Chapter Fourteen
EM
Kit finally called at four in the morning.
“What the hell is going on?” she demanded, and for once there wasn’t a hint of playfulness or laughter in her voice. “I just saw my phone—there’s about a hundred messages here. I want to know what I’m getting into before I get hold of Dad. Do you think I should wait a couple hours to make the call, when he’s awake?”
“Definitely don’t wait until later,” I told her, keeping my voice low. The house was crawling with people, and I didn’t want to wake anyone up if I didn’t have to. We were all exhausted. “Someone tried to shoot Shade last night in Boise. Swinger is dead. Not only that, they shot up some of the clubhouses, including Portland. Everyone’s been scared you were kidnapped or murdered or something.”
“Oh my God. I’m calling Dad right now.”
She hung up on me, and I flopped back down on my bed, throwing an arm over my eyes. What a clusterf*ck. Ten minutes later my phone rang again.
“You were with Hunter last night!?” Kit demanded, her voice incredulous. “Dad says he brought you home. What the hell is going on? It’s like the world turned upside down while I was getting laid.”
“Yeah, I was with Hunter.”
“You want to give me the details on that?”
“I’m not sure even I know the details. We had sex, but before we could talk about anything our phones blew up and everything fell apart. He took me home and then left. Hopefully I’ll hear from him today.”
“I hate to say this, but have you considered he might be playing you again?” she asked quietly. “I know I’m the one who dragged you over to his place last weekend … But I didn’t think there was any danger then. Now people are dying. This is bad shit, Em, and Dad says the Devil’s Jacks could be behind it. He wants us to come home.”
“Hunter’s not playing me,” I said firmly. “You didn’t see how he reacted last night—totally shocked. Someone tried to kill their president, too. He’s dead now, along with another Jack. They got hit worse than we did.”
“Sweet baby Jesus on a stick. That’s f*cked up.”
Hard to argue.
“Where are you?” I asked. “I’m assuming Dad told you to come to Cookie’s place? I guess this is where we’re holing up for now. The Portland clubhouse had some water damage. Nobody got hurt, but one of the bullets burst a pipe, of all things. Weird.”
“Deke’s sending someone for me right now. Not sure whether I’ll make it back up to school tomorrow or not. Dad wants to arrange some kind of family emergency leave or something. Next week is Thanksgiving break, so that’ll give me a little breathing room. I was planning on driving over on the Wednesday before, but even if I head back to school, I’ll leave the minute classes end. I know it isn’t like me, but I want to be with Dad, Em. This is scary shit, and I don’t like the idea of him alone.”
I snorted.
“Dad is never alone.”
“You know what I mean,” she replied. “He’s always had you to keep an eye on him. I know he’s a big bad MC president, but we both know how lonely he gets. Why do you think he drags home all those losers to sleep with?”
“Because he’s horny,” I said, my tone flat. Sometimes the truth isn’t pretty. “I’m not going back. I just got away from him for the first time in years, and he’ll use this as an excuse to try and keep us there. You know he will.”
“You’re not a slave, you know. You can leave whenever you want.”
“Or I can just stay here. They weren’t shooting at women, and if it’s safe enough for Cookie, it’s safe enough for me. I’d rather stay in Portland and keep moving forward. I’m not going to take stupid risks, but I’m not getting locked away forever, either.”
“You’re letting hormones cloud your brain,” she said bluntly. “This is about Hunter. But he’s just a guy, Em, and there are millions more all over the country. A dick is a dick.”
“It isn’t just about Hunter, Kit. Okay, I’ll admit, maybe it’s a little about him. But I also fought hard to get out. I’m not like you—I’m not independent and strong … If I go home, I might just stay, and I don’t want that.”
“We’ll talk more when I get there,” Kit said, sighing. “I see them pulling up right now. I feel kind of bad for this guy I picked up. He was talking about making me breakfast, but I’m just gonna leave him a note. No point in waking him up.”
I snorted.
“You’re a slut.”
“Probably,” she replied with a hint of her old spirit. “But he’s shit in bed. It’s better this way. See you in a few.”
