by Celia Loren
“No!” she yells. “I have to keep you here until—”
Running footsteps sound from the garage. She looks at me with a satisfied smile and takes a step back. I stare at the door, knowing who she’s expecting.
Rooster.
He steps through the door, a gun in his hand and a splatter of blood across his cheek.
“My wife,” he says when he sees me, grinning wolfishly. I stare daggers back as he turns to Stephanie. “You told me there would be fewer than ten here.” His voice is calm, but I can hear the anger in it.
“I’m sorry, baby,” she coos, “I thought that more would be on the run.”
“You look different,” he says to me, ignoring her fawning. “Let’s go,” he commands, gesturing toward the door with his gun. “We shouldn’t have come here. There are too many of them.”
“Wait! Tell her that I’m going to be your old lady!” Stephanie whines. “She doesn’t believe me.”
“Yeah, about that...” Rooster says. Without warning, he raises his gun and shoots her twice in the chest.
I scream in horror as she flies backward and hits the floor with a sickening thud. Blood gurgles out of her mouth as she tries to move her head to look at the man who betrayed her. She stills, the life draining from her eyes.
“God, she was annoying,” Rooster sneers at her.
“You’re fucking sick!” I scream at him, tears streaming down my face.
“Damn straight. Now, move! Let’s go!” he yells, striding toward me.
“No,” I growl through gritted teeth.
“Now!” he yells, swinging his arm up and pointing the gun at my chest.
“I know you killed my father,” I hiss, “I am never doing anything you tell me to ever again.”
This takes him by surprise. He lowers the tip of his gun slightly.
“I respected your father. But he would have taken years to retire. I had to hurry things up a little,” he says with a shrug.
His cavalier attitude drives me over the edge. I launch myself at him, driving him backward and knocking his gun out of his hand. It clatters to the floor and I scramble after it. He grabs my ankle from the ground, pulling my feet out from under me. I hit the floor hard, trying to crawl my way out of his grasp, kicking at his hands.
But he gets a good grip on my foot, and drags me back toward him. He’s clawing his way up my body. I feel him grabbing up my leg as his strength overwhelms me. I fight back viciously, trying to elbow him as he clambers up, but I feel his thick hands on my arms, taking me by the wrists and pinning me down. His body weight crushes me, and I can barely move beneath him.
He reaches over my head for the gun. I scream in frustration as I try to grab at it with my free hand, but he pulls away from me and stands up, kicking me in the stomach. I curl over onto my side, grimacing in pain.
“Didn’t know you had so much fight in you,” he says, a little admiration creeping into his voice. “I’m sorry to have to do this. You really are your father’s daughter.”
He raises the gun and points it at my head. I close my eyes, waiting for the shot. With a resounding pop, it comes—but I don’t feel any pain. I must be in heaven, I think. Except that I can still feel the carpet underneath my cheek, and my stomach hurts a lot. I hear a loud thud, like a bag of flour being dropped on the floor, and I pry open my eyes.
Drifter is standing in the doorway, his gun raised at the spot where Rooster was standing a moment ago. Rooster is lying on the floor, his eyes staring at me, unseeing.
Chapter Fourteen
Twitch is already gone. Even if I had gotten to him earlier, the two gunshot wounds to his torso caused massive internal bleeding. I sit by his side, the knees of my cotton pajama bottoms getting soaked in the blood pooled on the carpet. I reach over and close his eyes.
Maybe it was the best way for him to go, rather than live and learn that he had accidentally betrayed his brothers by revealing information to Stephanie. If that’s even her real name.
I hear the sound of bikes pulling up to the clubhouse. The reinforcements have arrived. Gunshots sound across the property. I stare at Twitch’s profile, studying the slight curve of his nose, the dried tear that probably slipped out of his eye at the last moment. I feel someone touching me and gasp, my body going rigid. My hands automatically reach up defensively, pushing whoever it is away.
