The Longing (Dogs of Fire: Wolfpack, #2)

by Piper Davenport

  “Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing a little soap and a good scrub won’t cure. Maybe I’ll reward Arnie and Sly here with that little job,” Harlan said, eliciting creepy smiles from his guards as the doors opened fully.

  Their smiles instantly dropped as they were greeted, not by a huddled mass of scared young women, but by nine male crew members armed with guns, wrenches, and even a machete. The effect was even greater than I’d ever dreamed of. They swarmed the bodyguards, and then Harlan, who was at first confused, then furious. The crew would have likely torn them apart had I not quickly jumped down from my perch and stopped them.

  “What the hell is going on here, Vasili?” Harlan cried out to the captain as the crew disarmed his guards and held all three men in place. “Do you really think you can steal my money and live? You’re gonna die for this! You hear me?” He obviously thought this was a double-cross on the captain’s part.

  “That’s not quite what’s going on here, Harlan,” I said as I reached the mob.

  When Harlan saw me, he not only stopped yelling, but smiled wider than I’d seen to date. “Sparky! My dear Sparky, I’m so very happy to see you. You really have no idea.”

  “And why the hell is that?” I asked, now standing inches from his face as the crew held him tightly.

  Doc and Bogdan raced up to join us.

  “Well, for two reasons, really. The first is, I wasn’t wrong about you or your club. You see, I just had the feeling you were the hero type, and that despite my warnings, you were going to attempt to stand in the way of my business ventures. I pride myself on being able to read people, so I’m happy I wasn’t wrong about you. Not one little bit.”

  “I’m so glad not to have disappointed a redneck, human trafficking, piece of shit.”

  “No need for nasty names, Sparky. Besides, I think you’re going to want to be much nicer to me.”

  “Oh yeah, why’s that?” I snapped.

  “That’s the second reason I’m so happy,” he said cheerfully. “I was so sure you were going to be a fly in my ointment, I took out an insurance policy.”

  “If you’re planning on blowing up the boat, we’ve already found, and disabled, all the C-4 charges on board.”

  Harlan’s face turned a new shade of evil. “No, this one’s a little more personal.”

  “They’re waiting for the signal, Sparky,” Doc said tensely.

  “One second,” I replied, and turned back to Harlan. “What the fuck are you talking about? What insurance policy?”

  “Let’s just say, if you don’t have these men let go of me right away, Poppy will pay the premium.”

  My blood ran cold.

  He had Poppy.

  “I’m calling in Agent Moore, Sparky!” Doc called out again.

  “Goddammit, Doc! Hold on!”

  “Agent Moore?” Harlan asked. “Are you working with the FBI, Sparky? Oh, this just got very interesting, indeed.”

  “Where is she, you sick sonofabitch?” I demanded, grabbing him by the throat.

  “Let me go and I’ll show you,” he rasped as he struggled for air. “Keep me and my men here and she dies.”

  I tightened my grip one last time before releasing Harlan and nodding to the crewmembers, who then released his men.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Doc snapped.

  “He has Poppy, what the hell can I do, Doc?”

  “Now I’m going to have to ask you all to put your weapons on the ground right over there,” Harlan said, still catching his breath, and pointing to a spot on the deck. The crew dropped their rifles and assorted weapons in a pile and backed up.

  “Now, that’s much better. And I’d hold off on that signal to your FBI buddies. An old friend of yours, Curly, has Miss Poppy hidden away safe, someplace very close, and if he doesn’t hear from me soon, he’ll cut her into little pieces.”

  “Make the call now,” I said glaring at him. “Tell him to release her, and when she’s safe I’ll let you go. You can just walk away.”

  “I don’t think you understand how this works, Sparky. You see, I’m the one in charge here. I’ll most certainly be leaving here this evening, but I’ll be leaving with my cargo, my money, and my freedom, because if I don’t, Poppy will die. If you don’t think I’m serious, please allow me to call Curly and have him cut off one of her fingers, or better yet an ear.”

