Page 14 of Blood & Honey (Saint’s Outlaws MC: Deadman’s Beach, AL #2)
Chapter Thirteen
I awaken to find Blood gone. My eyes and lips swollen from a night of crying followed by one of raw passion.
My husband made love to me for what may very well be the first and last time.
He’s downstairs with his men right now, gearing up to ride off into danger.
To face one of the people responsible for his father’s death.
A lot of blame has been shouldered by Shelby, and I know she played her role, but she wasn’t the only one responsible.
I’m not saying she’s innocent, but she’s not the only guilty party.
I’ve been around Momma Tee through the years, and that woman has always given me bad vibes. I had no idea she was the one pulling all the strings behind the scenes, manipulating my sister into doing her dirty work.
The sister I grew up with, the one who raised me, never would have done those terrible things without outside influence.
I just want to ask Shelby why. Why did she say yes to doing these unforgivable deeds?
Why didn’t she go to Blood for help? Why didn’t she go to the sheriff or anyone at all?
Was she really that far gone? That terrible of a person?
She had to know what the fallout would be when it all came crashing down. Did she think they’d get away with it?
The door opens to Blood’s room, and I glance over at my husband as he creeps in to bring me breakfast in bed. “Mornin’,” he says all rough and sexy.
My thoughts about Shelby are temporarily forgotten. All my mind is on now is how good he looks in his denim and leather holding a breakfast plate and how I want him to eat me instead.
“Hey, sleepyhead.”
“Hi.” I let out a yawn and sit up against the headboard. “Smells good,” I tell him. “But you look even tastier,” I taunt and lick my lips.
“Baby, don’t do this to me right now.” He hands me the plate and bends down to kiss my forehead. “I’ve gotta leave soon.”
“And yet you took time out of your day of murder and mayhem to serve me breakfast in bed. Am I a lucky girl or what?”
“I don’t know how lucky I’d consider yourself, but I’m told I’m a catch.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmm. We’ll see how you did with these eggs, and then we can talk about it.”
“As long as my dick cancels out the bad score my cooking may earn me.” He laughs, and I shake my head.
“You’re terrible.”
“But I’m yours.”
That he is.
“Yes,” I confirm, my heart swelling with an equal mixture of both love and fear.
“You’re my man.” I cup his rough cheek, sweeping my thumb over the stubble.
His green eyes darken to inky black as presses his lips to mine in a searing kiss that leaves me craving more.
Much more than he has time to give right now.
“I’ve gotta go, babe.” The words sound as though they are being ripped from his throat, weighted heavily in reluctance as he nuzzles into my touch a bit more, kissing me again. This time with more intimacy and longing. His tongue sweeps against mine in a way that promises there’s more to come.
He breaks away first, and I already miss him.
“Okay.” He licks his lips and smiles, revealing he enjoys the taste of me there. “I really gotta go now.”
“I know.” I watch as he pulls on a double-shoulder gun holster, followed by his cut. The weight of his role as president crosses his features as they go from sated to tension filled. The reality of this situation hits me.
He could walk out of this room and never return.
“Stay safe, Blood.” The tremble in my voice betrays me, revealing the jab of fear I’m trying to keep at bay.
“You won’t even have time to miss me. Promise me you’ll stay here and do what Tequila and Guts say.”
“I promise,” I tell him, attempting to sound more confident than I feel.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to just to sit here and wait, not knowing what’s happening.
But I promise anyway because I know how much it means to him not to have to worry about me.
“See you soon.” I blow him a kiss and hope for the best.
“You’re totally cheating,” Guts accuses Tequila when he returns from the bathroom.
“Bullshit. Ask Ashley? I didn’t touch the fucking table.”
“Fair enough. We all know the only balls you play with are your own.”
“What the fuck does that even mean? It’s not an insult, bro. I don’t go around touching other men’s nuts.” Tequila shoots a look my way, and I shrug. I don’t know what the hell he’s trying to say either.
“I meant tits, dumbass.”
“Who calls tits balls? Fucking no one, that’s who?”
“Your mom.”
“Mom jokes are so tired.” Tequila pokes his pool stick at Gut’s ass, and he jumps about ten feet in the air.
