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“I am so sorry for this mess you found yourself in. I can only imagine how these brutes handled everything and what you must be thinking.”
Spec snorted as Lock entered the kitchen to find Liv sitting at the table with Brenna. A beaming Caleb sat perched on Liv’s lap, playing with her long, sparkly necklace. As was typical for Liv, she looked like she had just walked off a runway in Paris instead of off her ol’ man’s motorcycle.
“I’m a little… overwhelmed,” Brenna said. She sat wide-eyed, taking in Olivia.
Lock couldn’t help but snicker. Considering her preconceived thoughts on the club, Olivia had to be making her head spin. Liv was the opposite of everything Brenna thought she knew about MC life, at least their MC life. Liv would crush Spec’s balls beneath the spiky heel of her thousand-dollar sandals if he so much as tried to treat her like his property.
“I’m sure you are. Spec filled me in a little.” Liv bounced her knee and smiled at Caleb as she spoke to the dazed Brenna.
Now that he’d found sobriety and could think clearly, Lock recognized how goddamn lucky he was to have so many incredible women in his life, showering his son with love each day.
“Sorry your ex turned out to be such a douche. If there’s anyone who knows about evil exes, it’s me. Isn’t that right, you cutie pie?” Her voice rose about six octaves as she shifted her attention to Caleb. “Yes, it is. Your Auntie Liv was engaged to a real piece of work.”
Spec grunted, making Liv roll her eyes. “Sorry. Spec gets all squirrely when I talk about my ex.”
Lock cleared his throat loudly.
Brenna jumped and focused on him.
“Can we get on with it? Uh, I’m sure Brenna would like some time to herself to catch her breath.” Not to mention he needed to start Caleb’s bedtime routine or he’d never get the little guy down, and the ripple effect would fuck up the entire night and the following day.
Liv winced. “Sorry, you’re right. I’ll shut up now.”
“Brenna, you met Spec and now Liv, and this is Curly,” he said, pointing toward his prez. “He’s the president of our MC.”
Curly pushed away from the refrigerator where he’d been leaning. “Hello, Brenna. Nice to meet you, even under the circumstances.”
She gave Curly a tentative smile. “Same. I’ve heard a lot about you.” As the words left her mouth, her eyes bugged, and she shook her head. “Uh, no, sorry. That’s not what I meant. I—”
Curly and Spec both laughed.
“Kill me now,” Brenna muttered.
“If you grew up around here, I’m sure you’ve heard all sorts of shit about me,” Curly said. “Unfortunately, many rumors of my past are true, but that was another lifetime and an entirely different club. People love to talk, and what they don’t understand scares them. Our club is often on the tip of many wagging tongues, and what they say is usually bullshit.”
She tilted her head. Whatever made her nervous to be around Curly seemed to have evaporated as she straightened her shoulders and spoke. “They say you’re criminals. Isn’t that what that patch right there means?” She pointed to the one-percenter patch proudly displayed on Curly’s cut.
Lock bit off a groan and dug a fingernail into his palm. It was a trick he used to bring himself back to the present when grief and guilt tried to take over. It turned out it worked well to stave off poorly-timed boners as well. Christ, why was it so fucking hot to watch Brenna stand up to the MC president as though the guy couldn’t snap her in two with a few flicks of his wrists?
Lock shifted as his distraction became less effective, and his cock thickened.
Across the room, Spec smirked. The fucker knew exactly where Lock’s sex-starved mind veered. He flipped Spec off.
Asshole.
Curly smiled at Brenna. No doubt he also enjoyed her spunk and lack of fear, though Lock had a feeling her insides were quivering like the palms before a hurricane.
“I like you, Brenna. You’ve got guts,” Curly said. “And you’re smart. We’re involved in several businesses. Are they all legal? No. In my club, we make our own rules and stick to them. One of those rules is that we don’t fuck with innocents in our business or personal ventures. Oliver broke that rule by setting you up, and he involved my club in doing so.” His voice deepened. “Today could have turned out very differently for you if we were the type of men Oliver assumed we were. If we were what the rumors say.”
The color drained from Brenna’s face, leaving her pale and smaller than she had been only seconds ago. Lock fought the urge to jump in and rescue her from the uncomfortable conversation, but it’d serve her well to understand the severity of her situation.
“I know,” she whispered.
Liv squirmed in her seat. Not long ago, she’d been assaulted by her ex, and were it not for Spec, the situation could have been a thousand times worse. As it was, she struggled with nightmares afterward. “No one will hurt you here,” she said, probably unable to stay silent any longer. “I swear it on my life. I’ve never felt safer than I do since I met Spec.”
Spec moved behind her and rubbed his ol’ lady’s shoulders. She gazed up at him with so much love in her eyes that Lock had to look away. Once upon a time, he’d wanted a partner like many of his brothers had found—someone to go through life with. Contrary to most of the guys he knew, he’d never gotten off on being a player. Sure, he’d had his fair share of meaningless sex—who didn’t like to get off with someone besides their own hand—but he’d never made it a sport. He’d always liked the idea of tying himself to one woman permanently.
Once in rehab, he’d broached the topic with his therapist, who’d hypothesized his desire for monogamy stemmed from being a twin. Living with a constant companion from birth spawned his desire for a single life partner as an adult. Deanna herself used to tease him, calling him a romantic or Prince Charming.