“Violet, Violet, it’s OK. It’s Drifter,” whispers his voice in my ear. I take a strangled gulp of air as his arms wrap tightly around me, pulling me up and away from Twitch’s body.
Drifter turns me around as I wrap my arms around his neck, breathing in the scent of him, letting his body calm me. I feel his lips against my hair as he rubs my back. Eventually I open my eyes and peer around him at the terrible scene around us. Stephanie is lying on the floor, and a few feet away from her is Rooster. I jerk away from Drifter and frantically run my hands over his body, searching for injuries.
“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” I search his face desperately.
“I’m OK, I’m OK,” he reassures me. I can’t stop touching his body, double checking that he is alright, that he’s not leaving me. “Violet,” he says again, and grasps my hands in his. “Look at me.”
I look up at him and the warmth in his eyes cuts through my frantic anxiety.
“I’m alright. You’re safe now,” he whispers. “The rest of the brothers are here. We’re OK.”
I nod, trying to let his words soothe me, but I can feel that they’re only penetrating so far. I still feel cold inside.
“Come on,” he says, and wraps his arm around my shoulder, leading me out of the garage. “Wait here, I just want to make sure it’s clear out there. I’ll be right back.”
I watch as he disappears into the darkness. I wrap my arms around myself, trembling. Rooster is gone. He is finally and completely out of my life. The man who is responsible for killing my father and causing so much misery in my life is dead. But right now I don’t feel happy or free, I just feel empty. Drifter comes running back after what could be three minutes or three hours. He looks worried when he sees my face, so I try to smile at him encouragingly.
“OK, it’s safe,” he reassures me, once more wrapping his arm around me and guiding me back to the clubhouse. He rubs my arms as we enter through the kitchen and into the lounge.
I freeze inside when I see two Devil’s Army members being held in the corner at gunpoint. I scan the room and see Sons wrapping rags around injuries, trying to breathe through the pain. I feel Drifter pulling me, trying to get me to keep going.
“Wait, I need to help them,” I insist.
“Violet, you’re in shock,” he says, “You need to go upstairs and lie down. We can take care of this.”
“I need to help,” I repeat. “I feel responsible for this. If you don’t let me help and something else happens...” I trail off.
Drifter must see determination in my eyes because he reluctantly relents. I look around for the Sons with the worst wounds. Tag is sitting in a chair by the pool table, holding his leg in pain. I cross over to him quickly, Drifter right behind me. I kneel next to Tag.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Shot through the leg. Don’t know if the bullet’s still in there,” Tag replies, face contorted in pain.
“Get me the first aid kit, and any other supplies you can find. And the needle and thread kit. It’s still in my room. And get someone to set up a sheet on the pool table. Anyone’s who’s hurt should come in here.”
Drifter nods and takes control, shouting orders. Tag is helped to the pool table, where he lies down. A sort of triage station is set up, and I examine people’s wounds. Someone is able to turn the main lights back on so I can actually see what I’m doing.
Tag is lucky. The bullet passed through his leg muscle, missing any arteries and the bone. Remarkably, Twitch is the only fatality for the Sons. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the Army members who were caught being escorted out of the lounge. Best not to think about what will happen
to them.
There are other flesh wounds and some fractured bones among the Sons. Many of the brothers help me out, accustomed as they are to taking care of their own injuries. I don’t know how much time passes as I stitch and wrap and splint. I finally feel Drifter’s hands on me, pulling me away from the red-stained sheet covering the pool table.
“Wait, wait!” I protest, as he pulls me away.
“No,” he says calmly. “You’ve done everything you can. You’re exhausted and you need to rest.”
“But—”
“Violet. You have to let me take care of you.” He isn’t asking my permission.
I drop my hands and realize I’m still shaking. My head droops, exhausted. The next thing I know, Drifter is carrying me upstairs and into the bathroom. He shuts the door and pulls off first my and then his own clothes. I huddle next to him as he turns on the shower, and when it’s hot, he pulls me into it with him.