  He pushed a button on his cell phone, and switched it to speaker mode. It rang twice and went straight to voicemail. He hung up and tried again with the same results. I could tell he was losing his patience, but tried to remain calm and collected as he tried to reach Curly’s phone for the third time.

  “Hey, Foghorn Fuckface! Are you looking for me?” a female voice yelled.

  For a split second, I thought my damaged eardrums were playing tricks on me, but I quickly realized I was definitely hearing Poppy’s voice. My head snapped to the right and I could see her approaching, along with agent Moore, Hatch, and Alamo, who had guns drawn.

  I spun back around and immediately clocked Harlan square in the nose, causing a satisfying gush of blood to flow all over him and his suit; a stark contrast of bright crimson against a sea of white linen. He staggered back and I rushed for Poppy, but Harlan grabbed one of the assault rifles from pile on the deck, and put himself between us.

  As he turned off the safety on his rifle, I reached for the 9mm I’d tucked in the back of my pants earlier. I squeezed off one shot, only managing to hit his right arm, but with enough force to push him further away from me, toward the ship’s rail. Harlan smiled, blood, staining his ultra-white teeth and he raised his weapon at me once again. As he did, a single shot from Agent Moore hit him square in the forehead, sending him over the railing, onto the deck below.

  I ran to Poppy, taking her into my arms before kissing her deeply. My heart sank into my chest when I saw the black eye and scrapes on her face. I could see she’d been through hell, and I was happy to have helped send the bastard that did this to her back there.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “I am now,” she said before pulling me in for another kiss.

  We walked to the rail and looked over, to see Harlan Cavanaugh’s mangled corpse lying on the deck below. Blood pooled around him, as FBI agents, and the now liberated captives surrounded his lifeless body.

  Poppy leaned over the rail and yelled, “I told you you’d end up with a bullet in your head, Colonel Chicken Dick!”

  God, I love this woman.

  I squeezed her and she whimpered. “What, baby?”

  She grimaced. “Bruised ribs I think.”

  “Doc!” I bellowed.

  “And, now I’ve lost my left ear,” she grumbled.

  “Shit, sorry,” I said.

  She dropped her head to my chest and held me tight. “I’m okay, Dev. Just never ever let me go, okay?”

  “Promise, sweetness.” I slid my hand to her hair, careful to be extra gentle because I didn’t want to hurt her.

  Doc rushed over and did a quick check of Poppy’s injuries, determining she needed scans, so I settled her in one of the FBI’s SUV’s, and once Hatch joined us, Dalton drove us to the hospital.

  “You feelin’ worse, baby girl?” Hatch asked Poppy.

  She was in between the two of us, but leaning heavily against me.

  “I feel kind of dizzy.”

  “Not far, Poppy,” Dalton promised, pulling up to the emergency room less than five minutes later.

  “I’ll get a chair,” Hatch said, and walked inside, while I gently lifted her out of the car.

  “I’m gonna be sick,” she warned, and rushed to the bushes just outside the doors...which automatically opened and closed with every motion she made.

  I stroked her back and she stood up straight just as Hatch arrived with a wheelchair.

  “Gotta head back to the scene,” Dalton said. “Y’all okay?”

  “Yeah, brother, we got this,” Hatch said, and shook his hand. “Thanks for your help.”

 
; Dalton nodded and headed to his car, pulling away from the curb, and I helped Poppy into the chair. I guided her inside, Hatch fussin’ like I’d never seen him do before, and then he was handing his insurance information to the receptionist and getting Poppy sorted.

  I grabbed her a bottled water, a can of pop, and the blandest crackers I could find in the vending machines, then we hunkered down to wait.

  * * *

  Poppy

  “Honey, I’m okay,” I insisted as Devon fluffed up my pillows (again) and tucked the covers gently around me (again).

  We were back at the compound and I was in his bed, with strict instructions from the very serious ER doctor to stay on bedrest for two days in order to fully heal. I had a cracked rib, along with a couple of bruised ones.

