Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Monk
The ride to the Wilcox Farm should have cleared my head.
It should have given me time to think, to process, to calm the fuck down.
But it didn’t. Every mile I rode, the tension coiled tighter in my chest. Roberts’ smug face.
Ruby’s accusations. The mystery body. Lina’s coldness.
It was all converging, pressing down on me like a vise, and the only thing I knew, the only thing I was certain of, was that I needed to see her.
Needed to touch her.
Needed to remind both of us that no matter what shit was falling apart around us, we were solid.
The farm came into view, the long gravel driveway stretching out ahead of me, and that was when I saw them. Lina, who was standing in the driveway near the house, and a man. Slick suit. Expensive shoes. Briefcase in one hand.
The fucking developer.
My hands tightened on the handlebars, my entire body going rigid.
I could see Lina’s posture, stiff, defensive, her arms crossed over her chest. The developer was gesturing, his mouth moving, his expression smug and condescending, and Lina was holding her ground.
But I could see the tension in her shoulders. The exhaustion in the way she stood.
She was fighting, but she was tired, and this motherfucker was pushing her.
The rage that had been simmering all day exploded as I twisted the throttle and roared down the driveway, the engine’s growl tearing through the quiet afternoon.
Both of them turned.
Lina’s eyes went wide, and the developer’s face went pale.
I didn’t slow down. Didn’t stop until my front tire was mere inches from the developer’s polished shoes, causing him to stumble backward, his briefcase falling from his hand.
“What the—”
I killed the engine and swung my leg over the bike, my boots hitting the gravel with a heavy thud as the developer stared at me, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. I took a step toward him and then another. Each slow and deliberate. Every movement oozing menace.
“John—” Lina started, her voice sharp.
I held up a hand, silencing her. My eyes never left the developer.
“You,” I said, my voice low and deadly calm. “You see this woman?”
The developer’s gaze flicked to Lina, then back to me. He nodded once, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.
“You see this farm?” I continued, gesturing to the surrounding land. “This house? This property?”
Another nod.
I took another step forward, closing the distance until I was directly in his face. He was shorter than me by a few inches, and I used every bit of that height advantage to loom over him.
“It’s mine,” I said, my voice dropping to a growl. “She’s mine. This land is mine. This family is mine. And if I ever—and I mean ever—catch you looking at her, speaking to her, or even thinking about this property again, I will ensure you never see daylight again.”
The developer’s face went from pale to white. “I-I’m just doing my job.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck about your job,” I snarled, leaning in closer. “I will break you into so many pieces they’ll never find all of them. Do you understand me?”
His eyes were wide, his breathing shallow. “I—yes.”
“Say it,” I demanded.
“I understand,” he stammered, his voice shaking.
I took one more step forward as he stumbled backward, nearly tripping over his own feet.
“Good,” I said, my tone flat. “Now get the fuck off this property before I change my mind.”
The developer didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed his briefcase from the ground, turned, and practically ran to his car—a sleek black sedan parked near the barn. He fumbled with his keys, dropped them, picked them up, and finally managed to unlock the door.
Before he got in, he turned back, his face flushed with humiliation and fear. “You—you can’t threaten me!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “I’ll call the police! I’ll have you arrested!”
I didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared at him with cold, unflinching certainty.
“Try it,” I said softly.
The developer’s mouth snapped shut. He scrambled into his car, started the engine, and peeled out of the driveway so fast his tires kicked up gravel and dust.
I watched until his taillights disappeared down the road.
Then I turned to Lina, who was staring at me, her eyes blazing with fury. “What the HELL do you think you’re doing?” she exploded, storming toward me. “You can’t just threaten people! You just got out of jail! Do you want to go right back in?”
I didn’t answer.
Instead, I just stood there, my jaw tight, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.
“Do you have any idea what you just did?” she continued, her voice rising. “He’s going to call the police! He’s going to press charges! And then what, John? Then what?”
“He’s not calling anyone,” I said flatly.
“You don’t know that!”
“Yeah, I do,” I replied, my voice hard. “Because he knows if he does, I’ll make good on my promise.”
Lina’s face flushed with anger. “You can’t just—” She broke off, shaking her head. “I don’t need your help! I don’t need the club! I don’t need any of this!”
She turned and started walking toward her truck, her shoulders rigid.
