12. Ambrose
CHAPTER TWELVE
AMbrOSE
L oud pounding has my eyes springing open first thing in the morning.
“The fuck?” I mutter, sitting up in bed and trying to find my bearings.
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I glance at the clock on my nightstand. It’s nearly five in the morning. The sun has not yet risen, shading the bedroom in darkness. The only light in the room comes from the bathroom nightlight on the wall.
Beside me, Aspen stirs in her sleep. With her eyes still closed, her brows knit together. It’s fair to assume she’s not pleased at being awakened soon after we passed out from exhaustion. Good sex will do that to you.
She looks damn good with her sex-tussled hair fanned out across the pillow and the sheet hugging the outline of her killer body. The swell of her breasts peek out from the top of the bed linen, tempting me to tug it down and suck one of those dusky pink peaks into my mouth.
While I contemplate rousing her awake to make love to her all over again, the pounding returns, this time more urgent. The annoying banging is coming from the front door.
Who the fuck is here at this hour in the morning? Has the storm even ended?
The sound of rain tapping on my metal roof would say it’s died down some, but not by much.
Pulling away from Aspen’s tempting body, I grab my sweats off the floor and tug them on.
“Where are you going?” Aspen asks, her sleepy voice barely a murmur.
“I’m going to check what’s going on at the front door.” I tuck her in, kissing her forehead before breathing her in.
Damn, she smells good. A mix of me and her natural floral scent.
“Go back to sleep. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Mmm,” she hums in her sleepy state as I slip out of the room.
Grabbing my axe by the front door, I yank the damn thing open, ready to unleash my fury on the idiot who took me away from my woman. “You better be dying or bleeding to be trespassing on my property and knocking on my front door at this ungodly hour.”
Expecting someone on my porch, I do a double take when I find four someones, all dressed in black tactical gear and looking as pissed as drenched cats.
The grip on my axe handle tightens, ready to use it if need be. I don’t know who the fuck these men are or why they’re here, but I’m about ready to swing first and ask questions second.
The biggest dude in the group steps forward, hands on his hip where his Glock is unlocked in its holster. He’s got a mean-looking mug and eyes as black as ink. “Are you Ambrose O’Mara?”
“You’re on my private property, you tell me?”
“My name is Atlas,” he says. He motions to the surrounding men. “And this here is my team. We were hired to find a missing woman.”
What the hell? “There’s a woman missing out in this storm?”
Atlas nods, his face unreadable as he shows me the screen of his cell. I suck in a ragged lungful of air when I find my woman’s beautiful face staring back at me.
Before I can say anything, Atlas continues. “An unconscious man was dropped off at the hospital right as the storm hit yesterday. When he woke, he was high as a kite, quoting The Lorax . It took a while for him to sober. Once he did, he flipped out on the emergency room staff, shouting claims that his girlfriend was stuck on the mountain. The hospital didn’t believe him at first, thinking he was still high, but after so many hours, they had to take him seriously.”
Fuck Gary and the horse he rode in on, trying to act all white knight after the fact while being the one responsible for Aspen being “stuck” on the mountain. It takes everything in me not to grind my teeth at the mere mention of Aspen’s douche canoe ex.
“When Search and Rescue went to the location Gary reported having left her, she wasn’t there. They contacted law enforcement. My buddy—Luke Quire—is the new chief of police. He reached out to my crew, recruiting us to find the missing woman. Locating people is what we do for a living.”
The word “crew” has alarm bells going off in my head. I know who these men are, seen them plenty riding their hogs around or hanging out at the local watering hole—Mickey’s Pub. They’re members of the mercenary biker crew in Fort Collins—the Mercy Ravens MC. Though they’re known for their military training and skills in rescuing abducted people, they have a reputation for getting rough occasionally. And if I’m not mistaken, this Atlas dude is the president of the motorcycle club.
The Mercy Ravens MC showing up at my door means they suspect I had something to do with Aspen’s disappearance, as in I took her against her will.
