Chapter Twenty-Four
Jill
We pull up to the bar, and Gage lines up his motorcycle in a row of other big custom bikes of all different shapes and colors. Gage stands to keep the bike steady while I climb off, then he’s resting the machine on the kickstand and getting off to stand in front of me.
“The Halfway House? Doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose of a bar?” I ask, looking at the bar as Gage unbuckles my helmet from under my chin. When he lifts it off my head, I can see the damage that’s been done to my hair in the reflection of his helmet. His strong tattooed fingers gently fix my part and smooth down my flyaways without me needing to ask.
“We’re halfway between two towns. They thought they were being clever,” he explains.
Gage pulls off his own helmet and I reach for my purse in the side bag on the bike. Pulling out my lipgloss to reapply, Gage stops me to lean in and steal a bone-melting kiss before my lip product is in the way. I lean into him, letting our lips linger for several long seconds. When I pull back, I use a compact mirror and swipe some black cherry lipgloss across my lips. Gage was smart enough to avoid this stuff, the plumping effect feels like cooling pins and needles on my skin. It’s slightly painful but effective.
Beauty is pain.
“You’re so beautiful, it’s crazy, ” Gage says, making me smile. Taking my hand in his to intertwine our fingers, he leads me towards the side of the building. “The Chained Saints clubhouse is around back.”
The aroma of meat grilling that fills the air is heavenly as we walk through a side gate into a courtyard. Dwayne stands at a massive grill covered in different cuts of seasoned meats, flipping and seasoning. Between the look on his face and the apron around his neck that reads, ‘Your opinion wasn’t in my recipe,’ I know he means business.
The clubhouse looks like a large converted garage, with the entire back wall made up of rolling doors that open up to the courtyard full of people. Just inside, I can see a bar and several couches. The entire back interior wall is made up of a mural of the Chained Saints logo of angel wings wrapped in metal chains and barbed wire.
Big, burly men in leather are everywhere, with gorgeous women sprinkled in here and there. I recognize a few faces from Gage’s tattoo shop, but most of the bikers are complete strangers.
Except one face that looks ridiculously similar to the man next to me. I mean, it seriously could have been stolen right off Gage’s head. He approaches with his arms out like he’s looking for a hug.
“Gage!” The deep voice calls. “You finally made it, I’m touched. I was beginning to think you were avoiding us.”
Gage reaches out to give his doppelganger a one-armed man hug.
“You’re so dramatic. I saw you a few weeks ago,” Gage argues, drawing me back into his side.
“Connie said you were trying to keep her all to yourself,” he says, looking at me. “Hi, I’m Gage’s brother Rio.”
Standing side by side, Rio and Gage are living proof of the power of genetics. Both are tall—though Rio is about an inch taller—with muscular builds, dark hair, and dark eyes. Even their mannerisms are mirrored in each other as Rio smirks at me. The biggest difference is in the ink they chose to cover their body. While every visible inch of Gage is covered all the way up to his sharp jawline, Rio only has a throat tattoo and one full sleeve on his left arm that extends down the back of his hand.
“You two could be twins,” I inform them. Though I doubt it’s the first time they’ve heard it.
“Fraternal maybe,” Rio snorts. “I’m much better looking. It’s a shame he found you first, you got stuck with this ugly fucker.”
Looking between the two brothers, I couldn’t disagree more. While Rio is attractive and carries a strong resemblance, he doesn’t hold a candle to my Gage.
“Thanks, but if I wanted the generic version, I would’ve stopped at Walmart,” I reply smoothly. Gage looks down at me and grins, his hand on my hip giving me a possessive squeeze.
“Damn, harsh,” Rio says, feigning a wounded expression. He turns to his brother and points at me with a laugh. “I like her.”
I’ve decided I like him too. Rio seems fun, if not a little cocky. But I can look past that—just look at his brother.
“Don’t just stand there. Get some drinks and start introducing your girl around. Connie’s got everyone very curious.”
