by Tia Lewis
“I wasn’t exactly thinking about what would happen to me at the time,” I admitted. “I’m not a hero.”
“No, but you probably saved her life.” Bree moved on top of me, her lips finding mine in the darkness. I held her close, crushing her against me. I had to feel all of her, once she knew what I’d done. She accepted me and didn’t judge. It was the greatest gift I could ask for. Someone who accepted me for me and didn’t judge me by my past.
When I slid into her minutes later, it was the second greatest gift. Being inside her, losing myself the way she lost herself. I thought I might like feeling that way. I might like it so much, I’d want to feel it for the rest of my life.
17
Nicole
I had a lot of thinking to do. It was the first thing I told myself the minute I opened my eyes that morning. It was only my second morning waking up in the Blood Riders’ Clubhouse, and already my life had been turned upside down. I didn’t know who I was anymore.
On the one hand, I was still Nicole. I still needed to know who’d killed my father. I needed to have that closure in my life so I could move on and heal.
On the other hand, I was Bree. The girl who slept with Drake. The girl who was—God help me—falling for him. When he told the story of his mother and stepfather, I didn’t see him as the scum who’d nearly killed the guy. I saw him as the man who’d almost killed the scum, and I’d cheered for him inside. Who did that make me? Who was I anymore? I felt like parts of me were slipping away, replaced with parts from a different person. A person who already considered herself part of a club full of people who I would ordinarily have crossed the street to avoid. I didn’t know what to think about myself anymore. So much was changing in such a short amount of time.
He was sleeping soundly. I looked up at him from the place where my head touched his chest. His gorgeous profile, sharp jawline, and cheeks covered with early morning stubble. All that thick, dark hair I loved tangling my fingers in. His perfect mouth with its full lips, just right for kissing and pleasuring my body. I felt a warm surge between my legs in response thinking about the magic he wove whenever his mouth was on me. I couldn’t imagine parting with that feeling.
More than that. It was a sort of nobility that kept me in Drake’s arms. His nobility. He had it, and I would never have guessed otherwise. From the way my father had always described the Club, he was nothing more than a smooth-talking criminal. Well, he might have been a smooth talker, and he might have been a criminal, but he was more than that. He wanted to lead his men, the way any good leader did. He wanted to keep them safe, as he did the girls under his protection. He was strong. Protective. He was good. He wasn’t the demon my father had always made him out to be. I didn’t know what to think, torn between two sides of the same coin.
He stirred, and I smiled. Was it possible to miss a person whose arms you rested in? Strange but true. The world seemed a little brighter when he was awake.
“Hey, beautiful,” he whispered, breathing in his hand to test his morning breath before he kissed me. I thought that was a nice touch.
“Hey, yourself.” I hoped my breath wasn’t bad because I couldn’t wait to kiss him again.
“How was your night?”
“Surprisingly peaceful. Yours?”
“Why surprisingly?”
“I don’t know. I never thought I would be able to spend an entire night with my head on your chest like that. I mean, I would have to move, right? But I didn’t. I just stayed there. I’m usually a restless sleeper.”
“Oh. I guess I knocked you out then.” He grinned.
“Yeah, I think I had something to do with that, too.” I had ridden him like there was no tomorrow. The insides of my thighs were still sore from the effort.
“Ugh. Do we really have to get up? Can’t we just stay in bed all day?”
I smiled, loving the thought. “And we could just stay naked, too. Just touching each other and kissing each other—” My hand slid down the length of his chiseled torso until I found his cock already up and looking for action. I gave him a quick stroke.
“Mmm—that’s a nice thought,” he said.
“But you have a meeting, don’t you? And I have to do—something. I don’t know what, but something. Maybe I’ll stop home for a little while if you’re going to be busy.”
“You already forgot.”
“Forget what?” I asked.
He looked at me, his eyes narrowing. “I already told you. No going out by yourself. Period.”
I tried not to roll my eyes. “Come on, Drake. There’s no threat to me. I’m just a regular person. I haven’t even been with you all that long.”
“I don’t give a shit. Besides that, it’s even more reason why you’re at risk. Hawk knows you, now.” I didn’t want to tell him that I had a funny feeling he’d already known me. I couldn’t put my finger on it, still, but the feeling was there nonetheless.
“I know, but—”
“No buts about it. You wanna go out, take Richie with you. I want him guarding you. Understood?”
“Okay, okay.” I wished he hadn’t picked Richie, but I couldn’t be choosy when he was in that domineering mood. I needed to go home, to be me again for a little while. I needed a break to refresh. I needed to be in my kitchen, my bedroom, my shower. My own home. The one I’d grown up in and been happy in. The Clubhouse was nice, and it was very comfortable, but it would never mean anything to me.
We dragged ourselves out of bed then, stretching and groaning. “I don’t suppose you would be interested in a shower before you got your day started?” I asked.
“Well, yeah, I’m gonna take a shower.” He looked over at me, and I stood with my hands on my hips. Staring at him. “Ooh. A ‘shower.’ Yeah, I think we can manage that.”
“Took you long enough,” I said.
