by Nicole Fox
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Mostly,” I say. “Is Kit …?”
“No, but he will be soon. I’m sorry,” Griz says. “What were you two doing here?”
“I …” Finding words is hard. I yawn, “So tired. Told Dad we were married, fully claimed …”
I throw up.
“Get her upstairs,” Griz orders. “And get every man we can spare out here. I hear Grave Robbers coming our way.”
Everything’s a blur as I’m picked up, my body deadweight in a pair of strong arms, the world a blur around me as I lose track of reality. Lights in my eyes. My name, over and over again. Throwing up. Blackout.
# # #
Griz
I’ve got twenty guys ready as Draven’s brotherhood rolls up, straight through the gates, the old man at the head of a very well-planned formation of bikes.
Twenty won’t be enough. They ride straight up on the lawn, outnumbering us by at least double. He puts up a fist as he stops, and they stop, too, all dismounting, all pulling weapons loose, cocking triggers. They’re ready to fight, ready to wipe the Chained Angels off the map.
I make my way down the steps, hands in the air. “Hold your fire,” I say to my guys, but also, hopefully, to his. “Let’s talk.”
“Seems to me the time for talkin’ is done, boy,” Draven says, seething. “I demand blood for blood. I lost a brother to your second. Looks like my second is bleedin’ out. My daughter is who-the-fuck-knows-where. Seems there ain’t nothin’ to do but shoot.”
“I did not authorize the kidnapping of your daughter, Draven,” I say. “I’m sure that Tanner told you that.”
“So why so long to send her home? Had to pump her full of cum first?” Draven spits.
I wince at his crassness. I know I’m not a saint and I swear like a sailor, but damn, he’s referring to his own daughter, a woman I happen to care about.
“You’re better than words like those,” I say, adding, “And I don’t take women who are unwilling. I sent her to try to talk some sense into you.”
“Don’t talk to me about sense, boy,” he argues. “You’ve run a good show over here for a spell, but your guys are bailing like they’re in a sinking boat. You think you can send my daughter back and we’ll be square? You’re out of your damned mind, and stupider than I thought.”
“I didn’t think we’d be square,” I answer. “I sent her back to keep her safe. I knew you’d come for us.”
“She says you’re married. Or was that a little girl’s wishful thinking?” he asks.
“She’s not a little girl,” I say.
“My little girl,” he says with a one-shoulder shrug.
“Fair enough. But it’s true. I care about her. She has a new club now. Let her go.”
“I sent her here, didn’t I? And where the fuck is she? Kit’s down; she’s nowhere to be seen. Your second’s down. What the fuck happened here?”
“Club business handled,” I say. “Spike was the threat. He’s dead. You can go home now.”
Draven’s nostrils flare. He spits. “Already said I demand blood for blood.”
“Spike’s dead,” I repeat. “By my own hand. I killed my own man to keep your daughter safe.”
Draven walks forward, stops just a foot away from me, lowers his voice. “Is she okay?”
“I don’t know,” I say, low enough that the others can’t hear. “She’s seen better days. My medic is taking care of her inside.”
“I’ll have your head if she isn’t,” he says. “I’ll fucking kill you.”
“Understood,” I say. I’m quiet for a moment. “I respect you. I planned on giving her back in exchange for expanded territory. I never intended to touch her, only to make the best of a bad situation.”
“You made a fuck of a mess, boy.”
“I know.”
“How about this,” he says, chewing on the tobacco in his lower lip. “You merge your little club here into Grave Robbers. I’ll let you be my Vice President. I’ll consider the expansion of Grave Robbers’ territory an even-steven.”
“I’ll have to think about that,” I say.
Draven looks disappointed in me. He says, “I know you ain’t this dumb. You were just a young buck when you built this club, but you had my respect. You made a good run at it, kept in your lane, did things on the up-and-up. But things are fallin’ apart, here. You gotta see it, right? This is a good deal, boy. No bloodshed. You get to keep your honor, get to stay a leader. Get to keep your girl. I’m offering you the best that this shit situation can offer. Don’t piss on my boot, here.”
“Your daughter chose Chained Angels,” I say. “She chose to be claimed. She’s mine no matter what.”
“Your pride is hurtin’, I get it. You tried and your piss-poor second got your ass in a bind. And sure, maybe my girl chose you. I can’t say I blame her. But she’s gonna end up a widow and I’m sorry for it,” he says, twirling his moustache thoughtfully. “Think about it. I’ve got four times the guys you got. Four times the firepower. I’ll burn this place to the ground and kill every damn one of you. Or you can take a good deal when it’s offered and we can work as friends and partners.”
He’s not wrong; it is a good deal. But I’m a proud motherfucker, like he said, and as much as I’ve thought about getting out these past weeks, I still rankle at the idea of giving away my independence, of being back under someone else’s thumb. Even someone as fair and reputable as Draven Williams.
