“You’re hurt,” she whispered.
She took me to the bathroom and I sat on the closed toilet while she ran water in the sink. She moistened a washrag and ran it over my face. The cloth was wet and warm against my skin. She pushed my jacked over my shoulders and it fell to the floor. Her fingers gripped the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. Wetting the cloth again, she washed the bloodstains from my chest.
I watched her wash my battle scars away with her delicate hands. My body grew hard under her gentle touch.
“You need a shower,” she said, twisting the faucet.
She drew back the curtain and let the steam fill the room. I couldn’t wait to hold her a second longer. I stood and gathered her in my arms. I needed to taste her, to be inside her, to make her eyes wide with pleasure. I needed to pour my love into her until she knew it was real.
My cock pressed against her softness as my mouth pressed against her lips. She shuddered and moaned my name. My hands ran up her sides and pulled her shirt over her head, revealing her bare breasts.
Our mouths moved in a slow, passionate dance. With each flick of her tongue, my cock grew harder against my jeans. I filled my hands with her breasts and pinched her nipples between my thumb and fingers.
She felt as fragile as a butterfly, quivering under my touch. I couldn’t stand to be apart from her a second longer. I yanked off my pants and kicked off my boots. I stood before her naked. I knelt and pulled her panties to the floor while I breathed hot breaths between her legs. She giggled and jumped in the shower.
I joined her and we stood under the stream together, holding each other tight.
“I got your letter,” she whispered into my chest. The sound of her voice was soft under the rush of the shower stream. “I should have been more patient. I’ve had so many hang-ups.”
“It’s all right.” I kissed her head and leaned down to kiss her closed eyes, her cheeks and mouth. Our tongues danced as our mouths embraced each other. I ran my hands down her sides and rubbed her body. A light sigh escaped her lips as my hand cupped her swollen breast. I flicked her nipple with the tip of my thumb.
“I just want you to know. I realized life is too short. I’m ready now,” she said between kisses. That was all I needed to hear.
My cock was as hard as steel pushing against my stomach. It ached to feel her sweet wetness enfold it. I wanted to ram myself inside her and come like a freight train, but I kept myself under control. Her pleasure was more important than my release.
Her beautiful mouth yielded exquisitely to me, I knew the rest of her would as well. As I held her tight, my fingers moved between her legs and pressed slowly inside her folds. The water mixed with her slippery moisture and I rubbed her clit.
I could feel her body swell. Her mouth latched to mine and her hands dug into my back. I slowly inched my finger inside her. Her body gripped me and sucked me deeper. Little gasps and moans mixed with the sound of rushing water.
I felt to my knees, wanting to taste her sweetness. My tongue found her mound while my fingers stroked inside her. Claire threw back her head, and she grabbed my hair. I lifted her leg to rest on the side of the shower while I worked her body.
She moaned louder as the thrusts of my fingers gained momentum. I could feel her swelling. I could sense her approaching climax. “Oh God!” she moaned. Her body clenched around my fingers in a hot throbbing rhythm.
She shuddered and nearly fell to her knees, but I rose and held her tight to me. Her languid body rested in my arms. Waves of pride and pleasure washed through me, knowing that I’d made her come. My dick begged for its turn, but now wasn’t the time.
Her hand reached for my throbbing member, and she stroked it. I sucked air through my clenched teeth and rested my head in the crook of her neck. I wouldn’t be able to resist her stroking.
“What about you?” she whispered teasingly as she ran her hand over my firm cock.
“I don’t want to make love to you for the first time standing in the shower.”
She didn’t stop stroking. I groaned into her shoulder and gripped her breast. Even with her inexperience, she instinctively knew exactly what would drive me crazy. Her momentum increased as her hand glided up and down.
It didn’t take long before my balls clenched under me and my body tensed in impending release. A volcano of desire rushed from inside of me and exploded in her hand. I pulled her against my chest and held her under the water.
