PAINTER
Mel looked like shit.
She was covered in dirt, her shirt was torn, and she had this lost, haunted look in her eyes. Christ. Picnic would take one look at her and assume I’d beaten her.
He wouldn’t be that far off.
Pic wasn’t waiting for me at the clubhouse when we got back, though. Most of the Reaper bikes were gone, and there wasn’t any sign of the fuckwad, either. The Silver Bastard prospects were smart enough to keep their mouths shut, although I saw one duck back into the clubhouse.
Seconds later Boonie stepped out, followed by Gunnar.
“Can I have a word?” he asked, eyes flickering to Mel.
“Sure,” I said. “Give us a sec.”
Mel nodded, almost like she was in shock. I suppose she probably was. Hell, I felt sort of shocked myself, so I suppose it was fair enough.
“What’s up?” Boonie cocked a brow, then nodded toward her. “She okay?”
“She’s fine.”
“You hurt her?”
“No,” I said, daring him to challenge me. He frowned, then nodded. “I’ve got some information for you, about the guy she came with.”
I stilled.
“What’s that?”
“He’s a dealer,” Gunnar said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not sure if he was dating her for real or just using her for cover, but he was here to pick up a shipment. We’ve been working with him for about six months now. Does special orders, that kind of thing. He’s bad news.”
I nodded slowly, looking back toward Melanie. She was standing next to my bike, hugging herself protectively. For an instant I felt guilty, then shook it off. She was mine. No way I should feel guilty about claiming my own damned property.
“We have a problem?”
Boonie shook his head.
“He’s nothing. I mean, he was a decent earner, but he’d never be more than that. He’ll keep his mouth shut—he’s seen enough to know better than to talk. I had a little chat with him, too. Guess he works at the hospital with her. I suggested that he find another job—fast. He seemed to think this was a solid idea. You won’t be seeing him again.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Sorry about the mess.”
“Shit happens,” Gunnar said, eyeing Mel again. “You sure she’s okay?”
“She’ll be fine,” I said. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“That’s good, because it looks like you raped her,” Boonie said. I shook my head.
“More like we hate-fucked each other. Trust me, she was into it. Sick and twisted, but it wasn’t rape.”
“Darcy will be relieved,” Boonie said. “Think you pissed off my old lady something fierce—she took off right after you did. Got a feeling I won’t be gettin’ any tonight.”
I bit back a grin, because Darcy pissed off was something to see.
“Sorry about that.”
He shrugged, then gave me a sly smile.
“Gotta love makeup sex. Good luck with your girl.”
“Thanks. Have a feeling I’ll need it.”
He thumped my back and we said our good-byes, then I started back toward Melanie. She glared at me the whole time, which I found almost comforting. I could handle nearly anything but that strange blankness she’d had right after I fucked her.
That was a little scary.
“You ready to go home?” I asked.
“I’ve been ready to go home all night. I still hate you.”
“You need to find new insults. That’s getting old.”
“Fuck off.”
Grinning, I climbed onto my bike. She climbed up behind me, tucking in tight and wrapping her arms around my waist, tits pressed against my back. For the first time in forever things in my world felt right, twisted as that sounds.
She was mine. She’d always been mine. I’d be damned if I’d share her with another man.