Page 16 of Wild Side (Vicious Reapers MC #3)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ZADIE

I’m not sure what time it is, but when I open my eyes, I feel the warm sunshine against my body, and I have to blink several times to acclimate to how bright it is in the room. I don’t even have to reach out to know that Chase isn’t beside me.

Last night was the best and most exhausting night of my life.

After we used our mouths on one another, he woke me up a few hours later with his hands, then we had some more mind-blowing sex before we passed out again.

I can’t deny that I’m a bit disappointed that he isn’t here…

even though there is an ache between my legs, I still want him there.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I sit up, holding the sheet against my chest as I take in the space. I didn’t look around yesterday. Too focused on him, on our situation, on wondering if I made a big mistake. And then I was far too focused on his body, on orgasms, and kisses.

Now that I’m alone, it’s the perfect opportunity to take in the place. I’ve never been in the bedrooms at the clubhouse in California. That hallway has always been off-limits. Although I know that Sable has been in a few of them.

I imagine they look much like this. A small bedroom just large enough for a queen-size bed, a tall dresser, and one nightstand. There is a television on the wall above the dresser and closet doors on the opposite side of the room.

What there isn’t is a bathroom door. I assume it’s much like college, and there is a communal bathroom for all the guys to use. Maybe the president has his own private bathroom, but I doubt anyone else does.

Which is unfortunate and inconvenient for me. I’m going to have to put some clothes on, go to the bathroom, and hope that nobody sees me. I pause at the thought. Wait a minute. So what if someone sees me? I am pretty sure they all know exactly who I am and the predicament I’m facing.

What does it matter?

Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I poke around on the floor and wince. There is trash, mostly empty beer bottles, littering the floor along with dirty clothes. Gross. When I find a plain black T-shirt, I hold it to my nose and promptly gag at the scent before I toss it across the room.

God.

Ew.

The shirt was beyond rank. Foregoing trying to be cute and putting on one of Maverick’s shirts, I find my own clothes and slip those on.

The sudden urge to use the bathroom becomes beyond urgent, so I decide to come back for toiletries and anything else I might need and make a beeline for the facilities.

Luckily, I find them behind the first door I try. Locking the door behind me, I rush over to the toilet and groan. If I thought the bedroom was dirty, I was wrong. The bedroom is a palace compared to this place.

Using toilet paper, I line the seat as quickly as possible because I don’t think I can hover as much as I want to. Once I’m finished, I stand and hurry over to the sink, which is in as much disrepair as the rest of the room, and wash my hands.

I cannot stay here.

I don’t even peek into the shower, because it doesn’t matter. I am going down to the little, beat-up, worn motel room. It’s old but clean. And that is where I’m going to be staying, because I cannot be here.

I open the bathroom door and look up and down the hallway. There is nobody around. Making my way back to the bedroom, I decide that I’m going to brush my teeth, throw on some clothes, and eat a little breakfast before I go back to my motel.

I pause at the sight in front of me. It’s Maverick. His back is to me. He slowly turns around, his eyes find mine, and his lips curve up into a smile before he closes the distance between us.

“Thought you snuck out.” His words are serious, but his tone is playful.

“I just went to the bathroom,” I mutter.

His eyes widen. “It’s gross in there, I know.”

I flick my gaze from his to the floor, then shift it back to meet his. “In here, too,” I say.

He chuckles. “Not a good housekeeper, and neither is anyone else.”

I laugh softly, shaking my head. “Yeah,” I murmur. “I think that’s normal for a boys’ club, but I don’t think I can stay here.”

He curls his fingers around the side of my throat, his thumb gliding up the column before he leans forward slightly. My spine stiffens, but not necessarily because I’m scared. He is very serious right now, and I don’t know I’m going to like what he has to say to me.

“You’re staying here until we figure out whatever the fuck we need to figure out with your father. He’s on his way, you said so yourself, so we’re going to get that shit on lockdown before you leave this clubhouse.”

His tone is now as serious as his words, and if he intimidated me, I would probably be a bit unnerved by him in this moment. As it is, I know he’s being serious, but he doesn’t scare me. I can tell he’s concerned, though.

“What happens if my father somehow gets to me?”

He shakes his head once. “He could take you back home.”

“I’m an adult,” I point out.

His lips twitch into a smirk, but I can tell he doesn’t think this is funny.

I have a feeling it’s more of an ironic smile more than anything.

“You’re an adult in years, but, honey, in this place?