“Oh Claire,” I said. “I don’t ever want to be away from you again.”
Chapter Four: Claire
I woke entangled in his arms. For the first time in a very long time, I felt safe. I watched his face and the rise and fall of his hard chest as he slept beside me. Snuggling into him, I listened to the sound of his heartbeat. His warm musky scent soothed me with the knowledge of his presence.
He kissed my forehead, caressed my arm, and then cupped my face with his hand. I took a deep satisfied breath, adoring the feeling of having him beside me. It was better than I imagined. My body tingled from the night before and I squeezed my legs together in remembrance.
He pulled me into him and turned over on top of me. Rose stirred in her crib and I pushed him away. There would be time for this later, in private.
After jumping out of bed, I lifted Rose up and took care of her immediate needs. Damien sat against the headboard and watched me. His eyes were calm and protective. I smiled, feeling loved under his gaze. He threw off the covers and went to the bathroom while I finished getting Rose ready.
He came out dressed, his short hair still wet from the shower. He sat on the bed and pulled on his boots.
“Zoe said Regan is in the hospital.”
“Yes. That’s why I’m here. She was under a ninety-six-hour psychiatric evaluation. I’ve been working with the DA to get her court date coordinated with her release.”
Damien looked at me with pity in his eyes. “What’s next?”
“The trial is today. Zoe’s coming down to give testimony. We want to get her mandatory treatment instead of going to jail. I honestly believe it’s the only way to get her life back on track. I hate to force her into a psychiatric hospital, but I also feel like if I don’t do it, she’s going to end up in and out of jail or possibly dead.”
“I can give testimony too. I had to take her off the bar at The Clutch because she was chucking bottles at everyone and speaking gibberish.”
“You never told me about that.”
Anger surged in me for a split second but dissolved quickly. I wrapped my arms around him and sat in his lap. He pulled me into him and breathed into my neck. “I’ll never lie to you again,” he whispered.
“I know.”
I slipped from his lap and went to shower. I came out dressed for court in a navy skirt suit with a cream-colored top. Damien still had blood on his shirt. That was not going to work for court.
“We need to get you some clean clothes. There’s a clothing store up the street; we can stop there before we eat.”
I picked up Rose, my purse, and her stroller, and Damien helped me carry all my things out to my new clunker of a car. He looked at it and raised an eyebrow.
“I know, but I had to get something.”
After breakfast, we went to the clothing store. I rolled Rose down the aisle as I followed Damien. He picked out a few things and went to try them on.
He came out of the dressing room wearing black slacks, a white shirt, and a black tie. His broad shoulders and chest filled out the shirt, making him look sexier than ever. The black tie just didn’t seem to work. He needed something more subtle.
I handed him a steel gray tie. He pulled off the one he wore and put on the new one. It looked better. He grabbed a black suit jacket off the rack and pulled it over his shoulders. I looked at him in the business wear and felt my knees go soft.
I could see a hint of his tattoos when his cuffs moved back. The effect was extremely hot. He slipped his feet into a pair of dress shoes to finish the
look. We pulled the tags from his new outfit and took it to the counter. The woman at the counter looked him up and down with puckered lips. I had to smile. Damien shoved his hand over his hair and handed her the tags.
Outside in the sun, we piled back into the car and drove to the courthouse. I wheeled Rose down the brightly polished laminate floors and met Zoe and the prosecuting attorney outside the courtroom. I explained to him that Damien could provide additional testimony, and he agreed to call Damien if the defense okayed it.
It felt bad, opposing my sister in court. There just didn’t seem to be another way. The DA had been willing to listen to me about Regan’s need for treatment. After reading her past history, he agreed to help.
Regan approached the courtroom door. Dread filled my stomach. She looked good. Zoe had brought her an outfit from home, and she wore it. She had her hair pulled back in a tight bun and away from her face. Her eyes looked clear but tired.
