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BLYTHE

A s soon as the plane landed, I headed to the luxury hotel where the Motorcycles, Mobsters, and Mayhem author event was being held and checked in. I was a couple of days early, but I didn’t care. I used an alias so that no one can find me. Part of me thinks Reed will wash his hands of me, and the other part hopes he’ll come to me. But I don’t really know. I want him to. I want him to chase me this time.

I keep telling myself I need this time to figure out what I want, but I already knew before the plane landed. I want to be home with the man I’m still in love with. I want to raise Hartley, and God willing, someday I want to have another baby. I want to experience life. I want to stop hiding from it and pretending.

Last night was the meet-and-greet dinner, and I had the chance to meet several authors I’m hoping to connect with today. I’ve got a great start on my article, and I’m actually enjoying myself more than I expected. When I met Sapphire Knight, the organizer of the event, she invited me to stop by her table to check out her books and swag. At the table I sat at, I found out how many authors write across multiple sub-genres of romance. This event specializes in motorcycle clubs, mafia, and mayhem or suspense.

I learned that several of the MC authors did extensive research to make their clubs as realistic as possible, without falling into the clichés we see on TV. I didn’t mention that I’m currently with a man who’s in a club.

A few of the authors told me they even dress up in their leather vests or mafia attire. Liberty Parker shared that she and her husband both have vests with patches on them. I told her I’d stop by her table and grab some if she had any available.

I wait outside the doors with the other readers, listening in on their excitement as they talk about their favorite authors. Some of them discuss preorders and special exclusive covers they can’t wait to collect.

When the doors open, I’m shocked. It’s like walking into a massive comic con event, minus the costumes. Authors are stationed at tables arranged in rows, filling the expansive ballroom. Their banners are raised high so readers can easily find them. I scan the sea of decorations and names. Nikki Landis, Penny Anglene, Winter Travers, and so many more. I decide to do a lap first, taking it all in before I start stopping at tables to inspect the books and swag. I ask if I can interview different authors, telling them it’s for my magazine. Several agree and open up, sharing their stories and the reasons they write romance.

By midday, my feet are killing me. I glance down at my red heels and cringe. I’ve noticed that several of the authors are wearing more practical footwear since they’re constantly on their feet, taking pictures with readers. Some are in tennis shoes, boots, or other comfortable options. They must be more accustomed to this than I am. I wear heels all the time at work back in LA, but I don’t stand in them for as long as these people do.

Stopping at DM Earl’s table, I look at her swag and pick up a book about an all-women’s motorcycle club in Montana. I turn when I hear a murmur ripple through the crowd, and my eyes almost pop out of my head. There are plenty of sexy cover models walking around, but stalking toward me is the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. I feel my blood pump faster through my veins.

His dark hair is tousled, telling me he’s been running his fingers through it. He’s wearing his cut with a T-shirt underneath, the sleeves of his tattoos peeking out. When I got my latest tattoo on my upper chest, just below my neck, he got one on his neck too. The angel wings spread from his Adam’s apple and stretch down along the sides. He said he got it for the baby we lost.

I feel my knees weaken for a moment. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of me.

Hemingway

W alking through the crowd, I notice all the women looking at us, but I only have eyes for one woman. I followed the tracker straight to her. She’s standing at an author’s table. From behind, I see she’s in a deep gray pantsuit that molds to her ass, and I plan on having those red high heels digging into my back later.

When she turns, I’m not only pissed but turned on. Under her jacket, she doesn’t have a shirt on, only a vest. Her beautiful bumblebee tattoo with roses is on full display, and so is her cleavage. I glance around and see the attention she’s getting from both men and women with how beautiful she is. Her long blond hair is down in waves, and she has minimal makeup on, except for the lipstick that almost matches her heels.

I don’t stop until we are toe to toe. Reaching out, I pull her into my body.

“Bee, what are you doing here without me?” I watch her breathing pick up, and she pulls that full bottom lip between her teeth.

“I’m working.” She tries to brush me off, but the huskiness of her voice gives her away. She wants me here.

I lean down to her ear, making sure I brush my beard along her cheek. She trembles in my arms.

“Baby, you left without saying goodbye. I wanted to fuck you again.”

That’s the sentence that breaks her out of the fog, and now I know what set her off.

She turns and whispers in my ear, “I thought you didn’t like to fuck me. You only want to make gentle love to me.”

“Is that what you want? Hard, deep, and commanding, or do you want it slow and sweet?”

I hate having this conversation with people around, but I know my girl. She won’t go anywhere with me until I address everything with her. It also turns her on that others can hear what I’m telling her.

She leans back and looks me in the eye. “I want it all with you.”

Her words mean so much more than what we are really discussing. I take her mouth in a deep kiss and hear people cheering around us. When I pull back, her lips are fuller, and she’s flushed, just like I love to see her.

I gently pull her off to the side to tell her what’s going on. “Babe, you are in danger, and we need to keep you safe.”

“But I have a job to do, and I’m tired of Randall dictating what I can and can’t do.”

“We are all tired too, but Nolan was found dead yesterday. He hung himself, leaving Randall holding the bag with evidence of his and his father’s illicit deals.”

“Shoot. Did they arrest them?”

“Randall Jr. was arrested while trying to flee, but they haven’t been able to locate Randall III at all. A friend of mine, who’s better at computers than me, found he boarded a private jet, destination unknown. No flight plan was registered.”

“Okay. I promise I’ll stay with you and Butcher.” I pull her into me by her neck, and she rests her head against my chest. I’m finally at peace for a moment. I’ve been worried about her since Browser told me Randall was missing.

“Come on.” I take her hand, and we walk around. “I’ll stick with you while you finish up, then we’ll get something to eat.” Butcher hovers behind us.

We walk up to another author’s table, and I step back as Blythe asks her questions and chats with the author. When the author turns to me and asks if she can get a picture with me, I chuckle and move toward her, letting her assistant take our picture in front of a banner. I hate stepping away from my girl, but I know this is her job, and I won’t ruin it for her. Other women start asking for pictures with me, and before long, I realize I’m surrounded. I can’t see Blythe anymore. I turn and see Butcher looking for her too. Last I saw, she stepped back from the crowd, and now she’s gone.

I move through the crowd, looking for her but don’t see her. I know she didn’t just walk off. She said she wanted it all. She’s ready to stop running and pushing me away.

Butcher is looking down at his phone and gestures that he’s heading off in the direction it gives. I continue to push through the crowds, trying to be respectful. Before I breach the doors into the lobby, a gunshot sounds, and people scream and run in panic. I rush into the lobby, heading toward the sound. Butcher is sprawled on the floor, and I kneel to check him as I glance around for where the shot came from.

He pushes me away. “I’m good. They went that way.” He points to the stairway, and I rush after them. It’s Texas, so getting a sidearm after we landed wasn’t an issue. I push through the door with my gun at the ready. I’ll kill this motherfucker now.

I hear a scream above me and then a scuffle. But the gunshot has me running full tilt into danger. I don’t care. I must be there this time to save her.