Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
DEUCE
I jackknife off the couch, stomp into my bedroom, and flip on the light. “Get up!”
Sammie startles on the bed, then pushes herself up on her elbows.
“Shoulda told me about that flash drive when you found it,” I grit out between clenched teeth. “Shoulda told me way before making a deal with Viper. Way before all this shit hit the fan.” Anger boils in my gut, but I keep my voice low.
She straightens her spine and crosses her bare legs on the mattress. “You of all people should get not trusting. Being cautious or at the very least trying to save my own ass ‘cause for so many years, I’m the only one I can count on.”
She’s right, trust is a scary animal.
“What would you know about wearing a monitor and being a prisoner?”
I throw my head back and bark out a harsh laugh. “Babe, you have no fuckin’ idea.”
“Really? You’re always in command. Always the boss. You probably even ruled in prison. People listen to you, obey you.”
Fact, but I wasn’t gonna admit it when I was trying to make a point.
“The only person who ever gave a shit about me is gone.”
Her words hit me hard, but I can’t let emotion get in the way when so much is at stake.
“The minute The End became the Kings’ clubhouse, with you living here, working here, and owning the damn property it sits on puts you under our protection. Fuck, we take care of everybody in our world from the bartenders in our clubs to the strippers.”
“Great for them, but that’s not my experience, so you’ll have to forgive me if I try to take care of shit myself.”
“Nothing to forgive, babe, I just find it sad.”
“Ohhhhh, no, the last thing I want is your damn pity.”
“No pity. You’re too fuckin’ tough to pity. Just sorry.”
“When Viper texted me, I panicked. Then I found the bag under the sink with the flash drive, and a note from my father saying the flash drive contained all the information needed to take down Viper.”
“You should’ve come to me right then,” I bark out, my patience about to snap.
“He threatened to hurt you and the other Kings, and have my father murdered in prison.”
“Fuck!” I spread my arms wide. “All the more reason you should’ve come to me!”
“I heard what you said to Ace about me in the hallway.”
“Shit!” I drag my fingers through my hair. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
“But I did. You made your feelings perfectly clear.”
Only I don’t feel that way. Ahhh, shit, I don’t know how I feel.
“After that, I knew I was on my own. I thought I could handle it myself. Give Viper what he wanted, and he’d go away.”
“But that’s not how that bastard works.”
“Plus, I wanted to avoid this.” She waves her hand at me. “You ready to throw down with him. I don’t need you going to war on my conscience too.”
“You give in to him once, and he thinks he owns you, and he won’t stop until he has it all. Viper is lethal.”
“And you’re not?”
“Different kind of lethal.”
“As far as I can see, you’re a biker; Viper’s a biker. You ride a Harley; Viper rides a Harley. You both follow the same code, which says, no matter what, the club comes first, and everyone else is just collateral damage.”
“With one big difference.”
“Really? What could that be?”
“The Kings don’t use women or children as pawns to get what we want. If I wanted something from Viper, I’d face the bastard myself.
She waves her hand over her body. “So, sex wasn’t your form of manipulation too?”
“I think you got it a twisted, sweetheart,” I sneer. “Or did you forget you who came on to me the first time?”
Her face flattens, but I’m nowhere near done.
“Fist said it was a big garbage bag. So, what else was in it?”
Her eyes flash for a millisecond. “Just the flash drive and the note from my father.”
“So, a big black garbage bag and all that was in it was a tiny USB drive and a note?”
“I never said my father was logical. He probably wrapped it that way as a diversion.”
She’s good, but again I get that wonky feeling she’s holding back on me.
“Still doesn’t change the fact you didn’t come to me. Didn’t tell me about Viper’s threats.”
“Would you share what you discuss with the Kings?”
“Totally fuckin’ different.”
“It’s not, but you’ll never see it that way.”
“I can’t ever trust you again.” The words fall out of my mouth, fast and hard.
“Just like I can’t trust you.”
She holds my gaze, and the room shrinks to just her and me. A battle of wills. Two hard-ass people life has fucked over way more than once. She’s lied to me, made a deal with my worst enemy, and yet . . .
In two big steps, I’m at the side of the bed. In another second, I have her shoulders pinned to the mattress.
SAMMIE
Deuce hovers over me. Glaring, relentless. The mattress shifts under his weight. His hot breath teases my ear. “Then I’d say we got a big fuckin’ problem.”
“Yes,” I whisper into his neck. The heat of his anger radiates off him in torrid waves.
He rips at the thin material of my thong and sends it flying across the room. “But even with all that, I still wanna fuck you.”
A second later, he rips at the tab and zipper of his jeans, pushing away the denim and kneeing my legs wide until he’s notched between my thighs.
His narrowed eyes never leave mine, and when he drives into me, it isn’t gentle or passionate—it’s raw, real and on fire with the force of his anger.
I scream out as he slams into me over and over.
The extreme pleasure mixes with just enough pain.
Just enough to let me know—this isn’t sex.
This is anger and passion wrapped up in redemption.
