“Such a gentleman,” she remarked, but then smirked and added, looking at him slyly, “but who has bad thoughts.”
“They’re the best thoughts, sweetheart.”
He intended to get her mouth the moment they were inside his house and stay there all damn night long until she whimpered into his throat. But his girl had other ideas once their shoes were off; she decided to nose around the house.
So like a tamed dog, he followed her from room to room, stealing touches as she brushed by him, and getting a kick out of seeing her in his house.
“You really do have a kidnapper’s basement,” she remarked, downstairs in his man cave. Set up with a gaming station, pool table, a leather couch, a recliner, a full-size fridge, and a media wall.
“I never bullshit when I say I’m gonna lock you up,” he bragged, smirking as she blushed. Then she gently tucked her hand into his and led him up the staircase to the main floor. “There’s no need to lock me up. I’ll stay with you of my own free will.”
Her words made his heart bash against his ribs.
On his couch, her legs were casually resting over his when she started drawing a finger over his open palm.
“What’s that?”
“I’m writing out your kinky contract to keep you forever.” Lisa made a few sweeping moves, then she grinned. “There, signed my name to it.”
How did he deserve this harmony, huh? Before Lisa could pull her hand away, Splice brought it to his mouth, kissing her palm.
“There’s my promise.”
And then she folded her fingers inward to keep the promise safe.
At that moment, the guy who lived across the street with five ex-police dogs slammed his car door. Splice was used to the neighborhood sounds, but Lisa reacted visibly, jolting, alert.
“Baby, it’s just a car door; relax.” He soothed.
The fact that Lisa was skittish sat rocks in his gut. And for that reason, he’d gone to talk to Axel this morning.
* * *
EARLIER THAT DAY
It was barely the crack of dawn; unable to sleep, Splice strode into the clubhouse after punching in the code. He was surprised to see Axel nursing a coffee cup, sitting at the bar.
“Whatever it is, the answer is no,” gruffed the Prez. “It’s Thanksgiving; it can wait.”
“I haven’t said shit yet.”
“I can tell from the way you’re looking like you’re chewing glass that something is brewing. And I know you, Splice; you’ll wanna go in guns blazing.” Axel rubbed a hand over his scruff-covered face, looking tired. “I have a wife ready to give birth to my kid. My grandkids in Denver have chickenpox, and I can’t see them in case I pass it on to Scarlett. I’m already down a VP while he’s at home with his newborn. Shelve whatever you’ve got brewing.” The authoritarian voice declared, taking a sip of his coffee.
Splice parked himself on a stool next to Axel.
Unlike Ruin, for instance, who kept shit close to his chest, Splice was known for liking gossip – fucking sue him, that shit was fun – and he always had opinions and input at the church table.
Even though Axel complained about not wanting to get involved with club drama, he was still the go-to guy for advice or just to vent to. Splice took a minute to explain what was going on.
“You think someone is targeting you through Lisa?”
“That’s my hunch, but I have nothing solid to back it up. I wanna believe it’s all incidental, but I can’t stop my gut feeling telling me it’s not.” Splice lightly tapped the bar so he wouldn't lose focus. Even Primo managed to hack into the camera feed of the road where Lisa got hurt, but the number plates had been altered with holographic stickers. That was shady as hell.
“Can you reach out to Sofia Fielding to see if she can find anything on her side?” She was their cop informant and had been good for that kind of stuff in the past.
Axel glanced his way with an unreadable face.
“Isn’t that a lot to do for a hookup?”
