Chapter 15
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
Icer
As we head back home from Gage’s sendoff, I’m still outraged that he was so fucking irresponsible that he left a woman behind, pregnant with his kid.
I’m in a hurry to get back home, to Letti, to the bullshit waiting for us when we get there.
I’m with Slayer, I don’t believe those bomb threats were connected to the man my girl works for.
I think they’re about her and the Onyx assholes showing us how far their reach is.
Even though Riptide is certain we’re in a relationship, I’m not convinced.
Men like me don’t get goddesses like Letti.
But she is my girl, there’s no doubt about that, I’d raze the world for her and walk away with a smile on my face.
Which is why I’m going ninety to nothing down the freeway, pushing my bike to its limits.
Our timeline was skewed when we were ambushed, only the joke was on them because we took those fuckers out and the girls were watched over by one of Rio’s connections in the Rangers.
After grabbing lunch with the ladies and kids at the diner where they were stashed and watched over, we hit the road.
I jumped our formation and am now leading the charge.
We’re so damn close and knowing that my princess and little man are safe with their parents calms me and lets me focus on getting home.
However, I have this need to put eyes on Letti and that feeling won’t go away.
Hearing her voice isn’t the same thing as seeing her in person.
She claims she’s okay, but there was a tremor in her voice that tells me otherwise.
She’s a strong woman, but even women with steel running through their veins have a breaking point, and I’m sure she’s closing in on hers.
Rip’s voice comes through the Bluetooth, asking, “Icer, are you heading to the clubhouse or beating feet to your house?”
“Heading home unless you need me,” I answer, fingers crossed that he doesn’t and I’m good to branch away from them and go to the place and the person pulling on my strings.
“No. Just heard from Slayer, he wanted to know your destination so he knows where to take Letti. She’s been staying in your room at the clubhouse where he could keep an eye on her.”
“Why didn’t he just call me and ask?” I spit out. She’s my girl, I’m the one who should be talking to him about her, not Riptide.
“You know why, Icer. Surely, you remember y’all’s last conversation. It didn’t go so well. You ripped him a new asshole,” Rip says.
“He deserved it,” I quip. “He kept my girl at a potential blast zone instead of getting the fuck out of there. You’d have reacted the same way if that’d been Van.”
“But Van’s my woman, is Letti yours?” Rip questions.
“You said she was,” I say, tossing his words back at him. “As you keep reminding me, you’re the president, so what you say goes. If you’ve claimed her for me, then she’s as good as mine.”
“This is a mighty fine time for you to remember that fact, asshole,” Rip muses.
“Always remember, just don’t always care,” I return.
“That’s obvious, Icer,” he volleys. “We’ll be in town in less than five minutes, watch your speed. We don’t need to deal with Maloney and his crew of misfits right now. They’re looking for reasons to make our life complicated.”
“Bet. I’ll meet his complicated with a foot up his ass or a grenade down his pants,” I spit. “I’m not scared of him, Rip.”
“Never said you were but I thought you were wanting to get home and see Letti. Can’t do that if you’re kissing bars, Icer,” he points out.
“He’d have to catch me first, pres,” I argue, spitting mad that I’m being called out and wrangled by my president like I’m a walking slab of beef. I’m not cattle that can be lassoed and put out to pasture. Anyone who knows me should already be aware of that.
I disconnect the call but decide against ignoring answers and slow down once I cross Canton’s city limit lines.
I won’t admit this to Rip because I don’t want to hear an ‘I told you so’, but he made a good call on that because one of Maloney’s men is sitting there, hiding behind a bush.
Unable to help myself, I toss him the bird as I continue on the path that’ll lead to my house.
I recognize him as the man that was part of pulling Letti over and harassing her while throwing verbal slurs her way.
One of the hardest things I’ve ever done is keep my bike upright and running instead of parking in front of his squad car and teaching him a lesson he’ll never forget.
It goes against every one of my protective instincts and I’m not used to ignoring that.
I’m sure I’ll have a toothache later for the grinding and locking of my jaw because I had to clamp it like it’s wired shut to ground myself.
I wave over my shoulder as the SUVs and bikes carrying my family pass by and pick up the pace once I hit the dirt road.
I know where every divot and pebble is like the back of my hand so I’m not scared of laying my bike down.
