Chapter 17
Swag
My phone buzzes on the edge of the desk. I almost ignore it. Been staring at the same set of club accounts for the past hour, trying to focus, trying to keep my head from going back to her.
But then I see her name flash across the screen and my heart kicks hard in my chest. I answer on the third ring.
“Yeah?”
There’s a pause. A shaky breath. Then her voice, quiet and scared.
“Swag?”
I sit up straight. Every muscle in my body goes rigid.
“Bee?”
“I need you.”
Those three words slam into me like a freight train. I’m already grabbing my keys.
“What happened?”
“Ricky was here… My door is kicked in. He was just standing there, like he was waiting for me. He said it wasn’t him, but I don’t know. I’m scared.”
I’m already halfway to the door.
“You did good calling me. Where are you now?”
“I locked myself in my room.”
“Good girl.” My jaw clenches. “Don’t talk to him. Don’t move. I’m on my way, and I swear to God, Jo-Leigh, if he’s still there when I arrive he won’t be breathing by the time I leave.”
“Please hurry, Swag.”
The way she says my name it’s not fear anymore. It’s relief. Trust. And that damn near undoes me.
“I’m coming, little bee. I’m coming.”
I hang up and shove my phone in my pocket, climbing into my truck, and all I can think about is her voice, the way it cracked when she said I need you.
He scared her. He touched what’s mine. That was his last fucking mistake.
The second I pull up, I know I’m going to hurt someone. Her door’s splintered at the frame, hanging crooked like someone tried to blow it off the hinges. I don’t knock. I shove it open and storm inside, my boots heavy on the cheap laminate.
“Jo-Leigh!” I call out.
I hear a gasp and movement in the back. Her bedroom.
“Bee?” My voice softens, just a notch.
The lock on her bedroom door clicks, and it creaks open.
She peeks out with wide eyes, pale and trembling.
And then she sees me and her whole body slumps with relief.
I cross the room in two strides and pull her to me, wrapping my arms around her tight.
She clutches the back of my shirt like it’s the only thing holding her up.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper against her hair. “I’m here now.”
She nods into my chest, but I feel how hard she’s shaking.
“Did he touch you?” My voice is low and dangerous.
She shakes her head. “No. But he was here. He just stood there like he was waiting for me. And the door…”
I pull back just enough to look her in the eyes. “I’m going to handle it.”
“Swag—”
“I said I’m going to handle it.”
She presses her lips together like she wants to argue. She doesn’t. Instead, she glances toward the door and shivers again.
“He said he didn’t do it, but I don’t believe him.”
“Then that’s all I need to know.”
I take her hand and lead her out of the room.
“Go pack a bag,” I say. “You’re not staying here another night.”
“I—”
“No arguments.” I look down at her. “Three debts, remember?”
She stares at me like she’s about to cry again.
“You don’t have to be afraid anymore, Bee. Not with me.”
And for once, she doesn’t fight me. She nods and disappears into the room.
I stand guard in the living room, eyes on the broken door.
Let him come back. I fucking dare him. When she comes out of the bedroom with two bags, I take them from her.
She’s silent as she follows me down the stairs, to my waiting truck.
Once she’s safely inside, I toss her bags in the bed of the truck and climb in.
“Thanks,” she says in a small voice.
“No need to thank me, little bee.”
She’s quiet as hell, curled against the passenger door like she’s trying to make herself small. I keep glancing at her from the corner of my eye, jaw tight. She looks worn-out, like the fear is still in her bones.
When she lets out a little laugh, it catches me off guard.
“What?”
She shrugs, a half-smile tugging at her lips. “Just thinking how when you saw me two weeks ago you couldn’t stand me. Now you’re moving me in with you.”
I huff, not bothering to deny it. “I don’t make a habit of kissing people I can’t stand.”
Her cheeks go pink, and she looks down at her hands. “You also don’t make a habit of rescuing people twice in one week.”
“No,” I agree. “I don’t.”
The silence returns, but it’s different now, like there’s something unsaid hanging between us.
After a minute, she murmurs, “You really think I’m safer with you?”
“I know you are,” I say, eyes on the road. “I don’t trust anyone else to keep you that way.”
She doesn’t argue. That’s progress.
When we pull into the clubhouse lot, the place is buzzing. Bikes are lined up out front, music playing low from inside, but it all fades when I turn off the engine. I look over at her.
