Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
SAMMIE
I finish sweeping up the broken glass, but Deuce is still pacing the floor like a caged lion on coke.
Poor Shady got the brunt of his wrath, as Deuce raged on against the Rabid Dogs daring to enter their sacred chapel.
After he exhausted himself, Deuce flipped out his phone and called all the Kings in for an emergency meeting.
I finish up behind the bar, but before I head upstairs, I stick my head in the office.
My breath catches at the grotesque red spray paint scrawled across the wall—Viper’s way of sending a message.
I close the door and go upstairs, creeped out that one of the Dogs was in the building without us knowing it.
Although I understand Deuce’s anger, the diversion saved both of us from making a colossal mistake. Another few seconds in my apartment and we would’ve definitely been in bed. Not sleeping. A risk with a man who can send my life straight to hell.
After jiggling and prying my door into a position where I can at least close it, I take a very hot shower, then pull on a clean sleep tee and shorts, and get into bed.
As physically exhausted as I am, I can’t sleep.
I reach for my phone, but even Candy Crush can’t help me now, so I lie on my back in the dark and stare at the ceiling.
Bad idea since my brain keeps replaying Deuce cornering me against the kitchen counter. The scent of him, all male musk with a hint of leather and tobacco. Then my traitorous brain plays out a fantasy version of what would happen if we weren’t interrupted.
Since we already had sex, it’s not hard to imagine. My fantasy becomes so real, I finally give in, open my nightstand drawer, and pull out my trusty Rabbit. Thank you, delivery. Ten minutes later, I’m physically satisfied, but not mentally.
DEUCE
An hour later, we’re still around the plywood table trying to figure shit out.
Ace points to the spray paint. “We know it was Viper and the Dogs.” He slams his fist down so hard the plywood rattles under his hand. “So, what the fuck are we waiting for?”
I jerk my head to the wall. “I want that shit painted over tonight.”
“Those motherfuckers want a war. Let’s give it to them,” Shady bellows.
“Two weeks ago, they fucked with you.” Speed points to me. “Then they lay low like little bitches and strike now.”
I’ve been silent for the last few minutes ‘cause I genuinely don’t know what to think. I plug another cig between my lips, and Ace lights me up. The dented metal ashtray is overflowing with burnt-out blunts and cigs, but we still haven’t come to any conclusion or decision.
Fist turns to Shady. “You said you were out there and didn’t see anything.”
“I didn’t just say I was out there. I was out there—and, no, wiseass, I didn’t see anything or anyone.”
“Don’t get your little balls twisted. I’m just sayin’ shit went down on your watch.” Fist throws Shady a look.
Shady folds his arms over his chest. “And I’m just sayin’ I moved from back to front every ten or fifteen minutes.”
Ace and I exchange a look. “Long enough for someone to pick the lock, then sneak in the back and just do enough to fuck with us.”
“Are you sayin’ this is my fault?” Shady leans into the table.
Fist jumps out of his chair. “It was your watch, and you were the only one out there, so, yeah, fucker, that’s what he’s sayin’.”
Shady lunges over the table, but Scratch and Speed hold him back.
Shady points to Fist. “You still got a wiseass fuckin’ mouth.”
Fist laughs, and Shady’s face turns an unhealthy color. Fist has always had a way of stirring shit up. Back in the day, he was the first one to piss someone off or throw a punch. Exactly how he got his road name, Fist.
I push out of my chair. “Settle the fuck down. It wasn’t anybody’s fault.
Whoever got in was obviously watching the place and watching Shady.
Tomorrow, I want better locks installed on both doors, and from now on, I want someone in the back and someone in the front.
Once we get this place open, we hire professional security.
Guys who aren’t afraid to bust a few heads if necessary.
“I still got some contacts I can recruit over at Harrah’s. Shouldn’t be a problem.”
I nod to Fist and Ace. “You two take watch the rest of the night and sleep in tomorrow.” I turn to Fist. “Get somebody here to put up security cameras in the alley and around both entrances tomorrow.”
Fist nods, and we all tap fists.
I glance at my phone. One a.m. “Nothing else we can do tonight.”
We silently file out of the room. I’m fuckin’ dragging. Between hauling lumber, swinging a hammer all day, and now this shit, I’m beat. After they leave, I double-check the locks and head upstairs, my feet heavy on the wooden stairs.
