Chapter 7
KEVLAR
Ididn’t want to leave her.
The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, the sky outside the bedroom window barely hinting at dawn, but my body didn’t care. I was already up. Alert.
And hard again just from the warmth of her body beneath my sheets. Her soft leg was tangled with mine, bare skin flush against my thigh, and her hand rested over my ribs like she didn’t plan on letting go.
And fuck me, I didn’t want her to.
I wanted to stay in bed and wake her slowly, with my mouth between her legs and my hands gripping her thighs as I dragged orgasm after orgasm from that sweet little body.
I’d just had her last night, but with her breath soft against my chest and her lips parted in sleep, I was fucking starving for her again.
The fire burning in my veins wasn’t just lust. It was also protection. And possession. The bone-deep need to fortify every inch of her world until nothing could touch her. Not that SUV. Not the men in the diner. Not the bastard pulling their strings.
That meant getting the club behind me. And to do that, I needed the green light from King.
As president, his authority was absolute, and he kept a tight fist on the reins. From the outside, people would probably see it as micromanaging, but they didn’t understand King or the life we led.
Everything was run through the prez, but unlike a lot of men, it wasn’t a power trip for King.
It was how he kept chaos from contaminating our club.
He took our failures on his shoulders and shared the successes with the club as a whole.
And he hadn’t demanded our unwavering trust; he’d fucking earned it.
Every one of us knew that he would die to protect us.
In return for our loyalty and faith, he gave us more independence in the right circumstances. He seemed to know exactly when one of us needed freedom to complete a task, and it was a reminder that we also had his trust.
I shifted carefully, managing to pull my arm from beneath Maren without waking her. She made a soft sound in her throat and turned toward the warmth I left behind, her face pressing into the pillow like she was already used to having me sleep beside her.
My chest clenched at the sight of her bare shoulders exposed, one long leg kicked free of the covers.
The hem of my shirt rode up dangerously high, and I caught a glimpse of white lace between her thighs.
Fuck. My cock twitched, thick and heavy, ready for me to crawl right back into bed and bury my dick where it belonged.
But I forced myself to move. I leaned over her instead, bracing my forearm beside her head, and let my mouth graze her temple. She smelled like sleep, sex, and something softer. A scent that had already become an addiction.
“Sleep, baby,” I murmured against her skin. “I’ll be back soon.”
She didn’t stir, just sighed softly and settled deeper into the blankets.
I stood there for another full minute, just watching her breathe, before I finally turned away.
My jaw was tight, and my fists were clenched as I stalked into the bathroom to shower.
The tension was still there as I pulled on jeans, boots, a shirt, and the cut that marked me as a Hound.
By the time I left the room and made my way downstairs, I was fully in mission mode.
Today, everything was about to change. Because after this morning, Maren wouldn’t just be under my protection—she’d be under the club’s. Anyone who tried to touch her would find out what it really meant to fuck with the Hounds of Hellfire.
The door to King’s office was already cracked open when I approached, the low murmur of voices filtering out into the hallway.
I shoved the door all the way open and stepped inside, nodding to each of the brothers as I crossed to the couch in a small sitting area on the left side of the office.
King was behind his desk, wearing his signature scowl.
Blaze stood to his right, his arms folded and expression unreadable.
Wizard was already hunched over his laptop at the conference table, his fingers flying across the keys like he was personally trying to set the whole internet on fire.
One of our enforcers, Tomcat, leaned back in a chair near the bar, one boot up on the table, sipping black coffee and talking in low tones with Fallon, his best friend and another enforcer.
Cross, the club’s captain, sat across from them, thumbing through a sheaf of papers.
Ace stood near the window, talking quietly into his phone, probably scrubbing money trails or charming some government accountant into giving him data he legally wasn’t cleared to have.
Ink, another enforcer and world-class tattoo artist, strolled in right after me and took one of the open seats at the conference table.
We had more enforcers and officers, but it wasn’t necessary to have every Hound in the room. King would make sure they were all aware of the situation.
“Look who finally got out of bed,” Tomcat drawled. “Didn’t think we’d see you this morning. Figured you’d be too busy keeping your girl sore.”