And something inside me snapped as I closed the distance between us in three long strides, grabbed her wrist, and spun her back around.
“Let go of me—”
I kissed her.
Hard.
Possessive.
Desperate.
My mouth crashed down on hers, swallowing her protest, claiming her the way I had been dying to since I walked out of that courthouse. She tried to fight it, tried to push me away, but I didn’t let her. I cupped the back of her head with one hand, holding her in place, and deepened the kiss.
And then she melted.
Her hands, which had been shoving at my chest, fisted in my cut instead. Her mouth opened under mine, and she kissed me back with the same desperate need I felt.
When I finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard. Her eyes were wide, her lips swollen, her cheeks flushed. “You’re mine, Carolina,” I growled, my voice rough. “My woman. My family. And I’m done asking permission.”
She stared at me, her chest heaving, tears shimmering in her eyes. “John.”
“Which room is yours?” I demanded.
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“Which. Room. Is. Yours?”
She shook her head, her jaw setting stubbornly. “No. We’re not—”
I didn’t let her finish as I brought my hand down hard on her ass. The crack echoed across the yard as Lina gasped, her entire body going rigid. “I asked you a question,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “Which room is yours?”
She didn’t answer. She just stared at me, her pupils dilated, her breathing shallow.
I smacked her ass again, harder this time.
She whimpered.
“Still not hearing an answer, baby,” I said.
“John—”
I bent down, wrapped my arm around her thighs, and hauled her over my shoulder in one smooth motion.
“JOHN!” she shrieked, her fists pounding against my back. “Put me down!”
I didn’t answer—just strode toward the farmhouse, kicked the front door open, and stepped inside. “Which room?” I asked again.
“I’m not telling you!”
I smacked her ass again, the sound sharp and satisfying.
She yelped.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll find it myself.”
I took the stairs two at a time, ignoring her protests, and kicked open the first door on the right.
Bathroom.
I kicked open the second door.
Guest room.
The third door.
Lina’s room.
I knew it instantly. The scent of her perfume hung in the air, something floral and clean. The bed was neatly made; the quilt was a soft cream color. A few framed photos sat on the dresser—Tatum as a baby, Tatum at the beach, Tatum laughing.
I walked to the bed and threw Lina down onto it. She bounced once, her breath leaving her in a rush. Her eyes were wide, her chest heaving, her hair a wild mess around her face as I kicked the door shut behind me and locked it.
“John—” she started, her voice breathless and uncertain.
“No,” I said, cutting her off. “You don’t get to talk right now.”
My cock was already straining against my jeans, so fucking hard it hurt.
I had been half-hard since I had thrown her over my shoulder, feeling her body pressed against me, her ass right there under my hand.
Now, looking at her sprawled on that bed, her chest heaving, her lips parted, her eyes wide and dark with something between fear and need, I was so hard I could pound nails.
I pulled my cut off slowly, deliberately, and tossed it onto the chair in the corner.
Then I grabbed the hem of my shirt and yanked it over my head.
Lina’s eyes tracked the movement, her gaze dropping to my chest, my abs, the ink that covered my skin.
I watched her pupils dilate, watched her tongue dart out to wet her lips.
“I’ve been arrested,” I said, my voice rough as gravel as I unbuckled my belt.
The leather slid through the loops with a hiss that made her breath catch.
“Threatened. Blackmailed. Dismissed by you this morning like I was nothing. And the one thing—the one motherfucking thing I’ve been thinking about since I walked out of that courthouse was getting inside you.
Sinking my cock so deep into your tight little pussy that you would forget your own goddamn name.
Reminding you, reminding your body of exactly who the fuck you belong to. ”
I popped the button on my jeans and dragged the zipper down, the sound loud in the quiet room. Lina’s breath hitched, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
“You accepted my cut,” I continued, stepping out of my jeans and kicking them aside.
My cock was tenting my boxers obscenely, a wet spot already forming at the tip.
“You stood in front of the entire club and let me claim you. That means you’re mine, Carolina.
Mine to fuck. Mine to protect. Mine to love. And I’m done pretending otherwise.”
I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my boxers and shoved them down. My cock sprang free, thick and heavy and angry red, the veins standing out along the shaft. Pre-cum beaded at the tip, and I was so fucking hard the head was almost purple.