Page 24

twenty-two

Meadow

My mind races as Jenny advances, the gun unwavering. A thousand questions flood my thoughts, but one rises above the rest: why?

As if reading my mind, Jenny’s lips curl into a bitter smile. “You’re wondering why I’m doing this, aren’t you?” she whispers, her voice dripping with venom. “Why sweet, unassuming Nurse Jenny would point a gun at the beloved Dr. Beckham?”

She takes another step forward, forcing me back until my back is pressed against the door.

“It’s quite simple, really,” Jenny continues, her eyes glinting with a mixture of pain and madness. “You took everything from me. You and your biker friends.”

Confusion must show on my face because Jenny lets out a soft, mirthless laugh. “Oh, you didn’t know? Of course you didn’t. No one knew. That was the point.”

She reaches into her pocket with her free hand, pulling out a small, worn photograph. In the dim light, I can just make out two figures—Jenny, looking younger and carefree, wrapped in the arms of a man whose face I know all too well.

Peterson.

“We were in love,” Jenny says, her voice taking on a dreamy quality. “Have been for years. It started back when I was just a CNA, starry-eyed and impressionable. He saw something in me, nurtured my potential. We kept it secret, of course. The thrill of sneaking around only made it more exciting.”

My stomach churns as the implications sink in. All those times Peterson had terrorized women, Jenny had known. Had she helped him? Covered for him?

“It wasn’t always easy,” Jenny continues, oblivious to my horror. “Sometimes his… proclivities… were hard to stomach. But I loved him, even though he had a wife. I would have done anything for him.”

Her face hardens, eyes flashing with renewed anger. “And then you came along. You and your MC buddies. You took him from me. Tortured him. Killed him.”

The gun trembles slightly in her hand, and for a moment I think I see a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by cold determination.

“I’ve spent weeks planning this,” Jenny says. “Waiting for the perfect moment. And now here we are, you and all your little friends, isolated and vulnerable. By the time anyone realizes what’s happened, it’ll be too late.”

My mind races, desperately searching for a way out of this nightmare but not wanting her to start shooting and randomly hurting one of the women still sleeping.

As if sensing my thoughts, Jenny’s grip on the gun tightens. “Don’t even think about it,” she snarls. “One wrong move and I start shooting. How many do you think I can take out before someone stops me?”

* * *

Mason

The roar of my bike cuts through the night, a familiar comfort as I speed down the empty highway. Meadow’s absence gnaws at me, an ache I can’t shake. I need her. Now.

Headlights flash in my mirrors. I tense, hand tightening on the throttle. But it’s just Ronny and Christopher, their bikes falling into formation behind me. A grin tugs at my lips despite myself. Looks like I’m not the only lovesick fool tonight.

We don’t speak as we ride, the rumble of engines saying everything. The cabin looms ahead, dark and silent. My heart races as I kill the engine, gravel crunching under my boots.

“You two are pathetic,” I mutter, but there’s no heat in it.

Ronny snorts. “Says the man who rode out here in the middle of the night.”

Christopher just shakes his head, already heading for the door. “Shut up and let’s go see our women.”

I follow, anticipation thrumming through my veins. But as we near the cabin, something feels… off. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. Years of club life have honed my instincts, and right now, they’re screaming danger.

I hold up a hand, stopping the others. “Something’s wrong.”

They freeze, instantly alert. We move as one, silent and deadly, toward the darkened windows. That’s when I hear it, a voice, low and threatening, coming from inside.

“Don’t make a sound, or I’ll blow your pretty little head off right here.”

Ice floods my veins. Meadow.

My vision narrows, rage building as I recognize the voice. Jenny.

I lock eyes with Ronny and Christopher. No words needed. We have a job to do.

Time to crash this party.

* * *

Meadow

I want to look behind to make sure no one is back there. The last thing I want is for someone to get hurt because of this bitch.

Jenny’s eyes dart around the room, her grip on the gun tightening. “We need to get out of here,” she hisses. “Too many witnesses. Too messy.”

She grabs my arm, her nails digging into my skin as she drags me toward the door. My heart pounds in my chest as I realize her intention—she’s going to take me outside to kill me where no one will hear.

As we step into the hallway, the floorboards creak ominously beneath our feet. Jenny freezes, her eyes wide with panic. For a moment, the only sound is our ragged breathing and the distant chirping of crickets outside.

“Move,” Jenny snarls, shoving the gun into my back.