After our rather long shower, once the bathroom was good and filled with steam, we managed to get back to the “real” world, aka the rest of the Club. People had a funny way of looking at us like they always knew what we were up to even though we tried to be quiet. I guessed we were the honeymoon couple. People would just assume we were having sex all the time. And they would be right.
“Guys! Is Jack here?” Drake asked nobody in particular, just throwing the question out to the lounge at large. A few heads nodded.
“Yeah, he’s in his office,” Ace said. “As always.”
“Good. We can get the meeting started soon. I just need to eat something real quick.” I went to the kitchen with him and grabbed a bagel and cream cheese, while he had cereal. He looked adorable to me, sitting on a stool with his ankles wrapped around the legs, barefoot, eating some sugary kids’ cereal. He was a kid at heart, still, even though he had to play the big, badass for the rest of the world.
“Okay. Time for the meeting.” He gave me a quick kiss. The rest of the Club got up from where they were lounging around to sit in their spots at the big, long wooden table in the meeting room. I never went in there, only glancing in once. The table was massive, like something ancient nobility would eat at in their cavernous dining halls with fifty or sixty people around. I wondered what they talked about in there. I would never know—as Tamara had pointed out, they didn’t share that kind of information with the womenfolk. I felt as though I should tie an apron around my waist and scrub the floor while the menfolk were in their meeting. So ridiculous.
Richie wouldn’t have been part of the meeting since he was a Prospect and not a patched member. I looked around, wondering if he would buy the excuse about needing to get some things from my aunt’s house. He wouldn’t be able to go inside under any circumstances, naturally. Was it worth the risk? I thought it was, if only because I needed to remind myself of who I was. It was terrifying, feeling bits of myself slipping away.
“Hey! Has anybody seen Richie today?” I saw a few heads shaking back and forth. None of the girls knew where he was. I looked outside—his bike wasn’t there. I remembered the red flames along the sides
from the day we met. He wanted so much to be cool, like the older guys.
I heard a buzzing noise as I walked back into the bar area and realized it was my cell phone. Shit. I couldn’t have any of the girls seeing who would text me—I wasn’t thinking when I left it there. I had to be more careful and attentive. Picking it up, I turned around to have a little privacy.
An unknown number. Who the hell would text me from an unknown number? A call, sure, but a text? I unlocked the phone, opening my messages. What I saw made my brain shut down for the slightest of moments. I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. Frozen. It was all I could do to stay on my feet.
The girls didn’t notice, all of them chatting about some reality show they kept up with. I used their distraction to my advantage, sneaking away to Drake’s bedroom and closing the door before I dared open the message again.
I couldn’t understand it at first. Why would Richie’s photo be sent to my cell phone? And not just any old photo of him. He was bruised, bleeding, sitting up in a chair with blood running down both sides of his face. And that was it. No message, no nothing. Just Richie. My heart raced, panic flooding me. What was the message? Where was he?
I stared at the picture, trying to make sense of it even as my eyes tried to avoid looking at Richie’s beaten face. What kind of monster would do something like that to him? He was practically a kid, and innocent of the kinds of things the Club did.
Then, as I watched, the ellipsis bubble appeared. The sender of the message was typing something. I waited with my heart in my throat, my clammy hands shaking. I thought I might throw up before the message came through.
“Guess where we are?”
“What?” I murmured to myself. What kind of game were they playing with me? I looked at the picture again, really looking at it to see what I’d missed. Where were they? I had no idea. Richie was sitting in a chair—
My legs gave out—luckily, I was standing by the bed and landed on it rather than the floor. I knew that chair. I had sat in one just like it every night as I ate dinner with my father.
I dropped the phone, the world swirling around in front of me. My house. They’re at my house. What are they doing at my house? How do they know me?
What do they want!
Richie. My heart ached. I didn’t know what to do, horror building and building inside me, growing larger with every passing moment. My house. They knew where I lived, who I was. They were taunting me. But who were they? My phone buzzed once, telling me I had a new text message. I took a deep breath before daring to look at it.
Come and get him. But come alone. Tell your boyfriend or anybody else, and I’ll kill both of them in front you. Understood?
I felt sick to my stomach, hands clasped over my mouth. My bagel threatened to come up at the thought of Richie and Drake dying. In front of me. My God. Who is this?
I typed those words, my sweaty fingers shaking so hard I could barely get the phrase out.
Who are you?
The ellipsis bubble again. I breathed deeply, slowly, willing myself to stay conscious and keep from getting sick. If I were going to help Richie, I would need to keep my wits about me.
You know who it is. Think about it on the way. I mean it—just you. Or else…
With that, a smiley face with its eyes crossed out. I knew what that meant.
I stood on shaky legs, wondering if I would manage to escape the Clubhouse without anybody knowing. Without Drake knowing. Some instinct told me it was a huge mistake to go to the house alone, but I couldn’t let Richie die by disobeying what the person on the phone instructed. I didn’t have a choice. I got myself into this mess, and I had to fix this. I had to save Richie.
I splashed my face with cold water in the bathroom, coaching myself again to stay calm. There had to be some answer to all of it. Meanwhile, my brain screamed and shrieked in panic. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs. I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing at all, but I had to try for Richie’s sake.
