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CHAPTER TWELVE

DAKOTA

Sucking in a breath, I stretch my body, noticing how sore I am. I have never had so much sex in such a short amount of time…

It feels almost surreal and achy.

Very achy.

Opening my eyes, I roll over to face his side of the bed and expect him to be there. I expect this man who made me as sore as I am to be still lying beside me, just as worn out and sated as I am.

But he’s not there.

Frowning, I push up to sit and look around the hotel room. He’s nowhere to be seen, and you can see every nook and cranny of this room from anywhere. I throw my legs over the side of the bed, grab my pajama shorts from where Bullet tossed them last night, and shimmy them up my legs as I walk toward the bathroom.

I’m not sure what I expect to find when I look at my reflection in the mirror, but it’s not the same almost broken woman from the last time I was with him. I don’t know if I just needed another time with him in order to get it out of my system or maybe something else…

Maybe I want all those things he said to me.

It’s not like I really believed them when they came out of his mouth…

But maybe I do want to be his.

Shaking my head, I pinch my eyes closed. That can’t be it. That whole thing is so ridiculous. There is no way he meant what he said.

It was a heat-of-the-moment thing.

Clearing my throat, I shake my head, trying to shake the stupidity from my brain. He didn’t mean anything. He wanted to have sex again, and I fell for it all, hook, line, and sinker. I start the shower and step inside once the water has heated up enough.

Although the water here doesn’t get the right level of hot I prefer, like at Briana’s place, it will have to be good enough while I’m here.

Once I’m washed and dried off, I go in search of an outfit. I need something that is going to be worthy of a cookout situation with a bunch of men who loved my father and likely think that I’m the scum of the earth. My father, whom I had never met and who was without a doubt their role model.

Should be easy enough…

As I riffle through my bags, I let out a heavy sigh. I don’t do fashion, and the only time I looked somewhat fashionable in my whole life was when I was working in an office, and that was only officewear, and all said officewear was borrowed or handed down from Briana.

Now that I work from home and nobody sees me, I wear jeans, sweats, leggings, and shorts with T-shirts, Henleys, and hoodies. Thankfully, it’s not freezing cold outside, so I reach for a pair of cutoff jean shorts and tug them on, then grab one of my oversized V-neck T-shirts and pull that on, tucking the front into the waist.

Walking over to the full-length mirror, I take in my reflection. I’m not sure if this look says sexy or not, but I don’t really know what would say that anyway in terms of clothes. So, it doesn’t really matter what I wear, but I don’t want to look out of place by any means.

Frowning, I bite my bottom lip, chewing on the corner for a moment before I run my fingers through my hair. This is as good as it gets for me. Slipping my feet into a pair of low-top sneakers, I let out a heavy sigh and reach for my purse, then take my phone off the nightstand.

I don’t know what I’m walking into with this place. I’m not even sure that I should go. Pinching my eyes closed, I hitch my purse over my shoulder, then let out a heavy sigh and grab the keys before I walk out of the room.

I climb into the car, start the engine, and type the address into my GPS. My mind is still reeling from what I discovered last night, what Bullet said about Willamette Haven and the leader, about the girls. I just can’t think about it. I don’t know what to do about that knowledge.

Starting the engine, I head toward the cookout. I’m not sure what I’m going to be driving into, but I’m doing this. I want to know more about my father, Nathan Vaughn, and these are the only people who can tell me anything at all.

It doesn’t take me long to drive to the building that Justin told me to go to. It’s in the middle of nowhere. I think that maybe I’m lost until I see a sign with the name Vicious Reapers painted in black and an arrow.

I drive down a dirt road and am stopped by a gate and a gatehouse. A man walks over to me. Rolling down the window, I turn my head and look up at him. He’s dressed much like Bullet, a pair of jeans made for his muscular thighs, a T-shirt, and a black leather vest adorned with patches.

I tell him my name. “I’m here for the cookout. My name is Dakota Vaughn.”

I can’t see his eyes behind his mirrored aviator glasses, but his lips curve up into a smirk. “Know who you are, babe. Go ahead and drive through the gates. Follow the road all the way back until you reach the brick building. There should be bikes and cars parked in front of it.”

“Thanks,” I exhale.

He smirks again and takes a step backward, and then I watch as he walks over to the little guard shack, and then the gate opens. I think about backing up and driving away, but I don’t. Sucking in a deep breath, I make my way through the gate and down the dirt road until I reach the brick building.

BULLET

Sitting at my desk, I suck in a breath and hold it for a moment as I watch her car move down the long driveway from the entrance gate to the clubhouse. Leaving her this morning wasn’t something I was prepared to hate.

In fact, sleeping with her in the same bed last night didn’t suck at all. It was the exact opposite, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. Maybe she was meant to be mine, and Shade sent her to me from beyond the grave.

