Chapter Fifteen
I race Tomcat through the streets of Coral Cay, the wind screaming past my ears.
I’m beating him, of course. His bike is built for power, but my girl is built for speed, and I’m taking every corner tighter than he’d ever dare.
He’s likely blowing a fuse behind me, cursing my recklessness, but too bad, so sad.
He’s just going to have to get used to it.
After spending so many years caged under Damon’s thumb, I need the sky. I need to fly.
He starts to fall behind, so I tap the brakes just enough to let him catch up before taking off again with a joyful, wild laugh.
Catch me if you can, lover boy.
Before long, we’re tearing up to the heavy steel gates of the clubhouse. I have to skid to a halt, though, which takes all the satisfaction out of my win.
Boo.
“She’s with me!” Tomcat yells to the prospect on guard duty, his voice booming over the rumble of our engines.
The words send a shiver straight up my spine. A full body thing. I would absolutely be doing a celebratory dance about that if I wasn't in the middle of savoring my win.
I don't even know what prize I want yet.
More of that thing he does with his tongue, maybe. That was fun. Especially with the mask. Speaking of which…I hope he grabbed it because it belongs on my mantel at home. I'm already thinking about whether I could convince him to chase me through the woods with it on.
Very spicy. Very yes. Very next time.
The gate slides open with a heavy groan, and I glide through it, shooting toward the front of the club where a crowd of bikers are gathered.
They’re tense, as if they’re preparing for an attack as they watch me.
If it weren’t for Tomcat behind me, they probably wouldn’t be so cautious. Nope. I’d already be dead. Probably.
I pull my helmet off and give my hair a wild shake, beaming at the wall of leather-clad muscle.
I wiggle my fingers at them. “Hiya, boys. Fancy meeting you here.” I giggle at the way their eyebrows hit their hairlines.
The shock on their faces is honestly tickling my fanny.
“Oh, pick up your jaws, won’t you? You act like you’ve never seen a woman ride before. ”
Manic shakes his head, a slow, appreciative smile spreading across his face. “None that looks as good as you, sunshine.”
I use the back of my hand to toss my hair over my shoulder and beaming at them. “Well, yeah. Obvs.”
Tomcat finally kills his engine and climbs off his bike. The look he gives me is dark, possessive, and promises all kinds of trouble and has those wicked shivers dancing again.
Would he chase me if I bolted right now?
My feet do a little preparatory jig. Testing the ground. You know, just in case.
He must see it in my eyes, because his lips twitch and he shakes his head. “Don’t even think about it, little shadow.”
I push my bottom lip out. "Party pooper."
He tosses his head back with a laugh, and it’s so damn beautiful I actually let out a breathy sigh. There are one hundred percent cartoon hearts floating above my head right now, I’m sure of it.
Tomcat crosses to me and pulls me under his arm and presses his lips to the side of my head like it's a thing he's always done. Like I've always been here. "Be good and I'll let you run later."
“For real?” I breathe, peering up at him.
Forget hearts above my head. They’re definitely in my eyes now.
Amusement dances across his face. “For real. Now, let’s go find Pope.”
The mention of his name hits me like a bucket of ice water.
My shoulders drop instantly. The light starts to leak out of me as the crushing weight of the truth returns.
I’m seconds away from telling this family that I’m the one who’s been breaching their sanctuary.
I’m seconds away from losing everything.
From losing the only family I’ve ever managed to scrape together.
“You know what?” I blurt out, digging my heels into the gravel and pulling us to a dead stop. “Raincheck. I just remembered I have something super important to do. Like, life-or-death important. Bye.”
Tomcat hooks his fingers into my back pocket in a casual tether that effectively kills my escape plan. “What do you suddenly have to do, Goldie?”
“I have to… I need to…” I growl, my mind spinning like a hamster on a caffeine bender. “I have to go find a flying, polka-dotted pig. I’m sure it’ll take a while. Rare breed. Endangered. Gotta go. See ya later.”
I try to bolt again, but he’s like a wall of solid granite. “Stop.” He turns me around, his hands firm on my shoulders, forcing me to face the music. “What did I promise?”
I mumble his words back at him, the sound caught in the back of my throat.
“Louder,” he orders. The dominant man from the red-lit room is still vibrating in his tone, and it makes my knees a little weak, which definitely isn't fair.
"That you won't let me lose anyone else," I repeat, like a very disgruntled parrot.
“Good girl. Do you trust me?”
