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He grins, shaking his head. “You’re something else, woman. I’ll be back.” He winks and presses a kiss to my forehead before grabbing his wallet and leaving. The grumble from his bike fills the air a minute later, making me hold my breath to listen to him for as long as I possibly can. The moment he’s out of earshot, I shove the chair back in front of the door and take off in a sprint for the bedroom. If I’m going to be here alone, I damn sure need my gun. And pants.
I don’t know how long I’m hiding for when I begin to hear noises. There’s the sound of pipes distinctly belonging to a motorcycle pulling up to the cabin. Which would be good if I didn’t hear what sounded like another bike right behind it. Could I be making it up in my mind? It’s actually a common occurrence, witnesses hearing or seeing things out of the ordinary because high-stress situations tend to make people hyper-focused on their surroundings, even when there isn’t anything there. Your mind conjures up the sound, and you basically talk your psyche into believing it to be true.
Releasing a tense breath, I check my weapon and count backwards. It helps me recenter myself and I try reaching out for any noise once more. Everything inside wants me to pop out from my spot behind the freezer and check it out for myself. It’s the Marshal in me, used to facing down danger to find whatever fugitive we may be hunting at the time. Only in this case, I’m the one being hunted, so I need to slow the hell down and keep a low profile.
The storage room is located on the back side of the cabin, so it does me no favors in the listening department. This is frustrating, but I know patience and timing are everything. A few seconds could be the difference between life and death and every beat counts. Fuck it. If they’re coming in guns blazing, I’m going to meet them head-on. Chances are my training highly outweighs their ability to shoot first and accurately. I’ve had a gun in my hand since I was six years old and my family took me out to learn how to shoot. It quickly became one of my favorite ways to spend time with them and then eventually to blow off steam on my own when I need to as well.
I’ve got this. I pep talk myself as I quietly and carefully shift out of my hiding spot to crack the door open. Peering through it, I watch for a few minutes to make sure no one’s come inside without me knowing it. I’d like to think I would have heard the front door, but there’s no telling. I had the storage door shut as well as the freezer blocking any relevant light sounds.
Sliding through the gap, my gut clenches at what I may find outside. Breathe. I silently repeat, reminding myself as I tiptoe my way through the small cabin until I can lean my head against the front door. Voices. My gut drops as one man talks, and then Blow replies. He’s definitely not alone, and considering no one knew we were coming here, it can’t be good.
“What I do is none of your business, Prospect.” Blow grounds out. “I don’t give a fuck if Angel told you to come here, I’m your VP.”
The guy responds, but his voice is too low for me to make out what he’s saying. I have a feeling Blow’s speaking loudly in case I’m listening. He’s a smart man, much smarter than I ever gave him credit for, that’s for sure. A gunshot loudly piercing the air has me jumping and swiftly stepping away from the door. I stay as far away from the window as I can but still manage to peek out to see what the hell is going on. I’m freaking out inside with the possibility of Blow being shot, but I find the opposite. The prospect is lying face down in the dirt as Blow walks around the body to his feet. Without a second thought, I haul ass back to the door, wrenching it open. “What the fuck, Blow?” I’m gaping while the guy just shot and killed someone and has the audacity to look nonchalant about it.
“Get back inside and shut the door.”
“Are you out of your mind? We have to call this in.”
“He was sent by Angel. For all we know, Angel could be around the corner about to head over next. Get the fuck back inside while I move the body.”
It takes everything in me not to slam the door in outrage at him giving me orders, but I somehow manage to rein my temper in. He’s right, after all, Angel could be nearby and he’s much worse to have to face than a prospect from the club. I lean against the wall, trying to get my head around everything. It’s not the dead body tripping me out, it’s the gravity of the entire situation. I’m human, I have feelings and emotions I can’t turn off simply because they’re inconvenient at the moment.
I can’t believe he just shot someone, or that any of this is happening. I’m in deep and I need to report in. If not, this could take a turn for the worst, well, more so than it already has.
Chapter 7
Blow
“I need to call this in.” She says when I get back inside.
“The fuck you do. This is club business.” The last thing we need is any more law enforcement around. All it’d do is make this messier and make my prez go off the deep end where Sydney and her family are concerned. We need peace, not war, where her and her daughter’s safety are at risk.
“I thought you were the party boy and yet, you’re nothing like the stigma here. I didn’t think you were a serious person, certainly not one handling club business. I thought it was all Ripper and Angel.”
“What do you know of our club’s dynamics?”
“Only what we could gather from outside intelligence. I mean, no one else’s seen this side of you, according to the recon and reports I’ve poured over.”
With an amused snort, I shake my head. “I may be about having a good time, but there’s a reason why Ripper voted me in as his VP years back. Club shit isn’t up for discussion between us, but I can tell you with confidence whatever information the government thinks they have is undoubtedly wrong.”
“Hmm.” Her mouth twists as she apparently disagrees, but I’m not wrong and I’m not about to delve deeper to prove it. We stay out of prison because we cover our asses and have intel coming from different places. Baker was the exception, and I damn sure don’t plan to make the same mistakes as the old man. “You know, it’s highly inappropriate of me to say this, but thank you.”
“For?” I ask while I place the nearly forgotten groceries on the counter and she closes the distance between us. Her hands land on my chest, and she meets my gaze once more. Why do I get lost in her every time we’re this close?
“You shot a club member for me.”
“He wasn’t a member yet.” He was barely a prospect, and I’m confident it’s why he was sent here. My brothers knew there was a chance the guy would fuck up this visit and end up buried.
She smirks at my stubborn response. “You know what I mean, Blow. You could’ve let him kill me or try and take me with him. Hell, he could’ve overpowered me and called Angel in to do the dirty work so neither of you got your hands dirty.”
“I’m not letting anyone come into my cabin and take you, let alone lay a finger on you to hurt you. It’s not how I roll when it comes to the people I care about.”
“You care about me, biker?”
“Maybe a little,” I confess, though I have no idea why I have any feelings for her past lust. It has to be the kid, riding my guilt and making me go rogue from my club. “Besides, the only dirty work I want around you is between our two bodies, not anyone else.”
“That so? You’re a dirty boy, aren’t you? You like waking up to me riding your cock.”