“There wasn’t much to go on. The missing woman’s boyfriend did not know who dropped him off at the hospital and the emergency room staff never got to question the men who dropped him off before wheeling him back for treatment. The rain obscured hospital footage of the truck arriving at the ER entrance. Inside, the footage only showed two men in rainwear dropping Gary off—nothing else. All that Gary could recall was a big dude with a red beard arguing with him over a tree before he went lights out.”
Atlas studies my face, noting my red beard. His face hardens, already assuming I’m the man Gary recalls last seeing before Mother Nature hit him over the head.
“A few tire treads surviving the rain matched to a set near the logging road.” He thumbs a man with long hair tied back in a wet man-bun. “Chase is our head of tech. He did a little digging and found out what logging company had the bid for felling rights in the area. Your company popped up. We called your brother first, but he didn’t know if anyone came across our missing woman. We called you next, but there was no answer.”
“Reception is shit in these parts of the mountains and nonexistent during bad weather,” I mutter, defending why I never got their call.
“Ain’t that the truth,” the shortest of the mercenary bikers gripes. He turns his attention to Atlas. “He’s clearly our guy, brother. Tire treads on his truck match the one’s from the logging road.”
“Is Aspen Fair here with you?” Atlas asks, his voice borderline menacing.
I swing my axe across my shoulder, gripping the handle with both hands as I step forward. “Depends on who’s asking. If it’s that stupid fuck ex-boyfriend who chained her to a tree, knowing damn well a storm was on the horizon, then my answer is to piss off.”
The shorter of the men steps forward, looking like he’s ready to go to blows with me. Atlas holds his arm out, stopping his MC brother.
Atlas cocks his head, scrutinizing me. “We don’t need to tell Gary where—as you stated—his ex-girlfriend is. We only need to report to the police she’s alive and well.”
“The police can call off the hunt. She’s here,” I admit. “You can tell that piece of shit ex of hers she’s being well taken care of.”
“We need proof of life,” the shorter biker says, his green eyes looking between me and his president.
“She’s sleeping,” I grit through my teeth, unwilling to let any of these men look at my woman.
“Well, wake her up,” the biker snaps back.
“Settle, Gauge,” Atlas orders.
“The fuck I will,” Gauge argues back. “We’ve been tracking this asshole for hours only for him to not cooperate with us. I’ve got a pregnant wife at home, waiting for my return and to warm our bed.”
“Same,” says Chase, echoing his friend and folding his arms across his chest while looking equally pissed.
“As do I,” Atlas says coldly to his men. “But making demands will not get us home any faster.”
His men grumble, but say nothing else.
Atlas turns his icy glare back on me. From the look of him, I’d wager he’s done waiting. “We need to speak with Aspen, Mister O’Mara.”
I’m about to tell this biker to shove it where the sun doesn’t shine when a small voice behind me has me stiffening.
“Brose?”
My head swings around to see my tiny woman standing behind me in nothing but my Henley shirt I dressed her in yesterday and her tiny fists gripping the neck of another one of my wood decoys, ready to swing it at whoever is outside.
This woman is going to be the death of me, I swear, but I wouldn’t have her any other way.
“Put the decoy down, darlin’. You don’t need it when you got me.”
Aspen lowers her weapon, setting it on the credenza near the door. She pouts, looking a bit miffed she won’t be going into action.
“Who’s here this early? And with the storm still going on?”
“It’s no one important. Go back to bed. I’ll join you soon.”
“Aspen Fair?” Atlas barks, his voice heavy with authority. “We’re Mercy Ravens Security, hired by the Fort Collins Police Department to inquire about your wellbeing. Can you please step outside to speak with us?”
I whip my head around to face Atlas, baring my teeth. “She is not dressed to greet anyone.”
“Wrap her in a damn tent for all I care. We’re not interested in Miss Fair beyond her safety,” Atlas says sharply, almost like I’ve insulted him for assuming he or his men would check out my woman. “We need to speak with her— now .”
