Page 31

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

PHILLIPA

T he meeting’s been going on for a while, and I’ve nothing to do but sit here and twirl my fingers. I’m torn between taking advantage of the bar and getting drunk or keeping my wits about me. I know that my fate’s being decided right now, and there’s nothing I can do about the outcome. It’s out of Saint’s hands, and obviously out of mine. Whatever the decision, nothing I could say or do would change it.

This must be what it’s like to be in front of judge and jury, waiting for the verdict, especially the innocent man or woman, who knows all the closing statements have been made, and their life hangs on the opinions of strangers.

The men passing judgement on me behind the closed doors have all had a chance to get to know me. I could drive myself crazy, mentally going through them one by one, and wondering if any of them would step up to save me or do they all think I’m such a big risk to the club, that the easiest way is the route best taken.

“Double whiskey.” The words coming out of my mouth almost take me by surprise, as if my subconscious has made its decision on my behalf.

Heathen raises a brow but fulfils my demand without comment.

I drink the spirit fast, but it’s no magic potion. It has no effect on slowing my rapid beating heart, nor stops my mind racing. It’s not fair that I’ve found the man it feels I’ve been searching for all my life, in the one place I should never have been looking.

Will they let us say a proper goodbye? Or will the sentence be carried out immediately? Will I be stoic and quiet, or will I plead and beg for my life?

The prospect, clearly having taken pity on me, raises the bottle in front of my face. But I shake my head. While on one hand, getting rip-roaring drunk may be one way of facing what’s coming, on the other, staying sober to make the most of what could be the remaining hours, or just minutes of my life, seems a more sensible choice.

I’m staring straight ahead, my eyes unfocused, seeing nothing, lost in my head when the loud sound of the doors banging open makes me jump. Dreading turning around, but unable to resist getting some hint of the outcome of their deliberations, I spin and take in the faces of the men walking in my direction, noticing immediately Saint’s not with them.

Oh fuck.

None of them smile at me, some don’t even meet my eye. All hope I had slips away. There’s not even a hint of dissent in any of their faces. Whatever the decision, it seems it was unanimous.

They start circling around me, as they all demand drinks from Heathen who rushes to comply as fast as possible. Stuck in their midst, I start to feel claustrophobic, especially when Freak puts his hand on my shoulder, leans in and confides, “Sucks to be you.”

I use my poker face, his words cementing my negative thoughts, while I strain to see through the men mingling around, waiting for the one man I do want to see. Why hasn’t he come out? Can’t he face me? Then, the realisation hits, I might never see him again. It would probably be as hard for him to say goodbye as it will for me.

Saint wouldn’t let me face this alone.

But as the minutes tick by, that’s what I come to believe.

These bikers, some of which I thought were becoming friends, are taking their beers from Heathen, and drinking them silently, some taking them away, Rattler and Paint going over to set up the balls for a game of pool.

Who’s going to officially tell me?

Should I run- or rather – hop to the door and try and escape?

Just when I’m almost desperate enough to try it, the doors bang open for a second time. Footsteps sound, and my foolish heart leaps as I watch Saint come into sight. Why the fuck is he smiling?

I keep my eyes trained on him as he approaches. As soon as he’s within reach, he pulls me to him, his mouth comes down on mine and he kisses me, thoroughly. When he pulls away, he says, “You’re fuckin’ mine, my ol’ lady.”

His words don’t make any sense.

He backs away, though still keeps hold of my arms, and stares into my face. “What’s wrong, darlin’? I thought you’d be pleased.”

Pleased I’m about to be unalived? Surely, he wouldn’t be happy if… “But the vote went the wrong way.”

His brows rise to his hairline. “What the fuck are you talking about? They voted you in as our first official ol’ lady.”

My eyes gradually widen as his words sink in; it takes me a second to believe him. Then I see red. Grabbing my crutch I push him away and get down off the stool. Banging the crutch on the floor loudly, I scream out, “Bastards! Motherfuckers!”

As roars of laughter erupt all around me, I spy my target, and approach him from behind, he’s chortling so loud he doesn’t see me coming. Using my crutch, I aim perfectly and sweep his legs out from under him. When he crashes to the floor, ignoring my injuries I come down on top of him, my knee into the middle of his back, and grab hold of one of his arms pulling it high between his shoulder blades.

