CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

DAKOTA

Lainey shows me the new idea she has for the menu. She wants to make cookie and cupcake boxes for special occasions. She also wants to use the leftover batter to bake mini sheet cakes decorated elaborately and sell them in boxes. I love the idea. It looks so simple and fun.

“The only problem with my idea is manpower. I’m already maxed to my limit with my time,” she explains. “And honestly, I haven’t been able to find consistent, reliable employees. High school girls who are responsible end up leaving and going to college. I can’t blame them. I did the same. There’s also the simple fact that I don’t really care about decorating cupcakes and cakes. I prefer bakery items, and my passion is being a barista.”

“I wish I could do something like that, decorate cakes. It’s fascinating to me.”

Her eyes widen, and she leans forward slightly. I can’t help but smile even bigger as I watch her excitement grow. I’m not sure what she’s excited about, but her body almost starts physically buzzing as she watches me, her eyes searching mine.

“Would you take an intro to decorating class and come work for me?”

I blink. Not because I don’t want to do it. Honestly, it sounds amazing. But she doesn’t really know me, yet she’s asking me to work for her. Also, she knows that I’m ready to blow this town with two middle fingers in the air and never look back.

She wants to keep me here.

Why?

She also knows that I have a job. Realistically, I could do both because I am not only caught up, but I’m also ahead when it comes to my work, so I would technically have availability. I’m just not sure if I’ll be here for longer than a few more hours.

I start to tell her just that when the door flies open. Whipping my head around, I find Bishop storming through the door. He stops directly in front of the pastry case, but he’s not looking at any sweets.

He’s looking directly at me.

So directly at me that I don’t think anything else exists. At least to me it doesn’t, because everything disappears and my body takes over, my brain shuts down, and I’m exactly where I was yesterday.

But then, as if my brain shocks my body, my back straightens, and I remember everything again as if I’m watching that woman suck him off for the first time. The images enter my mind, the sounds of his groans, and the feeling of my heart not only breaking but cracking all over again.

“Bishop,” I breathe.

There is movement beside me, and I assume that Lainey has shifted away from my side, but I can’t look over and check. I am far too focused on this man and the way he’s looking at me, into me, down to my soul, to see anything else.

“Dakota,” he states.

I want to tell him to fuck off. I want to scream and shout in his face. I want to turn around and run as fast and far as I can. I want to do a lot of things, but I am helplessly frozen where I stand, as much as I hate that and hate myself for it all at the same time.

He takes a step forward, then another. I watch as he closes the distance between us, but as soon as he’s close enough to touch me, my feet decide to move. I shuffle backward a few steps as he stalks toward me.

I open my mouth and start to tell him to back away, to go away, to get away. But I don’t because the words won’t come out, and the moment my back hits the wall behind me, I know those words are useless.

“You’re getting on the back of my bike and coming with me.”

“Where?” I ask, careful not to raise my voice.

He’s only inches from me now. His face is so close to mine that I can feel his warm breath wash over me, and it should absolutely not be as sexy as it is. There’s no need to shout or scream, although I want to because I’m a mixture of hurt and anger rolled into a combustible ball.

He dips his chin, shifting his face closer to me, and my whole body freezes the moment he runs his nose alongside mine. My lips part, expecting him to kiss me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he straightens slightly, shifts back, his gaze searches mine, and then he clears his throat.

“Home,” he says.

I want to lift my hands between us, ball them into fists, and beat on his chest. I want to tell him that he ruined what could have been a home for us. He did all this, and for what? For that hooker to suck his dick?

What. The. Hell.

I say none of those things, mainly because the moment I open my mouth to say them, I hear a throat clear from beside us, and standing there with her judgment-filled gaze is Briana. Her arms are crossed over her chest, her hip popped out, and her eyes narrowed. Her expression clearly shows just how she’s feeling—which is pissed off, judgy, and victorious all at the same time.

BULLET

I knew that bitch couldn’t stand it. I fucking knew it. She just had to walk her ass in here and insert herself into our situation. Fuck me. I don’t know if I’m going to last all the way to Oregon before I off her.

Instead of allowing her even a moment to speak, I bend slightly, shove my shoulder in Dakota’s stomach, and stand, draping her over my body. Thankfully, this puts Briana into a shocked, silent state. I’m able to get out of the bakery with Dakota on the back of my bike and the engine roaring to life before she emerges from her surprise.

Same goes for Dakota.

The moment the bike rolls forward, her arms wrap around me, and her hands grip the front of my shirt before I ease completely out into traffic and take off.

My original plan was to go back to the clubhouse, maybe even to Shade’s place, but now that Briana wants to be part of this conversation, my plans have changed. I also can’t go to the motel because I know she’ll beat the fucking door down. Honest to fuck, she has become a nightmare, and I’ve known her for less than twenty-four hours.

So, instead of being forced to deal with that bitch, I take Dakota somewhere I’ve never taken anybody else before. The drive up the winding mountain is exactly what I need. It calms me and puts me at ease and in peace the entire way. I know that once we stop, there will be an intense discussion, but it needs to happen, and what better place for it than alone at the top of a mountain?

I pull up to the lookout and kill the engine of the bike, but I don’t make a move to get off yet. Instead, I stare at the world in front of me. The hills, the trees, the canyons. It’s perfection. If I could live right here, I don’t think I would ever leave.

