47. Cupid
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CUPID
“CUUUPID!” Vanessa screams, crying out for me like she expects the worst.
My poor, Butterfly. She worries about nothing.
Hearing Vanessa in distress has the shock of Riley taking herself out wearing right off me. I run upstairs, hating the fear in my woman’s voice.
When I open the door to the main floor, I find Cookie hanging on to my ole lady around her waist and my woman fighting to break free of his hold with all she’s got.
As soon as Vanessa spots me, she breaks down in harsh sobs, slumping against Cookie. Relief washes over her features with her tears.
The prospect releases her when I approach, and she falls into my waiting arms. I sweep Vanessa into a bridal style and walk to the viewing room, taking a seat in one of the many chairs.
With her safe in my arms, I take a moment to thank the gods she’s still with me.
Feeling my woman move and breathe in my hold grounds my senses after fearing I had lost her.
“Y—Y—You could have died,” Vanessa chokes out between gasps. “I could h—h—have lost you.”
“I feel the same about you,” I growl. My words come out harsher than I want for our reunion, but I’m so damn pissed at Vanessa for running into danger.
Taking her face in my hands, I glare at her. “Do you have any idea what I went through when I discovered you were missing?”
My woman sobs, gripping my cut in her tiny fists like I might slip through her fingers. “I’m sorry!”
“When I learned your ex was involved, I was ready to bring down the city,” I snap, desperate for her to understand the lengths I’d go to keep her safe. “Why would you not come to me?”
“Boden sent me a text and an image of Romy tied to the mortuary table. He threatened to hurt her if I didn’t go to him.” Vanessa’s tears are running down her face in torrents, all her fear and anxiety pouring out of her. “I was scared he’d do it.”
“And what about you, huh? Did you think you were invincible and that he wouldn’t hurt you?
Goddamnit, Vanessa! Did you not stop and think for one second how I would feel if anything happened to you under my protection?
I’d rather die than see you harmed. Threats or not, you come to me when there’s trouble! ”
I lift her ass off my lap just to slap it and drive the point home. “Do you understand?”
Whimpering, she bobs her head rapidly.
“Use your words, Psyche,” I hiss, ready to slap her pretty peach again if she doesn’t do as I say. “Tell me you understand.”
“I understand,” she says before throwing her arms around my neck and burying her face against me, blubbering uncontrollably. “I’m sorry!”
Fuck, I’m an asshole for being angry with her after everything she’s been through. I’m not sorry I laid into her—she needed a good scolding for being reckless. I’m just sorry I gave her more to be upset about on top of what happened with Boden and Riley.
Wrapping my arms tightly around her, I let out an exhausted sigh. “I know you are, Butterfly.”
“The gunshots?” Vanessa asks with a stuttering breath. “What happened?”
“They’re dead,” I say, not sugarcoating the truth. “Boden was shot in the scuffle with Riley. Riley took her own life out of guilt.”
My woman says nothing for a minute before letting out a shaky sigh. “Good.”
Damn right it is. Nobody hurts my ole lady and lives.
She looks up into my eyes with concern. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt?”
“I’m good, Butterfly,” I murmur against her head, breathing in her sweet scent to chase away the smell of blood and embalming chemicals lingering in my nose.
“I can’t ever lose you,” she says between ragged breaths, her body finally settling against mine.
“You never will,” I vow, holding her close. My heart settles, syncing with Vanessa’s.
We’re quiet for a moment. The only sounds are those of my brothers talking and moving about the funeral home. It’s oddly peaceful in the wake of turmoil.
My Butterfly is safe.
Romy’s safe.
Boden and Riley are dead.
All is right in the world.
Exhausted, my eyes are closing when I hear Vanessa murmur, “I love you, Elio.”
Instantly, I’m alert, my eyes widening as I stare at my woman. She stares back at me. Her face is soft and full of love for me.
My heart accelerates as I cup her cheek in one of my hands. “Say it again.”
She looks at me with more longing than a man like me deserves. “I love you, Elio.”
Hearing her say those words first means the fucking world to me. She moved in with me, accepted my claim and patch, and carries the ole lady title, but it was all initiated by me. This is the first major milestone she has started herself, and it’s the one that means the most of all.
My nose burns as tears fill my eyes. “You mean it, Butterfly?”
“I do,” she says, smiling through her tears.
“I fucking love you, too,” I whisper, my chest expanding with how much I love this woman.
Not giving one fuck who’s around us or that there are dead bodies in the basement, I claim her lips, pouring all my heart and soul into the kiss.
Vanessa kisses me back, opening her mouth for me to deepen the kiss and roll my tongue against hers.
She moans into my mouth, making my dick turn to stone in my jeans.
A funeral home is no place to get freaky—unless you’re Crypt. When we get back to the apartment, I’m going to strip her bare and fuck her until she’s round with my child.
Someone clears their throat near us, cutting our fun short. I groan with disappointment, making Vanessa giggle against my lips.
When I open my eyes, I find Oaks, Ruger, and Drift in front of us.
“We need to do some damage control—stat,” Oaks says.
“Someone else could have heard those gunshots. We have two dead bodies in the basement and a room full of blood. Anyone who drives by and sees our hogs out front with a busted front door on the funeral home may suspect foul play and call the cops.”
“Call Cole at the police station. Tell him to ignore all incoming calls from the public regarding the shots or the mangled front door. Anyone who doesn’t need to be here can head back to the club. Fewer bikers means less attention on us,” I say calmly.
“Consider it done,” Oaks says, hitting Cole’s number on speed dial and walking into the front foyer to handle the call.
“I’ll go tell the rest of the crew to clear out,” Drift says, heading outside to where a group of our brothers are gathering on the front lawn.
“What if neighbors come by asking questions?” Ruger asks.
“We’ll tell them there was a break-in, teenagers looking for some easy scares on their way to school. Romy can say she contacted us since we’re right up the road and would come faster than the cops,” I say, amazed I can think clearly after getting off the emotional roller coaster from hell.
“And the blood?” Cookie asks, leaning against the doorframe between the viewing rooms. “How are we going to clean it up?”
“The room cleans up easily. It’s designed that way,” Crypt says from the corner of the room where he stands with Romy beside him, looking like the poster children for Emo. “Romy has the chemicals to remove blood and human tissue without leaving a trace.”
Cookie lifts a skeptical eyebrow. “Even on the ceiling?”
“Nothing a hose attached to some bleach can’t handle,” the enforcer says.
“Okay,” Ruger says with his hands on his hips. “We’ve got the police, neighbors, and blood handled. What about the bodies?”
Romy raises her hand. “I have a solution for that.”