By nine that morning, the kitchen was warm and full of good smells. Cookie and I were making a king-sized batch of pancakes while Kit sliced fruit. Deke and the brothers had a council of war going in the living room, so we’d closed the sliders that separated the kitchen and dining room to give them privacy. Silvie sat at the table coloring and singing some weird, unending little song about pizza fairies.
I couldn’t seem to stop checking my phone. No word from Hunter. I wasn’t particularly surprised—I assumed he was in his own council of war right now. I just hoped he stayed safe.
“I think Kit is right,” Cookie was saying. “You should go home to Coeur d’Alene with her. If this thing with Hunter is real, it’ll still be real in a couple weeks, when we’ve had a chance to wrap our heads around what’s happening.”
“I’m not going home,” I said, my voice firm. “Moving out was hard. Really hard … I don’t want to slip back into old habits. I’m too comfortable in Coeur d’Alene and the club was smothering me. I’m happier here and I don’t think it would be any safer back home. In fact, I haven’t even decided if I’m going for Thanksgiving. Maybe I’ll have other plans.”
Cookie and Kit exchanged looks.
“You know I’m all about getting laid,” Kit started carefully. Cookie snapped her with a towel.
“Little ears.”
“Sorry. I think it’s great that you and Hunter made a connection,” Kit started again. “But you’re building castles in your head and that’s not too smart, sis.”
“I’m gonna live in a castle when I’m a grown-up,” Silvie declared.
“Good luck,” Cookie muttered. “I leave the shop closed another day and we won’t be able to afford a house.”
“Are things really that tight?” I asked, startled. She shook her head, frowning.
“No, but you get what I mean. I’m just frustrated because Deke seems to think he’s my boss. No thanks—I’m a sole proprietor.”
I snickered.
“Bikers are crazy,” Kit said, rolling her eyes. “All caveman and bullshit. You’ll never catch me with one of them, I promise you. Life is too short to let a man call the shots.”
“And yet you’re the one trying to convince me to go home to Coeur d’Alene. You do realize it’s infested with them, right?”
She opened her mouth to argue, but Cookie’s phone rang and we all froze. What now? Cookie grabbed it.
“It’s Maggs,” she told us, her face nervous as she answered. “Hey, hon … What’s up?”
She listened for a minute, her eyes growing wide. Then she screamed and started jumping up and down. Seconds later the kitchen door burst open and Deke ran through, gun in hand. Cookie burst into tears, a huge smile transforming her face.
“Bolt’s coming home!” she yelled “He got parole. It’s a f*cking miracle. They’re actually letting him come home!”
Kit and I burst out screaming and hugging each other. Deke collapsed back against the door frame, and for the first time in my life I saw him smile.
“About time we got some good news,” he said. “F*ck. Didn’t see that coming. Idaho never paroles ’em if they won’t confess to the charges.”
“Let me talk to Maggs,” I demanded, reaching for the phone. Cookie laughed and handed it over. “Maggs! I can’t believe it! When did you find out?”
“He called Friday afternoon but made me sit on it,” she said. “It killed me not to tell you ladies, but I got the go-ahead this morning. I guess he had some business he wanted tied up before word got out? I dunno. The parole hearing was two weeks ago, but you don’t get a decision right away … We didn’t think it would happen. He won’t admit he did anything wrong, and you know how that goes. They aren’t supposed to consider anything but his behavior inside, but the parole board does whatever the hell they want.”
“How?” I asked, stunned. “How did he pull it off?”
“I don’t know,” she said, obviously crying. “I just don’t know. I don’t care. All I know is he’ll be coming home. Finally. I have to go. I have phone calls to make, and so much to do. We’ll have a big party for him, of course. You’ll come back for it, won’t you?”
“Of course,” I said. “Oh my God, of course I will!”
Then Kit was demanding the phone. I saw Cookie hugging Deke out of the corner of my eye as more brothers crowded into the kitchen.
Thank God.
We needed this. We needed it in a big way.
Later that night, Hunter finally got in touch. I hadn’t realized how nervous I was until his text popped up. Kit’s words had been eating at me, making me doubt him.
HUNTER: How are you doing? Can’t call, no privacy
ME: Good. Still at home. Kit got in touch early this morning. She’s fine. Dad wants me back in CDA, of course. Kit is trying to get leave from school
HUNTER: You planning to go?
