“Who was he?” She found tissues and dabbed at my cut knuckles.
“Bad news.” I drew my hands from hers, clenching my fists again. “Just make sure you tell me if you ever see him around again.”
My teeth ground down, and I hadn’t released the pent-up tension, but it wouldn’t do Shy any good to see me lose my cool. I started for the door, a frown marking my brow.
“Max, wait. Are you okay?” she called after me.
I pivoted, guiding her face to mine for a long kiss that ended too quickly. “As long as you are.” Crushing her to me, I asked, “You’re not by yourself in here, are you?”
“Just until April arrives. She’ll be here at nine.”
“Okay. I don’t want you alone today. Call me if you need anything.”
“Are you volunteering to be my shop assistant, Max?” Shy’s eyebrows lifted as she leaned back in my embrace.
Somehow she made me smile.
“Hey. I’m a fucking people person, you know?” I dropped my lips to hers again. “I can even play nice when I have to.”
Backing away, she smiled a secret smile. “Be good today.”
“I’ll be better when I see you tonight.”
“Are you seeing me tonight?”
“Yeah. I am.”
“Okay.”
“See ya later, baby.” I spun her close for a last, lingering kiss.
Shaking off the latest shitstorm, I made my way to Chrome and Steele. The run-in with Diablo and his scrotum-trolls turned my good morning mood sour.
Tried not to show it. Much.
One month, one hundred Gs. That was all Diablo was asking for.
Basically my start-up money for the brewery.
Weighed against Dumbfuck and the possibility he’d hurt Shy.
The day at work consisted of Brodie bitching at me for fucking up a custom order on a classic Harley. Boomer crawling up my ass about making shit right with Shy, which I’d already done. And Lucy, the bubbly receptionist, giving me the stiff middle finger when I failed to fill in my timecard.
Good times.
I headed back to Shy’s at quitting time, pretty fucking stoked she let me right up in the elevator.
I was so getting a key.
Then I could key Diablo’s Camaro.
The only reprieve from the disaster of a day was when Shy propelled me back into my chair after we’d eaten the take-out I’d brought. And she began where she’d left off late last night. Another hot succulent never-ending blowjob.
Fuuuuck.
No complaints from me.
Her lips clung. Her tongue had to be the eighth wonder of the goddamn world, I was sure of it as I started thrusting into the silky surrounds of her mouth. My neck craned back, my arms almost broke the chair in half, and I couldn’t make words work anymore.
Grunts? Groans?
Fuuuuuuuuck. Fucking FUCK.
I clasped a hand over her head, my feet stamping on the floor, my cock unleashing come inside her mouth.
The mouth that kept sucking.
The throat that kept swallowing.
The tongue that rasped down to my balls.
Being nothing less than a gentleman—seven years or so ago—I found my legs, and my feet were still attached to my body, regardless of the pants hobbling my ankles. I kicked them free, picked Shy up, and fucked her sideways on the sofa until she collapsed against the cushions after several wild orgasms.
I lay down beside her, catching my breath, stroking her back, kissing her neck.
Smiling against her soft skin.
Feeling her thundering heartbeat that echoed mine.
She turned her head to mine, kissing my chin. “Okay. That time you broke me.”
I punched up onto my elbow, glancing at her prosthetic halfway across the room. “Did I?”
She rolled toward me. “Please. I’m allowed to joke about it, right?”
I hugged her to me, so completely taken by her. “Shy? Baby?” Stroking a hand over her blonde curls, I lifted her face to mine. “I—”
My phone started blaring.
“You?” she asked, her mouth sending hot waves of wanting against my chest.
I frowned at my jeans, and I swear the cell was making them jump around on the floor. “I should get that.”
It was Hunter’s ringtone—“Enter the Sandman”.
At two a.m.
The cool dude did not get his call on in the middle of the night for nothing.
Shy arched against me like a kitten, all naked flesh rubbing against me. “I’d get it for you, but my other leg is all the way across the room.”
I didn’t even remember the phone when she moved like that.
And her gallows humor?
Went sailing right past me, too.
Then my goddamn phone started ringing again.
Pushing up, I foraged in my pocket the same time I slid my jeans along my legs. I answered the bleeping thing, and Hunter quickly filled me in on the details, which brought the worrisome day to a gut-wrenching end.
Chapter Eighteen
Shit. Fan. Hitting It.
DOC RONNIE—VERONICA HARTLEY—Bo’s babe, had been kidnapped. Something about her being a Federal witness against one of the most notorious one-percenter MCs in America.
All Retribution officers were needed ASAP at the club.