Dakota climbs off the bike behind me, and I throw my leg over the side of the bike, though I don’t make a move toward her. She walks near the edge of the lookout but stays far enough away.

As much as I enjoy this area, I am not one to inch toward the edge. I have no desire to tumble down a fucking mountain alone with no cell reception. I stay in my spot, watching as the wind picks up slightly, making her straight, dark hair lift and then settle back down.

She’s wearing those short-as-fuck cutoff shorts still, and I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around her and grab her ass, squeezing the plump flesh. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip at the thought. She turns around to face me as I begin to close the distance between us. She meets me halfway, and I stop moving when she does.

We’re not close enough to touch, and I assume that she needs this, as much as I don’t want it. What I want is to be inside of her. This situation long forgotten and ignored forever. But I know it’s not the way relationship shit works.

“Seeing that last night hurt every fiber of my being,” she whispers.

My eyes shift from her to my boots. I’m not exactly sure how to respond to her. I have a million things I want to say, but none of them feel right. She doesn’t give me the opportunity to say them, though. Instead, she continues.

“How could you do that, knowing that I was right there?”

It’s time for me to speak. Lifting my eyes, I connect them to hers and just stare at her for a moment. I don’t reach out to touch her the way I want. Instead, I clear my throat, and that’s when I make a confession that seems absolutely lame as fuck.

“When I tell you that I don’t remember a goddamn second of it, that’s the truth. It sounds like a lie, but that’s the fucking truth of it. I remember telling Viking I was going to bed, standing, and walking toward the hallway. The next thing I remember is waking up this morning with a headache from hell, naked and next to Exorcist. I can’t imagine what you saw.”

It’s not an apology or even the explanation she wants, but it’s all I can give her because it’s the fucking truth.

“Exorcist is being held for questioning. It seems as if she thought she was going to be cute and fuck with me. As the president of the club, I can’t stand for that. As a man, I won’t stand for it. And the fact that it hurt you? I refuse to fucking stand for that.”

Dakota’s eyes widen at my words. She seems surprised, although she doesn’t need to be, because I made her a promise, and I’m going to keep it. I’m her man. I’m going to do the best job I can at being that man for her. No whore is going to come between us and what we want to build together.

“She was sucking your dick, you were groaning, and she saw me in the hallway and wanted me to join. You didn’t say a word one way or the other.”

She’s going through the scene in her head, and I fucking hate how that shit went down. Unable to keep from touching her for another minute longer, I reach out and wrap my palm around the side of her throat, my fingers pressing into the back of her neck.

When I tug her body against mine, she tilts her head back slightly, and her eyes find mine. They’re shimmering with wetness. I fucking hate that. Hate it. And Exorcist is going to fucking pay for it.

She is going to pay for what she’s done. Dearly.

I close my eyes, my mind wanders, and my imagination begins to run a bit rampant. As if my warnings were not enough, this bitch thought she could pull some underhanded bullshit. I’m not going to fucking stand for it.

“Bishop,” she calls out.

It’s not in an angry tone, although it probably should be with how her night went last night. Opening my eyes, I’m taken out of my vengeful thoughts for the moment. When my gaze connects to hers again, my heart squeezes at the sight of her.

“Swear to fuck, baby,” I rasp, “I would have never done that shit to you. Not fucking ever.”

Her watery gaze searches mine, and I slide my thumb along her cheekbone, just beneath one of those wet eyes, giving her every ounce of myself in the moment. I hope she can see the truth.

“Are you trying to tell me that she drugged you?” Her eyes narrow as her cheeks tint pink.

I blink. Unsure if she’s angry at me, doesn’t believe me, or what the fuck is going through her head. I can’t begin to guess what she’s thinking, and she’s not telling me, either. She rips her body away from mine, takes a step backward, and then turns her back to me.

I’m not sure what to say, so I decide that I should keep my fucking mouth shut until she wants to hear me speak. Then I hear something I don’t expect. A scream. A loud shriek comes from deep within her belly.

My lips part as I watch and hear this take place. But before I can ask her if everything is okay, which seems stupid as fuck because even I can tell that nothing is okay, she spins around to face me. Her eyes find mine.

“That bitch ,” she screeches. “I’m going to rip her hair out and use it as a belt. I’m going to… I’m going to… I’m going to...” She stops before she finishes her thought, but only because I start laughing.

“This isn’t funny,” she snaps.

“Oh, I know it’s not funny, but fuck me, you’re cute as shit, baby.”

She narrows her eyes. “Don’t say stuff like that when I’m mad.”

I press my lips together to hold in my laughter but fail because my shoulders continue to shake as my eyes search hers in amusement.

“Seriously, this isn’t funny,” she snaps again.

Moving toward her, I wrap my arms around her and pull her into my chest again, then touch my lips to the top of her head and kiss her before I rest my chin there. “Can’t leave me, baby,” I murmur as I look out at the mountainscape in front of me.

“Can’t I?” she asks.

Shaking my head once, I focus my attention back on her. “No, you fucking cannot. You’re mine, and I’m never letting you go. Not fuckin’ ever.”

Before she can respond, I slam my mouth against hers. Kissing her hard and long—owning her and branding her with my mouth.

Because she is mine.

Only mine.

Forever.