“You’re the worst asshole of them all,” I yell at him, yanking his arm, pleased to be rewarded by his squeak of pain.

“Get off me,” he’s trying to unseat me, but I’ve got him at a disadvantage, if he doesn’t want a broken bone, there’s not much he can do. Beneath me his body is still shaking with laughter. Which annoys me and tempts me to do the worst I can. Break his fucking arm.

He must realise the danger he’s in, as he bangs his free hand against the floor. “I submit,” he cries, but still punctuates it with a chuckle.

Saint’s deep voice sounds from behind me, “Let him up, feisty woman of mine.”

“You didn’t hear what he said to me.” I stay where I am.

Freak snort laughs. “All I said was, it sucks to be you.”

“You let me believe the vote had gone against me,” I cry out. Those few moments had been the most traumatic of my life.

His bellowed chuckle almost throws me off his back. “Well, instead of a quick death, you’re shackled to my brother forever. That’s gotta suck. That’s what I meant.”

Saint takes hold of my arm, gently forcing me to let go of Freak’s, then lifts me off him, lets me get my balance, then hands me my crutch. While he’s doing this, Freak has pulled himself off the floor, ruefully circling his arm as if to get feeling back into it.

“You okay?” Saint asks, softly. When I nod, yes, he turns to the enforcer, pulls back his arm, and lets his fist fly. Not expecting it, Freak’s back down on the floor, his hands blotting the blood coming from his nose.

I wait for him to retaliate at my man, but he doesn’t, instead he stares Saint in the eye, and admits, “Guess I deserve that, Brother.”

Around me, men are still chuckling, at me, or Freak, it doesn’t really matter. And when Tempest steps up, puts a shot glass into my hand, saying, “Welcome to the family,” it’s hard to hold on to my anger.

These men are used to hazing each other. Guess I’m part of that now. In truth, I’ve felt like I’ve been living on borrowed time for days, and the adrenaline I’d worked up while waiting for their meeting to end, is draining from me now. I want one thing, and one thing only.

I turn to my man quietly. “Take me to bed.”

I don’t have to ask twice as he sweeps me off my feet and starts carrying me in the style to which I’ve become accustomed, and, accompanied by wolf whistles and lewd suggestions, he moves toward the stairs.

I’m safe. I’m here to stay. I repeat the mantra as Saint takes each step carefully so as not to jar my broken leg. After all the tension of the last few days, and the ratcheting up of the stress I felt earlier, I feel lightheaded. In exchange for my life, I’ve come over to the dark side. And I don’t feel one regret.

Saint pauses to open the door to his room, then gently lies me on the bed. I expect him to rip off my clothes, or instruct me to get naked, but instead he sits, resting his head into his hands, and taking in deep breaths. When I place my hand on his arm, I’m surprised to find that he’s trembling.

“Saint?”

A shuddering intake of air, then, he whispers, “I thought I was going to lose you. I thought that was why Bullseye had brought forward the vote.” He grabs hold of my hand and squeezes my fingers tightly. “I’d have followed you to heaven or hell, or wherever you were going. I wouldn’t have been able to let you go.” His eyes glaze. “I went through a myriad of emotions, waiting as each brother eked their answer out.” I nod, knowing exactly how he was feeling, like how they acted as if the vote had gone sideways before he came out.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry I didn’t get there quicker to tell you.”

“They’re assholes,” I reassure him. “They couldn’t help acting like that.”

He still seems to want to reassure me. “We live life on the edge, here in the club. We’d all give our lives for each other. Even riding bikes is dangerous, any day we could be wiped out. So perhaps we don’t give enough weight to what life means for others.”

“You’re preaching to the choir,” I refute. “Don’t you think as a bodyguard, I woke every day knowing it could be my last?”

Sparing a glance for me, appreciation fills his eyes. Again, his fingers tighten around mine, and he growls, “Fuckin’ made me hard the way you took Freak down.”

I’m under no illusion that Freak had found the whole thing amusing and probably hadn’t tried too hard to get away. “With half of me still out of action, I think he probably let me get the better of him.” Then pride makes me add, “But you wait until I’m fully functioning, I’ve been trained to get men bigger than him on the ground and keep them there while I get them in handcuffs.”