Everything I’ve discovered from the commune really makes me question everything about myself. I’ve never had such an intense reaction to anything the way I have discovering that this piece of shit is doing what he’s doing to girls.

To kids.

I’m pretty sure I’m feeling this way mostly because of the simple fact that in my world, we don’t see things happening to kids. I deal with grown-ass fucking men most of the time, and I got no issue dealing with them, but this shit with kids has me fucked all the way up.

When her car pulls into the makeshift parking lot, I stand from my desk and start to make my way toward her. The food is already on the grill. The music is floating through the clubhouse from outside, where everyone is setting shit up, and every single man is waiting to catch that first glimpse of Dakota Vaughn.

Opening the front door to the bar, I only take one step out onto the small porch and cross my arms over my chest, planting my feet wide as I watch her car door open. Slowly, she stands from the driver’s seat, and I swear to fuck, every single man here sucks in an audible breath, or maybe that’s just me.

She’s looking at the side of the building where I know all of the picnic shit is set up. She doesn’t see me. I don’t make a move toward her. Instead, I watch. She moves, one foot in front of the other, looking like a goddamn wet dream.

Short cutoff shorts, an oversized shirt that hangs off one shoulder and is tucked into the front of her waistband, her long dark hair straight and just waiting for my fingers to slide through it and grip the strands.

Fuck.

I want to tug those shorts down and slide inside of her warm pussy right fucking now. This woman is like none I’ve ever been with before. I want to claim her right here and now in front of every brother in this club.

Ivy greets her, and since he’s the only one here who knows her aside from me, I watch the interaction. Her head is moving around slightly, no doubt looking over his shoulder for me. At least, that’s what I fucking tell myself.

Ivy grins, then turns his head and shouts something. I can’t hear his words because he’s facing away from me, and fuck me, but I must be getting old because I need to see his goddamn face when he’s speaking.

Snorting, I start to move toward the men who have now gathered around Dakota when I feel fingers curl around my forearm. Turning my head and dipping my chin, I look down at the red-painted fingernails that are sinking into my flesh.

Slowly, my gaze slides up the arm of the woman beside me until I find her face. It’s Exorcist. Arching a brow, I don’t say anything. She’s touching me without any kind of provocation, so I’m curious as to what she wants.

When she doesn’t say anything immediately, I clear my throat as if to urge her to speak. I’m running out of patience. My woman is just a few feet away, and while I’ve inwardly claimed her, I haven’t announced that claim yet, and there are about twenty hard-ons standing around her. I’m ready to break that shit up immediately.

Thankfully, Exorcist takes the hint and begins to speak. Her voice is uncharacteristically soft, and I’m a bit confused as to why she’s attempting to act shy when I know, without a doubt, she is not shy in the slightest.

In fact, just a few nights ago, I watched her on the bar, spread-eagled with her head hanging over the edge, Maverick fucking her mouth while Goose fucked her cunt. So I’m unsure as to why there is a shy-girl act happening in front of me right now.

“Bullet,” she breathes.

Tilting my head to the side, I wait for her to get the fuck on with it. I don’t need breathy words. I need her to spit it the fuck out.

Fast.

“You didn’t come home last night. Is everything okay?”

“Home?” I ask.

What the actual fuck is she going on about?

“Home,” she breathes. “It’s been a while since we’ve been together. I miss you,” she murmurs, then she slides her hand down to my wrist and guides my hand between her legs.

I don’t realize what she’s doing until I’m cupping her pussy. I watch as she turns her head to the side and stays that way for a moment too long.

Turning my head, I follow her attention and frown. Dakota is staring at us. It takes me much longer than it should to realize what the fuck is happening. It’s like all of the puzzle pieces click into place, and I pull my hand back from between her legs so quickly that it surprises her and she stumbles backward.

Exorcist shifts her attention back to me and bats her eyes in an attempt to appear innocent or some shit. Not sure what her fucking deal is, but I’m not playing her goddamn games. Leaning down slightly, I growl before I speak.

“Don’t fuck with me, bitch, or you’ll be out on your ass. I don’t give a fuck how well you take a cock.”

Turning away from her, I walk toward Dakota, who is staring at me with her lips parted and no doubt shocked at what she just saw. Although, I’m sure it’s not the fact that a woman’s pussy was being grabbed. I have no doubt she’s seen all that shit before. But more the fact that it was me doing it, especially when I literally left her bed only hours ago.

Fuck.

Now I gotta smooth this shit over, and I have a feeling it’s going to take some really fucking fast talking to do that. I have no doubt that she’s still pissed from the way I left things the first time we fucked. Now this? Jesus Christ, what a clusterfuck.