive back to the clubhouse. The roads ‘round here are treacherous for a bike to navigate at night. “Yeah. For sure.”
“I’m starving. Get your girl to cook us up something, yeah?” Runner says, following me back towards the house.
“Don’t cook,” I tell him.
He rolls his eyes. “Told you she ain’t Old Lady material.”
“I think that’s what he likes ‘bout her, Runner,” Smiter says, laughing at his cluelessness.
“I don’t get it.”
“Ax likes a lot of fire. Girl’s got it in spades.”
Runner just shakes his head as I lead the two of ‘em back into the house.
Chapter 26
~Roxana~
I chug the glass of water I just poured myself from the kitchen sink. My throat is dry as hell from screaming so much. I’ve never been with a man who can make me scream like Neil can. I fell asleep before I could grab a drink and I just woke up with a nasty lump in my throat. But the water’s soothing it now thankfully.
The house is dead quiet. Neil is fast asleep in the master bedroom upstairs. Smiter is down the hall in the spare room and Runner is crashing on the living room couch.
Footsteps behind me startle me and I spin around quickly, glass in hand.
It’s Runner.
I blow out a breath. “Shit, you scared me.”
“You’re jumpy, darlin’.”
He just stands there in nothing but a pair of blue boxers, staring at me. God, he’s ripped. Not as much as Neil is. He’s a lot skinnier than him, but there’s some damn good definition there. He doesn’t have that many tattoos. Just one on each shoulder and the Black Thorns club tattoo on his chest, over his heart. He’s not rough around the edges either. He’s much more clean-cut than the others.
I can feel the tension radiating off him. It’s obvious he has some sort of problem with me. Whatever it is, it happened outside when the three guys were talking privately, because he was fine with me when Neil and I first walked into the house.
“Say it then,” I challenge.
He arches an eyebrow.
“Whatever your sudden problem is with me. It’s written all over your face, so have the balls to actually spit it out, will you?”
His eyes narrow and he takes a step forward. “Wow, Grit was right. You got a mouth on you.”
“When I need to, yeah.”
He takes another step closer. “Feeling threatened, are you, darlin’?”
“Should I be? Are you gonna lay a hand on me?”
He doesn’t come any closer then. “I don’t beat on women.”
“You just like trying to intimidate them then.”
“Listen, Ax is my brother. My best friend. I don’t wanna see him get his head screwed with. You hear me?”
What? “No, I don’t. What the hell are you talking about?”
“He’s talking ‘bout walking away from the club. Right after spending all this time with you.”
“I haven’t said anything to him about that. It’s all on him.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. I hate club life, but it’s a huge part of Neil. I’ll listen when he wants to talk, but the decision is his. It’s nothing to do with me.”
“Neil?”
“What?”
“Nobody calls him that. It’s Ax to everyone. Only exception was his mom. Fuck me, he’s whipped.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “So, you ain’t saying shit to him directly, but it’s still cuz of you. All his talk ‘bout leaving the club, it’s cuz he’s so whipped by you. Thinks he wants to settle down. But that ain’t him!”
I put my glass down and push off the counter. “Talk to him about it and leave me out of it,” I tell him as I pass by on my way out of the kitchen.
His ha
nd shoots out and grabs my wrist. It’s not hard. It’s actually really gentle. But it’s still startling.
“Runner!”
I turn to see Smiter standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen over on the other side of the room. I guess he wasn’t asleep in the spare room then. Maybe he got up to have a smoke or something.
Runner releases me instantly and turns to him. “Just talking, brother.”
“You sure Ax would see it that way if he witnessed what I just did?”
“I—”
“Just leave her alone. Go back to bed.”
Runner hesitates.
Smiter gets in his face and glowers down at him, a clear warning.
“Fine,” Runner mutters.
Smiter steps aside and Runner storms off back into the living room.
“You all right, sweetheart?”
I nod. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“No problem. Don’t pay him no mind. He’s just emotional. Ax is changing and he don’t like it. Thinks the two of ‘em are gonna always ride together to the day they die. They joined the club together all those years back.”
Huh. I didn’t know that. “I see. I get it,” I tell him sincerely.
I turn to go and that’s when a sudden wave of light-headedness hits me hard. Holy shit. I stumble, almost losing my footing, but Smiter is suddenly there, wrapping his arms around me.
“You sick?” he asks, holding me firmly in case I fall again.
“I…don’t think so.”
He presses the back of his hand to my forehead.
“Temperature’s normal.”
“I’m good. I’m probably just overtired.”
He releases me and steps back. He scrutinizes me for a moment and then a grin spreads over his face. “Ax wearing you out?”
I roll my eyes. “Please. The other way around.”
Smiter chuckles.
I do as well. He’s been nothing but nice to me ever since we met up at that truck stop on that awful day. “Why do you care…about me?” I ask, not getting it.
“I like you. You’ve got spunk. Plus, Ax has been through a lot of shit in his life. Always been a moody ass bastard cuz of it. Until you came along. He’s different now. You make him happy. I owe him, so anything I can do to help him out, like helping you out, I’ll do it.”
DIRTY ALPHAS Page 37