But I could spare lives if I say yes. I could end the bullshit in this club and keep my guys safe. We’d be under a strong leader with a longtime reputation. His style is much like mine, maybe a little more old school, but still very similar. And Spike is gone. I have no one ready for such a position, which is my piss-poor succession planning. Adding a leader like Draven to the mix could really help get the brotherhood under control again. And Tanner would be doubly safe under the protection of both myself and her father. These are all good reasons to consider this offer. Any other man would say yes in a heartbeat.
But Tanner, and Giselle before her, both encouraged me to build what I wanted a club to be. They both coached me to think differently about the norms of this world. And I tried. I tried and maybe I should keep trying. For Giselle. For Tanner.
I think of her, beaten and concussed and want to kill someone. Only, I already have. I’ve killed my vice president to save the woman I … love.
Shit. I love her.
All the more reason to think this through, make sure I’m making the right decision.
Hopefully, Draven gives me enough time to do that.
Chapter Twelve
Tanner
I wake up bathed in sunlight. The room seems familiar; the bed feels familiar; but it looks different.
The curtains are pushed open wide, letting in the mid-morning sun from the east. The walls, once a rich golden color, are now off-white. There are no pictures on the wall. I look around and there is the familiar bathroom. This is Griz’s room, but with a clean slate.
I reach up and feel a bandage on my head, scrapes on my face. My hands are covered in scrapes, too. I swallow, feeling constricted. The last few days start to come back to me—Spike attacking me, Kit attacking me. Spike again.
“I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened to you,” Griz says.
I jump at the sound of his voice. I thought I was alone, but he’s sitting at the foot of the bed, head in his hands. I hadn’t even noticed him there until he spoke.
“It’s not your fault,” I say, my voice thick with sleep, scratchy. I clear my throat and wince at the pain.
“You have a concussion,” he says. “We’ve had to wake you every couple of hours to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m okay,” I say quickly. “How long have I been out?”
“Two days,” he says, sighing heavily. “I was …”
“Concerned?” I try to finish for him.
“Beside myself with worry,” he says. He grimaces,
as if admitting this hurts him. “I can’t … this might surprise you, Tanner, but I do have feelings.”
“It doesn’t,” I answer. “I knew there was a beating heart under all that … crankiness.”
His lips quirk, an almost-smile. “Crankiness?”
“You’re kind of a cranky old fart for a young dude,” I say, smirking.
He stands and comes to my side. “You’re asking for it, woman,” he says. “I warned you about talking back to me.”
“Bring it on, Ebenezer Scrooge,” I say, giggling as he tosses his big body up onto the bed next to me.
“If you weren’t already beat to shit, I’d bend you over my knee, young’un,” he says, still trying desperately not to smile.
“Was that a joke, David Grisham?”
“No.”
I roll to my side. “I think it was.”
“Nope,” he says. “I don’t joke around about punishment.”
“Oh?” I ask innocently. “So this is real punishment we’re discussing? I’m intrigued. Tell me more.”
“Just you wait,” he says with a huff of a laugh. He turns to his side, facing me, his face going serious. “Tanner, I … I need to talk to you. Kit is dead. Spike is dead. Your father wants to absorb Chained Angels into the Grave Robbers club. I’d be his vice president. It feels like defeat.”
“Then don’t do it,” I say. “Maybe there’s another way.”
“It’s the safest thing to do,” I say. “For you. For me. For the club.”
I start to speak, to tell him I believe in him. I want him to know that there is at least one person who believes in what he’s built here. He seems to read my mind though, shaking his head, reaching out to pull me closer.
Griz kisses me then, slow and long and deep. It makes something tense unspool inside of me. This feels like home, being with him. I’m glad to be back, even in the midst of all this turmoil.
I pull away, grinning shyly, covering my mouth. “I should brush my teeth,” I say from behind my hand.
“Take your time,” he says, flopping onto his back.
I spend time cleaning up, behind closed doors. I look at my reflection in the mirror, barely recognizing the woman I see. I’ve lost a few pounds, but I’ve always been thin. It’s not that I look so very different, I guess. It’s just that this woman is covered in scratches and bruises—she’s seen something in this past week. She’s grown up a bit, seen some of the things her father tried to shelter her from seeing.
I never thought much about what I’d want for my own life. Something I haven’t told Griz is that I actually went to community college, got a degree in communication. I had a little job working in the public relations department at my mom’s company. It was nothing serious, and certainly nothing I loved.
Somehow I feel like connecting with Griz will lead to something more than whatever my existence was before. I’m inspired by him, by how hard he’s worked, by how much he’s built on his own here. It makes me think that I can find something I’m passionate about as well. And maybe I can help him figure out what’s next, too.