I melt. It’s pathetic, really. I lift my hand to his cheek, feeling the rough stubble against my palm. “Silly goose. Of course I do.”
“Then trust me when I tell you that I won’t let you lose anyone else important to you.”
I study his face, looking for any hint of doubt. He’s dead serious. I turn in his hold to look at the club brothers gathered around. They're all unreasonably good looking. Every single one. I'm convinced there's a physical requirement buried in the prospecting process somewhere.
Must possess an attractive face. Scars and tattoos not only accepted but encouraged. Bonus points for looking like you enjoy a good brawl.
It’s easy to see why women chase them. Some are more brutal in the face than others, but not less attractive for it. Just differently dangerous.
These men have been my found family since I washed up in Coral Cay. The thought of losing them scares me almost as much as the thought of losing Tomcat. It’s a fear that shakes me to the core, an itch under my skin that makes me want to claw my way out of my own body.
Blowing out a breath, I try to let the fear escape with it, but I’m not sure if it works as I want it to.
It still pulses there lightly under my skin, an itch that begs for me to claw out.
I came to this club four years ago for a reason.
I knew they were mean enough, lethal enough, and powerful enough to protect me if Damon ever crawled out of his grave.
I trusted them to be monsters for me before I even knew their names.
Why am I finding it so hard to trust them now that they’re my friends?
I lift my chin, slamming the door on all those messy emotions and locking them in the cage I built in my mind. Time for the mask.
I point to the front door and mimic a robotic monotone. “Take me to your leader.”
Tomcat chuckles, the sound warm as he presses a kiss to the back of my head. “That’s my girl.”
Those three words go straight between my legs without stopping to ask permission.
Bad vagina. Not now. We are doing serious business.
Pope is leaning against the bar, his arms wrapped around Birdie’s waist. His eyes lock onto us the second we step through the door.
He’s a smart one, that Pope. Not as smart as my guy, but still, he reads the gravity of our body language instantly.
He whispers something in Birdie’s ear, she glances over with a nod, gives him a quick kiss, and disappears.
Pope jerks his head towards the chapel doors, silently ordering us to meet him there.
My feet stutter for a second. The floor feels like it’s made of thin ice. Tomcat squeezes my hand in reassurance, his grip the only thing keeping me upright.
“I’m going. I’m going,” I mutter.
I square my shoulders and march through the club like the certified badass I absolutely am, mean-mugging anyone who looks at me for too long. They should know I belong here. I can be a baddie. I am a baddie.
Ducky snickers as I pass him and I level two fingers at my eyes and then at his letting him know I’m watching him.
Don’t think I don’t know how you got your road name, buddy.
He knows it’s me who leaves those tiny pink rubber ducks in his wake. He caught me once a week ago, which means he's gotten comfortable, which means it's time to remind him I know.
I make a small squeaking noise as I pass him and giggle when his face goes sour. I'm absolutely super gluing one to his handlebars later.
“We need the executive board?” Pope asks, his voice echoing in the quiet space.
“Yeah. Cypher too,” Tomcat says, his voice devoid of its usual playfulness.
Tomcat pulls out a chair, his touch gentle as he guides me into it before taking the seat next to me. He doesn't let go of my hand.
While we wait for the rest of the board to assemble, Pope, Cyanide, and Malice study us like we’re a complicated puzzle they’ve finally solved. They track the way Tomcat’s hand hasn't left mine, the way I’m practically vibrating against his side.
“The way you’re watching us, you’d think we’re about to climb on the table and start fucking,” Tomcat says, his voice dry as bone.
“That’d be a hell of a show,” Malice snickers, though his eyes remain sharp.
“Oh, come on. Did you really think it wouldn’t eventually happen?” I ask, throwing my free hand up in exasperation.
Pope shakes his head, a small, knowing smile tugging at his mouth. “Naw. We knew it’d happen. We just had to wait for one of you to get your head out of your ass.”
I huff, folding my arms across my chest and looking anywhere but at him. “Excuse me. I have absolutely no idea what or who you're referring to."
"Sure you don't," Pope says, and has the audacity to chuckle about it.
The rest of them file into the chapel. Pretty Boy shuts the heavy chapel door with a final-sounding thud before taking his seat. Blitz is watching me with an intensity that makes me feel like a specimen under a microscope or a bug he’s considering squashing.
So, I do the only mature, adult thing there is to do.
I stick my tongue out at him.