by Silver James
“Stop! Oh, fucking please stop. The little bitch’s mine. I’m her goddamn father.”
“Why is this important?” I pressed the tip of the stiletto into the head of his dick with just enough pressure to draw a tiny bead of blood.
The bastard screamed again, but did not thrash. When he could speak, he confirmed my own suspicions.
“My old man. He raped my whore of a mother. He was supposed to be some hot shit, but his fancy DNA skipped me. As soon as he figured that out, he disappeared.”
My mask remained in place, but the waves of anger flowing from Digger washed against my control. I removed the knife. The Bastard was already dead yet was too stupid to understand. He believed he would survive my attentions. I had one last promise to keep. To discover the identity and location of the Hell Dogs’ president—the one called Fallen Angel.
Chapter 23
EASY
THE RUSSIAN LIFTED my mutilated hands, examining them closely before glancing at the rough concrete wall covered in blood. Hardy peered over his shoulder.
“Christ, Easy. What the fuck did you do?” Grabbing his medic’s kit, Hardy pulled out a bottle of disinfectant.
I didn’t flinch when he poured that crap over the mangled skin stretched across my swollen knuckles. My eyes stayed glued to Russki’s face.
His gaze held mine when he spoke. “I cannot turn back time, Easy. To undo what’s been done is impossible.”
“Yeah, no shit.” I didn’t care if I was showing disrespect to the Nightriders’ president, to my Alpha. The Russian would just have to get over it. Rage—raw and primal—churned inside me looking for an outlet. He knew that, knew why I had destroyed my hands. I was a Wolf. I would heal, good as new. But not Sam. Sam was human, and those fuckers had broken her. A month had passed since the rescue, and still the fires raged inside me.
I’d sat there, that night, beside the hospital bed where the woman who was my everything lay broken and bleeding. I listened as she told Doc Carson what the Bastard had done to her—the parts she could remember. Her physical injuries were healing. Her fertile period had come and gone. My wolf wanted to claim her, to make babies with her. But I was more than the wolf. I was a man, and I saw her flinch when I touched her. I saw the pain she carried every fucking day. I heard her crying into her pillow every night and fucking knew I’d make it worse if I touched her, held her.
She finally admitted what Angel had said to her. That’s why I left town during her fertility. Russki told her it was club business, and she didn’t ask. I just couldn’t stand to be in the same fucking room with her and not be able to love her, to know that she would never have children with me because I couldn’t fucking touch her and ease her pain.
Russki gripped my shoulder, jerking me back into the bullshit of my reality.
“We will exact our revenge, Easy. The Hell Dogs who took Samantha and Sunny will die. All of them.”
“Damn straight they will.” We’d killed the Dogs left behind when we rescued the girls. We’d caught the Bastard. When the Russian finished torturing him for answers, Gravedigger strung the asshole’s guts like party streamers in that room where Sam had been tortured. Most of the Dogs ran like the cowards they were. Our chapters still hunted them down, one by one, getting closer to the inner circle with each kill. Angel. His second. Others. I would hunt each one and rip out their throats. I had the scent of every man who’d touched Sam burning in my nose.
I’d gone back that night, after Sam was sedated and asleep. I saw Gravedigger’s handiwork and wished I’d been the one to eviscerate the scumfuck. The Bastard had threatened my little girl, my son. He’d killed their mother and hurt my mate. Noni and Jonah were mine now—or would be as soon as Sam was fully healed, and we could appear in court for the finalization of their adoption.
The Russian watched me, and I straightened my spine and shoulders, coming to attention. Yeah, I’d lost it and beat the crap out of that wall, but I was back in control. And until Sam healed, I’d stick close. The Hell Dogs would never get another chance to hurt her.
I forced air into my lungs, forced my fists—formed by instinct—to spread wide and then relax to work out the soreness radiating all the way up to my shoulders. Sam wasn’t the only one who’d been hurt. Repo’s old lady had been in that room too, had been badly beaten. I hadn’t asked before now and guilt burned in my gut. “How’s Sunny?”
“Are you ready to hear this?”