We make our way down the stairs, each step feeling like an eternity. The moonlight streaming through the windows casts eerie shadows across the walls, transforming familiar objects into looming monsters.

As we reach the front door, a cool breeze wafts in, carrying with it the scent of pine and damp earth. Jenny fumbles with the lock, her hand shaking slightly. I consider making a break for it, but the cold press of metal against my spine keeps me rooted in place.

The door swings open with a soft creak, revealing the dark expanse of the forest beyond. Crickets chirp in the underbrush, and somewhere in the distance, an owl hoots mournfully. The gravel driveway crunches beneath our feet as Jenny forces me forward.

We’re halfway across the yard when Jenny suddenly stops, her grip on my arm tightening painfully. “On your knees,” she commands, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

I slowly sink to the ground, the damp grass soaking through my pajama pants. The barrel of the gun presses against the back of my head, cold and unyielding. I close my eyes, trying to steady my breathing.

“Any last words, Dr. Beckham?” Jenny asks, a hint of manic glee creeping into her voice.

I open my mouth to respond, but before I can utter a sound, a twig snaps in the darkness. Jenny whirls around, her grip on the gun faltering for just a moment.

And in that moment, a shadow detaches itself from the tree line. Moonlight glints off leather and metal as Mason steps into view, his eyes burning with a fury I’ve never seen before.

The sight of the gun even pointing in Mason’s direction has me screaming at her so she’ll turn back to me. “No!” I shout, my voice shattering the tense silence. “Jenny, don’t!”

My desperate cry has the desired effect. Jenny whirls back toward me, the gun once again trained on my head. But in that split second of distraction, everything changes.

A blur of motion erupts from the shadows. Mason charges forward with deadly intent, closing the distance between them in heartbeats. Jenny’s eyes widen in panic as she realizes her mistake too late.

Before she can squeeze the trigger, Mason’s hand clamps down on her wrist, wrenching the gun upward. A deafening crack splits the air as the weapon discharges harmlessly into the night sky.

Jenny shrieks in pain and fury, clawing at Mason with her free hand. But he’s immovable, a force of nature unleashed. In one fluid motion, he disarms her, tossing the gun far out of reach.

“You shouldn’t have touched what’s mine.”

Jenny struggles against his iron grip, spitting curses. “You ruined everything!” she screams. “He loved me! We were going to be together forever!”

Mason’s eyes lock with mine, a silent conversation passing between us. I see the love there, but also a fierce protectiveness and rage. He gives an almost imperceptible nod.

“Meadow,” he says softly, his voice a stark contrast to the tension thrumming through his body. “Close your eyes, sweetheart. Don’t look.”

I hesitate for just a moment before complying, squeezing my eyes shut tight. There’s a rustling sound as Mason reaches into his pocket, followed by the soft snick of a blade being opened.

Jenny must realize what’s happening because her struggles intensify. “No,” she gasps, her voice rising in panic. “Please, don’t?—”

Her words cut off abruptly, replaced by a wet, gurgling sound. I flinch, fighting the urge to look. The night air fills with the metallic scent of blood.

“Look at me,” Mason demands. “I want to see the light leave your eyes.”

Jenny makes a choked whimpering noise. I can picture Mason’s face, set in grim determination as he stares into the eyes of the woman who threatened everything he holds dear.

There’s a long, tense moment of silence broken only by Jenny’s labored breathing. Then, with a final, rattling gasp, she falls silent.

I hear the dull thud of a body hitting the ground, followed by Mason’s heavy footsteps approaching me. Strong arms wrap around me, pulling me against a familiar chest. I’m lifted and carried for a while.

“It’s over,” Mason murmurs, his lips brushing my ear. “You’re safe now. You can open your eyes.”

I bury my face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of leather and smoke that clings to his cut. His heartbeat thunders beneath my ear, a steady rhythm that grounds me in the chaos of the moment.

He carries me across the moonlit yard, his boots crunching on gravel and twigs. The night air is cool against my skin, raising goosebumps along my arms. Crickets chirp in the underbrush, their song a stark contrast to the violence that just unfolded.

Mason’s grip on me tightens as he navigates around his bike. The leather seat creaks softly as he sets me down, his hands lingering on my waist to steady me. I open my eyes, blinking in the harsh glare of the headlight.

His face is cast in shadow, but I can see the tight set of his jaw, the barely contained fury still simmering in his eyes. One hand comes up to cup my cheek, his touch infinitely gentle despite the violence those same hands are capable of.

