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I take off down the sidewalk, ignoring him shouting my name. But I don’t hear him coming after me.
I know what I’m doing. I know I’m pushing him away. And I don’t care. I don’t care that I’m hurting us both in the process. I just—I can’t be with someone like him.
Ian needs someone who isn’t going to fucking die on him, like my dad did. He gave his life up for The Berserkers, and I won’t let Ian go through that kind of pain. Even if Ezra wouldn’t be his real father, he’d be like one to him, and him dying would destroy us both.
I swallow my emotions as I realize that’s the real reason why I’m doing this. I can’t have another man get taken from me because of club life. Everyone wants to be with a biker, every girl wants to rep their man’s colors, until it comes down to it. Until they’re on the outside looking in. Until they’re left with nothing but a bloody cut to remember them by. Until they’re nothing but another club widow.
Ezra’s bike rumbles to life and I turn toward him, finding him riding toward me.
“Get the fuck on, right now.” I pause at his tone. “Someone took Madi, and I need to take you home before I go to the clubhouse. I don’t care that you’re pissed. I’m not letting you walk home alone.”
“Ez—”
“Just get on.” He holds his helmet out to me, and I take it in my shaky hands. “Hold on tight. I’m not slowing down for anything.” I nod as I slide onto the back of his bike and wrap my hands tightly around his waist.
He was serious. He soars through the streets, everything around us a blur. It feels like we’re flying, like I’m weightless. I always understood the appeal of a bike, but the fear of them always kept me from getting my own. The fear always kept me from getting with a man who had one.
Too soon, he pulls right up to the stairs that lead to my apartment. “Do you need me to walk you up?” he asks, his body shaking.
“No,” I say as I slip off. I turn, then take a deep breath, wondering if I’m a fucking idiot. Turning back, I grab his shirt and press my lips to his. “You better come back, Ez. We’re not done.”
His lips tip up, but his eyes are all wrong. They’re not the same twinkling blue I’m used to. They’re darker, and the crazy shimmering in them has my skin prickling.
“We’re not done,” he agrees before pressing his lips to mine again. “I’m coming back, love. Now, get your ass upstairs.” I shove myself away from him, still glaring at his stupidly smug face. His brow lifts as I turn, and he smacks my ass. I growl at him over my shoulder and stomp up the steps. “Love you.” His voice is barely a whisper, and I don’t know if I heard him right. Surely he didn’t say what I think he did.
But as I go through my night routine and slide into bed, they echo around my head. I had heard him correctly.
And I’ll be fucking damned if I’m not starting to feel the same fucking way.
Kiwi
“Pregnancy looks good on you,” Jackson says to Addie. “Of course, you’d look better if my kid was in there.” Bash slams his fist into Jackson’s face until blood pours from his nose, down his shirt, and drips onto the stained concrete floor beneath.
I circle him, my eyes never leaving him as he groans in pain. His arms jerk with every punch, but he still has the audacity to stare at Addie.
When Ryder’s gun went off at the slaughterhouse, I didn’t hesitate to start taking the masked fucks out. They were dragging women, kicking and screaming, to unmarked vans. I knew if we let them get away, we’d never see those women again.
I was lost to the bloodlust, clouded by the killing that I was doing. Every slice of my blade through someone’s throat, every time my gun went off, my soul calmed. It wasn’t until I heard a final shot and saw Ryder hit the ground that fear, real fear for the first time in my fucking life, overshadowed everything else.
He raised his gun, but didn’t shoot. Why didn’t he just fucking shoot? I wouldn’t have hesitated. I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But he did. And I couldn’t fucking understand it.
“Talk,” Addie says again, her voice hard and deadly. “Talk or I’m leaving. You have five seconds.” I continue circling him—my prey.
He slumps forward, his bound arms straining against the chair we have him tied to. Blood spills from his mouth and nose. It makes me fucking giddy–the sight of all that blood, of the life spilling slowly from him.
“Alright,” she says, waving her hand dismissively. “Do what you want with him.” She walks toward the door, her steps never faltering.
“Wait,” Jackson rasps. My eyes narrow as I close in, ready to slit his throat when Bash gives me the look. But I know I can’t. I know this is Reid’s kill and he’ll never forgive me if I take it from him. But if Bash gives me an order—silent or not—I’ll follow it. “I know who the rat is.”
I halt, and Addie freezes, her hand on the doorknob. She barely turns and looks over her shoulder, her eyes locking with Bash’s. I stare down at Jackson, my body vibrating with the need to ruin him.
“Who?” she says, her voice just as deadly as any of ours.
“I know where they take the girls,” he says, and she lets go of the doorknob to take a step toward him.
“Where?”
“I know how to get their names off the list.”