“From this point on, you don’t go anywhere without me or someone I trust.” I pause, knowing she’s not going to like this part. “You’re also quitting your job. Got it?”
Her eyes meet mine. She nods slowly. “Got it.”
I get out and grab her bags, slinging them over my shoulder. When I open her door, she hesitates before stepping down.
I reach for her hand. “I mean it, Jo-Leigh. No more running. You’re not alone anymore.”
She stares at me, lips parting like she wants to say something, then closes them and just nods. Good enough for now. But I know this girl. She’s going to test me. And I’m more than ready for it.
The second we step through the door, the scent of leather, beer, and smoke wraps around us like a second skin. It’s not exactly welcoming but it’s home. I glance behind me, making sure Jo-Leigh’s still following, and she is. No one seems to notice her, but that changes real quick.
Pretty Boy’s lounging near the bar, drink in hand, laughing at something one of the brothers says. He turns and freezes the second he sees us. His eyes drop to Jo-Leigh and then flick up to me, jaw tightening.
“Shit,” he mutters, straightening.
I can feel her hesitation beside me like a tremor in the air.
“Prez,” he says with a forced nod.
I don’t say anything at first. Just stare at him until he shifts uncomfortably under my silence.
“Didn’t expect to see you back so soon,” he tries again, tone casual but strained. “And with company.”
Jo-Leigh edges closer to me, and that’s all I need to see.
“Yeah, well. She’s my company now,” I say, low and deliberate. “Got a problem with that?”
I don’t give a fuck that the kid had a crush on her. It ends now.
Pretty Boy shakes his head, but his eyes flick to her again. “No problem, man. Just surprised, that’s all. Last I heard?—”
“You heard wrong,” I cut in. “She’s staying here. Under my protection. You don’t look at her. You don’t talk to her. You don’t even breathe near her unless I say otherwise.”
His mouth opens like he wants to protest but he thinks better of it. Smart move.
“Got it, Prez.”
“Good.” I rest a hand on the small of Jo-Leigh’s back and guide her past him, toward the hallway that leads to the private rooms. “Keep it that way.”
She’s quiet, but I feel the tension radiating off her. Once we’re out of earshot, I glance at her.
“You okay?”
She nods, but her voice is tight. “I’m fine.”
“He looks at you like that again, I’ll pull his teeth out one by one,” I growl.
Her eyes widen a little. “You’re serious.”
I stop and turn to face her, my hand still at her back. “Dead serious, little bee. You’re not a prize. You’re not a game. You’re mine, whether you’re ready to admit it or not, and now’s as good of a time as any to let them know.”
Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t argue.
I open the door to my room and lead her inside; my hand still pressed to the small of her back like I’m afraid she’ll bolt the second I let go.
She steps in cautiously, like she’s expecting the walls to bite.
I watch her eyes sweep over the space—simple, but mine.
Dark bedding, worn leather chair in the corner, a shelf of bottles, and a gun safe against the wall.
It smells like cedar, cologne, and a hint of the smoke that seeps into everything around here.
But it’s clean. Comfortable. And, most importantly, safe.
“You’ll sleep here,” I say. “With me.”
Her shoulders tense. “No guest room?”
“There’s a couch in the common room if you’d rather risk Pretty Boy or one of the prospects wandering by,” I say dryly. “But if you’re under my roof, you’re in my bed. End of discussion.”
She opens her mouth like she wants to argue but thinks better of it.
I take off my kutte and hang it on the hook near the door, then move to the small dresser and toss her a black T-shirt. It’s one of mine, soft and oversized.
“For sleeping,” I mutter, not trusting myself to say more.
She holds it with both hands like it’s dangerous. Maybe it is.
“Bathroom’s through there,” I say, nodding to the left. “If you’re hungry, I’ll get something brought up. Otherwise, make yourself at home.”
I lean against the wall and watch her, letting the silence stretch between us. The weight of everything unsaid hangs thick in the air.
Finally, she speaks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“You really mean it, don’t you? That I’m yours.”
I push off the wall, closing the distance between us until I’m just inches away. Her breath hitches again, and her fingers tighten around the shirt.
“I’ve meant it since the night I carried you out of that club,” I say low. “I just didn’t know how deep it ran until you weren’t safe anymore.”
She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t run either. I take that as a win.