“I’m taking you home,” Mason says, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down my spine. It’s not a question or a suggestion, but a statement of fact. In this moment, I’m grateful for his decisiveness, his unwavering certainty.

I nod, unable to find my voice. Mason’s thumb brushes across my cheekbone, wiping away tears I hadn’t even realized were falling. He presses a tender kiss to my forehead before swinging his leg over the bike, settling in front of me.

The ride home passes in a blur of wind and moonlight. Mason’s solid presence anchors me as the world rushes by in a smear of shadows and starlight. The vibration of the engine thrums through my body, slowly chasing away the lingering chill of fear.

When we finally pull into the driveway, the familiar sight of our house—warm light spilling from the windows, Mason’s truck parked haphazardly in its usual spot—brings a lump to my throat. Home. Safe.

Mason cuts the engine, the sudden silence heavy with unspoken words. He helps me off the bike with gentle hands, his touch featherlight as if afraid I might shatter. I lean into him, drinking in his warmth, the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear.

We make our way inside, Mason’s arm wrapped protectively around my waist. The door clicks shut behind us, and suddenly the events of the night come crashing down. My knees buckle, a choked sob escaping my lips.

In an instant, Mason scoops me up, cradling me against his chest like I weigh nothing at all. He carries me up the stairs, murmuring soft words of comfort that I can’t quite make out through the roaring in my ears.

Our bedroom is bathed in soft lamplight, casting a warm glow over the familiar space. Mason sets me down on the edge of the bed with infinite care. His hands frame my face, tilting it up until our eyes meet.

“You’re safe,” he says, his voice low and fierce. “I’ve got you, Meadow. Always.”

I nod, unable to form words past the lump in my throat. Mason’s thumbs brush away the tears streaking down my cheeks. He presses a tender kiss to my forehead, then each eyelid, the tip of my nose, and finally, my lips.

The kiss is soft at first, a gentle reassurance. But as I respond, threading my fingers through his hair and pulling him closer, it deepens. There’s an edge of desperation to it now, both of us seeking comfort and connection after the night’s horrors.

When we finally part, both breathless, Mason rests his forehead against mine. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmurs.

He leads me to the bathroom, turning on the shower and adjusting the temperature. With reverent hands, he helps me out of my clothes, his touch leaving trails of warmth on my skin. Once I’m under the hot spray, Mason quickly sheds his own garments and joins me.

His hands roam my body, his touch soft yet possessive. His touch ignites a fire within me, chasing away the last vestiges of fear and replacing it with a desperate need for connection. I press closer, my hands sliding over the familiar planes of his muscled chest.

“Mason,” I breathe, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. “I need you.”

A low grunt rumbles in his chest. In one fluid motion, he lifts me, pinning me against the cool tile wall. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively as his lips crash into mine. The kiss is fierce and possessive, stealing my breath and setting my nerve endings alight.

Mason’s hand slides between us, fingers finding my center with unerring accuracy. I gasp against his mouth as he strokes me, building the pleasure with practiced skill. My hips buck into his touch, chasing the release I so desperately need.

“That’s it, baby,” Mason murmurs, his voice rough with desire. “Let go for me. Show me you’re okay.”

His words push me over the edge. I cry out as waves of ecstasy crash over me, clinging to Mason’s broad shoulders as my body shudders with my release. He works me through every aftershock until I’m a boneless mess in his arms.

Before I can catch my breath, Mason shifts, lining himself up at my entrance. With one powerful thrust, he sheathes himself inside me completely. We both groan at the exquisite sensation of being so intimately joined.

For a moment, we’re still, savoring the connection. Then Mason begins to move, setting a punishing pace that has me seeing stars. Each thrust drives away the lingering shadows of the night’s horrors, replacing them with pure, white-hot pleasure.

“Mine,” Mason growls, his lips brushing my ear. “You’re mine, Meadow. Always.”

“Yours,” I gasp in response, meeting him thrust for thrust. “Only yours, Mason.”

The coil of pleasure in my belly winds tighter and tighter with each stroke. Mason’s movements grow more frantic, his own release clearly approaching. His fingers find my sensitive bundle of nerves once more, circling with deliberate pressure.

“Come for me again, baby,” he demands. “Want to feel you come around my cock this time.”

His words push me over the edge once more. I cry out Mason’s name as another intense orgasm rips through me. The rhythmic clenching of my inner muscles triggers Mason’s release. He buries himself deep with a guttural groan, his body shuddering against mine.