Cross snorted without looking up. “Bet he only came because the sheets were still damp and he ran outta stamina.”
“Jealousy’s a bitch, brother,” I muttered flatly as I dropped onto the cushions. “Especially when your record’s thirty seconds and an apology.”
King’s dog, Cerberus, lifted his massive head from where he’d been sprawled next to him on the floor and lumbered across the room to sit right in front of me.
He let out a low, warning growl, a sound that would scare the living shit out of anyone who didn’t know him. Then he leaned in and headbutted my thigh.
I scratched behind his ears without missing a beat, and the big bastard climbed onto the couch and flopped onto his back, all one hundred and fifty pounds of muscle and menace turning into a belly-up beggar.
King rolled his eyes as his fearsome beast morphed into something soft and cuddly.
The Cane Corso was a trained guard dog and built like a creature born to guard the gates of hell—hence the name. With strangers, he embodied the badass sentry, although once he decided they weren’t a threat, they were completely ignored.
However, underneath all that power was the typical love and loyalty of his breed. He was extremely affectionate with King and anyone he grew attached to, snuggling to express his approval and love.
He was wary of every new brother at first, sizing us up and deciding whether we could be trusted. But he’d quickly grown comfortable with us, and now he demanded affection, especially from the ones he clocked as suckers.
Which apparently included me.
That got a low rumble from King—the closest thing we ever heard to a laugh, unless it was his wife or son amusing him. Then he lifted his coffee with one hand and waved off the bullshit with the other. “You all done flapping your dicks, or can we get to the point of this meeting?”
“Aw, come on,” Ace cut in, sliding his phone into his pocket and reaching for the coffee pot. “Pretty sure none of us have seen Kevlar flinch over a woman before.”
“Didn’t flinch,” I said evenly. “Just not fucking around.”
That raised eyebrows among brothers who had already claimed their woman, prompting the single ones to roll their eyes. But our prez just watched me steadily, as if he was staring into my fucking soul. Sometimes I wondered if he actually had that ability—his intuition could be freaky.
King nodded once, then gestured to me and jerked his chin at Wizard. “Get us up to speed.”
Wizard didn’t lift his head. “Kevlar’s been tracking a black market pipeline that was running too close to our territory to be ignored.
Ghost tech and custom weapons, rare shit you don’t sell unless you know who you’re dealing with.
Flagged a few familiar breadcrumbs about a month ago. We’ve been keeping an eye on it since.”
“Why haven’t we moved on this?” Ink asked in a deceptively mild tone.
“Because there were no signs of weapons retail anywhere near Riverstone,” I answered. “Not even within a hundred miles.”
Tomcat’s brow furrowed. “The fuck are they doing if they aren’t selling?”
“Eventually, we realized this was a branch pipeline, not the main. They handle storage, safe nodes, couriers—where and how the weapons are cached temporarily, then redistributed.”
“What’s that got to do with the Hounds?” Fallon asked.
“They’ve been moving closer,” Wizard grunted. “Probing the area, testing security and blind spots. Shit like that. They’re looking to see if they can run a path to the terminal node through Hounds territory.”
Cross’s eyes narrowed. “Using us as cover because no one would think to look for that shit in an area under our protection.” His gaze swiveled to King. “You knew about this?”
It wasn’t really a question. When it came to the club and our territory, there wasn’t anything our prez didn’t know about.
The real question was left unsaid. Tomcat wanted to know why they hadn’t been told earlier.
It wasn’t as if everyone was fully informed on every bit of club business, but I could understand how my brothers could see this as a big enough problem to loop everyone in.
King nodded. “This was minor bullshit at first. Wasn’t ready to jump into a war if it could be avoided.”
“Plan was to scare ’em out of our territory and pass their info to the feds,” Blaze muttered.
“What’s changed?” Ink pressed, tapping the table once again.
I jumped in to answer that one. “Didn’t need to loop everyone in until it got personal.”
Ace cocked his head. “And now it’s personal?”
I leaned forward, bracing my forearms on the table. “They’re sniffing around a woman.”
Ink’s easy expression vanished. “Her?”