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“I’ll go anywhere with you, Kita.” He kissed the point of her chin, then her lips. It only took a split second for her to cup his face and overwhelm him with kisses. Hers were the best he’d felt in years. No one compared to Kita. She was in the back of his mind no matter where he went or what happened. Being apart from her again would break him.
“Kevlar, you’re gonna be late to church again,” Rubble called, fist pounding on the door three times. “And we got shit to discuss.”
Begrudgingly, he broke free from Kita’s candy lips. He traced them with his finger, adoring when she darted out her tongue to lick him. “Stay out of trouble.” He kissed her soundly and stood, cursing the hard-on he couldn’t use until later. “I’ll be back after church.”
She bent her legs beneath her and tugged on his belt, eyes filled with mischief. “Don’t stay away too long. I’d rather have an audience than go solo.”
His cock jumped in his jeans and Kevlar growled before grabbing the back of her neck and ravaging her with his lips. Only after she let out a soft moan did he recoil to sanity. He walked to the door and met her gaze. “Don’t you dare. You know I like to watch.”
***
All through church, Kevlar couldn’t get Kita out of his mind. She might as well live there with how often she crept into his thoughts. Reaper outlined their role in the upcoming winter games. They were a few months out, but preparations had already started in Snowshoe. The club liked to be ahead of the extreme winter games whenever possible so they could stockpile funds for low months.
“The last matter is the Greenback Cutthroats and the FBI.”
He lifted his eyes to the club president. The shift in the dynamics of the room was harrowing. No one liked to involve Feds unless it was absolutely necessary. While the club did nothing illegal, some of their methods skirted the gray lines of right and wrong.
“Kevlar, why don’t you fill us in.” Reaper nodded at him.
Glancing around the room, he caught sight of curious expressions alongside pissed ones. The prospects stood lined against the walls, seating only available to members. “Nikita Mor—Stockdale”—he was still getting used to the alternate name—“and her partner, Mandi, need us to continue as backup only. The FBI can handle the Cutthroats, but having a local MC at their side will be beneficial.”
“Why’re they taking down the Cutthroats now and not later?” Doc piped up.
“The Cutthroats and Diablos are working together.” A collective grumble of anger filled the air. No one liked Diablos. They were bad for business. He held up his hands. “But the FBI is confident they can disband the alliance.”
“How’re the two connected? They seem like an odd fit.” This from Brewer, the club’s bar manager.
“Human trafficking. Women from what the FBI uncovered.” He saw several brows raise, and more than one head shook from side to side. Macha would never condone ill-treatment of women. Their goddess and patron forbid it. The club respected and appreciated women—a rarity in the MC world.
“I’ve heard enough,” Hawk said, standing. He looked around the room and nodded. “We’re in. No way we let the Cutthroats or Diablos get away with this shit.” The rest of the bikers shouted in agreement.
Kevlar met Rubble’s gaze. The man predicted such a response. Macha protected those who couldn’t protect themselves. He’d joined the brotherhood because of how different they were compared to other MCs.
“What’s the next step?” Reaper asked, bushy white brows furrowed.
“Kita and I are going to New York to meet with one of her contacts in prison.”
Rubble’s mismatched eyes suddenly snapped to him. “Who?”
He swallowed the urge to lie to his brothers. They deserved to know every gritty detail. “Estevan Morales. Her father.”
The roar of voices nearly drowned out the gavel pounding on the solid table. “Everybody shut it!” Slowly, the room died down to a dull whisper. “Kevlar, this is news. Why haven’t you told us before?”
Sweat trickled down his chest and stomach, tickling him subtly. “I only found out recently. This won’t hurt the MC, I swear.”
Reaper exchanged a glance with his sergeant at arms, then nodded. “Be certain it doesn’t. Our club’s been through hell this year. We don’t want to tangle with Diablos. They’re worse than even the Twelve Brothers.”
A round of “Ayes” echoed in the room.
“Macha is helping the FBI take down the Cutthroats and hopefully Diablos in the process.” Kevlar skimmed his eyes from one brother to another. “After that, we’re done.”
Reaper concluded church and the club dispersed as quickly as they gathered. The involvement of Kita’s family earned him glares from Snoopy and Klink. He didn’t care. Macha’s underlying laws won over the bikers. They’d keep women safe, whether they were innocent or not.
***
“Where are we going?”
Kevlar laced his fingers in Kita’s and grinned back at her. “You’ll see.” He opened the clubhouse door and started toward the garage.