“You motherfucker!” His cheeks redden as he turns on him and the two of them spar with their sticks like a couple of kids playing with light sabers.
“Hey Ashley, whose side are you on?” Guts yells at me.
I’m surprised at the question. I thought I was invisible in their childish, testosterone-fueled squabble. “Um.” I tap my chin. “I don’t really have a side. This has zero to do with me.”
“You’ve gotta pick,” Tequila chimes in, not looking away from Guts as they continue their duel.
“I don’t know. Guts, I guess,” I say, deciding to go with the underdog as his cue stick just broke in half.
Tequila stops mid-strike, turning to look at me with an incredulous expression. “What the fuck? Seriously?”
Guts whacks him on the head with what’s left of his stick. I shrug and fetch them both another beer. It isn’t like I have anything better to do to pass the time. At least they are entertaining. I’ll give them that.
“Movement,” Tequila says, pointing at one of the monitors. “Isn’t that your friend from the restaurant?” he looks my way. I hand him his beer as Guts moves toward the entrance.
“What’s Melissa doing here?” I mutter.
“It’s cool,” Guts says. “Prez said she was coming.”
Since when do Blood and Melissa talk?
Melissa walks in, and she lights up like the Fourth of July fireworks when she sees Tequila.
“Hey girl,” she calls out, giving me a wave, trying to play it cool, and failing miserably.
“Hey yourself?” I stare at her with pinched brows.
“I got your text,” she answers my unspoken question.
I pull my cell phone out of my back pocket and, sure enough, before I was even awake this morning, there’s a message inviting her to come hang out.
My heart squeezes in my chest at the thought of my tough as nails biker doing something so sweet and thoughtful with so much already on his plate.
I guess he wanted to make sure I had someone with me.
Either to distract me or to comfort me if something bad should happen.
We chitchat a little about nothing special.
I don’t tell her about Ash. I don’t think Blood would want me to share that information.
At least not while the rescue mission is underway.
Her attention breaks from me and settles on Tequila.
She’s asking him questions about what kind of motorcycle he has and dancing around the topic of whether or not he has a woman.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” She finally asks, the slight flush in her cheeks giving away her interest in him.
Tequila, ever the charmer, leans back in his chair, a smug grin spreading across his face. “Nah, no ball and chain for me. Just me and my bike.”
“And these nuts,” Guts says, grabbing his crotch.
Tequila kicks his chair, and Guts falls backwards still laughing.
“I gotta pee,” I announce, and Melissa follows me.
“I see what’s going on here,” I tease her once we are out of earshot of the guys, not even trying to hide my smirk.
“What?” she shoots back. “You aren’t the only one who can nab a biker.”
“Out of the two of them, Tequila is the hotter one.”
“I know, right?” She smiles big, smoothing her hair and checking her makeup in the mirror. “Where is everyone, though?”
“Oh, um. I don’t know. Club business or whatever,” I answer, hoping she lets it go.
“Hmm, well that’s just more of their attention for me.” She giggles, and we make our way back to the bar area.
“So,” Guts starts. “Which one of us are you interested in?”
I sigh at his antics, but Melissa surprises all of us when she says, “Both.”
Tequila nearly spits out his beer.
“The ladies never can resist my charm,” Guts says.
“Don’t let it go to your head. I think you’re both hot. But if I had to choose, I guess I’d go with Tequila.”
“Who says you have to choose?” Tequila high-fives Guts.
“Men are pigs,” I say, mostly to myself because now they are both on either side of her fighting for her attention. “Hello, Earth to Melissa. You’re supposed to be here to keep me company.”
“Don’t ruin this for me. It’s like my dream.”
“What is? Two perverted bikers fighting over who is going to get in your pants first?”
“Exactly,” she says.
“Wait, how old are you?” Tequila asks her, and I roll my eyes.
This is my own personal hell. Being trapped here with the three of them while wishing I were with Blood. My worry for him returns tenfold, and I wish I could call him. That I could hear his voice.
I twist my fingers together, ignoring the fact that my bestie is making out with both of the prospects who are supposed to be protecting me.
Where are you, Blood?