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"Ain't starin’, darlin’, just wonderin’."
"I know what guys like you are about. The things you get up to…" She places the knife down flat on the chopping board and twists her body around to face mine.
"Ya do, do ya?" I decide to humor her, she looks too incredible in my shirt not to. Damn this girl knows how to fuck with me. How can I go from being so angry at her, to actually wanting to play her games? I shouldn't even be entertaining the thoughts she puts in my head. That's not what she’s here for.
She shouldn’t be here at all.
Walking slowly toward me, she places herself between my open legs.
"We got time to pass, maybe you could teach me?" She runs her tongue over her lips, attempting to look sexy and fucking nailing it. My cock is stretched to full potential, begging me to take her up on the offer, but I can't complicate things and with Gracie waiting so eagerly for my reaction, I give her one.
I snake my hand around her throat and pull her in closer. Her lips pick up into a smile which I know won’t be there for long.
"You wouldn't have the first clue where to start with a man like me," I tell her, curling my hand around her neck and cupping her nape. I take a chunk of her hair in my fist and pull back, forcing her neck to rise up in front of me. I see the mark I made on her last night and for a second, I think about sliding my tongue over her stretched-out skin. I know now that she tastes just as good as she smells and I want to make her moan again.
But I manage to find restraint from somewhere.
“You made a promise. No more games, remember? Don’t forget what this is, Gracie,” I warn her spitefully, before sliding my ass off the counter and letting my body connect with hers. I stare her down for a few seconds before releasing her hair and stepping away. Then I head straight to the shed and call Jessie.
“You got to hurry this shit up, man,” I tell him as soon as he answers.
“That bad, huh?” he laughs back at me.
“Summat like that.” I pick up a hammer from my workbench and slam it down hard, denting the wood.
“Look, just hang in there, brother, Prez got a lead on Chop, so him and Troj had to chase it up, he should be back in a couple days.” Just hearing that man’s name kicks up more rage, and my fists tense so tight that I nearly crush the cell in my hand.
That asshole didn’t just kill my mom and his own brother’s wife. What no one else knows, not even Jessie, is that he also killed Brian Donavon. I’d been there the night Chop rode out to Utah to meet with the president of the Charter I was prospecting for. I was just a grunt back then, no one took me seriously. But I always kept my ear to the ground, and I learned that being underestimated got you a lot of information.
I’d been working the bar, the night Chop met with Jessie's dad, and knowing that something wasn’t right even before Chop got there, I’d managed to record that whole conversation. I sat on that recording for a long time while I built the club’s trust, and a few years ago, I mailed a copy of that recording to Chop to fuck with his head.
Then I paid the club a visit so I could watch his reaction.
I was gonna kill him that night. Slit the fucker’s throat so everyone could watch him bleed out. That was the night I discovered Nyx was prospecting for Jimmer Carson, and things got a whole lot more complicated.
I realized then that I had to be smart and bide my time. When Tobias Saunders or Chop, as he renamed himself, got his justice, I was gonna be the hand that fed it to him, but the club didn’t know what kind of man he was back then and I would have suffered the consequences for taking the life of a fellow brother.
“Brax, you still there?” Jessie reminds me that he’s still on the line.
“I'm still here.”
“Just hang on in there, Mads is workin’ real hard at getting us some leads. In the meantime, if you need anything, you call, okay?”
“Hurry it up, Jess,” I tell him, before hanging up and making my way back to the house.
Gracie has served up two plates at the table and there’s a bowl of salad in the center. She looks up at me sheepishly as I walk in and take a seat, then she pulls something out of the oven that smells amazing.
“This looks real good,” I tell her when she places it on the table. Naturally, she ignores me, and it’s the least I deserve after being such a cunt to her. When she takes the seat opposite mine, I smile to myself when I look over to Duke's bowl and see she’s fried some beef up for him. He looks up at me, wagging his tail, and I nod for him to dig in.
We eat in silence, just the sound of Duke licking his bowl and chasing it around the floor.
Gracie tidies up after dinner, and I head back out to the shed for some space.
I keep all my favorite bikes out here. Pulling the sheet off my bobber, I run my fingers over the leather seat.
Back when I joined the club it hadn’t been about the bikes for me, and as strange as it sounds, that’s the case for most of us. Over the years I’ve learned to appreciate them, there’s nothing better than the freedom of a ride. It’s a freedom I could do with right now, and an escape I’m tempted to take. I just can’t risk leaving Gracie up here alone.
When I walk back out to the yard, Gracie is searching the ground on her hands and knees frantically.