Damien put his arm around my shoulder. Zoe and I exchanged a pity-filled glance. Who wants to commit their own sister? A hard lump settled in my stomach, blocking my breakfast from digesting. I felt I might vomit at any moment.
Before we went into the courtroom, it was agreed that we would take turns watching Rose outside. Damien and I went in with the prosecuting attorney and waited for the judge.
Regan’s doctor came in and sat beside me just before the judge entered the courtroom. Everyone rose. The jury was already seated and stood when the judge approached the bench. The bailiff said we could sit and everyone sat back down.
My stomach did flip-flops as a cool sweat trickled down my side. My hair was tied back and suddenly felt exceedingly uncomfortable. I fidgeted in my seat while the opening statements were read. Damien grasped my damp hand and gave me a reassuring smile.
The charges of DUI, grand theft auto, and driving without a license were read. The judge looked at the documents submitted by both parties and asked what the defendant pled to the charges. Regan’s attorney said she pled no contest, meaning she didn’t admit or deny anything.
The prosecutor went on to state Regan’s past DUI charges, her recent suicide attempt, and prior stay in a psychiatric facility, as well as the fact that she was an active drug addict and not taking medication for her illness. The toxicology report from her arrest was read aloud.
We all took turns giving testimony. After a brief break, we reconvened to hear the verdict. Zoe and I sat together in the courtroom and waited for the judge and jury to enter. My heart thumped in my chest, and I gripped Zoe’s hand. I could see the back of Regan’s head bowed over the desk.
We stood as the judge entered the room, and sat to hear the verdict. The judge asked the jury what they had decided and the presiding juror stood. He had a scowl on his face when he looked at the paper. He glanced at me and Zoe and then looked at the judge.
“We find the defendant guilty as charged.”
“Thank you, jury. I sentence the defendant to a mandatory four months in the Mendocino psychiatric rehabilitation facility. At the discretion of her doctors, she can be released up to one month early or held up to two months longer. Sentence starts today.” She hit her gavel and dismissed the case.
The security officers led Regan out of the courtroom as the judge left the bench. Regan looked over her shoulder at me. Her face was wounded and scared. My heart felt stuck in my throat. I wanted to beg for her forgiveness. I couldn’t do that now. She probably wouldn’t listen to me. Maybe she would hate me forever, but at least I’d done all I could for her.
I turned away, shame filling my chest. Zoe pulled me out of the courtroom. Her expression was set like stone. She took me aside and held me by the shoulders while she stared me down.
“Look, Claire. We won. Stop beating yourself up.”
I nodded, but I couldn’t help feeling like crap about the whole thing.
Chapter Five: Damien
I followed Claire’s car up highway 101. The Parker girls deserved a good life, even Regan. I was glad I could help Claire at the trial. I knew it was hard for her, standing up against Regan to make her do something she didn’t want to do. It was all for the best; that girl needed to get clean.
When we passed the clubhouse on the way to town, I noticed the Devil’s Dozen bikes still parked in the parking lot. That was bullshit. We’d won the fight fair and square. The agreement was they would leave.
We rumbled into town, and I stopped in front of my shop to call Claire. “Hey, baby, I need to take care of some business here in town. I’ll be over later. Okay?”
“All right. See you then.”
I dialed Martel’s number and waited for him to answer while I paced in front of the shop. There was a note taped to the front door, and I pulled it off and unfolded it.
Martel answered the phone, “What’s going on, kid?”
“Stop calling me kid, old man. Why is the Devil’s Dozen still at the clubhouse?” I felt anger surge into my voice. I unfolded the note and read the choppy handwriting.
“Bad move,” was all it said.
“I’m working on it,” said Martel.
“Working on what? You told me this fight was going to solve everything. Now what?”
“Callahan has other ‘demands’ that he expects us to agree to before he’ll leave.”
“Other demands, huh? Sounds a lot like you. When will this end?”
