Page 4 of Unbound By You (The Viper’s MC #1)
SILAS
“ L o, where you at, babe?” a voice calls from the hall.
I quirk my eyebrow at Harlow, and she rolls her eyes, shaking her head.
“I’m in here,” she calls back, wiping the blood off the knife she just used to dismember my problem who’s still bleeding out on the bed. Once it’s clean, she drops it back into her pocket and walks for the bedroom door.
I’m not sure what the fuck I just inserted myself into, but there’s no way in hell I’m leaving now. Especially not when she pulls open the bedroom door and two guys I’m all too familiar with walk in.
I immediately reach for my piece behind my back and have it trained on Pierce’s forehead, the red dot making my target evident for everyone to see.
“What the fuck,” Harlow barks at me, spinning in my direction. Stomping her fine ass my way, she grabs the barrel of my gun and shoves it to the ground. “Could you fucking not? I told you I had it covered.”
“Hey, boss,” Pierce drops. “Funny seeing you here.” He lets out a little chuckle. The guy has a few screws loose, but when you’re the cleaner for a club like ours, it’s hard to stay sane. We’re all a little fucked in the head. He just takes the cake.
I reholster my gun, and Harlow’s gaze swings back to mine. She’s taking us in like a tennis match, back and forth, back and forth, trying to wrap her head around the situation.
“Wait, you two—” She motions between the two of us. “For fuck’s sake, of course.”
“Wildcat, I’m more interested in how you two know each other.” I give her a stern look, diving into her emerald-green eyes.
“We’re old friends,” Pierce pipes up, puffing up his chest a little. He can’t read a room to save his life, and if he weren’t one of my own, he’d have a bullet between his brows already.
“Just friends,” Harlow clarifies, and Pierce deflates a little, but she doesn’t notice.
“Okay, we’ll discuss this later. But you two get to work and text me when it’s done,” I order Pierce and Branson, the quiet one standing behind his friend.
He’s smart enough to know they’re in for it when we get back to the clubhouse.
They’ll be lucky if I don’t bring this shit up in church with Pres.
I grip Harlow’s arm and pull her behind me out of the room and back down the stairs. Now that I know there’s no one to worry about, I take the fastest and easiest route out and back to our bikes.
I see the white van I could pick out of a lineup across the street, waiting for the trash to be brought out. I don’t stop until we’re standing in front of Harlow’s red Kawasaki.
“Fucking enough.” She rips her arm from my grasp. “Goodnight, Silas.” She turns, reaching for her helmet, trying to put it on before climbing on her bike to get away from me.
“You’re a mouthy little thing, aren’t you?” I stop her, grabbing said helmet and holding it out of reach.
She seethes up at me, and it’s cute, really. She’s got the attitude of a doberman, but I doubt she’d be as easy to train. Her eyes narrow, and I watch her hand disappear into her jacket pocket. The pocket I know for a fact hides the blade she’s ruthless with.
“You’re coming back to mine. Follow me,” I instruct, pushing her helmet on before she can fight back.
She doesn’t wait for anything else, slinging her leg over and kicking up her stand. I head for my Harley, knowing damn well if I take too long, she’ll be gone before I can lead her back to my place.
My bike roars to life, murdering the quiet night.
I take off, not wanting to give the neighbors anything to talk about when the cops come knocking in the next couple of days.
Branson will check the area for home security systems, wiping their digital recordings of the last few hours.
It should be enough to cover our tracks, but all it takes is one busybody to get the pigs sniffing.
She follows, and I lead her the long way to my house, down the backroads that skate the edges of town until we can hit the open highway. It’ll help us avoid the cameras this town is littered with at every corner, making Branson’s job easier.
The thick fog still holds onto the cold morning air. I hate riding in this weather. It’s a hit-and-run waiting to happen. My chest tightens at the thought of someone taking out the girl on the bike just behind me. I pull back on the throttle, speeding up to reduce her time on the road.
She keeps up, hugging the curves that make up the ten-mile stretch of Highway Twenty.
I slow, sticking my left arm out, giving Harlow the warning. The turn to my property isn’t marked by anything special, and if you’re not looking for it, you’ll ride right past. I like it that way.
The magnolias that line my long driveway blur by as we approach the house. I pull under the breezeway, and Harlow follows my lead. When we both turn off our bikes, the world falls silent around us. The only sound is the rustle of leaves and a rhythmic symphony of fall bugs.
I lead the way through the side entrance of my ranch-style home. It might be modest compared to the douchebags back there, but at least it’s mine. Plus, I’d give up square footage in favor of acreage any day. Nothing beats the freedom of privacy out here.
It’s not the first time Harlow’s been here. She and Lexi have been by for cookouts or holidays when Lexi’s mom didn’t want me in the house. So, I’m not surprised when she pushes past me, moving for the kitchen on the other side of the living room like she, too, owns the place.
I let her go, passing by as she rifles through the fridge, and I walk straight to my bedroom closet. I pull down an old T-shirt and snag a pair of sweats from the dresser before returning to find her.
When I do, she’s sitting on the kitchen island, legs dangling and pressing a beer to her lips. I drop the clothes next to her and reach into my fridge, pulling out my own beer.
“Use my shower, and clean yourself up. Then we’re going to talk about the fact that you murdered someone—in a town where that won’t go unnoticed—and roped my men into it.”
She scoffs, downing the rest of her beer before hopping off the counter and dropping the bottle in the glass bin. “Whatever you say, Si,” she says while tapping my chest placatingly.
I watch her tight ass disappear around the corner and drag my hand down my face, ending through my beard. I had every intention of taking care of Evan. My way. She didn’t need to get involved. It complicates things, especially for Lexi.
I could have made it look like a simple accident. He would have just disappeared one day while out, and no one would have been the wiser. But no, she had to go and attack him in his own house, leaving God only knows how many loose ends. At least his little side piece won’t be a problem.
I assume Harlow expected me to escort her out of the house and back out into the world, but I couldn’t have that. Not after she saw my cut and could, at the very least, describe Harlow’s features. So, the boys would be disposing of two bodies tonight.
I empty my beer and grab another, moving for the living room. The worn leather couch groans under my weight as I relax into it and get off my feet for the first time today.
The rush of water through old pipes fills the quiet room. I should have told her to use the guest bedroom’s bath, but something in the back of my head refused that offer. I wanted her wet, naked, and suds up in my shower. Naked in my room. In my clothes.
My cock swells in my jeans at the image overwhelming my mind. I take a long pull of my beer and adjust myself with the other hand, sinking further into the couch. I let out a groan and drop my head back, closing my eyes.
This might be the longest day of my life.