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BLYTHE

I stretch, my body aching in places it hasn’t in a long time. Reed woke me up a couple of hours ago and made love to me again. I wanted a one and done, but now I know I can’t do that to either of us. I roll to the side and stand from the bed. The door is closed, and Moose is lying next to it as if he’s protecting me. I wonder where Reed is for all of two seconds, until I smell bacon and coffee. I find his shirt and slip it on. My panties are ruined on the floor, so I drop them in the trash when I go to the bathroom. Pulling my hair up into a messy knot, I notice all the love bites along my neck. Lifting the shirt, I see the hickeys on my breasts and at my thighs. Reed marked me.

My hand goes to my stomach as I think about the fact we didn’t use condoms. I’m not sure I’m ready to get pregnant again, but I guess we’ll have to discuss that.

When I finally step off the last step of the stairs onto the main floor, Reed is standing at the stove with his back to me. I see the large tattoo on his back of a shark. I notice the scars peeking out of the top of his jeans along his hip. He must sense me because he turns and gives me a slow smile. He crooks his finger at me, and I scan the great room to make sure we are alone before I move toward him.

He pulls me in as soon as I’m close. I wrap my arms around him and kiss his chest before looking up at him.

“Bumblebee, are you hungry?”

I nod, not wanting him to hear my morning voice. I try to pull away, needing some tea to help soothe my throat so I can talk.

“Nope, you aren’t leaving until I get a kiss.”

My lips tip up as I feel warmth burst through my chest. I lean up so he can kiss me, and as soon as we part, I’m breathless and needy for him again.

Moving to the pod style coffee maker, I set it up for a cup of tea. I can hear the news in the background as I wait for the hot beverage.

“In today’s news, Sheriff Miles Baylor has been removed from office. His deputy chief has stepped in as his replacement. Sheriff Castor Evander is following in his father’s footsteps as the new acting sheriff. Several deputies were also removed from their positions by the state police. This all stems from an article stating Sheriff Baylor had been using his office to groom young girls and cover up crimes. The state police came in today and cleaned house.” The news reporter goes on to explain that Baylor’s house was searched, and evidence was retrieved of several sexual assaults done by him and a group of other men. I know pictures of me will be in the collected evidence. I stand there, staring off, thinking about how that one article has already started a ripple effect. I focus on the television, waiting to hear if Randall is finally going to pay for his crimes. “Other names have not been released, but the state police are investigating the allegations.” My heart drops. His father is going to get him clear of this. I know it. I wish I had my laptop to publish more articles. There is a pause in the report as the woman looks down and holds her ear as she listens.

“We have a live report coming from across town now. Let’s head to the correspondent.”

The screen changes to a woman standing in front of a car wash across town. A car in the background is surrounded by police, and I see Castor standing there. I know I need to address what he told me, but it’s something I can’t focus on right now. It hurts that his father never acknowledged me, and now, it’s too late. He helped bury my rape so Randall and his friends wouldn’t be caught.

“Hello, I’m coming to you live outside the Sudsy Fresh Car Wash on Eighteenth Street downtown. The body of a man was found inside this car.” She points to the vehicle. “From what I’ve been able to glean, it appears to be a suicide. The victim drove into the car wash and then shot himself while going through.” She stops, and sirens can be heard over the screen. The camera pans out as state police vehicles pull into the lot. The men get out and walk to Castor, and he talks to them. “This is interesting.” The reporter walks over to the tape and holds her mic up to a deputy. “Can you identify the victim? Why are the state police here? Does this have anything to do with the former sheriff?” She peppers him with questions, and he doesn’t respond. A woman in a suit is walking up from behind the deputy and steps to the tape.

“No comment at this time. A press conference will be held in a couple of hours in front of the courthouse. Thank you,” she says and turns away. I feel Reed’s arms around me.

“Do you know whose car that is?” His voice is husky, and I place a hand to my throat, trying to clear it and speak, but nothing comes out. He unwraps himself from around me and hands me the tea, as if he knows. He doesn’t say anything, just watches as I take a sip and sigh.

“No. Do you?” My voice is huskier sounding, and I know it’s from all the screaming I did when we made love.

