Chapter 28 #2
Tilting her head, she says, “You’re angry.”
No fucking shit, I’m angry. The fear is dissipating, the knot in my stomach untwisting. What’s left is this burning need to put another bullet in someone’s head. And yell. I definitely need to yell.
“Angry isn’t the word for it.”
“I’m sorry I took your bike. I?—”
“That’s what you think this is about? I don’t give a shit about my bike.
What the hell were you thinking leaving me that damn note?
I thought you left. I thought you fucking…
” Deep. Fucking. Breaths. “Instead you decided to take on a biker gang? By yourself? You’re smart.
You know those men. What you are to them. You had to know how that would end.”
“I had a plan, okay? They’re not as loyal as the Sinners. I was gonna cut them in on what I stole in exchange for a head start out of South Bay. Get them away from my family. From you, from?—”
“It was a stupid fucking plan, Grace.”
She grunts, face tilted up in defiance. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“You always have a choice.”
She steps back, and when I grab for her, she slaps my hands away. “Don’t give me that. You know better than anyone that sometimes choices are made for us. They threatened you, Linc. You. They said if I didn’t give myself up, they’d kill you.”
“Then you should have let them!” I yell, my voice echoing off the side of the garage.
“There are a hell of a lot of bodies in the ground because of me, Grace. And you sure as fuck are not gonna be one of them. If it comes down to me or you, you better choose yourself every damn time. You don’t get to die.
You don’t get to sacrifice yourself for me. You don’t get to make that call.”
As the rain falls harder, she pokes my chest, anger sliding over her features like the droplets rolling down her cheeks. “This is my life, Decker. I get to decide who I make sacrifices for.”
“Not just your life. Mine too. And this family you say you care about? We’d all have to live with your sacrifice .”
“I’ve barely been back in their lives a month. They’d have survived. If giving myself over means keeping war out of South Bay, keeping them safe, you safe, then yeah. I’d have done it a hundred times over. I won’t apologize for that.”
“Yeah? And what about me?”
She rears back a little, brow furrowed. “What about you?”
“What the hell was I supposed to do with that fucking note?”
“You were supposed to think the worst of me. Then you were supposed to move on. This is… this is getting complicated. You and I… we’re not supposed to be this. Whatever this is.”
The adrenaline leaches from my body quickly, my anger the only thing keeping me upright. “Right. And leave me with this mess. That damn note. It’s that easy for you, huh?”
“ None of this is easy!” she shouts back, sounding as furious as I am. “You think I wanted to leave? You think I wanted any of this? To feel this way about you?”
Pain lances my chest. “If you felt anything for me, you’d have never done what you did tonight.”
The rain beats down, and she steps closer. We’re doing that thing we do. Chest to chest. Waiting for the other to back down.
“Bullshit!” she yells. “That’s such fucking bullshit, Linc.
You keep saying that you’re not a good man, and maybe you aren’t, but you are desperate to play the fucking hero.
You don’t get to be the only one who makes sacrifices.
Who draws blood for the people you love.
And you sure as hell don’t get to martyr yourself when shit goes south. You don’t get to die for me either.”
“Then you don’t get to cut yourself out of my life without a fucking explanation,” I grit out. “You don’t get to walk away. That isn’t how this ends.”
She shivers, but she doesn’t back down. “I don’t even know what this is!”
“So? It’s something, isn’t it? So yeah. You don’t get to leave.”
“Fine,” she yells.
“ Fine. ”
Grace’s fists are clenched, scowl cemented on her face, stance staggered, like she’s on the verge of throwing that fist forward and taking her frustrations out on my jaw.
Beautifully fucking ruthless.
I yank her into my chest and slam my lips to hers, taking her in a hard, punishing kiss. When she whimpers, I pull back, easing the pressure on her bruised, broken skin, loosening my grip at her throat.
In response, she fists my jacket, tugging me closer.
“Don’t do that. Don’t hold back because of what happened to me,” she says. “I don’t need gentle. I’ve never needed that.”
I skim my knuckle down her jaw. “Then what do you need, Gracie?”
“I need your hands on me, the bruises you leave on my thighs, the marks on my throat. I need that special kind of hurt that only you can give me.” She takes a breath, fear simmering behind her eyes.
Adrenaline still coursing through her veins.
“I need… I need to forget the hands on me that weren’t yours.
What they threatened to do. Make me forget, Linc.
Please. I don’t want nice. I don’t want the boy scout. I want you. The real you.”
The real me . It’s not always easy to remember who that is. Somewhere between the cop who lives by the badge, who protects his town at any cost, and the man with a gun at his back and blood on his hands, who will selfishly betray that same badge to protect himself.
The boy scout or the outlaw.
It’s not as simple as being one or the other.
Some days, I try to do right by the badge, by my father.
William Decker. The man who raised a boy who wasn’t his.
Who engrained in me the same set of values he took to the grave.
Other days, I couldn’t give two shits about the uniform, so long as I feel something, anything. Grace makes me feel something.
When I don’t move, she pulls me down by my collar and presses her lips back to mine.
She forces my hand down harder on her throat, taking what she wants from me, what she needs.
Lips glued to hers, tongues dancing, mouths mashing, I yank her up by her ass.
She circles her legs around my waist, her arms around my neck.
Our kiss grows harder, rougher, more urgent.
She moans into my mouth, weaving her fingers into my hair. “Fuck me, Linc. I need you to fuck me.”
I grin against her lips, my hands wandering, and nip at her throat as I slam her back against the siding of the house. I’m gonna take her right here. I don’t give a fuck who sees.