I’m about to go toe-to-toe with this Hulk-size fucker when Aspen places her palm on the small of my back. She tucks in close behind me, her front flush with my back.
“It’s okay, Brose.”
Like hell it is. I don’t want these bikers ogling what’s mine.
My woman peeks around me to face the mercenaries. “I’m Aspen. What is it you want?”
Atlas’s hard face softens for my woman, not by much, but enough to look less menacing. “Miss Fair. Thanks for speaking to me. How are you? Are you hurt?”
“Or has someone hurt you?” Gauge asks her, while looking directly at me accusingly.
My nostrils flare. It would take nothing to launch my axe into this dick’s skull.
“I’m fine—more than fine,” Aspen says, wrapping her arms around my torso. “No one has hurt me, unless you consider Gary chaining me to a dead ponderosa against my will as doing me harm.”
Atlas nods. “Do you want to press charges against Gary?”
While Aspen says, “No,” I snap, “Yes.”
“I just want to be done with him,” Aspen says to me in a tired voice, like the thought of dealing with Gary drains her energy.
“He put you in danger,” I growl, my temper slipping. “Had I not gone looking to see if there was someone else on the mountain…”
I can’t say it. The thought of any harm coming to my woman because of that fool makes my blood boil.
“It’s okay,” Aspen says, her voice almost a coo. It calms my nerves to a degree. “I’m okay—because of you.”
“He doesn’t deserve to get off with a free pass,” I mutter, taking one of her hands and bringing it to my mouth for a quick peck.
“I agree with your man, Miss Fair,” the biker with the shaved head says. “Maybe consider a restraining order, too.”
Gauge balks. “What the fuck, Punk? Her ‘ man ?’”
Punk rolls his eyes. “Dude, she’s wearing his clothes, has just fucked hair, and is clinging to him like he’s a life preserver in an open sea. Besides, I can smell the sex on both of them from here.”
Aspen squeaks with embarrassment, hiding her face against my back.
“Can we go home now, Prez?” Punk asks Atlas, his voice almost a whine. “She’s in good hands—he’s her man. Case closed.”
My chest puffs out like a proud peacock as a big smile spreads across my face. Finally, someone gets it. If only it was Aspen.
“What he said,” I say, agreeing with Punk. “She’s mine.”
Aspen sighs. “Brose?—”
“Don’t start with me, woman. I claimed you the moment I saw you on that mountain. Deal with it.”
Chase and Punk’s shoulders shake with silent laughter while Gauge shakes his head at his brothers.
Atlas runs a hand over his face like he’s ready to be done with the case, but still needing to follow protocol. He scrutinizes Aspen once more. “Are you sure? Say the word and we’ll take you home.”
“She is home,” I hiss at him, ready to go to blows if any of these assholes try taking her from me.
“Thank you, but no,” Aspen says quickly, like she can sense I will go ape-shit if she leaves with them. “I’m perfectly safe here with Brose.”
Atlas hooks his fingers into his tactical vest, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Alright. I’ll let Chief Quire know you’re safe and in good health, and possibly to expect you coming in to press charges against your ex.”
“Damn right she is,” I say.
“No charges,” Aspen counters, folding her slender arms across her shirt-covered perky breasts.
Atlas gives me a smirk, holding out his hand to me. “You got yourself a stubborn one.”
No kidding. I take his hand, shaking it. He’s not a bad dude. None of them are, even the broody one, Gauge. They’re doing their job—I can respect that. “She sure is.”
“Mine’s the same,” Atlas says with a chuckle. “If I were you, I wouldn’t wait too long to make things official .”
Understanding what he’s hinting at, I bite off my laugh before Aspen becomes suspicious. Oh, I’m definitely going to make things between me and Aspen official —house, rock, and all.
Aspen’s pert nose scrunches. “‘Official?’”
“Come on, brothers,” Altas orders, leaving me to deal with Aspen’s question. “Lets head home. I’ve got a pixie waiting for me.”