He tenderly washes off my body, the water running red in the drain. He turns me around and pulls my hair back, letting the water run through it. When he turns me back around, I look up at him and study his face. A worry line creases his forehead, and I reach up to smooth it with my thumb. There is an abrasion on his right cheek, and it looks a little swollen. I scoop a little water in my hand and gently wash it off, then rub my hands on his body, repeating the process for him. When we’re both clean, he wraps me up in a towel and escorts me into his room.
Kalb greets us as we enter the room, jumping up at us frantically, making sure we’re alright. Drifter guides me into bed and pulls the sheets over me. He pats the bed and Kalb jumps up, curling up beside me. His warmth feels good against my back, and Drifter sits next to me, pushing my hair out of my face.
“I have to go help out downstairs, but I’ll stay here until you fall asleep, OK?” he asks. I nod. The early morning light is already beginning to shine through the window, and my eyes feel heavy.
I shut them, feeling Drifter’s hand stroking my head as I fall asleep.
I sleep without dreaming, and when I wake up, the sun is shining brightly. The clock reads 1:00PM. I look around. Drifter and Kalb are both gone.
I sit upright in bed. Shit. What about Scout? He’ll have been by himself back in Clarksville this whole time, if he’s even still OK. What if Rooster just gave him to the pound as soon as I left?
I jump out of bed, my muscles groaning stiffly, and look around for some clothes I can wear. I glance out the window and see Drifter standing outside, shielding his eyes from the sun as he looks out over the back of the property. I follow his gaze and see Kalb playing with another dog. With a rush, I realize it’s Scout. I clasp my hands to my mouth in joy to see him, sudden tears clouding my vision. He’s running around with Kalb, and they’re nipping playfully at each other.
I hear a knock at the door and futilely try to cover my naked body with my hands.
“It’s Cherish—I just wanted to check on you,” she calls from the other side of the door. “I have some clothes for you.”
“I’m naked! Come in, but don’t look!” I call back. She opens the door, looking aside as she hands me fresh clothes. “Thank you so much!” I say as I pull them on.
“No problem,” she replies. “Thanks for helping me out last night. Did you see your dog?”
“Yes!” I exclaim, “How did he get here?”
“Drifter knew you wouldn’t relax until you saw him,” she says, “So he sent one of the prospects to go get him.”
“Oh,” I breathe, “He shouldn’t have done that, but—”
“You’re really glad he did?” she laughs, finishing my thought for me. “Come on,” she says, with a nod to the door.
I rap on the window and wave to Drifter. He grins and waves enthusiastically back at me, and I turn and follow Cherish downstairs. We step out into the sun together, the long, terrifying night behind us at last.
Epilogue
I turn over in bed and reach next to me. Drifter isn’t there. My eyes flutter open as I sniff the air. Is that bacon?
I stand up and stretch as I hear a clattering noise coming from the kitchen. I walk across our bedroom and into the hallway, passing the bedroom we’ve recently painted a pale green. Someday it will be a nursery, but we aren’t in any hurry.
I walk into the kitchen and see Drifter over the stove, swearing as the bacon crackles and a drop of grease jumps out and hits his wrist.
“Uh-oh, are you cooking?” I say teasing, as I make my way into the kitchen.
“I wanted to make you a nice breakfast for your first day back,” he says.
“That’s sweet,” I say, coming behind him and wrapping my arms around his strong torso.
Drifter’s encouraged me to go back to school and finish my nursing degree. I have to admit, I’m a little nervous.
I hear scratching at the sliding door and walk over to open it for Kalb and Scout, who both immediately jump on me. I kneel to accept their wet kisses
“Do you think you’ll have a lot of homework?” Drifter asks. “Cherish wants to know if we’re coming to the barbecue this weekend.”
“Tell her we’ll be there,” I say. “Homework be damned.”
