Page 13 of Wild Night (Vicious Reapers MC #2)

CHAPTER TWELVE

IVY

After introducing Cidney and Posey to one another, I turn to my desk and start working.

I trust that Cidney has Posey under control.

I wish there were a way to warn Cidney and to ask her to extract as much information as possible without being suspicious, but I know my cousin well enough to know that she would spill all the beans—every single one of them.

Cidney delivers a coffee about half an hour after I sit down to work. As much as I try to focus on the task at hand, which is to fully prepare for my first meeting, I can’t keep my thoughts from drifting to Posey.

She’s in this office, wearing that same sexy little skirt she had on sitting next to me in my car. I want to glide my fingers up the inside of her thigh, shift her panties to the side, and feel her warmth.

Shifting in my seat uncomfortably, I clear my throat before I reach for my mug of coffee. Closing my eyes, I take a sip as I try to think about anything else other than her sweet cunt. I fucking fail until I get a notification for a new text on my phone.

I look at the screen to unlock it with Face ID, then I open the messaging app. There’s a new message from Piggy, which surprises me. I know he’s been looking around, doing some digging, but I didn’t expect him to get back to me so quickly.

PIGGY: Lucian isn’t just a ghost. I think he’s undercover.

My entire body jerks. I stare at the screen, unable to do anything. My fingers are frozen, my eyes reading the two simple sentences over and over carefully, wondering if I’m misreading them and, at the same time, knowing I’m not.

What the fuck do we do about this? ATF?

I’m not sure how else to respond. Honest to fuck, I don’t know what to say. I have no clue what the fuck we’re supposed to do. I don’t think I’ve felt this helplessness, this complete loss of control, that I do right now, ever in my life.

PIGGY: I don’t think it is. I don’t know what the fuck he’s under for, but that’s what I’m gathering.

Fuck.

There is a knock on my door, and I know I have to abandon the conversation for work. “Mr. Whitaker,” my cousin murmurs as she opens the door.

She peeks her head around the door, her eyes finding mine. I always get a kick out of her calling me Mr. Whitaker. It’s fucking funny, especially since I remember the day she was born.

“Yes?” I ask when she doesn’t say anything immediately.

“Mr. Scott is here for your nine o’clock meeting,” she says.

“Everything good with Posey?”

I can’t just ignore the fact that she’s here.

I can’t keep her off my fucking mind. I can’t stop thinking about her body, her pussy, every fucking part of her.

I want her on my desk, against the wall next to my favorite painting.

I want her every-fucking-where. On every goddamn surface I can think of to fuck her on.

“I really like her,” Cidney whispers. “I think she’s awesome.”

Without another word, my cousin turns her back and leaves my office.

A few seconds later, my nine o’clock client appears, and we get to work.

He’s been accused of embezzlement. I typically prefer more intense cases than this, mainly because they can hold my attention a bit better than simplistic white-collar crimes, but this is a high-profile client, and he is paying in cash.

So whatever the fuck he wants me to represent him for, that’s what I’ll do. But at the same time, he’s definitely not getting the attention he deserves because all I can think about is Posey’s cunt.

POSEY

“He’s going to be a while,” Cidney announces as I watch a man in a three-piece suit enter Ivy’s office and close the door behind him. Shifting my attention back to her, I give her a small smile. “Let’s go to the bakery.”

I start to ask her if it’s okay. I mean, I know she has to work, so I can’t imagine she can just pop over to a bakery just because. She gives me a wink, then I watch as she opens the bottom drawer of her desk and tugs out her purse.

“I know the boss. I can do what I want, babe,” she states.

Cidney is gorgeous. Blonde hair, blue eyes, the whole nine yards when it comes to the standard of beauty.

Boobs, butt, tiny waist. Everything. A complete knockout.

She’s young, too, and so far seems really sweet.

If she weren’t Ivy’s cousin, I would be supremely jealous of her existence, let alone the fact that she’s his only employee.

“I just need to pop into John’s office and ask him if he wants anything. But I already know he’s going to want something.”

John Gentry, the other name on the sign outside. I haven’t met him yet, but I did see the back of him as he walked to his side of the building and closed the door to his office behind him.

I watch as Cidney walks toward John’s office, then knocks on the door before she slips her head inside. I can hear their mumbled voices, then she laughs before she straightens, closes the door, and makes her way back to me wearing a smile.