Gracie Donovan is mine. And I want everyone to fucking know it.
I break away, the fury storming in my chest finally settling. “You left, Grace. You fucking left. And if you would have… fuck. If they’d…” I huff out a gulp of air. “It would have killed me. Don’t ever fucking do that again. Please.”
Her face softens, because god, she’s got me begging again. “I was trying to protect you.”
“I don’t need protecting. I need you alive. I need you safe.”
She runs her fingers over my cheek, and pain ignites just beneath my skin. I inhale a sharp breath. I’d forgotten about the bullet that could have ended me had I not moved when I did.
A shaky breath escapes her. “They almost got you.”
We’re quiet a moment, staring at each other, our breathing ragged, the rain hammering down on the pavement around us.
“Yeah. And they almost got you . They’ll answer for this. When we’re done, they’ll know. No one fucking comes for you without consequences.”
With a nod, she pulls me in again. It’s dark, the rain turning torrential, coming down in sheets and mostly concealing us as I peel off her tank top, getting lost in her kiss, her touch, the softness of her skin against the roughness of my palms. And fuck.
The way she moves, responds to my touch.
It’s so damn easy to shut out the rest of the world, forget everything and just be in this moment with her.
Body against mine. Teeth sinking into my lip, her hands skimming down my blood-soaked shirt and ripping it off. I’ll need to burn that later.
Rain pelts my naked back as our bodies slide against one other, water soaking us from head to toe. Pinning her tighter against the house, I shift her weight to one side and find the waistband of her shorts. “Need these off, Gracie.”
She unbuttons them quickly, then helps me shove them, along with her panties, down her legs. I yank her back up, and she tightens her thighs around my waist and reaches for my belt. She lowers my zipper, and then she’s wrapping her fingers around my cock.
“Fuck.” I steady my forehead against hers as she pumps me up and down, guiding me closer to her entrance.
Hoisting her up, I slot myself between her legs. Then I slowly lower her down. I like this part. Watching her expression as I stretch her, the way her mouth opens and her brows furrow. The pain that comes when she digs her nails into my skin.
“Big breath, baby,” I whisper.
She exhales, the tension easing from her muscles, and I push in a little deeper. God, she’s pretty when she’s taking my dick. She’s fucking made for me. The rough way I need to fuck her, to handle her, she takes it perfectly, needs it just as badly as I do.
It’s this life. The blood, the bodies, the violence of it all. Like she said, there’s no room for gentle.
“God, Gracie,” I murmur as I finally bottom out.
I immediately pick up my pace, tightening my grip on her ass, giving her those bruises she likes so much.
My side twinges, my ribs aching, reminding me of the hits I took for her tonight. It only roughens my movements. Making me fucking feral for her, desperate to get closer, to claim her, to slam into her and savour the hurt. A kind of pain I’d take for her again and again.
Thunder cracks above us, the sky lighting up as the storm rolls by. We don’t stop. I barely hear it. Barely feel the water slicking my skin. I only feel her . The fear that’s finally dissolving, the anger slowly draining away.
“Harder,” she says, tone desperate, needy, her own kind of plea.
I pull out and ease her to her feet. Then I guide her towards my bike and bend her over the machine. Hands on her hips, I plunge back into her. The cry she releases is guttural, but I don’t slow. I take her rough, like I need to, like she needs me to.
Twisting my fingers in her hair, I wrench her head to the side, forcing her to look back at me. “How’s that, Gracie? Hard enough for you?”
“Y-yes,” she moans as she clutches for the handlebars to keep herself upright, to hold on and endure what I’m giving her.
“Fuck, you’re so goddamn wet. Hand between your legs, Grace. Rub that weeping, greedy little cunt until you’re coming on my cock.”
I take her harder, faster, as she works her clit.
It’s a fucking beautiful sight, watching her come.
Feeling the way her pussy clamps down on me, as if desperate to milk every damn drop from me.
I can’t fucking control myself, can’t hold back.
The second I feel it, I’ve got no choice but to let go, to ride it with her.
Dipping my head back, I close my eyes and pound into her, the rain hammering against my face, fucking my release into her perfect, throbbing cunt. The whole act is… healing. Cleansing. The water washing away all that blood and my sins. Leaving this in its wake. This perfect fucking woman.
I collapse, splayed out over her, her body limp beneath mine. My lips find skin, kissing the back of her neck, her shoulders, the bruise forming on her cheek.
On shaky hands, she pushes up. I pull out of her and twist her around. We’re quiet as the rain hammers down on the pavement.
She loops her arms around my waist and tips her head back, her eyes glassy. “Thank you. For coming for me.”
I take her face in my hands. “I will always fucking come for you, Gracie. There isn’t a corner of this earth I wouldn’t drag you back from. I’ll always find you. I’ll always protect you.”
She swallows, her grip on me tightening. “I’m scared. I don’t know how to fix this.”
I brush my thumb over her damp cheek. “We fix it by killing them. All of them. But I can’t do this by myself. I’m just one guy. Shit’s about to get bloody. I need your brothers. The Sinners are the only ones who can take these assholes.”
Grace nods. “I’m scared of that too. Of what Axe will do when he finds out.”
“Axe gets nowhere near you. Or I’ll take him out myself. I’m in this with you, Grace. No backing down. Got it?”
She breaks into a watery smile, and goddamn if it doesn’t make my chest tight. Because I mean it. Regardless of what happens—with the Raiders, the Sinners, fucking Allen—she comes out of this alive.
Even if I don’t.