I have no idea what that will be, but I’m excited to explore it. First, though, we have to get to know each other. See how deep this connection really goes. I think it’s real, but I’m not dumb, I know that sometimes sex is just sex.
When I wander back out into the bedroom, I laugh out loud, finding Griz dead asleep, shirtless, one arm up over his handsome face. It melts my heart a little. He said someone had been waking me up regularly for the past two days. I now wonder if that someone had been him. Poor guy probably hasn’t slept in days.
I crawl back into bed next to him, nestling against his big body, fitting myself along his form as if I was customized to be there. His arm tightens around me.
I’m pretty sure I love this man. I’m cautious, realistic, but I feel it. I can’t believe that I’ve developed this depth of feeling for a man I only sort of knew existed a week ago. I’m in love with a man I met when I was bound, gagged, and beaten. I was expecting rape. Instead, I found a man with honor. A man who works hard for his club, who loves his daughter, who’s seen loss.
Griz is like no man I’ve ever met before. As I close my eyes, allowing my body more time to heal and Griz time for much-needed rest, I find myself hoping against hope that he loves me, too.
# # #
Griz
“I’ve thought about it, yes,” I say into the phone. I’m trying to sound bored and unaffected but, truthfully, I probably just sound tired.
“And you’ve come to your senses about merging our two clubs?” Draven asks on the other end of the line.
“I don’t know,” I say. “What if I haven’t, as you’ve said, come to my senses?”
“Well,” Draven says, “Then I’ll have forty guys there to take threefold what you’ve taken from me. You’ll be first on deck. My daughter will become a widow. Your club will still end up in ruins.”
“Draven, you know I respect you. I respect the process. I’d never have authorized this bullshit Spike pulled off,” I say. “I’m asking you to think rationally about this.”
“I do understand, but a leader takes responsibility for all of his brothers. Spike was yours to control. You did not. He is now gone, and you have to pay a price for his actions. I’m the one damaged here. Two guys down, one of them my second in command. My daughter claimed, when I had planned a union for her here. These are losses, Griz. Pay the price.”
“I’ve worked hard to build this,” I say. “I made a choice when I shot my weapon at Spike. I gave you restitution by ending a life.”
“I know, boy. I know,” he says, and I can hear in his voice that he gets it. “This life is hard work. Leadership is full of choices and some of them are shitty, but right. And the next choice you need to make is to say yes to what I’m offering. There don’t need to be more bloodshed. I know you don’t want it, and neither do I. So let me take this off your plate. I can help you save face by putting you in a second position and if things work out, you’ll be back in the top spot when I retire. I can give you time with Tanner, with your daughter. You can make the club part time, whatever.”
The thought sounds good. Take what I’ve built, make it stronger by merging the clubs. More time with Shannon. More freedom to explore other interests. The club won’t have to be my number one priority all the time. Tanner will be safe. I can be with her. For real.
“I’m still thinking about it. Seriously thinking about it, because it’s a totally fair deal. I just … need to talk to some of my guys,” I say.
“Forty-eight more hours,” he says sharply. “And how’s my daughter?”
“Better,” I say. “I never left her side. She looks worse for the wear but she’ll be fine.”
“Do you love her?” he asks.
“Does it matter at this point?” I counter. “You were going to marry her to someone she had no interest in.”
“She would’ve been safe. He would’ve treated her like a queen,” Draven says.
“I disagree,” Griz says.
“So you do love her, then?” Draven asks.
It’s so hard for me to admit feelings. To anyone. When Giselle died, I felt like I’d never even feel again, let alone feel something like love. My head tells me it’s too soon—I barely know this girl. This woman. But I feel … something. A flicker of hope, maybe. A familiarity. A comfort. A chemistry.
I mean, I’m not going to write a sonnet or any silly shit like that, but I do care. I do want her.
“I care for her, yes.” I admit.
“That’s a start,” he says. “Thank you.”
As I hang up, Tanner comes to where I sit by the window, lowering herself onto my lap. Her long blonde hair hangs around her shoulders. Her brown eyes are wide in her thin face. Her lips are pink and succulent. I can’t help but kiss her. I kiss her like a man who’s found water in the desert.
Kissing isn’t enough, though. I spin her around so she straddles me. I need her to feel the h
ardness of my cock between her legs. I need the press of her perfect tits against my chest. I need all that hair in my hands. I’ve been so careful with her since she’s been back. She looked so frail and damaged and I felt so, so guilty. Tanner Williams would not have been hurt if she hadn’t come into my life.
The flipside, of course, is that I know she wasn’t happy there. She was afraid of what it would mean for her to marry Kit. She wasn’t interested in him at all. It makes me want to punch a hole in the wall to think of his hands on her. If he wasn’t dead already, I might just kill him anyway.
