My hands wander along his back, along his neck, and when I tangle my fingers into his hair—fireworks.
Chevy’s moving, his feet guiding me back. I follow along in the dance and he uses his arms to brace my body when we hit the wall. The edges of my mouth tilt up as we continue to kiss. I’ve missed all of this. The way Chevy’s hands wander all of me as his lips devour mine, the way he presses his body into mine as if we share one skin, the way there’s an air of reverence in how some touches are so strong and then other caresses so soft that I could cry with the tenderness.
The familiar heat in my bloodstream grows hotter and our kiss borders on out of control. We know each other, feel each other, and we know all of the buttons to push. His hands on my face, my fingers curling along his back. If I shift left and he shifts right, we’ll be arrested for very indecent things.
Arrested. Police officers. There’s a window.
My palm to his chest, a push and Chevy sucks in a deep breath as he backs away. Like always, after a kiss, he keeps my hand. My heart melts.
His eyes are on fire, full of light, full of happiness. If only he could always look this way. “We’re not done.”
I’m not sure if he’s referring to kissing or to our relationship or to the messed-up conversation we were having about me being scared and what I’m hiding.
A knock on the door, then Chevy pulls me close for a hug and a short kiss on the lips. He looks down into my eyes again and I’d give anything if we could stay locked in this room forever.
“I’ve got you,” he says.
I wish he did.
“I love you.” Because I do love him. I’ve always loved him. Even when sometimes that love bordered on hate, I loved him. I love him and it needed to be said.
The sun rises by his expression alone. “I love you.”
Another knock, Chevy lets me go, and when he walks out, he’s greeted by Eli muttering, “About fucking time.”
I fall back against the wall, wrap my arms around my stomach in an effort to fight off the cold that being alone again after such warmth has created. There’s got to be another way to survive the Riot. There has to be another way that keeps my family alive and me with Chevy.
CHEVY
ROLLER COASTER.
The lows have been damn low and the highs—Violet told me she loved me. Honest to God pinched myself in the hall to confirm it wasn’t a dream. But the high is now evened out with the anger vibrating beneath my skin.
I just saw the men who hurt Violet. Just confirmed they were the ones responsible for taking us and making her bleed. I’m in a small room with a one-way mirror. Nothing to see on the other side anymore. I’ve done my job, and if Violet is up for it, she’ll be in here to point out the same assholes.
It’s tough to trust the system to do their job and grant Violet the justice she deserves. Even harder to not find a way past the glass and the police officers to pound the hell out of each and every guy who caused her to be scared. But this is how we’re playing the game. “How long will they be in prison?”
“We’re going for as long as we can get.” Detective Jake Barlow is the one who answers and it’s the first time I’ve heard him speak. He was one of the people present during the interview at the hospital, was there when Violet and I were shown pictures, but someone else always talked. He stayed in the background, hovering and listening.
He’s a commanding man, even in silence, but I understand why he’s stayed quiet. While he’s been investigating the Riot, he was never 100 percent convinced the Terror were legit. He pushed Razor on a situation regarding Razor’s mom, possibly hoping to rattle Razor into telling him something that would nail our club or the Riot. What he never expected was Razor staying true to the club.
Since the kidnapping, the Terror have shifted away from radio silence with Jake Barlow. We need him and he needs us. A mutually beneficial relationship. This guy, he’s the chief of the tribe when it comes to knowledge of the Riot and that’s what I need—knowledge.
“I’m fine with these bastards dying in prison,” Detective Barlow continues.
Amen.
“Can we talk?” I say. “Just me and you.”
He assesses me. Head to toe. The way I do to guys when I walk into Mom’s bar and I’m trying to figure out who could cause problems.
The two other people in the room look to him as to what to do, but he watches me. “Your grandfather and uncle are set that they or a lawyer be around anytime I talk with you or Violet.”
Yeah. They are. “I need to talk with you.”
From the greedy set of his eyes, he’s dying to talk alone with me. This kidnapping is a big break for him with the Riot and Eli has mentioned the detective wants more than what Violet and I are giving. Jake Barlow disagrees with the DA and he wanted us to go for prosecution for everyone involved. He wants Skull and his son’s head on a silver platter.
“He’s a minor,” the woman in the pencil suit says.