ME: Do I have a good reason to stay? We decided to stay away from each other but then last night happened … I don’t know what’s going on between us.
I waited for his response, holding my breath. We hadn’t discussed the future or anything between us. It’d never been a secret that he wanted to have sex with me, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think that meant anything serious.
I had hope, though. Before everything fell to shit and he’d kidnapped me, we’d talked every day. We shared jokes and laughed and I’d felt like I could tell him anything. So we hadn’t spent much time together in person, but that didn’t mean we hadn’t spent time together … That had to count for something, right?
Hunter still hadn’t answered. Shit. Had I pissed off everyone I knew over a one-night stand? For one horrible minute I thought I might throw up.
The phone buzzed again.
HUNTER: Sorry. Lot of shit all around me. I hope to hell you have a reason to stay in Portland … I just told my whole club about you, that I plan to make you my old lady. Skid can go f*ck himself, along with his bullshit reasons for us to stay apart. Hoping I didn’t do it for nothing?
I sighed, feeling the tension drain out of me. Okay, I hadn’t imagined whatever it was between us. Then what he’d said hit me—he’d told his club he wanted me for his old lady.
Holy hell … that was practically a proposal!
ME: You almost gave me a heart attack. For a minute I thought maybe that was just a one night stand. Old lady? That’s a big step … but I like the sound of it …
HUNTER: Def not a one night stand. We need some time together, time to talk. This is insane.
ME: No shit … Ha. My old man. wow
HUNTER: Damn straight. Where did you think this was going? No offense, Em, but us being together is way too dangerous and crazy to risk for just sex. F*ck that. I want to do this right. Are you with me?
I took a minute, wondering if I’d lost my mind. Probably. Definitely. I didn’t care.
ME: I’m with you. My dad might kill you
HUNTER: He can try. We’ll figure it out.
ME: You sure your club is good with this? It seems so unreal
HUNTER: They’re not thrilled but they’ll get over it. FYI—I won’t be home for a couple days. I need to go now, but I’ll try to call when I can. Don’t freak out if you don’t hear from me tho. F*cked up shit all the time right now
ME: Don’t worry about me. You stay safe.
HUNTER: You too. A lots up in the air, but I’m with you Em. Don’t doubt that, okay? No matter what happens or what you hear … Promise?
ME: I promise. xoxo
I set down the phone, feeling a little giddy. Hunter’s old lady. Wow. I knew my friends Marie and Sophie had struggled with the term, not quite understanding how important it was. But I’d grown up in the MC—I knew exactly what Hunter was asking me. Calling me his old lady meant more than offering me a ring, it meant he’d taken responsibility for me and all my actions to his own club.
The daughter of a Reapers MC president, despite the fact that his brothers and my father had been enemies since before I was born.
Hunter had handed me his life.
Literally.
Monday afternoon Cookie and I sat at the kitchen table playing rummy. Hunter hadn’t been in touch again and I’d gotten over my initial giddy excitement. Now I was just bored.
“I’m tired of coloring,” Silvie declared. “I wanna go to the park.”
“Me, too,” Cookie murmured. “But we need to stay inside today, baby. Why don’t you go to your room and pick out a book? I’ll come back and read it to you in a little bit. I want to talk to Em for a minute.”
“Okay.”
Silvie hopped down and ran out of the room. Cookie leaned toward me across the table.
“I’m losing my mind,” she confessed in a low voice.
“At least the shop is open again,” I replied, trying to sound cheerful. It wasn’t a particularly successful attempt. I was losing my mind, too.
“For now,” she muttered. “But they can’t handle taking stock or ordering, even if the counter’s covered. I’m thinking about telling Deke to leave. They may have water damage at the clubhouse, but that’s their problem, not mine. I think it’s time for this operation to move out.”
I opened my eyes wide.
“Seriously?”
“Yes,” Cookie said, glancing toward the living room. “I’m a prisoner in my own home. You know what makes it worse, though? This isn’t my fi ght. I’m not even part of the club anymore. Bagger is dead and I’ve been on my own for nearly a year. Deke has no f*cking right to show up here and treat me like club property. I may have been Bagger’s property, but that’s over. Not like he’s coming back.”
“I don’t know what to say … I didn’t know you felt that way about the club.”