After grabbing some beers from the bar, Gage walks me around to meet some of the members and their girlfriends. Most of them are welcoming, but a few of the women give me side-eye and fake smiles. Feeling me tense as I flash them my own cold look, Gage explains that they’re house mice who float around sleeping with bikers, trying to become a member’s old lady. Apparently, they get territorial and don’t like hot new girls coming in.
I roll my eyes at that. I’m not the least bit interested in sleeping with any of the MC members. I might be a girl’s girl, but I have no patience for women who put themselves in competition with other women over men.
“Finally came out of hiding, huh?” Connie says, taking a swig of beer as we walk up to her. Gage rolls his eyes.
“Hello to you too, Mom,” he says sarcastically. “With such a warm welcome, I can’t believe we didn’t come here sooner.”
“Hey, I’m allowed to give you shit, it’s my right as your mother.” Connie’s gaze moves to me. “Jill, I almost didn’t recognize you with pants on.”
“Mom—” Gage says her name as a warning, his eyes cutting to me.
I tilt my head back and laugh, not the least bit offended. Connie is definitely a character, and I love not knowing what’s coming out of her mouth next.
“What?” Connie says innocently. “It’s a nice change, that’s all I’m saying.” She turns to address me like it’s just us. “Listen, I heard you’ve decided to stick with my son. That’s great and all, but personally I would’ve held out and made him buy me a car or something. I’m sure he would’ve done just about anything to have you. Just saying.”
“For god’s sake,” Gage growls as I laugh again.
“I’ll have to remember that for next time.” I look up at him, feigning consideration. “Maybe we’ll have a big fight later.”
“I like the way you think,” Connie says with a nod of approval.
“Food’s ready!” Dwayne bellows from the grill. “Come grab it while it’s hot.”
“Finally,” Gage mutters, placing his hands on my shoulders to turn me towards the awaiting food. “Let’s go. Anything to separate you two, I don’t like you plotting against me.”
“He’s so sensitive. I don’t know where I went wrong,” Connie sighs with a shrug, flashing me a wink. Gage ushers me towards the food as I laugh, his expression disgruntled. Luckily, he seems to get over our teasing when it’s time to load up a massive plate of the most delicious looking barbecue dishes I’ve ever seen.
Finding a nice grassy spot along the back wall of the courtyard away from the chaos, Gage lets me get settled on the ground before lowering to the grass next to me.
“I should’ve worn different pants,” I mumble, tugging at the constricting waistband of my denim shorts. “These shorts are not meant for sitting.” If I were at home or with Lana, I’d just unbutton the damn things to let my belly hang out and call it a day. But I’m not doing that here.
“Come here, baby. Lay down.” Gage lifts up the plate and pats his lap. Pivoting my body, I lay on my back with my head resting in his lap. His fingers tenderly bush a tendril of hair away from my face as he gazes down at me. “Better?”
“Better,” I confirm. This position is actually very comfortable, and I really like the view.
“Good, now open up.” He lifts the fork and guides it to my opened mouth. The pulled pork melts in my mouth, and I suppress a moan as my eyes basically roll back in my head.
“That is so good, it should be illegal.”
“It is, technically.” Gage holds up another bite for me. “You can’t legally source some of the ingredients for the sauce my dad makes in the US.”
“So I’m eating contraband barbecue right now?” I savor the bite in my mouth with a sigh of appreciation. “Somehow that makes it taste better.”
“Remind me to learn how to grill,” Gage says, watching how my face lights up at the food I’m being fed.
What can I say? It’s really that good.
“No complaints from me, especially if your dad is the one teaching you. Learn as many of his secrets as you can.” I open my mouth for another bite, and Gage is already waiting with a forkful. He uses the pad of his thumb to swipe a drop of barbeque sauce from the corner of my mouth, before pressing it between my lips for me to suck off. Something that would usually be sexually charged feels surprisingly endearing as we lay here on a summer day enjoying each other’s company.
“Are you going to eat some too? That whole plate isn’t just for me.” I accept a bite of the loaded macaroni and cheese. Goddamn, is every dish at this function ridiculously good?
“I’ll eat in a minute,” he says, brushing it off. “I’m busy feeding the Menace. I can’t make any sudden moves.”