  Luckily, I had really strong drugs to keep me from caring about whether or not I was in agonizing pain every time I breathed. I was currently holding an icepack against my black eye and trying not to throw it at my man.

  “Let me take care of you,” Devon argued, sitting on the bed and leaning his back against the headboard.

  “Okay,” I said. There was no point in arguing, not that I wanted to, because it made him feel like he was being useful and I know he needed that right now.

  “Did you call your mom?”

  I nodded. “She didn’t pick up.”

  I had to use my dad’s phone because mine was in the middle of a freeway somewhere.

  “I’m sure Hatch’ll let you know as soon as she calls back.”

  I bit back a yawn. “I’m not worried. I’d rather she not know about any of this until it’s absolutely necessary.”

  “I hear ya.”

  Someone knocked on the door, so Devon slid off the bed to answer it, and Hatch peeked in. “How are you feelin’, baby girl?”

  “I’m good, Dad.”

  “If you ever leave my immediate vicinity without me signing a permission slip in triplicate, I will murder you in the face,” my mother threatened as she pushed past my father.

  “What are you doing here?” I cried as she sat on my bed and pulled me in for a gentle hug.

  “Are you kidding me?” She leaned back with a frown. “I got on a plane the second I got the call that you’d been taken. Hawk and Payton are watching the boys for a few days.”

  I burst into tears and fell back into my mother’s arms. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  As my mother held me while I cried, Hatch and Devon sat on the bed, surrounding me. Once I’d calmed down (and taken another pain pill), the four of us sat in our little family huddle and debriefed, with Devon filling me in on what happened on the boat (I’m pretty sure he censored a lot), and Hatch filled him in on everything that happened at the docks. He said the Curly connection was from a feud with him years ago, but it was done now. I had a feeling he wasn’t telling me everything, but there was no point in asking, because he’d never give me more.

  I watched as Mum leaned back against Dad and he held her close, wrapping an arm around her and linking his fingers with hers, and I felt so much love, I nearly burst.

  Devon mimicked Dad’s position with me, and I snuggled into him as we got off the subject of our horrific couple of days and gloried in the love and security of our family unit.

  Devon made the decision right then and there that he was coming home with me and I was good with that. I had a feeling no one would argue, and I squeezed his fingers as he kissed me quickly.

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  “Love you, too, sweetness.”

  I’d longed for him forever and now my life was complete.

  Poppy

  Two years later...

  “Now, Poppy!” Devon demanded, and I came. Hard.

  I was unable to fully revel in my orgasm, however, as I was flipped onto my stomach and my hips were dragged up to meet Devon’s still very hard cock.

  “Ohmigod, you lied!”

  “Didn’t lie, baby, just wanted you to come first.”

  “You said we were going to come together,” I argued, even as I pressed my ass back against him.

  He reached between my legs and pressed a finger against my clit. “You gonna argue while my cock’s in your very tight cunt?”

  “Well, I think it’s important that we always be honest—”

  I couldn’t get the rest of my tirade out as his finger slid into my very secret place and I climaxed again without warning.

  “God damn, Poppy... would have never guessed you’d be a fan of anal.”

  I wrinkled my nose even as I tried to catch my breath. “Can we not use that word when I’m in the middle of the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

  Devon chuckled as he gripped my hips and began to move again. I was exhausted. In the best of ways, but I pretty much figured I’d lie there and wait for him to finish and then I’d snuggle up close and go to sleep.

  This is not what happened.

  And it’s not what happened, because my man is a magician with his hands and body, and also some kind of warlock, which meant, he ran a finger down the middle of my back (which I loved), then he took said finger and pressed it against my clit, applying pressure at the same time as he slammed his cock into me.

  Which basically meant, he riled me up all over again.

  Ohmigod, did he rile me up.

  He pulled me up so I was anchored on his lap, my back to his chest, keeping one arm around my waist for balance, while the other was between my spread legs. I reached behind me, sliding my hands into his hair and riding him like I’d never done before.

  “You close?” he growled.

  “Not even a little bit.”