She sighed, and shook her head, tossing her cards down.
“I don’t,” she said, running a hand through her curls. “Or maybe I do. I don’t know. I’m just tired of being stuck in my house when I have a business that needs running. I’m not getting laid and I’m not getting any younger. You know, it’s only been eleven months since Bagger died, but he was deployed for ten months before that. I’ve been alone forever, Em. Or at least it feels that way … I’m tired of being a good old lady, staying strong in memory of a man who cared more about his f*cking war than his family.”
I stared at her, eyes wide. I had no idea what to say. None. I heard a throat clearing and looked up to fi nd Deke standing in the doorway.
“Um, hi, Deke?” I asked.
“F*ck it,” Cookie said, turning her head to glare at him. She stood and walked out, pushing past the big biker without another word.
Awkward.
Deke walked slowly to the table, then leaned across it on his hands, his face about a foot from mine.
“What the hell was that about?” he asked, his voice like ice. God, did he have any settings that weren’t scary?
“I have no idea,” I whispered, eyes wide. “Seriously. We were just sitting here playing cards and she started talking. I’ve never heard her say anything like that before. I had no idea …”
My voice trailed off. Deke nodded, then sat down across from me. He folded his arms across his chest and studied me like a bug. I hoped very sincerely I wouldn’t pee my pants, because that’s how terrifying he was. No joke.
“We need to talk.”
“Okay?”
“Your dad wants you home,” he said. “You should’ve gone with Kit yesterday.”
“I’m not going home. Coeur d’Alene isn’t a good place for me anymore.”
“Listen up, little girl,” Deke told me, his voice cold and matter of fact. “Hunter is using you. I know you don’t like that idea. It probably hurts your feelings or some such shit. But these are the facts. This club—your club—is under attack. We don’t know for sure that the Jacks are behind it, but we do know one thing—when they needed a weak link last time, they went after you. You already fell for Hunter’s shit once. He’s a proven liar who’s not afraid to use a woman to get what he wants. Don’t you think it’s a pretty big coincidence that he just happened to be with you the night everything went down? The Jacks could be trying to pit us against the cartel for their own reasons. For all you know, he’s using you to convince us they’re victims, too. Take us off guard for another sneak attack.”
“What about their president?” I demanded. “Two men are dead, Deke.”
“So they say,” he replied, leaning back in his chair. “But all the cops are saying is that two men were shot. We know their club is tearing apart at the seams. Their VP—Burke—has stepped up, but there’s no guarantee he can hold them together. At least that’s how I read it. For all we know, the Jacks took them out for their own reasons. Power struggle.”
I shook my head.
“You didn’t see his face,” I said. “It was real, Deke. He had no idea.”
“Says the girl who talked to a Devil’s Jack online for almost three months without a f*ckin’ clue she was being set up. Use your brain, Em. Don’t make a fool of yourself again. Just go home and forget you ever met him.”
I stood carefully, blinking back tears, and walked out of the kitchen with as much dignity as I could manage. I agreed with Cookie—Deke needed to go away.
I didn’t like him one little bit.
TUESDAY
ME: I’m sick of being stuck in this house. They won’t let us do anything. Not even Kit is this trapped in Coeur d’Alene!!!
HUNTER: They didn’t shoot up the clubhouse in CDA and it’s farther north. Not the same thing. But I hear you—I’ll be back to town tomorrow. See you then?
ME: Definitely
HUNTER: Think I can call tonight. I never have any privacy, but I f*cking miss you. Want to hear your voice. Keep thinking of that sexy mouth of yours and what it will look like wrapped around my dick.
ME: Um …
HUNTER: Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you first, babe … And after. I can’t wait to strip off all your clothes and get you naked in my bed. Might not let you out for a month.
ME: Well, when you put it like that … Ok :)
My phone rang at ten p.m. I’d almost given up on him calling, so when he did, I was so excited I nearly fell off my bed.
“Hey,” I said, trying not to sound too eager. “How are you?”
“Exhausted,” he said. “I’ve been down to California and back a couple times now. I hate to admit it, but I think it might be time to park the bike and break out the cage. I hate winter in Oregon.”
I laughed.
