Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
WHIP
Church has been going on for two hours, and I'm ready to get back to Violet.
We've covered Derek's location, his daily routines, where he works, who he hangs with.
The information we have on him is solid, and Cruel's contacts came through with everything we need to make this asshole disappear from Violet's life permanently.
"So we're all in agreement," Ripper says, leaning back in his chair at the head of the table. "We pay Derek a visit, make it clear that if he comes near Violet again, he'll be eating through a tube for the rest of his miserable life."
"And if he doesn't listen?" Viper asks, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "Some guys are too stupid to know when they're beat."
"Then we escalate," Cruel replies simply, cracking his knuckles.
As the enforcer, he's the one who'll handle most of the physical persuasion.
But, I'm in this too. Violet is special to me, and no one fucks with what's mine.
"I've dealt with his type before. They usually get the message real quick when they realize what they're up against."
"I still don't get why we're putting club resources toward your woman problems, Whip," Viper says, flicking ash into a beer bottle. "Maybe you should've thought about that before you started fucking your sister's little friend."
The temperature in the room drops about ten degrees. Every man at this table knows that's a line you don't cross—you don't disrespect another brother's woman, and you sure as hell don't question club decisions once the president has spoken.
"Watch your mouth," I say, my voice deadly quiet. "Violet's under club protection now. That means she's family."
"Is she?" Viper challenges. "Because last I checked, you haven't made anything official. It's new, isn't it. You don't have no ring on her finger, you haven't claimed her in front of us, nothing. She's just some chick you're fucking who got roughed up by her ex."
I'm halfway out of my chair when Ripper's voice booms across the room.
"That's enough!" He fixes Viper with a stare that could cut glass. "The decision's been made. We protect our own and theirs. Whip's woman is our woman now. Anyone got a problem with that can find themselves a new club."
Silence follows his words. Viper backs down, but I can see the resentment simmering in his eyes. This isn't over between us, not by a long shot.
"Now," Ripper continues, "Cruel, you and Kane will handle Derek. Whip, you stay clean—you've got too much to lose if this goes sideways legally. The rest of us will provide backup if needed."
"Understood," I nod, though every fiber of my being wants to be the one who puts Derek in his place. But Ripper's right—my law career means I can't afford to get my hands dirty. At least not officially.
My phone buzzes against my leg, then again, and again.
"Sorry," I mutter, pulling it out. "Might be work."
But it's not work. It's Violet, and the messages make my blood run cold.
Derek found me. He's here. Trying to get in.
Santiago, please, I'm scared.
Where are you?
The last message came in three minutes ago.
"Fuck!" I shout, jumping to my feet so fast my chair topples backward. "Derek's at my place. He's trying to get to Violet."
Every man in the room moves at once. Chairs scrape as I'm rushing toward the door.
"Cruel, Kane, you're with me. Everyone else, follow as backup."
The ride from the clubhouse to my apartment building takes twelve minutes on a normal day. We make it in seven, running red lights and weaving through traffic like our lives depend on it. Because Violet's life might.
My heart pounds as I think about her alone in my apartment, terrified, with that psychopath trying to break down my door. I should have posted someone outside the building. I should have anticipated that Derek would be psychotic enough to escalate the situation this quickly.
If he touches her, if he hurts her again, I'll kill him with my bare hands. Law degree be damned.
We screech into the parking garage, and I'm off my bike before it's fully stopped. Cruel and Kane are right behind me, their faces grim. The elevator ride to the fifteenth floor takes forever, each second stretching into eternity.
When the doors open, I see two things immediately: my apartment door is closed and appears perfectly intact, and there's a delivery uniform crumpled on the floor by the stairwell.
I key in my entry code and burst through the door, Cruel and Kane right beside me. "Violet!"
"Santiago!" Her voice comes from the bedroom, shaky but strong. Relief floods through me so fast I almost stumble.
I find her sitting on my bed, knees drawn up to her chest, my baseball bat across her lap. The sight of her—alive, unhurt, but clearly shaken—unleashes something primal in my chest.
"Baby," I breathe, crossing to her in three quick strides. "Are you okay? Did he get in? Did he hurt you?"
She shakes her head, melting into my arms as I pull her against me. "No, he never got inside. I heard him trying to pick the lock, but then you guys must have arrived because everything went quiet. I was too scared to check."