“Hey, guys.” I cleared my throat. “Richie’s gonna escort me to my aunt’s house. Drake already knows I’m going—I talked to him about it before the meeting.” I hoped I came off breezily enough.
Tamara looked up at the bar. She and the girls were looking through pictures on her cell phone. “Oh, okay. Cool. See you later.” That was it. It was just that easy. Meanwhile, I’d already requested an Uber, and it was waiting outside. I forced myself to walk slowly rather than running out the door. I’m coming, Richie. I’m coming for you. I only hoped that whoever was on the other end of the phone would let him leave. After all, this whole mess is my fault.
They wanted me. That was the end game. Whoever it was wanted me. Fine. They could have me if that were what it came to. I wouldn’t sacrifice his life to save my own, and I wouldn’t put Drake in danger, either. I couldn’t live with myself if he died because of me.
It wouldn’t be because of you! The little reason left in my brain shouted at me as I rode in the back of the car. It would be because of something he got into a long time ago. You’re only a pawn, damn it! Don’t do this! Let the Club handle it! You’re no match against whoever is in the house with Richie.
I couldn’t do that. I didn’t know why, but something inside wouldn’t let me. I felt a sort of responsibility to the kid. If somebody held him because of something I did—namely using him to get into the Club—then it was my fault. I had dragged him into whatever web I was in without knowing it. I had to try to make it right on my own.
The car just couldn’t get there fast enough for me. I found myself pressing my right foot on the floor, pushing down on an invisible gas pedal. Richie. I thought about his sweet little kid face, the goatee he was trying to grow with no success, the big, trusting brown eyes. He wasn’t meant for that world, but he was in it. I couldn’t stand the thought of somebody hurting him, and I hardly knew him.
Finally, the car had reached the house—and I was more terrified than ever. Had I really been in a hurry to get there? All that stood between me and God only knew what was behind my front door. It had been left conveniently cracked open. I got out of the car and thanked the driver. My legs were barely strong enough to carry me across the sidewalk and up the steps.
I stepped inside. “Hello?” I looked around. “Hello? I’m here. Where are you?” I tried my best to sound strong, capable, and confident. I failed miserably.
“The kitchen.” That voice. I knew that voice, and my skin crawled at the sound of it. Every single instinct left in my mind told me to turn and run. Run fast and never look back. I would call the police and Tommy, and the NYPD would have them come out to the house, and all of this would be over. I would tell them exactly who was inside, or who had been inside before I ran since I didn’t think Hawk was stupid enough to stick around if I ran away.
I didn’t. I walked through the living room, the dining room, into the kitchen. And there he was. Poor Richie, tied to a chair, both eyes swollen and bruised a purplish-black and bloodied along with his swollen nose and a gash on his head. A sob, or something like it, came out of his mouth along with blood when he realized I’d come.
“Now that you’re here, we can talk,” Hawk smiled his blood-curdling smile, and I willed myself to stay conscious and on my feet.
18
Drake
“So, boys. That’s what I found. The police know it’s sketchy that they didn’t recover a gun from Lance’s body, and they know the bullet in the warehouse wall must have come from it. They don’t think we would have gone back to get the gun, but they’re not ruling it out. One of us could have been there, not gotten shot, and taken the gun from Lance’s hand. But what are the odds of that happening? I don’t think a decent, smart cop would make that mistake.” I explained.
“Is there such a thing as a decent cop?” Phil asked, and everybody laughed. Even I did.
“Yeah,” Ace said, “but the same thing could be said about us. Right?” We all nodded. “So that’s what I found. They think somebody else
could have something to do with it—but they don’t know it was the Cobras who were there that day. They don’t know about the war we’ve got going on, which is funny since I thought everybody did. They don’t even know it was us who killed the Cobras.”
“Huh.” I looked at Jack. “Why do you think that is?”
“Because they’re blind right now. They lost one of their own, and they can’t stand it. So they’re not seeing the big picture. They wanna believe it was us because it’s neat and tidy.”
I nodded, looking out over the rest of the Club. “Okay, so at least we know what we’re up against here. They think it’s us, but there’s doubt. We can play on that doubt. Meanwhile, it’s a matter of getting something going with the Cobras. Any thoughts?”
“I say we bomb the shit outta them,” Diesel growled. More than a few of the guys agreed with that idea.
“Yeah, that sounds great, but we need something we can actually do. Trust me, I wanna burn them to the ground just like everybody else. I want all of ‘em wiped off the face of the Earth. You don’t have to tell me how much you hate them because I can promise I hate them ten times more.” I didn’t want the Cobras screwing things up for me when it came time for me to take over the Club. It sounded selfish even as I thought it, but that was the truth. I couldn’t have them in my way.
“Okay, now that we’re all on the same page, I think we should keep an eye out at all times for them. The girls already know they’re not to leave alone. When they go home, whoever goes with them checks the house or apartment to be sure they’re safe. I mean that. No chances, okay?” Jack looked across the table at all his men. Even though he was sick, his voice carried a lot of power. Thank God he’s having a good day, I thought.