Once Cherish saw that Drifter and I were serious, she finally moved on. Luckily, Hollywood was right there waiting. There’s going to be a big party this weekend to celebrate her becoming his old lady.
“You going to wear your cut today?” Drifter asks with a smile as he plates some eggs and bacon for me. I pull a stool up to the counter. We’re almost finished getting furniture to fill up the house. I didn’t want to bring much over from my dad’s old house. Too many memories. Luckily, we found a buyer who wanted to keep most of it anyway.
“That would certainly make an impression!” I laugh. He makes a plate for himself and comes to sit next to me. He watches me shift a little in my seat out of the corner of my eye.
“Sore?” he asks smugly.
I giggle, my cheeks flushed red. We have been...experimenting quite a bit lately, and last night he came home with a fun new toy for us to try. I run my hand through his thick hair, marveling that this man is really mine.
Scout and Kalb push their way between us and lie at our feet. We’ve been here for a couple months now and it already feels like my home. I know Drifter’s the one for me, and we’ll eventually get married, too. But right now it’s just nice to enjoy each other’s company.
And the dogs’ too, of couse.
“Would it be strange to say I’m glad you were bartered to the Sons as collateral and that everything turned out alright?” Drifter asks cheekily.
“Yes,” I say, pretending to chide, “But I know what you mean, babe. I’m glad I’m here, too.”
“Love you.” He says.
“Love you too.”
THE END
Thank you for reading!
About the Author
Celia Loren is an author of gritty Contemporary Romance. She’s always been an avid reader and growing up she devoured books by the truckload. Now she spends her time working toward finishing her MFA and penning the romance stories she always wanted to read. Excited to be a member of the Hearts Collective Publishing team, she brings her incredible imagination, unparalleled work ethic, and sassy personality into the mix!
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OTHER BOOKS BY CELIA LOREN:
Crushing Beauty (Harbingers of Sorrow MC) by Celia Loren
Breaking Beauty (Devils Aces MC) by Celia Loren
Wrecking Beauty (Devils Reapers MC) by Celia Loren
If you enjoyed Celia Loren’s Satan’s Property (A Satan’s Sons MC Novel)
Then you'll also enjoy reading Impossibly (A Dante’s Nine MC Novel) by Colleen Masters.
Read below for an excerpt!!
Prologue
My surroundings come into focus at last. I realize that I am floating—but not through space. Warm water, scented with lavender and sage, suspends my naked body, comforting me. It laps against my skin, caressing every curve and limb of me. At first, I think I must be treading water in some hot spring, or sunbaked ocean—the body of water is that vast. But as the rest of the scene comes into focus, I find that I’m not in a sea at all. I’m in a marble and golden bathtub, sunken into the floor of some elegant, unknown room. I gaze up and see that the ceiling is made of curved glass, and the moon shines down from above. The moon, and some other very vibrant lights...perhaps of the neon variety?
“What are you doing all the way over there?” asks a rich, rasping voice.
I look around sharply, sending little splashes of water everywhere as I try to cover my naked breasts. Warm, amused laughter rings out from the far side of the enormous tub. I peer through the steamy air and see that I’m not alone in this place. There, across the way, glow two piercing blue eyes. Heart battering against my ribs, I inch closer. Up out of the mist rises a broad, cut torso, covered in inky lines. Two thick, muscled arms drape over the edge of the tub. A face unlike any other, itself like something carved out of marble, watches me approach. And a full, irresistible smile bursts open there as I approach.
“There’s my girl,” Declan Tiberi growls, holding out his strong hand to me.
I place my hand in his, marveling at the sudden spread of heat that rushes through me at his slightest touch. Declan pulls me toward him, guiding me through the steamy water. His brown curls are wet, slicked back from his gorgeous face. Slowly, tentatively, I come to standing before him, letting my eyes trail all along every defined muscle of his chest, his web of intricate tattoos. I spot a scar or two on his chest, rising up from the bulky, firm panes of his pecs.
