Page 16 of Kingpin (Blackjacks MC #1)

Chapter ten

Hattie

While Neil put together a plate of food for me, he introduced everyone in the room.

Big G and Gatling were the only faces I recognized.

I marveled at how the club had changed and grown since I’d left for Seattle.

So many new people had entered Neil’s life.

He’d moved up the ranks and earned that President patch, like he’d always wanted to.

Big G emerged from the kitchen, bearing a tray loaded with a steaming mug of coffee, a little pot of cream, and a bowl of sugar, just the way I liked it.

“You boys always rolled out the red carpet treatment every time I showed my face at the clubhouse,” I said with amusement.

“And you deserve nothing less,” he replied.

“I’m just a civilian now though. I’m not Neil’s Old Lady anymore.”

He propped a hip against the counter and took my hand, making an exaggerated show of examining my bare ring finger.

“I don’t see you wearing another man’s ring. According to club law, Kingpin’s claim on his woman still stands.”

I shook my head.

“Sexist, archaic cavemen—all of you.”

“That’s part of the appeal, sweetheart,” Spike chimed in from the other end of the bar with a wink.

Neil growled and shot him a dark look.

“It’s bad enough when Big G flirts with my wife. I won’t fucking tolerate it from you.”

Spike held up his hands in surrender.

“Cool your jets, boss. Your woman still has her clothes on, doesn’t she? If I was flirting, that would be a very different story.”

“You’re a handful, aren’t you?” I said.

Spike flashed a charming grin.

“In more ways than one, darling.”

Neil grumbled under his breath like a thunder cloud.

He settled on the stool next to mine, elbows braced on the counter, physically blocking me from Spike’s line of sight with his body.

I’d seen that possessive gesture on more than one occasion.

I curved my hand over his bicep to soothe him out of habit, stroking my thumb along that damn tattoo of my bite bark. I couldn’t believe he still had it…

Then again, it was Neil. I shouldn’t have been surprised. He still acted like we were married, for Christ’s sake.

Neil’s irritation visibly deflated at my touch. He flicked a sideways glance in my direction.

I gulped at that look—dark pupils, raw desire, blatant lust. I snatched my hand back and grabbed my fork, digging into my breakfast.

My mother would have been furious to see me sitting down with these men for a meal, knowing full well that the tortured, mangled body in the morgue at the police station was because of him. Because of Neil.

But my mother wasn’t here. She’d been gone for several years by now.

There were no more scathing remarks about what a mistake my marriage was.

No more passive aggressive comments about using my common sense to pick a husband who was actually good for me, instead of that man .

She wouldn’t even say Neil’s name after the divorce, acting as if the last twelve years of my marriage never happened and my ex-husband didn’t exist.

After last night, I had no desire to be anywhere else except seated here, beside Neil.

“So,” I ventured, poking at my scrambled. “What have you been up to for the past decade?”

He gestured around the room.

“This.”

The club. Of course. I knew that already.

“I never would have guessed,” I replied dryly. “Are you dating again? Did you remarry? I overheard you and Big G talking in the hospital. Plenty of young ladies flocking around you like bees to honey.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Neil’s mouth.

“You’re so cute when you’re jealous.”

I jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow. He exhaled with a laugh, rubbing his side.

“I’m not jealous,” I protested. “It’s an honest question.”

Neil shook his head.

“No, never bothered with anyone else. Too busy with the club. Didn’t think it was fair to rope someone into my life when I had other priorities. You?”

My heart squeezed with selfish, bittersweet relief. I’d always imagined that he would rebound with a woman half my age. I studied his profile, resisting the urge to comb my fingers through his hair, cropped shorter than before. He used to have the softest chestnut waves. When did he go so gray?

“Almost got engaged once actually,” I said.

Then I bailed and ran for the hills. But I kept that part to myself.

Neil stiffened beside me, his grip tightening on his coffee mug.

“Let me guess,” he replied. “You finally managed to find some rich prick of a doctor or lawyer. Your mother would be so proud.”

I poked him in the arm with my fork.

“Now who’s jealous?”

“There’s a very big difference between your jealousy and mine, baby,” Neil countered.

For the second time, I didn’t correct him when he called me that. The bass rumble in Neil's voice, calling me baby , never failed to make me melt into a puddle, like ice on a hot stove.

“Your jealousy would get you fucked into the mattress,” he added. “And my jealousy would put someone in the hospital. Or buried in a shallow grave. Then you’d still get fucked into the mattress,” he muttered into his coffee.

