I eyed the girl who was turning into a woman, munching on gluten free toast and organic eggs. The girl that was my entire world. I would protect her with my last breath. Do anything to keep her safe and happy. And I wasn’t sure having connections with the Sons of Templar would accomplish that.
Bull pulled up to the clubhouse, and for once it didn’t give him that feeling of relief. Of purpose. The sight of the clubhouse, the garage and the club’s flag flying in the wind didn’t do their job of keeping the demons at bay. That’s because something had already done that. Not something. Someone.
Mia.
He could still feel the sweet taste of her cunt on his tongue. Feel her nails raking into his back, drawing blood, making his cock pulse. Christ, he could still smell the vanilla, as if she was right there with him, on his fuckin’ bike. He had fucked up. Not only by fucking her in the first place; that was the huge colossal fuck up. Because now he was like an addict who had his first taste. He thought he could withstand her after the first time. But then he heard the fucker Lucky flirting, trying to lay claim on her. She was his. The thought of her with his brother made him grip the handles of his bike as he pulled up.
Then she turned up on his doorstep in the middle of the night. Fucking barefoot. Wearing a scrap of lace barely covered with a flannel. The tiny thing was like a goddamned wet dream with her tousled hair and rosy cheeks. Then she started at him. Yelled at him. He had a fuckin’ gun in his hand, for crissakes, but that didn’t stop her, not his Wildcat. She had pounced.
The moment he opened the door to her his cock hardened. But then, seeing her face redden, watching her throw him sass, it barely stayed in his pants. He had no choice but to claim her mouth. And when she fought him, slapped him, it had taken every ounce of his control to wait while she chewed it over in her mind. He was beyond fuckin’ glad the moment she launched her little body at him. He shuddered to think of what would have happened had she not.
Then he had tasted every inch of her. Fucked her with abandon. With a fury he had never unleashed. She took it. She fuckin’ loved it.
And then he had seen it. In her eyes. He had seen something that threatened his very core. Something he couldn’t describe but something that planted deep. Something that had him, right now, sitting on his bike in front of his clubhouse, feeling the closest thing to satisfied he had been in forever. Which made him fuckin’ furious. He couldn’t have this. Couldn’t have her. But he couldn’t not have her either.
He pushed off his bike and glowered at a prospect who was milling about. “What do you think you’re doing, fucktard?” he snapped. “You want to get a patch, you don’t fuckin’ stand around with your finger up your ass. Make yourself fuckin’ useful!” he bellowed, and the prospect paled.
He didn’t wait to see what he did; he had church.
He saw, once he made it to the room that had become his place of worship, he was the last to arrive. The look on his brothers’ faces communicated that this was a rare occurrence. He ignored this. His glower stayed in place, although he gave a chin lift to Cade.
Cade nodded back. “Brother,” he greeted.
Bull took his place at his left. Brock was at his right, Steg beside him. Steg had stepped down as president after being shot; considering the fact he almost died, he was in no state to ride for months. Not being able to ride meant not being able to rule. Cade had stepped up. It had been almost two years since, and Cade had continued to be president even after Steg had recovered. Bull had half expected that to turn sour, considering the bad blood brewing between them before. But for some reason it hadn’t. Steg seemed content, and the club was running well under Cade’s rule. Running legit.
“Now that we’re all here, we need to get straight to business,” Cade addressed the room. “We all know that another club over in Hope has been testing our boundaries, looking to extend their patch.” He paused, leaning forward to clasp his hands together. “Up until now they’ve been nothing but a vague annoyance, one that is easily ignored.” He stopped again, looking around the table. “Unfortunately, they have upgraded themselves to a pain in my ass. Not only does it seem like they’re recruiting solely to gain numbers, which is worrying in itself, it seems the fuckers have been trying to push product within our town,” he declared tightly.
Bull’s fists clenched. Even though the Sons were legit, or as legit as they could be, that did not mean other clubs could get away with shit. It was known, widely fuckin’ known within all MCs, that the Sons did not tolerate drugs being sold in Amber. It was a policy strictly enforced throughout the years. To do so, especially by another MC, was tantamount to a declaration of war.
“You’re fuckin’ shitting me,” Asher bit out from down the table.
Lucky shook his head. “Got word a couple of hours ago. Their patch was seen doing a deal at the lumber yard.” He flexed his knuckles. “Had a… conversation with the foreman. It seems his workers have been purchasing product for fuckin’ weeks.”
There were hisses around the table. This was an ultimate disrespect. The club may not run guns anymore, but they were not to be fucked with.
“We’re not letting this shit stand,” Brock said evenly.
“Too fuckin’ right we’re not,” Steg added roughly. “This pissant club is going to regret the day they put on their cuts. You do not fuck with us.”
Nods around the table.
“Steg’s right,” Cade said, his face blank. “Goes without saying we gotta play this smart. ATF may not be up our asses anymore, but we’re still on their Christmas card list. No to mention that fucker Crawford would love to get us locked up over unpaid parking tickets, if he could.” Cade looked around once more, his eyes settling on Bull. “We’re doing this smart,” he repeated. “But we’ll make sure these fuckers get the message.”