“It’s Doore’s.” I turn back to the screen, my eyes locking on the classic car, with its pristine body and shiny paint job. The technicians working the scene have sheets covering the front so we can’t see the blood and gore inside. I tremble at the thought.

“That’s Elliot’s car? How do you know?”

“I ran a check on him last night to see what he drives.”

“Did you have something to do with that?” I wave my hand to the screen.

“No, Bee. I was with you, remember?”

“Yeah.” I nod, feeling a bit punch-drunk. Elliot, the man who attacked me yesterday, is dead.

A couple of hours later, after we’ve eaten and another round of sex, we’re sitting on the sofa, watching the news again. A live press conference identifies Elliot Doore as the victim who took his own life. His car was full of evidence and proof that he’s sexually assaulted underage girls. I’m in shock as the report continues. Authorities searched his house and found further proof of cash payments from the former sheriff and a member of a political figure’s team. They don’t identify who, but Reed and I know. He pulls me closer, his arm draped over my shoulder.

The front door opens, and Reed, as smooth as can be, has a gun in his hand and pointed at the entrance.

“It’s me.” Butcher’s deep voice comes from the entry.

I pull the lap blanket covering my legs up to hide the fact I’m only in a T-shirt.

Reed tucks the gun back into the edge of the sofa, and Butcher steps into the room.

“Got some clothes for Blythe.” He tosses a bag onto a chair, and I jump up, keeping the blanket wrapped around me to grab the bag.

“When is Hartley coming home?” I ask before I step out of the room.

“I’ll set him up to be here later.” Reed’s voice has a distracted sound to it, and I turn to find him in a staring contest with Butcher.

“Everything okay?”

“Yep. Go take a shower, baby. I’ll be up in a bit.”

I smile and head up to my room, where I take a long shower, hoping Reed will come join me, but he doesn’t.

Hemingway

I wait until I hear the door close upstairs before I confront him.

“You did it, didn’t you?”

“I’m not going to lie to you, so don’t ask me questions that could make you an accomplice.”

“Why?”

I don’t know why Butcher would put himself into our situation like this. I know he could do it. Not only was he a part of an organization that trained people to be assassins, but he was contracted to the government to get rid of people. As the term goes, he had a license to kill.

“I heard what happened to her. I’m not into her like that, so don’t get all hot and bothered like Gambit does for his girl. I don’t like men who abuse women. But like I said, don’t ask me a question you don’t want to be involved in. That’s the other reason. You deserve a chance with her.” He waves his hand toward the stairs. “I don’t have a future, but you do.”

“Don’t say that, man.” I thump him on the arm. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Ever.” He raises a brow, and I know what he’s trying to convey.

A few hours after having dinner, my cell rings, and I see Striker’s name.

“What’s up?”

“Come in now. All hands on deck.”

I look at the clock and notice it’s late. “Can’t, bud, I have Bly and Hartley.”

“Bring them in. They will be safe at the compound. There was an attack this evening. I’m clearing out the clubhouse now.”

“Okay.”

I don’t question him further but gently wake up Blythe, who fell asleep on my shoulder as we watched a movie. I look over to where Hartley is cuddled into her other side.

“Time to go.” Butcher walks into the room.

“What’s going on?”

“We have to go. Club business.”

“Okay. Hartley and I will be okay here.”

“Hell no, baby. Come on. You are coming with us. Get dressed.” She’s in a pair of pajamas that hang from her hips, and the tank top shows her pebbled nipples. I toss the blanket at her so she doesn’t show Butcher all her sexiness.

We pull up to the clubhouse as several cars are leaving, but I know it’s going to take time to get everyone out. I circle to the side entrance, where all the private rooms are located. I help her out of the truck, then open the back door for Hartley.

“Okay, they are still getting people out that were here partying. I don’t want either of you outside my room. Got that?” I wait until they both confirm. I slip off my cut and hand it to Blythe. “When you are in here, you need to wear this, just in case.”

“In case of what?”

“It’s so everyone knows you’re mine.”

She smirks and raises a brow. “Yours?” she asks in her husky voice, and I realize I better get her some tea to help soothe her throat.

I want to fuck her hard as I watch her slip into my cut but can’t with Hartley here.

I direct them to my room and leave them there while I go find out what’s going on.