A shiver rippled down my spine as memories flashed through my mind.

Neil didn’t allow his possessiveness to smother me—he knew I valued and needed my independence.

But when he caught someone else looking at me, I would inevitably find myself deliciously wrung out beneath him until I saw stars.

And he still kept going, pulling yet another orgasm out of me somehow, even when I didn’t think it was possible— just one more, baby .

I wasn’t a thing to be owned in Neil’s eyes.

I was his woman, to be protected, to be worshiped with his hands, his tongue, his cock. His damned pride made me shine as bright as a diamond with the pleasure he poured over me, like a beacon to other men, announcing, this one is taken, and she’s so loved that she glows with it.

I gulped at my own coffee, scalding my throat in the process. Thinking about those nights together, when he tasted my body. When he clasped my chin as I shattered, pinned by those gray eyes and stuffed full of his cock.

Ain’t nobody else on this motherfucking planet will ever make you feel this way, honey, Neil would growl. Don’t you ever forget that. And if you need a reminder, you come and tell me, all right?

I pushed those thoughts aside, fighting to bury the longing that burned through my body like a wildfire.

“For the record,” I said, gathering my wits again. “My ex-boyfriend was not a doctor or a lawyer. He was a financial analyst.”

Neil grimaced.

“So, he never made you come, and you snored your way through sex. Good to know."

I sputtered a laugh.

“That’s none of your business.”

Neil tilted his head with a challenging look.

“Am I wrong?”

I faltered for a split second. My ex hadn’t been a bad or selfish lover, but…I wasn’t attracted to him as much as I wanted to be. He was the opposite of Neil in every way, which I told myself is what I’d been looking for. My body didn’t get the memo though.

“I can fix that,” Spike piped up.

“And you’d be a eunuch in two seconds flat, guaranteed,” Big G replied. “Didn’t you already put your dick in danger once this week with Baby Doll?”

Spike frowned.

“That woman should be on a terrorist watch list.”

“She seems nice enough to me,” Crash said. “Just don’t get on her bad side.”

My gaze shifted to him, crouched over his plate like a hungry, wild animal. No cut, just an oversized T-shirt. The way he shoveled food into his mouth and wolfed it down reminded me of…

“Don’t say it,” Neil said, his voice low for my ears alone.

“Don’t say what?” I countered.

He gestured at Crash.

“The kid doesn’t look like me.”

I scoffed.

“You’re practically twins. Maybe you don’t remember the many hours I spent listening to your former President, Bomber—may he rest in peace. But I do. He told me all the stories and showed me all the pictures when you were nineteen. Strutting around with that brand new Prospect patch on your chest.”

“The old wind bag talked too much,” Neil grunted.

“He said you were like a mangy stray dog with fleas who tried to bite anyone who came within reach. But when you were patched in, girls finally thought you were cool. A true outlaw biker at last. A real, genuine bad boy.”

Neil narrowed his eyes. I pressed my lips together to hide my amusement.

“As soon as you earned your colors,” I continued. “Rumor has it that you lost your virginity by the end of the day.”

He snorted.

“That ship sailed when I was fifteen. Like I said, Bomber didn’t know what he was talking about. Making up shit to be entertaining. He loved a captive audience for his tall tales, especially if he could impress a pretty woman. You were like catnip to him.”

I reached for my purse that I’d placed on the bar when I sat down. Rummaging around inside, I found my phone and tapped at the screen.

“Didn’t he put all those pictures into an online photo album for safekeeping before he passed? I might still have a link somewhere around here—”

Neil plucked the phone out of my hand and shoved it into his cut pocket.

“No pictures.”

“Hey,” I protested.

“Eat your breakfast. It’s getting cold.”

“You can’t just take my phone like that. Give it back.”

Neil leveled a cool gaze at me, with a look as if to say, what are you gonna do about it? I jutted my chin out in defiance. He didn’t even blink, unswayed by my attitude, as usual.

“Is Crash your new Prospect?” I prodded.

Neil dropped his gaze to his coffee and shook his head.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Why?”

He considered for a moment, then lifted his gaze to meet mine.

“Trying to prevent him from making the same mistakes I did. He’s young—he can still choose a better life. Find a girl. Fall in love. Get the hell away from this club, so he doesn’t lose her.”

I blew out a breath at the magnitude of his confession. I pushed my plate away, my appetite gone. We were having fun, keeping it light, and then he had to ruin the mood by getting serious.