For long moments, we stay like that, pressed together under the warm spray of water. Mason’s forehead rests against mine, our breathing slowly returning to normal. As the afterglow fades, exhaustion begins to set in.

Mason must sense it because he carefully sets me down, keeping one arm around my waist to steady me. With delicate efficiency, he helps me out of the shower, wrapping me in a fluffy towel. His hands are gentle as he pats me dry, pressing soft kisses to my shoulders and neck. The tenderness in his touch brings fresh tears to my eyes.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Mason murmurs, pulling me close. “I’ve got you.”

He leads me back to the bedroom, helping me into one of his oversized t-shirts. The familiar scent of him envelops me as I slip under the covers. Mason joins me a moment later, gathering me against his chest.

For a long while, we simply lie there in silence. Mason’s fingers comb through my damp hair, the repetitive motion soothing away the last of my tension. I focus on the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear, anchoring me to the present.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Mason says finally, his voice rough with emotion. “When I saw that gun pointed at your head, I…” He trails off, his arms tightening around me.

I tilt my face up to meet his gaze. In the soft glow of the bedside lamp, I can see the fear and pain etched in the lines around his eyes. It breaks my heart to know I put that look there.

“I’m here,” I whisper, reaching up to cup his cheek. “I’m safe. You saved me.”

Mason turns his head, pressing a kiss to my palm. “I’ll always save you,” he says fiercely. “You’re everything to me, Meadow. Everything.”

The intensity in his eyes takes my breath away. Mason’s hand comes up to cradle the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair as he pulls me in for a kiss. It’s deep and passionate, pouring all the emotions we can’t quite put into words into the connection.

When we finally part, both breathless, Mason rests his forehead against mine. “I love you,” he says, his voice low and fervent. “More than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything in this world. You’re mine, Meadow. My woman, my heart, my future.”

Tears prick at my eyes at the raw emotion in his words. “I love you too,” I whisper. “So much, Mason. You’re my home, my safety. I belong to you, always.”

He rolls us over, pinning me beneath his solid weight. His eyes burn with a mixture of love and fierce protectiveness as he gazes down at me.

“Say it again,” he demands, voice rough with desire.

Heat pools low in my belly at the command in his tone. “I’m yours, Mason,” I breathe. “Only yours. Forever.”

He places his hand over my heart. “And I’m yours, my ole lady.”

Mason’s words ignite a fire in my veins. His hand, calloused and warm, rests over my thundering heart. Possessive. Claiming. I’ve never felt so safe, so cherished.

“My old lady,” he murmurs. His voice holds a note of wonder, as if he can’t quite believe it himself. “Never thought I’d have this. Never thought I deserved it.”

I trace the strong line of his jaw, feeling the rasp of thick stubble against my fingertips. “You deserve everything, Mason. All the love and happiness in the world.”

His eyes soften, vulnerability shining through for just a moment. Then he’s kissing me, fierce and tender all at once. His lips claim mine, a promise sealed in the heat between us. I arch into him, desperate for more contact.

When we finally part, both breathless, Mason rolls onto the side. He gathers me against his chest, my curves fitting perfectly against the hard planes of his body. His fingers trail fire along my spine.

Silence stretches between us, comfortable and warm. The horrors of the night feel distant now.

The first rays of sunlight filter through the curtains, painting the room in soft pinks and golds. Mason’s chest rumbles beneath my ear as he speaks.

“I want to marry you.”

My heart skips a beat. I push up onto my elbow, searching his face. There’s no hesitation in his eyes, only certainty and love.

“Mason,” I breathe, my voice barely above a whisper.

He cups my face in his large hand, thumb brushing across my cheekbone. “I know it’s fast,” he says. “But I love you, Meadow. More than I ever thought possible. I want to build a life with you, I want you to have my babies.”

Tears fill my eyes. I lean into his touch, savoring the warmth of his skin against mine. “Yes,” I whisper. “A thousand times yes.”

Joy lights up Mason’s face, then his lips trail down my neck, scruff scraping deliciously against sensitive skin. I gasp as he finds that spot behind my ear that drives me wild. My fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close.

“Mason,” I breathe, arching into him.

In one fluid motion, he rolls us over, pinning me beneath his solid weight. His eyes burn with a mixture of love and fierce possessiveness as he gazes down at me.

“Say it again,” he demands once more. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You.”

His grin is dark and wicked. “That’s fucking right.”