The Russian stood deceptively loose. The man was fucking fast, and he’d take me down in heartbeat if I lost my shit. He didn’t need Hardy standing there or Gravedigger, who’d moved into the shadows to watch and listen. I nodded, one short, quick dip of my chin, not trusting any words that might escape.
“They beat her, touched her, but did not rape her.”
I swallowed. Hard. Repo would have gone ape-shit crazy if they had. She was his mate, like Sam was mine.
“Angel knew she was carrying Repo’s child. A son.”
His words didn’t sink in at first. I stared at him until comprehension hit. “Son? A Wolf?”
Russki’s expression confirmed it. “Angel told Sunny he would keep her as a pet, then would rip the child from her womb and raise it as his own.”
“Aw shit.” My gut clenched. “He mindfucked both of them.”
“They leave for the Gulf in the morning, Repo and Sunny.”
“Good.” Corpus Christi was Repo’s home chapter. The brothers down there would look after and protect them.
Hardy cleared his throat. I cut him off before he could say the words. “I already know.” Hollywood broke the news to me right before I hit the wall. The fucking Hell Dogs had burned down our house. The kitchen Sam loved. All the toys and clothes I made Jonah and Noni leave behind when I moved them back into the Barracks for safety. I didn’t know how to tell her. Tell them. Every home they’d ever had got ripped away. Destroyed. And I’d had a hand in almost all of it.
“You think too hard for a Wolf, Easy.”
I couldn’t meet Russki’s gaze. “Hard not to, boss. I’m to blame for most of this.”
The fucker laughed. When I looked up and glared, he laughed even harder and clapped Hardy on the shoulder.
“This is fine joke our Easy makes, da? He is such a Wolf that the world spins around him. What do you think of his arrogance, Hardy?”
Hardy was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.
“What? Because you were shot and taken in by Sarah Prescott, you somehow set everything in motion? This is the conceit of a fool.”
“Maybe.”
“Say you died. There beside the road. What would happen to Noni, to Jonah when the Bastard found them? It was not you that led the Hell Dogs to that place. They were looking already. They want the girl. She is worth a great deal of money. Because you were there, they did not get her. They will not get her now. Do you think of this, Elijah? Maybe this is the way it was to be. Me? I don’t believe in Fate. But look at you. You have a mate. Two children.”
I wanted to say something, but when I opened my mouth, nothing came out except, “Well. Fuck.”
That just made Russki and Hardy both laugh. “Our Easy is a man of many words, Hardy.”
The two of them left me to stew, with Hardy calling back over his shoulder, “Put some ice on those hands.”
Fucking d’uh. I cleaned up, wandered into the clubroom. The atmosphere was tense. Too much testosterone confined in close quarters did that. The club whores had been banned for the duration. I snagged a bottle of Irish and a bar towel full of ice from the machine and headed back to the garage. The kids’ play fort distracted me. I climbed up inside, beneath the striped awning. Bracing my back against one wall, I could peer out over the top and watch other Nightriders come and go. I was invisible. I’d never really been a kid and damn sure never had a place like this. It was kinda cool. Curling up with my liquid security blanket, I understood the appeal.
I finally went to Sam. Awakened by my arrival, she stared at me from b
ehind swollen eyes, like an abused dog.
“What do you want from me?” she whispered through lips still showing the trauma she’d suffered.
“Nothing, baby. I just want to take care of you. To love you.”
“Why?”
“Because I do, Sam. You’re mine. No matter what.”
“I can’t, Easy. I can’t do this.”
“Shh, baby.”
“Please don’t make me come out there.”
“You don’t have to, baby. Can I crawl in there with you?” I could give her this, if nothing else.
Understanding lit her eyes. She nodded. We’d hide here until she was ready to face the world again. We’d survive, together.
Chapter 24
EASY
THE HANDS THAT had pounded the wall with rage until they bled were gentle when they touched her. I remained terrified I’d hurt Sam even more. She had altered me in ways I didn’t understand. I’d been rough, crude before she came into my life. Part of me wanted to take her, own her, show the world she was mine. Instead, I reined in those needs, made sure my hands were tender. I planned to just hold her, but she was the one who drew me down, held me. She was the one who sighed when I sighed. We would comfort each other for now. I could do that. The need for revenge burned like acid through my blood, but I would hold on. I would remain gentle for this remarkable woman. My woman. My mate.