I laugh at that, making him grin. “You’re funny.”
“You’re a lot nicer to me when you’ve been fed,” he comments. I can’t argue with that. Nothing brings out the Menace in me like low blood sugar and an empty stomach.
“You’ve cracked the code.” I steal a piece of grilled shrimp off the plate and bring it up to his mouth to eat. He lets me feed it to him, pulling the meat out of the shell So I can discard the tail.
“I’m learning every day,” he murmurs. “You’re my favorite subject, and I plan to be an expert.”
“You already know me better than almost anyone.” Other than Lana, he probably knows me better than I even know myself at this point. The thought is haunting in its comfort.
“I know, baby.” He opens his mouth for another shrimp.
“Why do you insist on calling me that?” I ask, irritation seeping in with my curiosity. The term has always rubbed me the wrong way—like I’m someone who needs to be taken care of. I can stand on my own two feet, I can fend for myself. I definitely don’t need to rely on a man to take care of me.
Gage reads me like a book, one of his hands running through my hair in a way that soothes the animosity raging inside me. “Because if anyone is going to be spoiling you, protecting you, and babying you—it’s going to be me. And I’ll take any chance I get.”
His answer has a fire sparking inside me that’s foreign and terrifying—because I like it, more than I can admit to myself. Warmth floods through me, bashing against the walls I’ve built securely around my heart until they fracture.
“When you say things like that, a big part of me desperately wants to believe you.” My tone has softened against the uncertainty I feel.
His adoring gaze doesn’t falter against mine, and his steadiness rocks me. The men in my life haven’t been immovable—just flaky and unreliable. I’ve never had an anchor to make me feel secure during the storms of life. I’ve always ridden them out on my own.
“I don’t mind that you don’t trust me yet. You will.” He leans down to kiss me with lips spiced with cajun seasoning. “Take your time, I’m not going anywhere. Ever.” We sit there for a moment in our connection, reveling in it.
“I’m thirsty,” I murmur softly. An amused smile tugs at his lips at the subject change, his intent eyes smoldering as his hand brushes through my hair.
“Let’s get you a drink.” He helps me sit up before he stands and offers me a hand to help me off the ground. Walking hand in hand, we stroll back towards the party.
“You don’t have a patch,” I observe, a question evident in my tone. Gage’s leather jacket is clear of the MC patch on all of the other cuts at this party.
“No, I don’t,” Gage confirms, glancing down at me.
“Why aren’t you a member of the Chained Saints like the rest of your family?”
“I was in and out of foster care growing up. That’s where I met Anders and Messer—we were in the same group home. After I aged out, I didn’t stick around here to join the Saints. Instead, I moved to New York for a tattoo apprenticeship. That’s where I started my business and built my client list.”
“You were in the system?” That’s surprising to me since Gage has both parents in his life, and they seem pretty close. He can sense my confusion.
“Dwayne and Connie Lawless liked to live up to our last name,” he explains. “You’ve met them, they’re not exactly subtle.” I can’t help but laugh at that. His parents are a lot of things, but no one can call them discreet.
“They got caught?” I guess.
“A lot. Shoplifting, arson, grand larceny—you name it. Their sentences kept getting longer and longer with each strike until they both did eight years for stealing an ATM off a street corner when I was fourteen.”
“They stole an entire ATM? Why?” I ask with a surprised laugh. Gage nods with a shrug.
“To see if they could.”
“Where was your brother during all of this?”
“We were split up. Rio is five years younger than me, so we were put in different homes. We had very different goals growing up—he wanted to be guaranteed a place to belong by becoming a Saint, build on our family legacy. I found my family in Messer and Anders, and we were determined to make names for ourselves.”
“So you and your brother weren’t close?” I guess.
“Nah, we barely knew each other. We finally reconnected a few years ago when I moved my business back to Chicago.” We’ve reached the doors leading into the clubhouse, but it looks like everyone is headed inside.
“Looks like the party’s moving to the bar,” Gage says, taking my hand to lead me inside. “Let’s get you that drink.”