“It’s not even winter yet, and at least it’s warmer here than Coeur d’Alene,” I said. “They had the first snow last night, according to Kit. She wants to know if I’m coming home for Thanksgiving.”
“What did you say?”
“I haven’t made any plans yet,” I said carefully. There were so many things we hadn’t had time to talk about. It wasn’t like either of us had our own place. Did he want to spend the holiday together? I kept looking back over our texts to make sure I hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing. “Figured I’d see how things play out. I can’t wait to be with you again.”
“The feeling is mutual, trust me,” he muttered. “Christ, I’ve been thinking about talking to you all day, and now that I’ve finally got some privacy to do it, I’m f*ckin’ exhausted. Sorry, babe.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Why don’t I talk and you can listen?”
“Sounds good.”
“I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” I said hesitantly. “About what I plan to do to you when we finally get together again. I want it to be special, so I decided to do a little research.”
“Oh really?” he asked, and while he still sounded tired, I caught a hint of something else, too. “You do this ‘research’ on another guy?”
I burst out laughing.
“Yeah, because there are so many available men in this house. Reapers don’t count, especially annoying ones. No, I decided to download a book, get some ideas.”
“Sounds interesting,” he murmured. “What kind of ideas?”
“Well, you know I don’t have tons of experience,” I said. “So I figured if I wanted to do this right—sex, I mean—it might be a good idea to read a manual. I bought the Guide to Getting It On. Interesting stuff. For exam-ple, did you know that most men are far more sensitive on the top half of their penises than the bottom half?”
“I haven’t researched the wider population, but I’m not surprised,” he said, sounding amused.
“Well, that’s why it’s so important that when I do finally get you alone, I make sure I spend a lot of time exploring the head first. I think it’s the … hmm, let me check my notes. The frenulum? You know, the little—”
He started laughing.
“Babe, two things. Don’t use the word ‘little’ when you talk about my dick, okay? And two, don’t use the word ‘frenulum.’ Ever. Not that any-thing said in that voice of yours isn’t sexy, but it’s sort of blocking the visual I’m trying to paint in my head.”
I frowned. Last time we’d had phone sex he took the lead. This was harder than I’d thought.
My phone rang at ten p.m. I’d almost given up on him calling, so when he did, I was so excited I nearly fell off my bed.
“Hey,” I said, trying not to sound too eager. “How are you?”
“Exhausted,” he said. “I’ve been down to California and back a couple times now. I hate to admit it, but I think it might be time to park the bike and break out the cage. I hate winter in Oregon.”
I laughed.
“It’s not even winter yet, and at least it’s warmer here than Coeur d’Alene,” I said. “They had the first snow last night, according to Kit. She wants to know if I’m coming home for Thanksgiving.”
“What did you say?”
“I haven’t made any plans yet,” I said carefully. There were so many things we hadn’t had time to talk about. It wasn’t like either of us had our own place. Did he want to spend the holiday together? I kept looking back over our texts to make sure I hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing. “Figured I’d see how things play out. I can’t wait to be with you again.”
“The feeling is mutual, trust me,” he muttered. “Christ, I’ve been thinking about talking to you all day, and now that I’ve finally got some privacy to do it, I’m f*ckin’ exhausted. Sorry, babe.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Why don’t I talk and you can listen?”
“Sounds good.”
“I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” I said hesitantly. “About what I plan to do to you when we finally get together again. I want it to be special, so I decided to do a little research.”
“Oh really?” he asked, and while he still sounded tired, I caught a hint of something else, too. “You do this ‘research’ on another guy?”
I burst out laughing.
“Yeah, because there are so many available men in this house. Reapers don’t count, especially annoying ones. No, I decided to download a book, get some ideas.”
“Sounds interesting,” he murmured. “What kind of ideas?”
“Well, you know I don’t have tons of experience,” I said. “So I figured if I wanted to do this right—sex, I mean—it might be a good idea to read a manual. I bought the Guide to Getting It On. Interesting stuff. For example, did you know that most men are far more sensitive on the top half of their penises than the bottom half?”
“I haven’t researched the wider population, but I’m not surprised,” he said, sounding amused.
“Well, that’s why it’s so important that when I do finally get you alone, I make sure I spend a lot of time exploring the head first. I think it’s the … hmm, let me check my notes. The frenulum? You know, the little—”
He started laughing.