"He's gone," Cruel reports from the living room. "But he left something."
I reluctantly release Violet and follow Cruel to the front door. Scattered on the hallway floor are two dozen red roses, their stems snapped and petals crushed. A note is taped to my door.
This isn't over. She belongs to me.
Rage burns through me like acid. "Where the fuck is he?"
"Building security says a delivery man left about ten minutes ago," Kane says, hanging up his phone. "They're checking cameras now."
"He can't have gotten far." I turn to Cruel. "Tell the others. I want every street in a five-block radius covered. Find this cocksucker."
"Already on it," Cruel nods, speed-dialing his phone.
Within minutes, the hallway fills with the sound of boots as the rest of the club members arrive. Ripper barks out orders, coordinating which way we’ll search and when they need to check in with each other. I want to join them, want to hunt Derek down myself, but I can't leave Violet alone again.
"Go," she says quietly from the bedroom doorway. "I'll be fine."
"Like hell." I shake my head. "I'm not leaving you."
"Santiago—"
"No." My voice comes out harsher than I want it to, and she flinches slightly. I soften my tone. "I'm not leaving you alone again. Not until this is over."
Ripper claps me on the shoulder. "We've got this, brother. You stay with your woman. We'll handle Derek."
After the others leave, I triple-check all the locks and activate the building's security system. Then I return to Violet, who's back on the bed, still looking shaken.
"I'm sorry," I say, sitting beside her. "I should have been here, should have known something like this was gonna happen."
"You couldn't have known," she replies, but her voice wavers slightly.
"Yes, I could have. I knew he was escalating. Knew he was desperate. I should have posted someone outside the building, should have—"
Violet silences me by pressing her lips to mine. The kiss is fierce, desperate, full of relief and fear and need. When we break apart, she's breathing hard.
"You're here now," she whispers. "That's what matters."
"Baby, I was so fucking scared." I cup her face in my hands, thumb tracing her cheekbone below the fading bruise. "When I saw those texts, when I realized he'd found you..."
"But he didn't get in. I was safe."
"This time. What about next time? What if—"
She stops my spiraling thoughts by climbing into my lap, straddling me. "There won't be a next time. You and your brothers will make sure of that, right?"
The position presses her core against my rapidly hardening cock, and even with everything going on right now, the fire between us is hotter than ever. Her pupils dilate as she feels my response.
"Violet," I warn, my voice strained.
"I need you," she whispers, rolling her hips slightly. "I need to feel safe. Need to feel claimed. Need to forget everything except you."
My hands grip her hips, stilling her movement. "You're shaken up. You're not thinking clearly."
"I'm thinking perfectly clear." Her eyes are dark with need. "I want you to remind me who I belong to. I want you to mark me as yours so thoroughly that no one will ever question it again."
Something snaps inside me at her words. The fear, the rage, the possessiveness—it all tumbles into raw, consuming need.
"Get up," I order, my voice rough with command. "Strip. Now."
She scrambles off my lap, her movements eager and clumsy. I watch as she peels off her sweater, revealing the lacy bra Savannah provided. Her jeans follow, pooling at her feet, leaving her in just her underwear.
"All of it," I command.
She unhooks her bra with shaking fingers, letting it fall away. Her panties slide down her legs, and then she's standing before me completely naked, her skin flushed with arousal and adrenaline.
"On your knees," I tell her. "Hands behind your back."
She sinks to her knees gracefully, lacing her fingers together behind her back. The position pushes her breasts forward, and I can see her nipples already hardening.
"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" I ask, beginning to undress slowly. "How fucking crazy I went thinking someone might hurt you?"
"Tell me," she breathes.
I pull my cut off and then my shirt over my head, revealing the tattoos that cover my chest and arms. Her eyes trace the ink hungrily. "I wanted to kill him with my bare hands. Would have, if I'd found him here with you."
My jeans hit the floor, followed by my boxers. My cock springs free, already hard and aching for her touch.
"I've never felt possessive like this before," I continue, wrapping my hand around my shaft and stroking slowly. "Never wanted to brand someone as mine so completely."
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips as she watches my hand move. "Please," she whispers.
"Please what?"
"Please let me taste you."
"Open your mouth," I command.