Chapter 22
Mysterious Disappearance
Tessa
“The FBI is still searching for Bronson Sunderland. A warrant for his arrest in relation to drug trafficking charges and several other violations has been issued. Sunderland is known to be a Realtor and land developer, but after a thorough investigation, he has been connected to several crimes, which also include bribing local police,” the announcer from the evening news drones on.
“He’s thought to have fled the country. Any word as to his whereabouts would be appreciated.
Please call the number on your screen if you have any information. ”
Motown and I are sitting on my couch, in my home, relaxing for the first time in weeks. I find the news of Bronson still being on the loose disturbing and look up at Motown, who doesn’t seem in the least concerned.
“What if he comes back?” I say.
Motown gazes down at me. “He won’t.”
“You can’t know that. You said it yourself that he doesn’t like to lose.”
“He’s gone, Tess. I swear to you, he’s not coming back.”
Motown seems so sure of himself. It’s been a week since all the craziness went down.
The feds have been to the shop to ask questions, not just of me, but of the entire neighborhood of business owners.
Motown said Bronson’s men turned on him as soon as the feds descended on the mill.
The loads of drugs in their presence meant long prison sentences for each of the men in Bronson Sunderland’s crew.
As all rats do, they turned on their boss for a lesser sentence.
The only problem is, Bronson is nowhere to be found.
“How can you be so sure?” I push.
Motown turns to me. He scans my face, and I can see that he’s carefully weighing his words.
It’s in this moment that I know that Bronson didn’t disappear on his own.
Over the last week, Motown and the other club brothers have been gone for hours at a time.
I thought nothing of it because they had all put their lives and businesses on hold until the situation with Bronson was resolved.
I assumed they were moving back into a routine and recommencing life as usual.
The shops on the street have fully reopened, and boy, are they busy!
Motown was in and out often, and Hawk called several club meetings or, as Motown calls them, church.
Etain and Sasha are much more relaxed, and Etain is busier than a bee collecting honey, making sure the garage bookkeeping is up to date.
Sasha has returned to her routine as well, and I’m balancing running the Cozy Corner and spending as much time with Motown as I can.
For the first few days, we all checked on Ruth. She let that go on for about three days before she kicked us all out. She’s back to her normal self, which is a relief because she’s very special to me and all the Redemption Riders.
But just now, I’m putting together how many times the Redemption Riders have disappeared for meetings, and it dawns on me that Bronson’s vanishing might not have been voluntary.
“Motown—”
“Don’t ask, Tessa,” he cuts in firmly. “This is where you need to decide whether you’re all in with me or not.
I carry the heavy burden of keeping club secrets.
I’ll always tell you what I can, but there’ll be times that I can’t.
This isn’t about trust, because I trust you with my life.
It’s because I love you. When you love someone the way I do you, you want to spare them and keep the bad shit away from them.
He’s gone. You’re safe. That has to be enough. ”
His words are hard, but his eyes plead with me to accept what he’s telling me. A crossroad, a decision that needs to be made. I either must accept the MC world, with all the good and bad that comes with it or lose the man I love.
It should be a harder decision to make, but it isn’t. I cup his face and lose myself in his magnificent brown eyes. “I love you, Matthew Hockley, and I love my Motown biker man. This is enough for me.”
I press my lips to his. Our kiss turns from sweet to passionate.
His mouth desperately devours mine, and his hands roam my body, tearing at my clothes.
Suddenly, I’m hoisted up and over his shoulder, losing a slipper in the process, and having to grip the back of his shirt for balance as he heads down the hall to our bedroom.
Yes, our bedroom, because the same day we came back, all Motown’s belongings made their way over as well. Not that he had much. When I asked him where the rest of it was, he replied, “It’s just stuff,” then shrugged.
He sets me down beside the bed and tears off his shirt, then reaches for his belt. “Naked, baby,” he says with a low growl.
I’d like to take the time to strip and give him a show, but I’m just as needy as Motown, and the sound of his raw plea is already making me wet for him. I’m addicted to my man and his lovemaking. Hastily, I remove all my clothes and pounce on his naked form.
Motown lowers me onto the bed and has his fingers between my legs instantly. “Thank fuck you’re already wet for me. I need to be inside you, now,” he says.
“Then come inside, baby. I need you,” I groan, and gasp as his hard cock plunges into my pussy. Our lips collide, my legs wrap around his waist, and nothing and no one else matters.
Motown is my present and future. I want to wake up every morning beside this man and have babies with their father’s wavy hair and piercing dark brown eyes. I am home.