“He definitely wants some snacks. Let’s go.”

I’m not sure who is supposed to answer the phones while we’re gone, but nobody else seems to be concerned, so I decide I won’t be, either.

Following behind her, I expect to go toward the parking lot and climb into her car, but instead, she turns in the opposite direction of the car, and we walk down the sidewalk.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

Cidney looks over to me, her bright smile firmly in place, and I wonder what it’s like to smile that big. She appears not to have a single care in the whole world, and there is something absolutely mesmerizing about that.

I don’t think I have ever been carefree a single day in my entire life. Not one. Not even when I was a toddler, if I had to guess. So, seeing her as an adult, just smiling and happy, is beautiful but also just plain interesting.

“Thunder Rock Bakery. It’s seriously the only place in town to get coffee and treats, but even if it weren’t, it would still be the best because it’s that good. Dakota works here,” she says.

“She does?” I ask.

Dakota has never told me that she works anywhere other than as a virtual assistant. The bakery comes into view, and I stop in front of it. It’s adorable.

The whole place looks like a French pastry shop.

There are two large windows, and the wood surrounding them is painted a dark mint green, with a salmon-colored awning that spans the top of the entire space.

The door is a deep chestnut wood color with a gold handle, and to match that gold, the name of the bakery is painted in the same color across the front door with black outlining.

It's perfection.

Cidney opens the door, and I move inside, closing my eyes before I inhale the sweet scent of baked goods. My god. Amazing. I think I gained ten pounds just smelling the place.

“Cidney,” a voice calls out.

When I open my eyes, I see a woman I recognize from the wedding standing behind the counter. I don’t think I could miss her, not with her beautiful head of bouncing curls and her bright, smiling face, another genuine-appearing woman without a care in the world.

Maybe it’s not just me. Maybe the air here or something makes people happier. I’m not sure, but now I’m becoming more intrigued by the minute.

“Hey, Lainey, this is—” But before Cidney can introduce me, Lainey interrupts her.

“I know exactly who this is. I didn’t get to talk to you at the wedding. I’m so glad you’re here,” she says, her smile never fading.

A few moments later, we all three have a scrumptious-flavored coffee in our hands and are sitting at a small rectangular table with a plate of sweets in front of us. There’s an éclair, a thick cinnamon roll with cream cheese frosting, a baked berry tart, and a blueberry crumble muffin.

Heaven. All of them. I want them all, and I wonder how on earth Lainey stays as thin as she is with these tempting treats around her on a regular basis.

“I cannot eat any of this,” I state.

Lainey laughs softly, then produces a knife and cuts every item into threes.

“Now they’re low fat,” Cidney states.

I almost laugh but decide to reach for a bite of éclair instead. As soon as the sweet pastry touches my tongue, I let out a moan as my eyes slide closed.

Holy.

Shit .

Lainey giggles, which causes me to open my eyes. “Dakota had the same reaction to the éclairs,” she says.

That thought makes me smile. I only know Dakota through some phone calls and lots of text messages, and as much as you can get to know someone that way, there are parts of their personality you can miss out on, like favorite pastries that you share.

“How long are you in town for?” Lainey asks.

I can feel Cidney’s gaze slide to the side of my face. She is clearly interested in the answer, too. I don’t blame them. I literally showed up out of nowhere and am now camped out like I belong here. They know as much as I do that I indeed do not belong here.

“I’m not sure,” I confess.

There is a moment of silence, and then I feel Cidney’s hand wrap around my wrist before her fingers flex, squeezing me there. Slowly, I turn my head and look at her. I can see the concern on her face.

She is clearly worried.

My breath hitches because I didn’t think I was giving off any vibes at all that would be a cause for concern.

“You don’t have to tell us, but if you do, just know that it’s safe with us,” Cidney murmurs.

And that is when the tears unexpectedly slide down my cheeks. I could lie and say I don’t know why I’m crying, but I know exactly why. I’m scared to fucking death that Lucian is going to appear. After what he did a few weeks ago, I’m terrified that he’s going to come after me again.

But instead of lying to them or trying to pretend that I’m okay, my words spill out of my mouth as if the cork has been released, and everything comes out in a rush. I tell them everything. I unload it all. And when I’m finished, they stare at me, lips parted, eyes wide, wordless.

I shouldn’t have said anything.

Nothing at all.

Shit.