I could drive down it while it’s pitch dark outside and have no fear about the speed I’m traveling.
When I pull up, I can tell that Slayer hasn’t dropped off Letti yet so I unpack my saddle bags and carry my gear up to the front porch. The crunching of gravel has me spinning around and my entire body ignites and begins to vibrate in anticipation as I see her beautiful face through the windshield.
My goddess is home.
Before Slayer has the truck in park, the passenger door swings open and she jumps out.
My heart leaps in my chest until I see her feet plant on the ground as she sprints toward me.
The tears streaking down her cheeks contradict the smile spread across her face.
As I watch her come my way, I have an epiphany.
My home isn’t the place I lay my head at night, or the place I stock my beer, it’s her. She’s my home. My heart. My future.
“Viking!” she shouts as she flies through the air.
I drop my shit and reach out for her. Once I have her gathered in my arms, my nose settles between the nape of her neck.
When she pulls back, her feelings for me shine in her eyes as she asks, “Did you have a good time catching up with your friends?”
“It was a time, I wouldn’t call it all good,” I tell her, steadily breathing in her fragrance. “Gage’s sendoff was decent, but I was with the kids most of the time so I wasn’t around for all of it.”
She giggles before saying, “That doesn’t surprise me. How’s Elodie?”
“Adjusting,” I say as I slowly drop her down to the ground. “She’s taken with little man.”
“I bet. He’s a life-size doll to her. Tell me about Van and what history you learned about her and Gage.
” I notice Slayer backing out of my drive as we head indoors.
I tell her everything I can remember—I give her the CliffsNotes version because I don’t want to spend our reunion discussing other people.
What I want to do most is hop in the shower, wash the road grime off me, and snuggle with her on the couch after ordering dinner to be delivered.
I plop my bags on the guest bed and turn around to face her. “I’m gonna go wash the road off me. While I’m doing that, why don’t you get comfortable and order us some food. I’m starving,” I say, rubbing my growling belly.
“Movie and dinner night?” she asks, a smile plastered on her face. This is our go-to when we want to unwind but not be by ourselves.
“Yes. But somewhere in there, I want to talk to you,” I announce.
“Everything okay?” she asks, her smile dropping and concern replacing it.
“Everything’s good, Letti. I swear. I wanna talk to you… about us.”
“Oh,” she says, gulping. “Okay. But it’s not bad, right? Swear it, Viking.”
“I’m doing a lot of swearing here,” I mumble. “It’s not bad, Letti. Or at least, I hope it’s not.”
“Great. Now I’m not going to be able to stop thinking about it and analyzing everything,” she complains. “Why do men do that?”
“Do what?” I ask, hiding the grin that only she can pull free from me.
“Make women ponder every thought and decision they’ve ever made. I’ll be putting our entire relationship under a microscope and trying to find every splinter and crack in it while you’re relaxing under the shower’s rainfall and getting squeaky clean,” she groans.
“I can’t speak for every man, but I can tell you that it wasn’t my intention,” I maintain.
“Intention or not, that’s the way most women’s brains work, Viking,” she parries. “I know mine does.”
Not sure what to say, I go with something that seems simple and doable in my mind. “Just don’t think about it.”
“Easy as that, huh?” she asks with a snarky attitude.
“I thought it was,” I utter. But by the defiant look on her face, I’m questioning that. A feeling of doom washes over me so I tack on, “I’m gonna go take that shower. I’ll be quick.”
“If you’re in there longer than fifteen minutes I’ll help rush you along,” she informs me, a catty smirk sent my way.
I peer at her out of the side of my eye, asking, “Do I want to know how you’ll do that?”
“Three words for you, biker man. Bucket. Ice. Water.”
“Duly noted,” I supply, grabbing a pair of boxers and sweats before rushing past her and jogging down the hallway.
This is going to be the quickest shower in the history books because her form of torture doesn’t sound like a grand time. As a matter of fact, my balls draw up and my dick tries to climb its way inside of my scrotum to seek warmth at the mere thought.
“Don’t test me, Iceeer! I’m a woman of my word,” she shouts as I slam the door shut.
Looking down at the handle, I make a mental note. “My first priority is buying a lock for that damn door.” With that decided, I start the shower and don’t wait for it to warm up. Lukewarm temperature works in this case.