When I reach the landing, my mind drifts to Sammie and what almost happened between us earlier. Maybe if I hadn’t been with her, I would’ve heard whoever was downstairs sooner, but I’ll be keeping that information to myself, for sure.
I stop by her door for a split second and smile. Somehow, someway, she managed to get the door straight—and probably locked. My fist lifts, then hovers.
SAMMIE
Deuce’s heavy footsteps on the stairs make me sit up in bed. His every footfall registers in my brain, and when they stop in front of my door, my heart stops too.
Would he knock? Or would he just break it down again, charge into my room, pin me to the bed, rip off my clothes and spread me wide.
Ohh God, I have to stop reading those romance novels.
After a few seconds, his steps retreat down the hall. I fall back onto the bed, half relieved, and way more than half disappointed. This is torture. No, this is hell, but I can’t waver. I have to stay strong.
DEUCE
I draw in a deep breath, turn and head for my room before I have time to convince myself she needs me.
My door shuts behind me, and I lean my head against it as I toe off my boots, then shrug off my cut and t-shirt.
I debate taking a shower, but decide it’s too much fuckin’ trouble.
The weight of my gun presses against my spine, so I reach back, check the safety and place it on the coffee table.
I eye the kitchen. A shot of whiskey or a bottle of water?
A knock on the door makes my decision. I grab up my gun, release the safety, and cross the room in three silent steps. I wrench open the door and freeze.
Thin tank top, booty shorts, and bare feet with that damn monitor mocking me as it quietly hums. Her tousled curls tease her chest as it rises and falls with choppy breaths like she wasn’t sure she made the right decision.
She steps inside, and I close the door behind her. She reaches for me at the same time I reach for her. My hands automatically roam over her back, then slide down to her ass without hesitation, without permission.
I bury my face in her neck, drinking in her scent, and my whole body calms. My heart slows, and for the first time tonight, I can breathe without tightness. I snag the hem of her tank top, yank it over her head and fling it to the floor.
I pull her closer, loving the feel of her skin against mine. “Perfection,” I whisper into her neck.
I sink my fingertips into her hips and lift her until her legs are wrapped around my hips. Our lips meld together as I stumble us into the bedroom, then fall onto the comforter with her in my arms.
She breaks away from the kiss, her eyes searching mine.
No apologies
No lies.
Just two lost people who need each other and need to believe in each other, if only for a night.
I take her lips again, and when she offers me her tongue, I know I have to taste every part of her. I break away from her mouth, and my lips travel down her neck. Cupping her breasts, I lave each nipple until they form hard peaks. Her skin is so sweet, smooth and unmarked. So different than mine.
I tilt my head, loving the sight of her watching me. She digs her fingers into my hair, pushing me lower to the place I long to taste. I drag down her booty shorts and toss them aside. I glance at the ankle monitor, and she flinches.
“We both got scars, but that’s what makes us tough.”
Her legs relax, and I anchor them over my shoulders two seconds before I dive into her heat.
I lap and suck her sensitive flesh, and she moves with my strokes.
I nip and tongue her clit until her back arches off the bed, but I’m not done until she screams out in sweet agony.
I keep sucking in her aftershocks until her body is limp against the mattress.
“That was . . .”
“Yeah, it sure was.” I stroke my hands up and down the smooth skin of her thighs.
“How come I’m naked and you still have your pants on?” she teases.
“I’m just about to take care of that.” I roll off the bed, strip off my jeans, then yank open the night table drawer and reach inside for the condoms.
I look over my shoulder and see her pained expression, eyes focused on my back.
“Who did that to you?” Her whispered, quaking question punches me in the gut.
“It’s nothing.” I quickly turn so my imperfections are out of sight.
She cups her hands on either side of my face. “It’s not nothing, but I can wait.”
When I pull out a string of condoms, her eyes widen.
“I believe in being prepared.”
“I also like a man who goes commando.”
I roughly fist my cock, but the damn thing doesn’t need any priming as I rip open the silver packet with my teeth, then sheath myself.
I hover over her. “You ready for me, babe?”
“Yes, yes, very ready.” She spreads her legs wide, and I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her to me, notching myself between her thighs.
“Gonna try to take you, sweet, but you got me so fuckin’ amped, it might get a little crazy,” I warn.
“After the night we’ve had, you can get as crazy as you want.”
“Ahhh, fuck!” That’s all I needed. Sliding into her wet, hot heat consumes me.