Her lips met mine, parted in the softest, sweetest of joinings. Her hands stroked my chest, along the hard ridges of muscle as I fit my body to hers. I parted the nightgown she wore, but I couldn’t hide my wince at the sight of her bruises. Fucking Hell Dogs. They’d marked her. Hurt her. Her injuries still visible weeks later.
Sam’s hand fluttered against my cheek. “Shhh,” she murmured.
I’d meant to comfort her, to prove how much she was loved, but my mate was showing me. I buried my nose in the hollow of her throat and inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with her scent. Vanilla from her shampoo. A hint of cedar from her soap. But underneath the fake stuff was the real her. She smelled of honeysuckle—sweet, but not cloying—and beneath the nectar the acrid tang of gunpowder. This scent was uniquely hers. It defined her. I would be able to find her anywhere in the world by her scent alone.
Trailing my lips down her flesh, I touched each bruise, trying to kiss away the marks, to make it all better. I wanted to heal her, take away her pain, and I was steeped in the scent and feel of her. I traced fingertips over her slight curves, hesitating when she sighed or trembled, watching pleasure bloom on her face.
“Sweet Sam.” My lips found hers again, rubbed gently. “So beautiful.”
“I’m not beautiful.”
My lips curled against hers. “This isn’t the time to argue.” I closed my hand lightly over her breast, and I watched her eyes. “Perfect. You fit my hand, just like this.” I flicked a thumb over her nipple, and her breath hitched. “Those eyes of yours, like the ocean. Deep. Restless. How can they see everything but what I see when I look at you?”
I lowered my head to taste her mouth. “Soft. Irresistible. Stubborn.” I skimmed my tongue over the hollow under her chin. “I love this spot,” I whispered. “My Sam, so perfect.” I ran my hand down the length of her. And when I cupped her pussy, she was already wet. “Let go, baby. Come for me.”
She finally did, under my gentle attention as she became helpless beneath my hands, with a breathy moan that signaled the pleasure of her surrender.
I wanted to make her feel beautiful. Make her understand how important she was, that she was my other half, and together we were whole. She reached for me, rolling with me in a dance sensual and timeless. She touched and tasted and gave as I did. Lost herself in me.
When she rose to me, when I slid inside her, her eyes blurred with tears.
“Don’t.” I pressed my cheek to hers. “Ah, don’t.” Her tears would ruin me.
“No.” She framed my face, let the tears come. “This is right. Perfect. Can’t you see?” She lifted to me again, rolling her hips. “Can’t you feel? I love the weight of you, the way your body fits mine. I love the taste of you, the way you smell.” She smiled even as the tears sparkled on her cheeks. “You make me beautiful. Being with you makes me beautiful. You don’t see my scars.”
She held my face in her hands, and we moved together, took that hot, ragged climb to the peak. There was tenderness in her kisses, and I gave it back to her with slow, sliding caresses. When I felt her quiver, saw her eyes go to midnight, I hoped she understood.
“Yes.” The word whispered at the edge of my hearing.
After, as we lay quietly wrapped in each other, I waited for her to go limp, to slide away from consciousness, so I knew she slept. When she did, I brushed a kiss over her hair. “I love you.”
Even in the dark, I saw the curve of her lips. Yes, she understood.
Chapter 25
SAM
A DAY. Well, a day and two nights. Easy just held me, there in his bed. Our bed. With the covers over our heads like two five-year-olds afraid of the monsters in the closet. We made love again. Sweet and tender like before. He treated me like fine china, fearing he would chip me or break me into pieces. He could only do that if he left me.
I wanted what we had before. I wanted the wild sex, the kids’ laughter, our house. I rubbed my nose against his side. Easy was ticklish there, and my action got a jerk and exhalation from him. Then I bit him. Not hard, just a quick nip. I wanted to get back to normal—well, normal for us.