“Babe, two things. Don’t use the word ‘little’ when you talk about my dick, okay? And two, don’t use the word ‘frenulum.’ Ever. Not that anything said in that voice of yours isn’t sexy, but it’s sort of blocking the visual I’m trying to paint in my head.”
I frowned. Last time we’d had phone sex he took the lead. This was harder than I’d thought.
“Okay, well, it says I should take my time and explore that little notch on the bottom side. For example, I thought I might start by running my tongue all the way around, make sure I have a feel for the layout before doing anything else.”
“That’ll work,” he said, his voice lowering.
“I have a theory,” I said. “According to my book, some men prefer it when a woman sort of points her tongue and just uses the tip. Others like it when you really spread the tongue out, and rub the cock’s underside as you pull the head into your mouth.”
He cleared his throat roughly.
“Yeah, that’d be okay.”
I thought I heard the sound of his pants unzipping. I hoped to hell I was right, because otherwise I might feel sheepish about the way my hand was sliding down into my sleep shorts.
“So here’s my theory,” I continued. “The book says the best way to find out is to just ask, and I can appreciate the efficiency in that. But I also think it would be really fun to experiment and decide for myself. You know, like a randomized series of tests so I can gather lots of data?”
“You’re going to kill me,” he grunted. “Less data, babe. More licking.”
“Just a sec. I’m gonna grab my vibrator before I keep going.”
“F*ck.”
“Yeah, that’s the general idea.”
I rolled over and dug out my trusty magic bullet, turning it on low. Not too much … not at first.
“So I’m a little worried about how big you are,” I said. “The book tells me I might want to consider licking you all over, until you’re good and wet. Then I’ll wrap my hand around the bottom so you can’t accidentally go too deep. Think that might work?”
“Can’t hurt to give it a shot,” he muttered. “F*ck. I love your voice, babe. You using that vibrator yet?”
“Uh-huh …” I whispered. “I’m just laying it against my * right now, letting it sort of warm me up. I’m imagining what it’ll feel like the first time I taste you. I’m a little nervous, so before I take you in my mouth, I’m going to explore that little slit at the top, okay? You know, try out some of your precome? I figure a little taste is just what I need to get a sense of how it’ll be. Not sure if I want to swallow or not.”
“Babe, I don’t give a shit if you swallow,” he said, his voice strained. “Just don’t stop talking.”
I laughed, feeling powerful.
“I think I’ll turn up my vibrator a little now. I’m rubbing it up and down, first on my * and then along my labia. I feel really empty, though. I wish you were here, Hunter. I’ll never forget how it felt when you first pushed into me. It hurt a little, but it was great, too. You know I’m still a little sore?”
“I’ve never felt anything as good as your cunt around my dick, and that is the f*ckin’ truth.”
“The good news is you’ll feel it again soon. In fact, I wish you were feeling it right now.”
“Why don’t you slide a finger inside, check and see how things are going?” he asked. I propped the phone on my pillow next to my ear and then reached down to follow his instructions.
“Well, for one thing, I’m pretty wet already,” I murmured, closing my eyes. “I guess the thought of sucking you off turns me on. Does that make me a slut?”
“Only in the nicest possible sense of the word. Can you hear me jacking off? Because I swear, I’m pumping so hard it sounds like a freight train in here.”
Oh shit. That went straight to my center. I stuck another finger in, reaching for my G-spot. As usual, I couldn’t quite get there.
Fortunately, my vibrator was available to compensate.
“I feel tingles and pressure running all down my body,” I said. “I’m not there yet, but I will be there soon. I want your weight on top of me—”
I gasped, because the vibrator found a particularly sensitive spot. I felt my muscles tighten and my hips jerked.
“I’m getting close, Hunter.”
“Liam,” he muttered. “Call me Liam. F*ck, I want to be inside you. Shit. Oh, f*ck …”
“Liam,” I gasped as my back arched. “Holy shit. I can’t wait to do this in person.”
He groaned in my ear, the sound harsh and tight.
“I’m coming,” he said. “F*ck. F*ck.”
He grunted into the phone. I imagined his hand on his cock, the sight of his come squirting out. I started pumping my fingers in and out harder, pretending they were his. My * tightened, every muscle clenched, and then my hips lifted off the bed as I exploded.