” He lifts the hand not on my throat before he twirls his index finger around.

“You don’t have a say in shit. The outside rules do not apply.

And you, of all people, should know that. ”

“I don’t know the rules, because I was never allowed to be at the clubhouse,” I confess.

Maybe I shouldn’t be telling him this, maybe it’s the wrong thing to say, but I feel like he needs to know that I am really not part of this world.

I’ve said it more than once, but I don’t know if he thought I was joking or something.

“You’re the president’s daughter.”

“I am,” I confirm. “Under strict rules. Very strict rules. And I never broke them.”

Maverick’s lips twitch. “Except once.”

“Except once,” I confirm.

Then, without another word, I feel his hand on my belly before he shifts forward, and his lips are on mine. “I’ll get the bathroom and the room cleaned up today. You’ll stay here, honey.”

And that is that.

He’s made the decision, and he seals it with a sweet, sweet kiss.

MAVERICK

As I walk out of the bedroom, I bring my phone to my ear. “Yeah?” Bullet asks.

“Can Zadie use your bathroom today while I get the girls to clean up the communal one?”

It’s an ask. I know it is. That space isn’t just his any longer. It’s his and his wife’s. His and Dakota’s. Bullet clears his throat, then I hear him chuckle. I know he thinks this shit is funny. He likely thinks this whole situation is funny.

“Yeah, she can use my bathroom. I bet she got a rude fucking awakening when she saw the way you people live.”

“Slightly,” I grunt.

He laughs again. I thank him and start to end the call when he says my name, causing me to pause. “This shit with Goose will work itself out,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, it will.”

And I know it will, even if right now, it doesn’t feel like it.

But Trent is my brother, and we have shared everything, which is why this is hitting him hard.

We’ve never not shared something. He feels like he could lose me, and to a degree, he’s right, but he’s also wrong.

He won’t lose me, not all of me anyway. I’ll always be his brother, his twin, his best friend.

And I will always.

Always.

Have his back.

Shoving my phone in my back pocket, I head back into the bedroom. I only peek my head inside, though. Zadie’s eyes find mine. She’s standing in the middle of the room, and I can’t help but laugh, because she’s fucking right. This place is gross. I never gave much of a shit before.

This was where I slept and fucked.

Nothing more.

And right now, it’s crystal fucking clear that that is all I did here because I sure as fuck did not clean it.

“Get your shit for a shower. Bullet says you can use his, and I promise it’s clean.”

Her eyes widen, she smirks, and I watch as she moves toward me. “He’s okay with it?” I cup her cheek, my gaze searching hers before I shift closer to her and touch my lips to hers.

“C’mon and shower, honey.”

Releasing her, I take a step backward. She doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, she smiles, and I watch as she moves toward her things. I put them next to the nightstand in an empty spot last night.

Seemingly the only empty spot in the whole place.

Once she has her shit, I jerk my chin and walk away. She follows behind me. And a few moments later, she’s in the bathroom, the water running. There is a knock on the doorjamb, and I turn my head to look at who is standing there.

It’s Viking. “Hey, need you to come down to the shop and meet with the trucking company with me. Won’t take long. Just got a proposal for him, and then we can maybe iron out a kink or two if he’s got it.”

“I got you,” I murmur. “Give me until Zadie gets out of the shower so I can tell her I’m goin’?”

Viking jerks his chin. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Meet you down at the bar.”

He leaves me alone, and I smile to myself, because this is rolling. This is happening. This is a good thing. Shit is falling into place—like dominoes, but in a good fucking direction instead of a bad one.

The bathroom door opens, and Zadie walks out. Wet hair, cut-off jeans and oversized tank top. I don’t know if it’s the damp hair or bare face, but she looks really fucking young right now.

And beautiful.

“I gotta go out for a while. You’ll be good here? Get you something to eat?” I ask.

She smiles and takes a step toward me, then another. She stands in front of me, and it takes every fucking ounce of my control to keep from fucking her right here in Bullet’s bed. My cock twitches against my zipper, silently begging to be freed.

“I can do that.”

“Don’t leave. You’re protected here.”

She dips her chin slightly. “I’ll stay inside.”

“Yeah, and when I come back, you and me, honey.”

Shifting closer, I touch my mouth to hers. I don’t deepen the kiss, because I know if I do, I won’t be able to stop. Zadie exhales against my mouth, then smiles. “You and me,” she breathes.