Chapter 6 — Chuck #2
"I have to. My next rotation starts Monday in Millbrook. I can't just not show up."
"I know." I take her hand, lacing our fingers together. "So we have tonight. Tomorrow morning. Then you drive to Millbrook and we figure out what happens next."
"What if nothing happens next? What if tomorrow you realize this was just three days and you're fine with it ending?"
I turn to look at her directly. "Is that what you think is going to happen?"
"I don't know. I've never done this before. Wanted someone this fast. It doesn't make sense."
"No. It doesn't." I bring her hand up and kiss her knuckles. "But I'm here anyway."
She leans her head on my shoulder and we sit there quiet. Eventually she says, "I'm hungry."
"Me too. Want to get dinner?"
"Where?"
"There's a diner about twenty minutes out that does steaks. Best in three counties."
"You're always telling me about the best food places."
"That's because I've eaten in a lot of places and I know which ones are worth it." I stand and pull her up with me. "Come on. Let's go eat and not think about Sunday for a few hours."
The diner is exactly what I described. Small, family-owned, been here forty years.
We order steaks and talk about everything except tomorrow.
She tells me about towns she's worked in, about disasters and successes, about the people she's met.
I tell her about contacts across six states, about the intelligence network I've built, about the satisfaction of preventing problems before they become wars.
Around seven we head back to my place because her rental feels too temporary and my place at least feels like neutral ground.
Inside I pull beers from the fridge and we end up on the couch. She fits against my side like she was made for the space and we sit there drinking and talking while the sun goes down outside.
"Can I ask you something?" she says.
"Anything."
"Last night you said Perry died alone. That it shook you. What did you mean?"
I'm quiet for a moment, figuring out how to answer.
"Perry was a good brother. Solid, dependable, quiet.
Did his job, didn't complain. But he lived alone, didn't have anyone waiting for him to come home.
When Marrow killed him, he'd been dead two hours before anyone noticed he didn't show for his shift.
" I pause. "Made me realize I've spent twenty-five years building a life just like his.
Always moving, never staying, no one waiting.
And one day I'll die and it might take hours for anyone to notice. "
Her hand finds mine. "You have the club. They'd notice."
"Yeah. Eventually. But there's a difference between having brothers who'd notice you're gone and having someone who's waiting for you specifically to come home." I look at her. "Before you I didn't think I wanted that. Thought freedom and movement were enough. Now I'm not so sure."
"Is that what I am? Someone waiting?"
"I don't know. Maybe." I squeeze her hand. "But I know the idea of you leaving tomorrow and me not knowing when I'll see you again sits wrong."
She's quiet for a long time. Then she says, "My next rotation is four weeks. Then I'm supposed to circle back to Bloomfield for follow-up. Six weeks from now."
"Six weeks is a long time."
"Yeah. It is."
We sit with that. Six weeks. Might as well be six years the way it feels right now.
Around eight she shifts to straddle my lap, facing me, and the beer bottle in my hand goes somewhere I don't track because her mouth is on mine and her hands are in my hair.
This kiss is different than the others. Slower. More deliberate. Like we're both trying to memorize it.
I slide my hands under her shirt and she arches into the touch. When I pull her shirt over her head she doesn't hesitate, just reaches back and unhooks her bra. I cup her breasts and lower my head to take one nipple into my mouth.
The sound she makes goes straight through me.
I work her slowly, taking my time, learning all over again what makes her gasp. My mouth on her breasts, my hands on her hips, thumbs tracing patterns on her stomach. She's moving against me, seeking friction, and I give it to her by rocking my hips up.
"Bedroom," she breathes.
"Here first."
I work her jeans open and slide my hand inside. She's already wet and when my fingers find her clit she gasps against my neck. I work her with steady pressure while my mouth stays on her breast, alternating between nipples, using teeth just enough to make her shake.
"Chuck, please."
"Please what, darlin'?"
"I need more."
I pull my hand back and she whimpers at the loss. Work her jeans down over her hips and she stands just long enough to kick them off along with her underwear. Then she's naked in my living room and I take a second just to look at her.
Soft curves, wide hips, thick thighs. Beautiful.
"You're wearing too many clothes," she says.
I strip fast and then pull her back into my lap. She positions herself above me and sinks down slow. We both groan as she takes me completely.
For a moment we just stay like that, connected, looking at each other. Her hands on my shoulders, mine on her hips. The living room is dim in the evening light and quiet except for our breathing.
Then she starts moving.
Slow at first, rolling her hips, finding a rhythm. I let her control it, watching her face, her body, the way her breasts move with each motion. My hands map her curves, sliding from her hips to her waist to her breasts and back down.
"God, you feel good," I tell her.
She smiles and picks up the pace. I meet her thrust for thrust, hands gripping her hips, guiding her movements. The angle has me deep and she's making sounds that drive me crazy, little gasps and moans with every roll of her hips.
I slide one hand between us and find her clit. Press circles with my thumb and her rhythm falters.
"Don't stop," she gasps.
"Not planning on it."
I work her with steady pressure while she rides me, watching her climb higher. Her nails dig into my shoulders and her head falls back and I can feel her getting close, feel her tightening around me.
"Come on, darlin'. Let me feel it."
She breaks apart with a cry, her whole body shaking, and the sensation of her coming around me drags my own orgasm out. I thrust up hard and follow her over, groaning her name.
She collapses forward onto my chest and we breathe together, heartbeats gradually slowing.
"That was..." she starts.
"Yeah."
We stay like that for a while. Eventually she lifts her head and kisses me soft and thorough. "Bedroom now?"
"Good idea."
We make it to the bedroom and fall into bed together. She curls into my side and I pull the sheet over us and we lie there in the growing dark.
Around nine my phone buzzes on the nightstand.
I ignore it.
It buzzes again. And again.
"You should check that," Isla says quietly.
I grab it reluctantly. Three texts from Cain, one from Clint. I read them and everything goes cold.
"What's wrong?" Isla asks, sitting up.
"Marrow activity two counties over. Multiple members congregating at a location we've been watching." I'm already getting out of bed, grabbing clothes. "Clint wants me and Cain running intel tonight. Figure out what they're planning."
"Now?"
"Yeah. Now." I pull on jeans and find a shirt. "I need to go to the clubhouse. Could be nothing, could be them planning something big. Either way we need to know."
She watches me dress and I can see her processing. "How long will you be gone?"
"Don't know. Few hours maybe. Could be all night if the situation develops." I sit on the edge of the bed and take her hand. "I need you to go back to your rental. Lock the doors. Don't open them for anyone you don't know. Keep your phone on."
"You're scaring me."
"Good. I want you scared enough to be careful." I kiss her hard and fast. "This is probably nothing. But if Marrow's planning something and they know about you, you could be a target. So you lock yourself in and you stay there until I call."
"Okay."
I stand and grab my cut, shrugging it on. Check my phone. Clint sent another text: Now, Chuck.
"I have to go." I look at her sitting in my bed and everything in me wants to stay. "I'll call you as soon as I know something."
"Be careful."
"Always am."
I kiss her one more time and then force myself to walk out of the bedroom. Out of the house. Onto my bike.
The engine roars to life and I pull out fast, heading toward the clubhouse while my phone buzzes with updates from Cain.
Behind me Isla's alone at my place and tomorrow she leaves for Millbrook and right now Marrow might be planning something that could burn everything down.
I push the bike faster and try not to think about all the ways this could go wrong.