Page 9

Chapter Nine

R age

I woke with a jolt, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar weight draped across my chest. Instinctively, my arm tightened around soft, warm skin.

Instantly my body relaxed when the memory of the hours before came flooding back in.

Mac. Her taste. The sounds she made as she rode my cock until she found her release. The way she’d taken it like it was made just for her.

I was totally fucked.

Rubbing the hand that wasn’t holding onto the woman on top of me over my face, I wiped the sleep from my eyes and forced them to open.

Out the window, I could see that the sun was long gone. Must have been more tired than I realized seeing as we’d slept the entire day away.

Glancing down at the woman curled against me with her blonde hair spilling across my tattooed chest like liquid gold, I felt that strange feeling in my chest again.

Her face was peaceful in sleep, those full lips slightly parted, her breathing deep and even.

What the fuck was I even doing? I never let women stay. That was my rule.

Fuck ’em and send ’em on their way. No overnight guests. No awkward goodbyes. No complications.

Even as I thought it, I knew I was full of shit. Mac was different. I knew it the second I saw and I knew it even more now.

She was feisty and sexy.

And now that I’d fucked her, she was mine.

On this thought, I carefully extricated myself from her grip and slid out of bed as quietly as possible.

Mac stirred, making a small noise of protest before grabbing my pillow and burying her face in it.

The sight of her lying naked in my bed made my cock twitch with renewed interest.

As much as I wanted to climb back in bed with her, I needed a cigarette.

In the kitchen, I found Diesel curled up in his new bed, one eye cracking open to watch me as I moved around. “Just us boys for a minute,” I told him, grabbing a beer from the fridge.

The pizza from earlier still sat on the counter, cold now. I grabbed a slice anyway, leaning against the counter as I ate. My mind kept circling back to the woman in my bed, to what the fuck I was doing.

She wasn’t a Cherry. Club girls knew the score—knew their place.

But Mac… she wasn’t the kind of woman you fuck and forget. She was smart, educated. Sexy as fuck.

What the hell was she doing slumming it with me, anyway? I took another bite of my pizza, chasing it with a swig of beer as I thought about how Mac had hopped right on the back of my bike and then climbed into my bed like it was exactly where she wanted to be.

She had my head all fucked up.

My phone started vibrating across the counter, dragging me from my thoughts. Chief’s name flashed on the screen.

“Yeah?“ I answered, keeping my voice low. I didn’t want to wake Mac up yet. I wasn’t ready for whatever conversation was sure to come next.

“Need you at Rosie’s. Now.” Chief’s voice was tight.

My back went straight. “What’s going on?”

“Fucking Talons,” he growled. “Prospects spotted six of ’em tagging shit in town.”

Rosie’s was a bar on the edge of our territory. The owner paid us for protection, and in return, we made sure no one fucked with her or her customers.

“On my way.” I was already moving toward the bedroom to grab my cut and boots. “Killer already headed there?”

“Him and Reign are five minutes out. Hurry the fuck up.”

The line went dead.

Shit.

When I pushed open the bedroom door, Mac was sitting up in bed with the sheet pulled up to cover her chest. Her head came up, giving me a perfect view of her sleepy eyes.

“Hey,” she said timidly, her long blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders in giving her a freshly fucked look that made my cock hard as steel.

I jerked my chin up at her. It was a shitty move, but I was in unfamiliar territory and didn’t have a fucking clue how to navigate it.

Her eyes turned weary. “Everything okay?”

For a split second, I considered lying. Telling her it was none of her business and that I needed her to leave. But something in her eyes told me if I went down that road, she’d never give me the time of day again.

“Club business, baby” I answered gently as I grabbed my leather cut from the dresser where I’d tossed it earlier. “Gotta go handle something.”

She nodded slowly, eyes tracking my movements as I pulled on my boots. “I should go.”

I paused, part of me wanting her gone and the other revolting at the idea of her not being here when I got back. Jesus, she really had my head all fucked up.