“Ahhh …” I lay still, panting into the phone.
It took a couple minutes to recover.
“You’re pretty good at phone sex,” he said after a while, his voice low and growly.
“Thanks,” I whispered. “I miss you.”
“Miss you, too. I’m sorry, babe, but I’m really f*ckin’ tired, and blowing my wad just now didn’t help.”
“Go to sleep. I’ll still be in Portland when you get back. Promise.”
WEDNESDAY MORNING
HUNTER: I feel like shit telling you this, but I’m down in Cali again. Thought I’d make it today but had some business come up
ME: Its okay. I understand :(
That evening I watched nervously as Cookie slammed dishes around the kitchen. I wanted to offer to help, but I was a little scared of her. She’d been muttering about men, control, and how much she needed to get back to work.
I understood her frustration.
So far as I could tell, there was a whole lot of nothing going on. Deke wouldn’t tell us anything, but Kit had been listening at doors back home. According to her, the Reapers were divided over who to blame for the shootings. Quite a few thought it was the cartel down south, but they couldn’t rule out the Jacks, either.
So far they hadn’t found any real evidence to prove who was behind the attacks. Until they could, a lot of questions would remain unanswered, and the Jacks would be suspect. Had Hunter’s club broken the truce? Should we start hitting back?
Nobody knew.
In the meantime, Deke wouldn’t let Cookie go to her shop. He wouldn’t let me go to work, either, which wasn’t such a big deal because I’d just been picking up shifts as needed. But she could tell things were falling apart without her, and Deke didn’t even seem to care.
On the bright side, the guys were back in their clubhouse, which meant the house wasn’t full of bikers anymore. The water damage still needed to be fixed, but apparently it was workable. That was a big relief. Cookie didn’t want her house to be a target, and even Deke had to acknowledge she had a point.
He still left guards with us, though, and he’d spent almost every night at her place. Silvie had moved into Cookie’s room, so at least he had a bed. Of course, that bed was pink and covered with stuffed kittens.
Apparently, Deke was above worrying about such things.
Around six, the front door opened and Deke walked in … home from work just like a 1950s sitcom, only with guns and cartels and lives at stake. Cookie came out of the kitchen, a determined look on her face and a plastic bag in her hand.
“Deke, we need to talk,” she said, her tone ominous, thrusting the bag at me. “Em, would you keep an eye on Silvie? I have a Lunchable in here, and some fruit in case she’s hungry. Not sure how long it’ll take.”
I nodded quickly.
“Out here or back in her room?” I asked, wondering what was the safest distance. I had a bad feeling about this …
“Room might be best,” Cookie said. Deke glanced over at the prospect he’d left with us that morning, who was watching uncomfortably.
“You can head out,” he said, jerking his chin toward the door. “I’ve got it from here.”
The prospect and I met eyes, and I’m pretty sure we were thinking the same thing. World War III was about to break out in that kitchen. I wished I could leave with him. Instead I grabbed Silvie and took her to my room.
Outside the house, I heard the prospect driving away. Coward.
“I’m hungry,” Silvie declared. “Mom lets me eat the treat first.”
Yeah, right.
“Start with the meat and crackers,” I told her, peeling off the plastic and handing her the food. Then I wondered why I bothered—the chocolate was probably healthier than the waxy, fake cheese in the little carton. I dug a granola bar out of my purse for myself, wishing I’d thought to grab a Diet Coke or something.
During the next hour, I read Silvie four books before starting a movie for her on my laptop. Then I crept out into the living room to scope out the situation.
I heard yelling in the kitchen, and then I heard something hit the wall and shatter.
I crept back into the bedroom.
Around eight Cookie knocked on the door.
“Sorry about that,” she murmured. Her hair was all messed up and her cheeks were flushed.
“Deke still here?” I asked quietly.
She shook her head.
“Nope,” she said. “He called someone else to come over. I think he’s got some stuff to sort out …”
“Everything okay?” I asked hesitantly.
She shrugged.
“Not sure,” she admitted. “But he’s gone for the night. I guess we’ll see what happens tomorrow. I’m planning on going to work. If he’s smart, he won’t try to stop me.”