I leave her alone long enough to hunt down food. It’s nothing fancy, just a tray with two burgers, fries, and bottled waters from the kitchen downstairs. On my way back up, I bark at a prospect to keep the hallway clear. No one gets near my room tonight unless it’s life or death.
When I push the door open, the lights are dim, and the room is quiet. I set the food on the dresser and glance around. No sign of her.
“Jo-Leigh?” I call softly, and that’s when I hear the soft shuffle of fabric behind the cracked bathroom door.
It’s slightly ajar, like she meant to close it but didn’t. My gaze lands on her shadow against the light, the curve of her bare back as she pulls my shirt over her head. The T-shirt drops into place just as I step inside without thinking.
Her gasp is sharp but not scared.
“What the hell, Swag?” she says, spinning around and clutching the hem of the shirt, which falls to mid-thigh.
I close the door behind me, the click of it loud in the small space. Her eyes go wide.
“You left it open.”
“That doesn’t mean you get to walk in,” she snaps, her cheeks flushed crimson.
“Doesn’t mean I don’t,” I counter, taking a step toward her. “You’re in my room, wearing my shirt, eating my food… Seems to me, bee, like you’re already mine.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And you’re in denial.”
She opens her mouth to fire back, but her breath catches when I close the distance and cage her against the counter with my body. Not touching. Just close enough for the heat between us to crackle.
“I brought you food,” I murmur, my voice dipping dangerously. “You gonna bite me instead of the burger?”
“Maybe.”
I grin. “Then you’d better eat fast. You’re gonna need your strength.”
Her breath shudders out and her grip tightens on the counter, but she doesn’t tell me to leave. And I don’t.
She says, “Maybe I want to bite you instead.”
She presses off the counter until there’s no space left between us. Our chests touch. Her eyes lock on mine like she’s daring me to do something reckless. My hands move to her hips, anchoring her in place. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull back.
My little bee wants the sting. She craves it.
“You want to bite me?” I murmur, my lips a breath away from her ear. “Then bite, baby. But just know what comes next.”
Her hands slide up my chest, not soft or shy, but bold. Testing. Claiming. She stops at my collar, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt.
“And what does come next, Swag?” Her voice is laced with mischief, but I hear the hitch in it. The heat. The need.
I drop one hand to the back of her bare thigh and lift her onto the counter in a swift, practiced motion. She lets out a startled gasp but doesn’t resist. Her legs part slightly, her heels resting on the edge of the counter, and I step between them.
“You come,” I say simply, voice rough. “Then you beg.”
“For what?”
“For me not to stop.”
Her pupils blow wide. Her lips part.
I run my thumb along her jaw, tilting her head up. “Tell me to stop, little bee, and I will. But if you don’t…”
She doesn’t say a word. Instead, she leans in, teeth grazing my lower lip, and bites . It’s soft. Testing. But it’s a bite all the same.
My restraint thins to a razor’s edge. Careful what you ask for, little bee.
“You sure you want to play this game?” I murmur, my thumb stroking the sensitive skin beneath her jaw. “Because if I start, I won’t stop at just teasing.”
“I’m not asking you to stop.” Her voice trembles with anticipation.
My lips curl into a slow, wicked grin. I lean in again, dragging my mouth along her cheek until I’m at her ear.
“Then don’t act surprised when you’re flat on your back, crying my name, wondering what the hell you got yourself into.”
She shivers. God help me, that little tremble of hers undoes every ounce of control I have left.
Her fingers fist into the front of my shirt. “Then do it.”
I pull back just enough to look her in the eyes, to make sure she sees what’s written all over my face. Possession. Hunger. A promise.
I whisper, “Little girl, you just signed a contract in blood.”
And then I’m kissing her. It’s not gentle.
It’s not soft. It’s claiming. She gasps, and I take the opening, deepening the kiss until she moans against my mouth.
Her legs tighten around me, heels digging into my back like she needs me closer.
My hands slide up under her shirt, tracing the warm skin of her waist, committing every curve to memory.
She arches against me, desperate for friction, for more.
“Say it,” I growl against her lips. “Tell me you’re mine.”
She whimpers, breathless. “Swag…”
“Say it,” I demand, hand tangling in her hair to tilt her head back.
“Yours,” she whispers, eyes blazing. “I’m yours.”
“Damn right you are.” I smile. “You’ve got two seconds to make a choice. Fight me or feel me.”