Get it together, asshole.

Leveling her with a no bullshit look, I found myself saying, “Stay.”

She gnawed her lower lip, clearly debating if that was a good idea or not. Finally, she nodded again. “Be careful?”

Those two words hit me like a sledgehammer. When was the last time someone had genuinely worried about me coming home in one piece?

I didn’t deserve it, but I sure as fuck was going to take it.

Moving to the bed, I leaned down and pressed a hard kiss to her mouth. “Always am, baby. Go back to sleep. Make yourself at home.”

She grabbed my wrist as I pulled away. “Rage... what are we doing?”

My brows shot up. Fuck if I knew. I’d never done this before in my life. Women were great for a roll in the sheets, but asking one to stick around... I was in way over my fucking head.

“We’ll talk when I get back,” I promised, brushing my thumb across her cheek. It was a cop-out and we both knew it, but I didn’t have time to navigate the minefield we were walking into.

Mac’s eyes searched mine before finally she released me with a nod. I could see the questions still swimming in her eyes, but I had somewhere to be, so it was going to have to wait.

Straightening, I grabbed my gun from the nightstand and tucked it into the waistband at the small of my back, not missing the look on her face. It was a reminder of the big fucking canyon between my world and hers.

Rosie’s was a fifteen-minute ride from my place, but I made it in ten. Killer and Reign were standing in the parking lot next to Dread’s bike when I pulled in.

I cut the motor just as they started in my direction. “What’s the situation?”

Killer’s face was set in hard lines, his jaw tight. “Six of them fuckers are inside. Started hassling Rosie about protection money.”

“Feckin’ Gobshites,” Reign muttered, his Irish accent thicker because he was pissed. “Don’t they know whose territory this is? Christ on a bike, they’ve got shite for brains, these lads.”

I kept my face neutral. Reign’s temper was legendary but add in the swearing in his thick Irish brogue and it was funny as hell.

“Keep the bloodshed to a minimum,” I reminded him, checking my piece. “We’re just sending a message.”

“Aye, and what a feckin’ message it’ll be,” he growled, cracking his knuckles. “They need to learn some respect.”

The Silver Talons, as we’d recently learned who they were, had been making moves for weeks now. Small shit at first—riding through the streets we ran, tagging buildings with their insignia. But this… hanging out in establishments that were under our protection… this was a big escalation.

“Killer inside?” I asked, adjusting my cut.

Dread nodded. “Went in about two minutes ago. Said to wait for you.”

“Let’s not keep him waiting then,” I said, leading the way toward the entrance.

The smell of stale beer and cigarettes hit me as soon as we stepped inside. Rosie’s was a typical dive bar—dim lighting, worn pool tables, a jukebox in the corner playing ACDC.

Scanning the room, my eyes immediately found Killer at the bar, his broad back to us as he faced down six big dudes wearing cuts with the Silver Talons’ insignia on the back.

My steps faltered when I got a look at the leader of their little group.

That’s who was running this fucking crew? Spike?

Fuck! I couldn’t tell you how many men let down their guard with the crazy bastard.

He was unsuspecting as fuck at five foot six. He had a wiry build, a platinum blonde mohawk, and enough facial piercings to set off a metal detector from fifty feet away. What he lacked in size, he made up for in viciousness. The crazy fucker had done time for aggravated assault, and rumor had it he’d shanked his cellmate over a pack of noodles.

“Looks like the gang’s all here,” Spike sneered, his pale eyes flicking over each of us.

“You’re in the wrong place,” Killer shot back. His voice was deceptively calm. I knew that tone all too well. It was the one he used right before shit usually went sideways.

Spike smirked, taking a deliberately slow sip of his beer. “Free country, ain’t it?”

“Quit the shit! You’re trying to shake down businesses under our protection,” I said, stepping up beside Killer.

One of Spike’s guys, a lanky fucker with neck tattoos, laughed. “Protection? That what you call it? ’Cause this ain’t the first time we’ve been in here and we ain’t never seen you motherfuckers before. Some protection.”

