“I fuck her over, I deserve that.”
They stared at each other, not coming to an understanding, coming to the understanding they were alike.
“She’s the second-best woman I’ve ever met,” Maddox said quietly. “And I got a sister I love and so does Molly, though the love for Molly’s sister is harder, still got it.”
“This isn’t going fast because of circumstances. It’s going fast because Rebel is Rebel,” Rush explained.
“I hear that,” Maddox muttered.
Rush got out a knife to slice open the bacon.
“Way down with you givin’ us the honesty, brother,” Maddox said.
Rush looked back at him. “Works out, it’s all in the family.”
Maddox smiled a nasty smile, which even Rush knew got his man hard and his woman wet, before he lifted his mug and drained it.
They heard the shower go on upstairs, and that gave Maddox a nasty look that didn’t hide shit.
Maddox still shared.
“Time to shower,” he muttered, sliding off his stool and strolling out of the room.
Rush grinned, turning back to what he was doing.
He had the batter resting and the bacon frying when he heard, “They’re fucking in the shower.”
He turned to see Rebel in his Henley from yesterday, the arms too long, the hem not quite long enough (but it worked for him), barely covering her ass, her hair wild from sleep and sex, her face sleepy and pouty, and he immediately wished he hadn’t offered breakfast.
“They’re men. Men fuck. If they can, they do it often. If they could, they’d do it all the time,” he returned.
“This is like, Fuck Central,” she grumbled, moving toward him.
Check that.
She passed him moving toward the coffee.
“Babe,” he called.
“What?” she asked, reaching for a mug.
“Babe,” he repeated.
“What?” she asked, looking his way.
“You don’t kiss me, I caught Maddox goin’ at Diesel’s mouth when I came down. They’re gonna catch you bent over my counter, takin’ my cock, your ass red when they do.”
Her eyes flashed, his cock twitched, then she moved into him, pressed close, went up on her toes and offered her mouth.
He took it.
She’d brushed her teeth.
So he went at her.
His phone ringing at his ass stopped them.
He broke it off, touched his lips to the apple of her cheek then shifted away.
She went back to her coffee.
He pulled out his phone and looked at the screen.
Shy.
He took the call.
“Yo,” he greeted.
Shy didn’t ease into it.
“Can’t know at this point, but the working assumption is that Chew went on a rampage last night. Took out five of Valenzuela’s girls. After he killed them, he robbed ’em of everything they had.”
Rush stood solid.
Shy kept going.
“He’s either desperate, and if he was, he’d get the fuck out of town. Or he’s gearing up to pull some shit. Knight’s mobilized. Nightingale has offered resources. Hawk’s got some Dominatrix, who got seriously roughed up, that he’s sitting on with the threat to press charges against Valenzuela to get his head in the game. And brothers are heading out in pairs. You and Snap. He says noon. You two figure it out from here. I got shit to do.”
“Right,” Rush pushed out.
“Later.”
“Yeah. Later.”
They disconnected.
“What?”
He stared at the bacon frying until he felt Rebel’s hand low on his back.
“Baby, what?”
He turned his head and looked into her eyes.
“Chew murdered five prostitutes last night.”
Those pretty blues got huge.
And it was then, the memory of Rebel sitting on the couch with Playboy came to him. Playboy doing his usual flirting, doing it giving everyone a good look at Rebel’s sweet bra.
She didn’t get embarrassed. Or upset. Or ticked.
She laughed and teased Playboy, looking disappointed when Rush’s dad swooped in and claimed him.
If they had kids, she’d give that to their children. That natural ease. That humor. That “kids will be kids” and then you let them be kids.
You let them be free.
He’d spent years watching his mother try to kill the spirit in Tabby. Break her and force her to be something she wasn’t so that Naomi could shine.
These thoughts came and Rush made a decision.
“Your brothers want to take you down to Phoenix,” he shared. “I want you to think about going.”
“Rush,” she whispered.
