“Children get naked?”
I laugh softly. “No, that’s definitely the adult version of the game.”
“And you can use this Simon Says rule to make the other person do anything?”
“Anything.”
Natalia thinks about this. A small frown line appears between her brows as she considers what I’ve just said. She’s so damn beautiful. It hits me every time I look at her. Would I be this attracted to her if I saw her on the street back home? That would be a resounding fuck yes. I’m not drawn to her because of her damsel in distress status. She’s stunning. I’ll admit, I’m thinking about her mouth wrapped around my dick twenty-four seven, in between fearing for my life and the lives of every one around me. But there’s something else about her. Something subtle and at the same time undeniable that draws me to her. It wouldn’t matter where in the world I met her. I would still be captivated, regardless.
She smiles as she looks up at me, and a surge of blood rushes to my dick. “I want to play,” she says decisively.
“You do?”
She nods. “Anything to stop thinking so much. And…I think this will be fun.”
“All right. Well, you asked for it.”
She lies back on my bed, exhaling, closing her eyes. I wonder if she has any idea how this is going to end, namely with some hardcore fucking? Because Simon is a sick, perverted motherfucker when I’m talking on his behalf.
“Who goes first?” she asks.
“You can.” Instead of lying down next to her, I position myself on the bed, sitting beside her, legs crossed Indian style, watching her as her chest rises and falls. She cracks one eyelid, peering at me out of the corner of her eye.
“Okay. Simon says…” She hesitates. “Tell me why you kissed me the other day.”
“Why do you think I kissed you the other day?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”
“Because…” Man, this is ridiculous. How can she not know the pull she has over men? “I didn’t have a choice,” I tell her. “It wasn’t something I consciously decided to do. You were soaked from the rain, your hair was everywhere. You turned to look at me, and I had to kiss you.”
She smiles shyly, covering her mouth half-heartedly with one hand. Pressing her fingertips into her lips, she laughs quietly. “Okay. I suppose I will have to accept that as your answer. Do I go again?”
“Yes. Until you trick me into doing something Simon hasn’t told me to do.”
“I see. Okay.” She shifts, getting comfortable. “Now, Simon says, tell me about your life, Cade. I already know where you come from. Do you still live in Alabama? Do you work for your father, like Laura did?”
I look down at my hands, spreading my fingers. I laugh. “No. I don’t live in Alabama anymore. I live in New Mexico. And no, I don’t work for my father.”
“Then what do you do? Are you like my father? Do you sell drugs and guns to the highest bidder?”
“No. I belong to a…” God, this is going to sound ridiculous. How am I going to convince her that I’m not just another violent piece of shit when I explain my life to her? “I belong to a motorcycle club. But the Widow Makers are nothing like the other clubs you’ve probably met. We don’t treat women like shit. We do our best to help people, not hurt them. Most of the time. Jamie and I have spent every day since Laura disappeared using the resources available to us to try and find her. We’ve been able to help a lot of other women in the process.”
“How?”
“By removing them from circumstances of abuse. By finding them work, new names, new homes. New identities, when they’ve needed them.”
“So…this Widow Makers club of yours. You don’t fight? You don’t kill people?”
I crack my index finger, sighing. “We do fight. We do kill people. The world we’re involved in…there’s no escaping hatred and fear.” I wish I could tell her differently. I wish I could honestly say that the club stood for peace and non-violence. Maybe one day we might be able to. Ever since my sister was taken, both Jamie and myself have been single minded in our goal of bringing her home safely, so people have paid the price. Laws have been broken. Lives have been taken. Now I know for sure that Laura is gone, where will that leave the club? I’m not a violent man by nature. I am a man driven by need. I went to war to protect my country, and to protect my best friend, not because I enjoyed the thrill of pulling the trigger on a gun.
Natalia doesn’t seem shocked by my answer. “You’re honest, Cade. That’s all you can ever be.” We’re both silent, the seconds stretching out between us, filled with the quiet fervor of our thoughts. After a long time, Natalia reaches out, cautiously running her fingertips against the seam of my jeans. Her touch is light, but it’s grounding at the same time. It’s a small gesture—the gesture of someone unsure and nervous, yet desperate to make some form of physical contact.
“Were you marked, then?” she asks.
“Marked. Tattooed by your club. To show that you belong to them.”