  “Liar,” he said, and slapped my pussy.

  Ohmigod, I nearly came right then and there.

  “How about now?”

  “Nope,” I retorted, with an emphasis on the P.

  This earned me another slap and I whimpered.

  “You ready, sweetness?”

  One more slap and I exploded. I felt him pulse inside of me and then he helped me fall forward and slid out of me, pulling me into his arms and kissing me gently. “Love you, Poppy.”

  I nodded against his chest, still unable to catch my breath.

  “You okay?”

  I shook my head and shot out of bed, just making it to the bathroom. Devon rushed inside, grabbing my hair gently and pulling it away from my face. I felt him tie it back with something before hunkering down beside me. “You keep that pregnancy test?”

  I nodded into the toilet and Devon stepped to our medicine cabinet to retrieve it. I’d thought I might be pregnant a few months ago, but my period came while he was out shopping for a test, so I chucked it in the cabinet and didn’t think about it again.

  Well, until now.

  “Do your thing, baby. I’ll give you some privacy,” he said, and left me in the bathroom. I cleaned up, ‘did my thing,’ then set the test on the counter and washed my hands.

  As I waited for the results, I thought about everything that had happened over the last two years.

  After the whole debacle with the Dixie Mafia, I’d returned to Atlanta for graduation, then my parents made sure Devon and I were home the next day. Grace had directed the Dogs in packing up our townhouse, and they’d organized a shipping company to haul everything across country, while Doom had driven my car home for me.

  Devon and I had been married almost immediately upon our return to Portland, and he’d bought a little fixer-upper just over the bridge in Vancouver, Washington, close to my parents. We were adamant in wanting to make our own way without my parents’ money, but we couldn’t afford anything elaborate. He’d surprised me with it and even though it was rough, it was on one of the best streets, so the return would be optimal.

  And we’d done it. Okay, he’d done it (not the electrical, his dad did that). He’d restored a gorgeous little home with three bedrooms and two bathrooms that ended up being way nicer than we expected. I loved it.

  I’d gotten my masters in hist
ory and was now teaching at the local high school. The only drawback was several of the Dogs’ kids were there, so they enjoyed giving me shit when they knew I couldn’t hassle them back... well, until we were at the compound or at home... then they were in trouble.

  Because there was such an upswing in new builds in our area, Devon was busier than ever. Things at the Club were also coming to a head with the disgruntled San Diego branch, but Devon always put me first, and Crow and Booker made sure the single guys were the ones to do overnights which I appreciated. I hated when Devon was gone. I loved my life with my dream man, and the thought of a baby just made everything better.

  “Is it ready?” Devon asked, stepping back into the bathroom.

  “I haven’t looked. I was waiting for you.”

  He grinned, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me close. “Got you some saltines and pop. I’m ready for my woman to be knocked up.”

  I chuckled. “Apparently so. Okay, ready?”

  He nodded.

  “Now,” I said, and we leaned down to look at the test.

  “What the fuck do two lines mean?” he ground out. “I thought I bought the one that says pregnant or not pregnant on it. Fuck! It’s defective.”

  I dropped my head to his chest and burst into uncontrollable giggles. “It’s not defective, honey. It’s positive. I’m pregnant.”

  “No shit?”

  I met his eyes. “No shit. You done knocked me up.”

  He grinned. “Your dad’s gonna kill me.”

  I laughed. “He’ll get over it.”

  Lifting me off the ground, he scooped me into his arms and carried me gently back to bed, settling me on the mattress and kissing me deeply before stretching out beside me. “I love you Poppy Kenna Mann Wallace Wallace.”

  I laughed. We’d joked that since I’d taken Hatch’s name when he adopted me, I should add Devon’s last name to my driver’s license so it was his name and not Hatch’s (I didn’t, but Devon thought the idea was hilarious).

  “I love you too, Devon Cade Wallace... Wallace.”

  He chuckled, leaning down to kiss me. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” I stroked his cheek. “You’re my favorite person on earth, you know that, right?”