Page 88 of Burning Ember

A heavy feeling hits the bottom of my stomach. “Nah, Nick, not a good idea.”

“Nonsense. I’d like to meet the girl who’s responsible for all this.” She gestures toward the food. “Looks like we might need her help plannin’ the party is all.”

“Nick.”

“What? We’re not gonna scratch her eyes out. Especially, since she’s hands off, right? So no reason we can’t all be civil. Plus maybe before you guys ruin her, we can recruit her over to our side.”

I pull in a deep breath. “You’ll behave?”

She laughs. “We’ll behave.”

This could go two ways. Bad. Or very, very bad. Pumpkin is guaranteed to be the boys’ new favorite toy if she becomes a clubpiece. Not that she will, because, after all, we have a deal. But the old ladies don’t know that. And seeing what their men are looking at day in and day out while they’re here and not at home, is only going to incite more fear and jealously in them. More than they already deal with on a daily basis. This is the Old Lady drama I wanted to avoid today.

But if I know Nick like I do, she’s not going to take no for an answer.

I think about Nick talkin’ to Doll the way she just did to Lil’ and my body hardens. Protectiveness surges through me. If Nick senses Doll’s weak, she’ll try to break her. Doll already wants to leave. The last thing she needs is someone else treating her like shit, putting her down, and telling her she doesn’t belong here.

I’ve done enough of that already.

We can only see the world and the people in it more clearly, when we let our past and prejudices fall away.

MAVERICK

As I near Dozer’s door, I hear something that makes my footsteps falter and a heavy feeling unfurl in my stomach. The door’s slightly ajar. I edge it open as I enter the room, careful not to make a sound.

Doll’s standing against the far wall. Her hand pressed to the windowpane as she peers out. I take silent steps until I have a better view of her profile.

The sunshine coming through the window highlights her sandy freckles, brightens her blue-green eyes, which are wide with excitement and makes her red hair look like a waterfall of fire over her shoulders. Her rosy, pink lips are parted and every so often, the sound that drew me in here escapes from them. It’s a breathy laugh, warm, genuine and it’s accompanied by a small smile.

Witnessing both sends a trickle of warmth through my chest.

She’s as colorful as a rainbow in spring, and seeing her like this makes me feel like I’ve been stuck in a long, cold, hard winter for too long.

A thought strikes me . . .This is what she enjoys? What makes her laugh? Kids playing?So much so, that she’s pressed against the window, wishing she were outside with them. Not the act of a junkie. Or a girl simply here for a good time. Or even someone who’s only looking out for herself.

Guilt funnels through me. At every turn, she’s proven she doesn’t fit the mold I crafted her in and it guts me to know I’ve done nothing but make her days here hell. I’ve accused her of everything under the sun. Insulted her. Degraded her. Treated her like a clubpiece and the club’s personal slave.

My slave.

If that wasn’t enough, I’ve attacked her, drawn her blood, and left my permanent mark on her skin. Something I can’t take back no matter how much I want to.

The ache in my chest burns to an unbearable degree.

Doll rises to her tiptoes and leans forward as if she’s trying to get a better look at something. But a moment later, she lets out a disappointed sigh and drops back to the balls of her feet. She turns. At the sight of me, she gasps and clasps her hand over her heart. “How long have you been standing there?”

Studying her stricken face, I shrug. “A while.”

Her cheeks pinken as she frowns. Her little fist curls against her sternum. “Did you come to make sure Taz followed your orders?”

Thank God I kept my briefs on when I changed, because her feistiness sends all my blood rushing south. I’m going to need all the help I can get keeping my erection in check if this is how she’s going to be.

“I’m guessing he didn’t need to tie you up?”

“No.” She glares at me. “I thought you wanted me to leave?”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

Her gorgeous eyes fire with anger. “You’ve changed your mind? Because you like having a stray cat to kick around or cut up when the mood strikes you?”