Flipping on top of him, I straddled his morning wood and smiled. Most guys were semi-hard first thing. My Easy? Oh heck no. He was stiff and throbbing. I looked down, and a drop of pre-cum already dotted the head of his cock.
“Rise and shine, big boy.”
Easy snored. I rubbed my thumb over his penis, spreading cum so his skin slickened to wet silk. His eyes opened to slits.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I don’t think, I know. I’m going to fuck my mate.”
His blue Husky eyes glittered, and I caught a glimpse of the wolf beneath his gaze. Good. I wanted him wild. He’d been pussy-footing around me long enough. I rose up on my knees, rubbing my own slick sex up the length of him. His cock jerked against me.
Easy’s hands gripped my waist, but I planted one hand on his chest and used the other to line up his erection with my entrance. I sank down on him, watched his eyes go wide, listened to a satisfied growl rumble in his chest.
“Sam?”
“Shh. It’s okay. I’m not going to break.”
His expression looked so hopeful, my heart stuttered. How bad off had I been for the past few weeks? How much had Easy, our kids, and everyone else suffered because I’d withdrawn into my fears?
“I promise, Easy. Love me. Make love to me. Hard. Fast. Like we did before. I need you to be you. So I can be me.”
With my words, the genteel veneer dropped away, and my man was back. Wolfish. Demanding. Claiming what was his—me.
In a flash, I was on my back, my ankles hooked around his back. His thick cock filled me, heated me from the inside out, warming all the places I’d let grow cold while I hid from my panic.
This is what I needed to heal. My man surging into me, his eyes holding my gaze, his hunger a thing alive and demanding filling the voids within us both. I saw it all so clearly now. His hesitancy. His fear. He’d believed he’d failed me, broken his promise. But he hadn’t. He’d come for me. Found me. Brought me home.
Running my hand across the rippling muscles of his back, I pulled him closer, fit his body to mine, two pieces of the same puzzle, whole only when we were joined in our hearts and our minds.
I love you.
His eyes widened, and one of those darn dimples that made him so sexy peeked from the corner of his smile.
“I know, babe.”
“Ha! Cocky much?”
He stopped, hips still, buried deep inside. Then his cock throbbed. Once. My eyes glazed over. “Oh, yeah, babe.
I damn sure am.”
I pinched his butt. “Move.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He rolled his hips, arched, pulled all but free of me, and then surged forward, deep, connecting us on levels I’d never known existed.
“Fuck, baby.”
“Yes, please.”
He laughed, a rather helpless sound, and then he couldn’t stop. He drove into my depths time and time again. I arched my hips to meet his thrusts. I could no longer control my inner muscles, had lost all ability to finesse our love-making. This was something raw. Primal. This was the wolf taking his mate. And I gloried in it.
When my climax broke, followed a nanosecond later by his, I was left boneless. Mindless. Easy existed. His warmth wrapped me in a cocoon, his rough-haired skin rubbed against my hyper-sensitive skin, abrading, teasing.
“Everything,” he wheezed. “Everything I am.”
We dozed again, after he managed to slide off me and tug me close to spoon. His breath tickled the back of my neck, keeping me in a half-waking state. I thought I misheard when he murmured against my skin.
“Marry me, Sam.”
“I thought we were…at least in the eyes of the club.”
“You’re mine for life, baby. But I want the rest of the world to know. I want it legal. I want the kids to be legal. No one can take you or them away from me.”
“Okay.”
His lashes fluttered against my skin. “Just okay?”
“Well, you didn’t exactly ask. So okay. I’ll marry you.”
Easy laughed, and something eased in my chest. Yes. We would get back to normal. We’d been inching that direction, feeling our uncertain way, but with his deep chuckle, I knew we were us again.
EASY
I MADE A LIST in my head. Get marriage license. Get another set of the adoption papers for the kids. They’d gone up in smoke with the rest of our stuff. Tell Sam the house was gone. Tell Sam the Bastard was dead. Tell Sam that Sunny was pregnant and that she and Repo were gone.
