...or something: Ronacks Motorcycle Club

by Debra Kayn

  He pulled her closer and left his hand sprawled over her bare ass. “Tired?”

  “Exhausted, but only because I've worried about you all day.” She ran her hand over his head. “What happened?”

  “Nothing. He's still out there.” His finger slid between the crack of her butt and he pulled her closer." You should sleep.”

  “I need you more than sleep.” She stretched, relaxing under his touch.

  He rolled to his back taking her with him until she lay fully on top. “Spread your legs.”

  She followed his directions and squirmed until his hardness pressed against her pussy, happy that through their mutual problems he still wanted her.

  He trailed his fingertips around her hip. Her body warmed, seeming to melt with each caress of his hand. She buried her face in his neck and kissed, licked, and loved on his skin.

  Battery lifted his hips and entered her. She sank lower onto his body, and he held her tightly, his cock fully inside of her.

  The deep pull of contentment over being connected to him settled around her.

  "Lay still," he whispered. "I need to sleep and every time I wake up, I want my dick inside of you."

  She closed her eyes, soothing the dry discomfort and her headache. Her drunken addiction to Battery relaxed her. She couldn't ask him for more. She had no need. He was in her, around her, under her. She couldn't lose him in the position he wanted her in. She could only take the security he handed her, buried deep into her core and comforting her.

  "Batt?" she whispered.

  He remained still, pulsating inside of her. "Huh?"

  Her hands moved through his hair, sliding down his shoulders, his ribs, memorizing every contour.

  "We can't go on like this. It's no way to live, and we've barely had two normal minutes since the night I almost got shot." She paused to keep her voice from trembling. "Let me go to the police and ask for their help."

  "No."

  "But, I'm—"

  "No," he said.

  "If they can—"

  "God damnit, Bree. I said no." His heart raced underneath her. "I will take care of this. Now go to sleep. I need to rest, or I'll be worth shit tomorrow."

  She kept her eyes closed and concentrated on not crying. Seldom had Battery raised his voice to her. One of them had to give. He couldn't keep running himself ragged looking for whoever he searched for, and she couldn't stay locked inside the house forever.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  The birds outside the bedroom window chirped with the rise of the sun breaking through the trees on the east side of the house. Battery stayed kneeled on the floor beside the bed keeping watch over Bree. Unable to get any rest with his dick practically crawling back up inside of Bree throughout the night to get closer and not leave her, he'd finally put himself out of his misery and left the bed with only a few sleepy murmured protests from Bree before she settled back down and slept.

  His knees had gone numb an hour ago, and he couldn’t force himself to stand or leave her. He'd spent the hours going through every detail, every memory, every choice he'd ever made, and tried to figure out how he could've done more to save her.

  A split second decision had set him on the course of a lifetime. A path, no matter how many times he changed directions, he found himself back at the same place he'd started. Through it all, he should've known the past wouldn't stay buried.

  That the tragic beginning would end ugly.

  That everything he'd done and would continue to do was for Bree.

  That by the time his mastermind plan reached the end, he'd lose Bree.

  If he believed sending her away would guarantee her safety, he'd put her on a plane right now. But, alone, she'd be dead.

  She depended on him. If the circumstances were different and fate hadn't intervened, she could live on her own, work for a living, and leave the club. But, she'd seen too much. She'd dedicated, branded, and swore the rest of her life to love him. A love that would never die.

  He knew the feeling. He'd die without her.

  The only way he could save her was to tell her the truth. Doing so would make her hate him. A hate so powerful, she'd feel like he stabbed her with a knife and let her suffer for the rest of her life.

  Bree whined and rubbed her head against the pillow in sleep. He placed his hand in the middle of her chest and let his warmth from his palm comfort her. She settled at his touch, and he damned himself to hell.

  Even sleeping, she needed him. Her fear of losing him had multiplied over the last couple of months as she relived the trauma of being shuffled from home to home, foster parents to foster parents, during her childhood.

  Bree shared bits of her life growing up with him, and he had no idea the magnitude of adult-like situations she'd found herself in. She was a strong woman. A woman who would bear the scars for the rest of her life and struggle with her fear of abandonment.

  Bree lifted her hand and placed it on his. He closed his eyes unable to look at the destruction he'd caused. He damned every single person involved. Her life never should've turned out this way. She should've grown up in a two-parent household with a mom and dad who loved and cherished her. Her innocence was stolen practically from birth. Malnourished of love, she fought the odds and grew stronger and more independent, never sulking in self-pity, but proving she needed no one.

  Until, him.

  Finally, she let herself depend on someone else and take a chance on being loved and loving him.

  She needed him.

  Deep in his gut, buried in his heart, he understood her connection to him because he needed her as much if not more.

  Bree jolted and opened her eyes, blinking around the room until she settled on his face and smiled sleepily before reality set in.

  "Morning," she murmured, rolling to her side toward him. "What are you doing on the floor?"

  "Watching over you." He pressed down on the mattress, forcing his numb legs to support his weight, leaned over, and kissed her forehead. "I'm going to put the coffee on. You can go back to sleep or get up when you're more awake."