“Careful, boy,” Killer growled, his massive frame tensing like he was ready to pounce. “Next words outta your mouth better be ‘sorry’ and ‘goodbye’.“

I surveyed the bar quickly. Most of the regular customers had cleared out, leaving only a few diehards huddled at tables far from the confrontation. Rosie herself stood behind the bar, her face tight. Her arm was held low and I was fairly certain her hand was attached to the shotgun she kept under the counter.

“Look,” I said, turning back to Spike. “You’ve got two choices here. Walk out now, or get carried out. Your call.”

Spike’s eyes narrowed. For a moment, I thought he might actually be stupid enough to start something. Then he snorted, drained his beer and set the empty bottle on the bar with exaggerated care.

“We were just leaving anyway,” he said, sliding off his barstool. “Shitty beer anyway.”

As he moved past me, he paused, leaning in close enough that I could smell the sourness of his breath. “Tell your president to enjoy it while it lasts. Jacksonville’s changing. New blood’s coming in.”

I grabbed his arm, squeezing hard enough to make him wince. “You threatening us?”

He bared his teeth. “Just stating facts.”

Reign laid a hand on my shoulder, a silent warning to stand down. Reluctantly, I released Spike’s arm.

The Talons filed out, each one making sure to bump shoulders with one of us on the way. It was childish bullshit, but I held my temper in check. This wasn’t the time or place.

Once they were gone, Killer turned to Rosie. “You okay, Rosie girl?”

She nodded, her eyes still glued to the door where the Talons’ exited. “They’ve been in three times this week. It’s gotten worse each time.”

“What’d they say to you?” I asked.

“Said Saints protection ain’t worth shit anymore. That we’d be smart to switch to them before things got ’uncomfortable’.” She spat the last word like it was poison.

Killer’s jaw flexed. “We’ll handle it, Rosie. They won’t be back.”

“Better not be,” she said, her hands braced against the bar. “Can’t afford to lose customers because of turf war bullshit.”

After assuring Rosie we’d have someone keeping an eye on the place for the next few nights, we headed out. The Talons were long gone, but I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be for long.

“This is getting out of hand,” Reign said, puling out his smokes and lighting one up.

Dread’s face was stone. “We need to send a message that this shit isn’t going to fly.”

I nodded, even though a bad feeling was settling in my gut. “How do you want to play this?”

“I don’t know yet. Let’s meet up at the clubhouse tomorrow around noon.” Killer’s face was thoughtful. “We need a full table for whatever we decide.”

“And tonight?” Reign asked.

“We need to get eyes on their clubhouse.” Killer looked at me. “Rage, you take first watch with Reign. Me and Dread will relieve you in a few hours.”

I nodded, though something twisted in my gut at not being able to go back home to Mac. “We’re on it.”

As the others mounted their bikes, Reign pulled me aside. “Everything good with you? Dread mentioned you had company earlier.”

Of course the gossipy bastard was telling my business. “Just a girl.”

His brows furrowed slightly. Reign was one of my best friends and the one I usually confided in about personal shit, but I wasn’t ready to mention Mac to anyone yet. I didn’t even know if there was anything to mention.

“Liar.” He snorted.

I shrugged my shoulders. “She’s helping me with my dog.“

“Dog?” He grunted.

Fuck. So much had happened in the last few weeks I hadn’t even told him about Diesel.

“I’ll tell you about it once we get to the Talon’s clubhouse.”

He grunted again.

It was hours later before I pulled into my driveway, but when I did I noticed immediately that Mac’s car was gone.

Damn.

Inside, the house felt different now. Like something was missing. Or more specifically someone was missing.

The only proof she’d been there at all was the note she left on the kitchen counter.

Thanks for this morning.

– M

That was it?

Four fucking words?

Annoyed, I crumpled the note in my fist.

Fuck it.

Maybe it was for the best that she was gone.