The bar is crowded, but Gage has no problem cutting through the knots of people to an empty corner along the wall. Telling me to wait here, he makes his way over to the bar to order us some drinks.
Standing at the bar while the slammed bartenders scramble to fulfill orders, a blonde head approaches Gage that has me bristling. She’s clearly got her sights set on my man, and he lets her get closer than he should—anything within ten feet is too fucking close. And when she strikes up a conversation, he lets her.
The buxom blonde leans closer and closer, every centimeter eating away at my already thin patience. Gage’s eyes remain intently on her plastic face—too fucking intently.
“So where’s the party going after this?” she asks, fluttering her eyelashes at him. I’ll rip every one of those two-hundred-dollar lash extensions off her face right now. And her eyeballs are going next.
“No one said anything about an after party,” Gage says nonchalantly.
“Give me your phone number. I’ll give you a call when I find one.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Then hand me your phone, and I’ll give you mine.” One of the other girls she came with calls out, beckoning her over. Before she sachets over to her group, she leans forward to give him a look at her cleavage and flashes what I assume is supposed to be her version of bedroom eyes. “I’ll be right back.”
Tramp.
Grabbing our drinks from the bartender, Gage walks back over to me. He can sense the storm brewing, and I swear the fucker looks excited about it.
“Go ahead. Get her number, flirt away. I’d love to see what happens when you do.” I accept the martini and take a sip.
“Are you jealous, little devil?”
“Jealous?” I lean in so close that my lips brush against his as I speak. “Baby, I’m vengeful. You don’t want to see what happens when I get jealous.”
“You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.” Gage pushes off the wall, places his drink down on the nearest table, then strides over to stand behind me. One of his hands wraps around my waist to pull me until my back is pressing against his chest. His other wraps possessively around my throat, lifting my chin to bare the skin of my neck to him. “You have nothing to worry about, Jill. I prefer brunettes who play with knives and have a taste for violence.”
“I was never worried,” I say, my eyes shooting daggers at the tipsy tramp arguing with one of her wasted friends. “But she should be. I don’t like bitches who can’t take a hint.”
I can feel Gage’s chuckle rumble through his chest, the rich sound vibrating over my skin. His nose presses through my hair, trailing up my neck to speak into my ear. “I’ll just have to make myself clear then. I already belong to someone.”
Bottle blondie’s eyes meet mine just in time to see Gage press his lips to my neck to taste my skin. His hand on my stomach lowers until his fingers are halfway under the waistband of my jeans. Her eyes widen slightly in surprise, an offended look crossing her face. She tries to hold my piercing gaze, but after a moment, she averts her eyes when it proves too intense. Watching her stomp away has victory trickling through me.
“She’s gone,” I say when Gage’s mouth doesn’t let up from its exploration. His teeth catch my earlobe, giving it a little nip.
“There are other women here. If I stop, they won’t get the message.” He’s growing hard against my back as he groans. “I could get lost in you for days and never get bored.”
“What are you going to do? Eat my pussy right here in a crowded bar?”
“I would spend a day with my head between your legs on national television without a second thought. I’ll gladly get on my knees to show you where I stand.”
“Keep talking like that, and I might let you,” I say. “But I don’t think Connie would approve.” Gage chuckles at that.
“My mom would cheer me on, then skin me alive,” he says, pulling back to turn me around. I look up at him, my arms wrapping around his neck. “I’m a selfish bastard, I don’t feel like sharing you with the world. At least not tonight.”
“Oh yeah? So what are you going to do with me tonight?” I ask, my eyes sparking.
“I’m gonna get you into a nice hot bubble bath.”
“Mmmm,” I hum. “Keep talking.”
“Candles, wine, bubbles.” A smirk tugs at his lips. “You—naked and covered in suds.”
“And what are you going to be doing?” I raise my brows, the ghost of a smile crossing my lips.
“I thought you’d know me by now,” he chides. “I’ll be watching.” The way he gazes at me sends sparks skating across my skin as the air around us turns hazy with our chemistry. My nails play with the nape of his neck, dragging to scratch him—but not hard enough to draw blood. His eyes warm, arousal rippling through his body.
“Take me home,” I say.