His mouth curves wickedly. “I’ll buy you handcuffs. Just as long as you let me use them on you sometimes.”

Oh yes. The flicker in my eyes betrays how enticing I find that idea. But only with Saint. I wouldn’t trust anyone else.

His eyes narrow. “I suppose as well as being able to unman a brother, you’ve handled a gun.”

Blowing on the fingers of my free hand, I pretend to polish them off on my shirt. “Top of the class. I hit Skunk exactly where I was aiming.”

“Of fuckin’ course.” He laughs.

I need to make sure he understands. “You saved me Saint, gave me a new life. If I need to use those skills again, it will be to help you. And,” I pause, realising he really has converted me to the dark side, this band of people who live neither fully one side of the line or the other, “as much as your brothers can be assholes at times, to help them as well.”

Now he stares at me intently. “You’re my ol’ lady. You’re going to wear my property patch. You’ll stand beside me and support me and understand when I can’t tell you club business.”

“I can’t tell whether you’re asking or telling, but I’ll answer anyway. Yes, I am.”

Staying in the light, striving to be good, got me nowhere. This darkness that surrounds him and the club has embraced me. Life’s more than just living. It’s something to be experienced, and I want everything with him.

“I’m so fuckin’ glad I stopped that night.”

“So am I…” But my words die as he starts to remove my T-shirt from my body, unclasps my bra, hitches a breath looking at my breasts before he eases the jeans I’m wearing down. My panties follow, and I’m naked, lain out like a feast before him.

“I can’t fuckin’ wait.”

Stripping off his own clothes quickly, he pushes me back onto the bed, spending a moment to ravish my lips, before his mouth wanders down, his fingers and tongue torturing my nipples, erasing any other thought from my mind.

Apart from the way he got us both bare, there’s no urgency in his actions, no frantic lovemaking as though this might be the last time. He’s taking his time with me, wringing every iota of enjoyment from each caress. I’m gasping, near begging, before he even nears my clit.

When his mouth eventually closes on that bunch of nerves, I damn near arch off the bed. But even this he’s drawing out, his tongue bringing me close, then letting the feeling ebb away. While knowing this torture will end in something amazing, I’m getting frustrated as hell.

“Saint.”

His name seems to broker no mercy, so I try again, “Jeremiah.”

“Fuck yes.” My use of his government name seems to incite him, he plunges his fingers into my slit, unerringly zeroing in on the exact right spot to drive me wild. My clit gets more of his attention, and my stomach muscles clench, my legs start to tremble, and while it’s been so good before, the way I explode now reaches new heights.

“This pussy is mine,” he growls, as he pumps his fingers in and out. “Fuckin’ mine.”

“Yours,” I breathe out as soon as I’m able to, my voice sounding weak and spent.

“Gonna fuck my ol’ lady now,” he announces, withdrawing his fingers, sucking them clean, then moving up my body, plants his lips on mine so I can taste myself on him. I might just have come, but he’s amping up my arousal all over again.

Without warning he plunges his cock inside me, and I gasp at the shock of the intrusion that feels so right.

Then he growls out a warning. “I can’t be gentle, I’m claiming you tonight.”

I’ve no objection as he pulls out almost completely, then sinks back deep into my body, then does it again and again. Animalistic grunts are coming out of his mouth, and it’s so damn sexy. I can’t stop the oncoming reaction, I come again, squeezing his cock. But even that doesn’t stop him, he just keeps pounding in and out.

“Again,” he demands. And gets his wish granted.

“Again.”

I want to tell him I can’t, but my body betrays me.

“Now, with me.”

I’m spent, I can’t possibly… oh, maybe. Oh oh… I scream at exactly the same time he lets out a roar.

“Milk me, just like that babe, oh yeah, fuckin’ yeah.”

My final orgasm feels like it keeps on going, encouraged by the ejaculations I swear I can feel coating my insides. It seems like an age before my muscles stop spasming, and his pumps start to weaken and fade.

When he rolls over, his softening cock is still inside me.

“I love you,” I whisper.

“Fuckin’ love you back. Now let me have a quick rest, darlin’, ‘cause we’re about to do that again.”

If it keeps getting better, he might kill me. But in such a way, I’d have no complaints. I’d go out with a big damn smile on my face.