“I understand you’re pissed, son. Try to stay calm. Come over to my house and we’ll talk.”
I cringed when he called me “son.” He hadn’t earned the right to call me that. He still hadn’t told me where I could find my mother. I got back on my bike and rode to his place, up the hill, to the east of town. I found his enormous two-story farmhouse sitting behind a man-made pond and acres of manicured lawns and gardens.
I parked my bike and went to the front door centered on a wraparound porch. An attractive woman in her early forties with long black hair came to the door carrying a hairy little dog.
“Come in, Damien, it’s nice to finally meet you.” The little dog shivered at me as I passed. I found Martel sitting near a sliding glass door that looked out over rolling green lawns and an expansive view of the valley below.
“Nice place,” I said.
“We like it.”
I sat across from him in a comfortable armchair and glanced at his trim wife as she moved around the kitchen in cut-off jean shorts and bare feet. I looked back at Martel.
“What does Callahan want?”
“He wants an in with the pot growers around here. He basically wants to replace me as their protector so he can take my cut and have wholesale distribution into the central valley.”
“From what I understand, these families would never go for that.”
“No, they won’t.”
The dog ran to Martel’s booted foot and jumped in his lap. He petted the furry little creature with his big hand and looked out the window.
“The Black Blades have built decades of trust with the people of this area. We can’t be replaced, but this current incident is leading many people to believe we aren’t up for the job anymore. I already have people backing away, not returning my calls. There is a lot of fear. People’s livelihoods are at stake. Whole families are at stake. No one wants to see violence, but they don’t want to have their crops stolen either.”
“There has to be a middle ground.”
“Callahan is contending for total control. I’ve offered to hook him up with wholesale, but that isn’t enough for him. He wants it all.”
“Tell him it isn’t going to happen.”
“I have.”
I raised my hands in exasperation and leaned back in the chair. Martel needed to handle this guy more firmly or the whole town would be lost.
“I’ve got a meeting with him in an hour. You can come with me. Know how to shoot a gun?”
“Since I was ten.”
We went to his black Range Rover, drove to the highway, and continued north until we passed Redwood P
ark. We turned into the park road, then pulled up a narrow service road that crested on a bald hill. Another SUV was already waiting.
Wind whipped over the exposed hillside as sun glared down on the yellow waving grass. I got out of the car with a pistol tucked in the back of my jeans. Callahan was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a bald head and a beer belly. I remembered him from the fights. To his right stood a massive dude who was twice my size, wearing all black and a chest holster rig with two guns.
“Martel. You brought your fighter. How appropriate. I have an offer for you, young man.”
I stood there with a bored look on my face. I doubted he had anything I would want. I gripped my hips in my hands and squinted at him, cocking my head to the side.
“What is your offer?” asked Martel.
“I’d like him to come fight with me.”
“What?” Damian asked, stunned.
“And if he does?”
“He will get the benefits of fighting for me.” Callahan smiled, showing a gold tooth among his straight white teeth.
“I’m not interested,” said Damien.
Martel glared at me and snapped his gaze back to Callahan. “There has to be some benefit for him. And he has to agree.”
“You are entitled to five percent of the house total winnings if you win. That isn’t a small sum, young man. The last take from a fight was fifty thousand dollars.”
“Twenty-five hundred for one win? Still not worth it. I have to train, travel. I make a good living at my tattoo shop. I’m fine. How about you and your goons get the hell out of Dodge before we call the cops on your asses?”
Martel grimaced and Callahan sneered. “I’ve been extremely patient with you, Martel.”
“The kid has a point. We don’t have any illegal dealings in this town. Our relationships with the growers are personal. They are like family to us. We could stop working with them and our income streams would not be impacted. Whereas you, you deal exclusively in illegal practices. Just tipping off the cops about your little fight club and gambling den would get you at least a few years.”
Inked Fighter: Complete Collection (MMA MC New Adult Romance) Page 18