Two people taking from each other, not caring about the consequences. No present, no future, just the here and now. The outlaw life, where nothing is guaranteed and everything is a gamble.
He gazes down at me, his lips twisting in a grin mixed with a sneer. “Is this what you want?”
I thrash my head against the pillow, and he pinches my jaw between his thumb and forefinger.
“Answer me!” he growls.
“Yes, give me everything.”
Our bodies move as one as all the rage, hate and twisted desire choke both of us. The harder he pounds, the more I want. Like an addict who can’t get enough, even though they know it’s killing them.
He reaches his hand between us, finds my clit and twists hard. My legs widen, and my body sizzles when the shockwaves slam through me. I’m powerless to control it. I don’t want to control it. I let it take over and lift me out of my life to a place only Deuce can create.
He yells out, his hips piston harder, his arms quiver, then he collapses on top of me. I welcome his weight, loving the feel of him. Knowing this is the last time because there are no second chances in the MC world.
We lie like that until my eyes slide shut. Deuce rolls to my side, his arm tightly wound around my waist.
I raise my head. “Did you hear that?”
“Mmmm,” he mumbles against the pillow.
“Like a popping sound.”
Then a boom like thunder, but not thunder.
Deuce shifts on the mattress, then stills. “Shit!” He throws his legs over the side of the bed and scoops up his jeans. “Get dressed. Fast.”
Jumping off the bed, I locate my jeans at the foot and drag them on. The popping continues along with a whooshing sound, followed by the smell of smoke.
Deuce grabs my arm, steers me out of the bedroom, and we both freeze at the sight of smoke seeping under the door.
“Don’t touch it,” he warns, then bolts into the bathroom and returns with two wet washcloths. He hands me one, then pushes me behind him. “Stay back.”
He feels the door, then puts the cloth over his nose and mouth, twists the doorknob and slowly opens it. A waft of smoke enters the room but no fire.
He grabs my wrist, then keeps me behind him, guiding us down the smoke-filled hallway. When we hit the stairs, I stop.
“Wait! I have to go back.”
“What?”
“I have to get something out of my room.”
“Forget it.” He grabs my arm. “We gotta get outta here.”
“No. I have to go back.”
“Whatever it is isn’t worth it.”
“Not even five hundred thousand dollars?” I pull out of his grasp and backtrack to my room. I fling the door open, race to my bedroom, crouch down and drag out the garbage bag.
“What the hell?” Deuce grabs it from me and looks inside. “Holy shit!”
“I don’t think you want that to go up in flames.”
“Where did you . . . Fuck it, let’s just get outta here.” He swings the bag over his shoulder and drags me out of the room.
The smoke in the hallway is thicker, and when we reach the staircase, it’s consumed in flames.
“Get back,” Deuce barks, grabbing my wrist as another window blows out.
Smoke bites the back of my throat, chocking the air out of my lungs. We make it back to Deuce’s room, and he kicks the door closed.
“We’re trapped,” I yell over the crackling of the flames.
He grabs my face in his palms. “We’re gonna get outta here.”
Another blast rocks the building. The floor shifts beneath us.
Deuce jogs into the bedroom, and a minute later he returns with the mattress, then shoves it against the door, slowing the smoke.
We stare at each other for a second, and then I remember. I dash into his bedroom, and he follows me.
“Push the bed away from the wall.”
He drops the plastic bag, then shoves the bed frame to the side, exposing a window.
DEUCE
The fire escape. Half rusted, swaying, but holding. Shady wanted to tear it down, but with everything else, we never got around to it, and I forgot about it.
“Go,” I order her, but she doesn’t move.
“I can’t . . . I, I don’t like heights.”
“All the shit you’ve been through and you’re afraid of heights?”
Sirens wail in the background, and more glass shatters beneath us.
“But . . .”
I don’t let her finish. I swing the garbage bag and vault it out of the window, praying it clears the flames. Then I scoop her up and climb out onto the platform. The rotted metal shudders under our weight.
“Deuce!” She clutches my shoulders.
I lean my forehead against hers, smoke stinging my eyes. “Hold on to me and don’t let go, no matter what happens.”
I climb down, each stair groaning under our weight. Heat chases us from behind. Flames and smoke burst through the window below us, black and violent.
Halfway down, the metal screams, and I jog down the remaining stairs as the fire escape tears loose from the wall.
The stairs under my feet shift. I jump, twisting in midair, taking the eight-foot drop hard as we slam to the ground.
I roll, shielding her as debris rains down on us.
“You all right?” I grunt.
She nods, coughing, hands shaking as she grips my shirt like she might never let go again.
The End burns behind us, windows vomiting flames, everything we fought over turning to ash.
Sammie stares at it, tears cutting clean lines through soot on her face.
“My father’s,” she whispers. “Everything—gone.”
I pull her into my chest, holding her tight as the heat washes over us.
I look at the fire. At the destruction.
I tighten my grip on her, jaw set, heart cold and clear. “This ends now.”
The roar of the flames convinces me of one thing with absolute certainty—The Rabid Dogs started this war, but the Kings will finish it.