  She stretched her arm over her head. "I'm going to take a shower first."

  He nodded and walked out of the room. Away from the memories.

  In the kitchen, a rumble of a motorcycle grew louder. He filled the coffeemaker with water and added the coffee grounds. The other Ronacks members were arriving.

  He'd need to get out there and keep looking for Richard. There were miles of trails and a whole fucking National Forest where he could be hiding. The longer it took him to catch up to him, the closer Richard would get to the house.

  He had no doubt that Bree was Richard's destination.

  The coffee maker gurgled to a stop. He lifted the pot out and poured himself a cup. Hearing Bree shut off the shower, he poured her drink and added a heaping spoonful of sugar and some vanilla flavoring. She liked her coffee sweet. He liked his black.

  He was with her the first time she'd drank coffee. On the road to Montana, after he'd removed her from the carnival, she'd faked her enjoyment even though he watched her grimace with every swallow. He knew then she'd do anything to please him.

  Bree walked into the kitchen in a pair of jeans and a tank top. Her curls lengthened from the wetness of washing her hair. "Why didn't you wake me up when you got out of bed?"

  "You needed your sleep." He handed her the mug, leaned his ass against the counter, and drank his coffee.

  Bree frowned and held the cup with both her hands and blew over the surface of the hot drink and looked at him. "Do you have a few minutes?"

  He nodded.

  She set her cup down and yet never made a step in his direction. "You've been avoiding me."

  "Busy."

  "I know that." She exhaled. "But when you're home, you're avoiding me. It was practically the middle of the night when you got out of the bed, and don't try to say it wasn't because I was aware of what you were doing."

  "Watch it," he muttered.

  "Do
n't tell me to watch my attitude." Her chin lifted, and her eyes narrowed. "I can't go on like this anymore, and I won't put our relationship in jeopardy or the lives of the Ronacks members. We need to get our lives back again."

  "We've already been over this, Bree." He set his mug on the counter. "The club will keep you safe, and we'll make the danger go away. I don't need people involved that have nothing do with the problem."

  "I knew you'd say that," she said. "But, you're wrong. I want everything to stop. If you don't take me to the police, I'll ask Raelyn."

  "She won't take you."

  "Then I'll ask Mel."

  "He won't take you either." The skin on his forehead pinched. "Everyone's got orders, and they won't remove you from the house."

  "God, Battery." She lifted her palms out in front of her. "You can't stop me from leaving the house. I've stayed inside. I've done every precaution you've recited every single morning since this all began. But, you can't treat me like a prisoner without explaining what is going on. You can't treat me like I'm a minor, and you have absolute control over me and your house. You told me you knew who was after me, so who is it?"

  "There's no reason for you to know yet." He pushed away from the counter. "I need to get downstairs and gather the members around for a meet-up."

  "Don't walk away from me."

  He turned. "Carny-girl, you do not tell me what to do when it comes to your safety."

  "This time, I am. I have to," she said, and hell if he'd never heard her voice so fucking calm and serious. "You walk out of the house, away from me, and I'm not going to give you a chance to tell me to leave. I'm gone. I'll walk to town and talk to the sheriff."

  He stalked over to her, hooked her neck, and brought her close. His throat burned, and his body shook. "I will never let you go," he rasped

  The words scraped him raw inside. He witnessed the moment her strength turned to regret, then fear. Felt the anger she experienced and the confusion that plagued her. The doubts overwhelming her were nothing, absolutely fucking nothing, compared to the truth he protected her from.

  He let her go and backed off.

  Bree turned away from him and hid her face. Her shoulders bowed inward. He worked his jaw in frustration wanting to go to her and yet wanting to leave and kill the person responsible for making him hurt her more than she had already been hurt, he turned and walked down the stairs.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Swiss barred the door downstairs. Mel stood at the side of Bree, looking for answers she couldn't give him. All the members watched her, loyal to a fault and following Battery's orders to keep her inside.

  She wasn't going anywhere. There was a man outside, somewhere, trying to kill her, for reasons that escaped her. No matter how much she wanted help for the club, she wouldn't risk her life and Battery's temper by disobeying him. Though if she had the opportunity to get her hands on a phone, she'd call 911 faster than any of the bikers could stop her.

  "Do you want a sandwich?" Mel held his arms out to his sides. "You didn't eat lunch, and Jana made some ham sandwiches for everyone and sent them with Sander."

  "I'm not hungry." She glared and walked away from Mel and looked around the main room again. Her attitude continued to go downhill.

  She was mad at Battery for having a club who listened to every order out of his mouth. Mad at Battery himself for even thinking he could control her every move. Mad at the circumstances that forced her to realize how incredibly little power she had over her life.

  An hour ago, she'd gotten lucky and found a key while searching Battery's personal office. She'd tried every drawer and file cabinet and despite a motorcycle club that always had a large supply of pre-paid phones around for the members, she came up empty.

  Knowing Battery, he'd probably took every extra cell phone with him, just to spite her, and he'd known she'd look which added on to her anger that he knew her so damn well. The only thing she had in her favor was the loaded pistol in her back pocket, laying heavy and pulling at her jeans, reminding her that Battery's rules and precautions were not for his amusement.