“My dad found Tyra when he was forty-one. I found you at twenty-nine. I’d give about anything to give him twelve more years with the woman he loves. That isn’t in my power. But it’s in my power to protect that time with you. I know where this is heading, and you know where this is heading. I want us to get there.”
Her face grew soft, but she didn’t respond.
He took her expression as confirmation they were on the same page and kept talking.
“Maddox and Diesel got enough time off to be up here with you for a week. So you got time to think about it. But if Chew even knows you’re mine, he’d have other targets first and probably doesn’t have the resources for long-distance operations. And Valenzuela just sustained a full-frontal attack. He finds out what you were up to, you wouldn’t be a priority. So, this shit won’t filter down there and I want you to think hard about going to Phoenix.”
“If they won’t be focusing on me, then I’m safe up here too,” she pointed out.
“Maybe. But it goes without saying you’d be safer down there.”
She registered that but didn’t give up. “I have to get back to work, Rush. I checked my emails. I have jobs I can take on and need to take on. Molly says no gifts for their ceremony, but I’m so buying them something, and Essence loves me, but I love her too and the way I do means I’d never ask her to deal with me being late on rent.”
“I hear you and we’ll cover you, whatever it is you think you gotta do. But, baby, listen to me. The more we gotta cover, the less energy and manpower we got to put an end to this shit. And it’s lost on no one this is heating up, fast, so it’s gonna boil over, soon. And then it’ll be done. So think about Phoenix. Please.”
Her gaze moved over his face before she asked, “Who’s gonna look after you?”
“My brothers.”
“Not that way.”
Fucking hell.
His girl.
He pulled her into his arms.
Her arms went around him and held tighter.
“We’ll talk on the phone,” he said in her ear.
“It isn’t the same.”
She was right.
He didn’t confirm that verbally, just held her to him.
“I like our marathon getting to know you,” she said.
“Me too, sweetheart. But we can do that over the phone.”
“Not with interruptions of you fucking me with your big dick.”
Rush started laughing and through it said, “Phone sex.”
“Again, not the same.”
She was right about that.
“Babe.” He gave her a squeeze.
She squeezed back harder.
“I’ll think about it,” she whispered.
Rush closed his eyes.
Thank fuck.
Beck
Eleven forty-five that morning . . .
Pissed about whatever “emergency” meeting Web had called when Beck knew these men had nothing urgent to discuss, outside arguing by-laws and whatever ridiculous name they thought the club should be called because they thought it was badass, Beck put his hand up to push the door open to their meeting room.
The only reason he was just pissed and not furious was because Janna had to work that day. Production was halted for some reason one day that week, they were using that day to make it up.
If she was home, and he could be with her, eating her food, fucking her in her bed, sitting on her gray velvet sofa with her watching TV, finding some way to get her to share about her dream, he’d be really freaking ticked.
On this thought, he pushed through and was instantly pulled to the side with a hand wrapped around his biceps, the door slammed shut behind him, and he heard the lock go.
He angrily shrugged off Eightball’s mitt with a kill look then turned his attention to the table.
All the men were standing around it, knives resting on the table in front of them, except Eightball, who’d pulled him in, and Griller, who’d shut and locked the door.
Jesus, Digger and Pacino had shared they’d been pulled in by the cops.
Well then . . .
It was showtime.
His eyes went directly to Digger.
“Appears you were hauled in by the cops, brother,” he declared.
Hostile shifting of bodies from everyone, but it was Pacino who spoke, “Yeah, you’d know all about that. You were fucking big-mouth snatch, must have worn off on you, brother.”
He kept his shit, he did not know how, at the reference to Rosalie and locked eyes with Pacino.
“You get pulled in too, Pacino?” he asked quietly.
“I’m sure you know I did,” he sneered.
“I don’t know, got first-hand knowledge Pickle likes to chat, can’t know who he likes to chat with. Do you know, Digger?” he asked the sick fuck.