  Because she understood the risks and she feared someone getting hurt because of her, she wasn't quite at the point where she would shoot a Ronacks member to gain her freedom. Yet.

  "Get Battery on the phone." She crossed her arms. "Now."

  Mel looked toward Swiss, who nodded. The younger member pulled out his phone. Bree walked over to Swiss. The concern in his eyes wavered between helping her and wanting to get out of the house and let someone else deal with her.

  "I'm sorry for making your day harder than it already is." She blew her breath out and started over. "I don't want this for you. For any of you. You should be working and partying and riding. Wouldn't you like that?"

  "Doesn't matter what I'd like." Swiss's mouth softened. "We all care about you. If you needed to be protected all week, all month, or the rest of your life, we would do that for you."

  "But, I don’t want that," she said, her chest squeezing at the sentiment. "I want..."

  "To feel safe?" asked Swiss.

  She sighed. "...or something."

  Mel returned to her side. "Battery isn't answering his cell. He's probably riding."

  A call from home would only distract him. Without knowing the situation on the outside, but knowing he wanted to catch the man responsible, she only put added dangers on him.

  "Nevermind." She lifted her hands in the air. "Don't bother him again. I'm done."

  She walked away from them and headed toward the stairs. There was nothing she could do without Battery either giving the club his okay or escorting her out himself.

  Halfway up the stairs, the front door downstairs banged opened. She paused.

  "Bree!" said Battery.

  She pivoted and ran down the steps.

  Her heart in her throat, she stopped at the sight of Battery and let her body sag forward. He caught her, but instead of holding her, he held her away from him and shook her.

  "What the fuck is wrong with you?" His intense gaze bore into her, and his angry words wounded her already sore and pained heart.

  "I...I..." She clamped her lips together on a scream of indignation and pulled out of his grasp. "I don't want you out there with a maniac anymore."

  "I can take care of myself." He ran his hand down his beard. "Is it too much to ask that you stay calm, eat, and wait."

  "That's all I've been doing, Battery." She looked away from him. "I understand you wanting to handle things yourself, but...you're not just some biker or some man who is dealing with business, and I can be patient and uninvolved. You're Battery. You're mine. It's killing me to have you out there, risking your life, for me."

  His head snapped back, and his brows went higher. "Upstairs."

  "Why? So you can talk over my head and pacify me for another day, another week?" she asked, planting her feet solidly on the floor and ready to stand up to him.

  He motioned with his chin. "Go upstairs."

  Disappointed that nothing she said helped convince him to try something else to end the trouble, she turned and walked up the stairs and into the living quarters she shared with him. She barely had time to catch her breath, and he told her to sit.

  She sat on the couch.

  He stood in the middle of the room. Knowing when she'd pushed him too far, she waited.

  Battery stared at her. She swallowed, uneasy about the mood he was in.

  This wasn't her Battery. Her Battery loved her. The man in front of her acted as if she was going to leave his life any moment. As if the sight of her caused him pain.

  "You're letting them win by going after them yourself," she whispered. "If they want to hurt me, they know keeping you away from me will eventually kill me."

  He frowned. "I'm not leaving you."

  "You are. More and more every day this continues. Can't you see that?"

  He shook his head. "You don't know what you're talking about."

  "Maybe not, but that's becau
se you won't tell me anything that is happening outside." She scooted to the edge of the couch. "Who is after me?"

  "I can't say."

  "Can't or won't?" She hugged her middle.

  "It doesn't matter." He walked over and sat on the coffee table in front of her. "You have to believe me, carny-girl. Knowing the truth. Knowing who they are. Knowing why they want to hurt you isn't going to help you."

  "You don't know that," she whispered.

  He nodded. "Yeah, I do."

  She bowed her head and inhaled deeply. There was no getting through to him.

  "This has nothing to do with trusting you, but you trusting me, Batt." She looked up. "I love you."

  "I know you do."

  "Then, I'm begging you not to hurt me by keeping the truth from me." She blinked the moisture from her vision. "I don't think I could ever get past you not letting me know about something that concerns my life and instead pushing me into a position where I have no power, no thoughts, no right to verbally tell you my opinion."

  "That's not what I'm doing."

  "It is." She leaned forward and picked up his hand, held it to her cheek. "Maybe you don't understand how important you are to me. I love how you take care of me, and I would never want you to stop. But, I'm not a little girl. My whole life, I've always taken care of myself. Don't take that from me when you've given me so much more."

  He stood. She refused to let go of his hand. He sat back down. She squeezed his fingers. If she had to get on her knees and beg, scream, cry to him, she would. He couldn't see that she was losing him to something bigger than she could understand. She refused to let someone else take him from her.

  "Please, Batt."

  He inhaled loudly, and his eyes bore into her.

  "Please," she whispered, refusing to give up.

  He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he nodded. She stayed still in front of him, holding his hand, knowing whatever he held inside tormented him. They were together. He shouldn't have to do everything himself.

  "The man who is after you killed your parents," he said.