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I reached over and took the younger woman’s hand. And she was a woman. They both were. “I’m so proud of you, Lemon.” I looked over at Apple. “You too, honey. You’re both going to be fierce wives and mothers. I’m proud to have had even a small part in raising you.”
“We love you, Dani,” Apple whispered. “We just want you to be happy.”
“I will be. I am.” I brushed a tear from my eye. “I am.”
As we ate, the girls told me about their day. Apple hadn’t been bothered by her bullies, and Lemon had punched a boy in the balls when he’d grabbed her ass. He hadn’t wanted anyone to know he’d had his balls beaten by a girl and Lemon hadn’t wanted to get suspended, so neither of them had turned the other in. I figured that wasn’t the end of the story, but was willing to let it go because I was fucking tired.
After supper, I tried to help Apple clean up, but Lemon had insisted I go to bed and she’d help her sister. Normally I’d laugh and send Lemon on her way. The girl hated anything domestic. This time, though, I just wanted a cool shower and bed. I’d start a new day tomorrow. Maybe I could start to put all this shit with Wylde behind me.
And maybe pigs could fly.
Chapter Seven
Wylde
I ground my teeth in frustration. I couldn’t even find peace on my fucking bike! Every time I even looked at my Harley, I could see Danica laid out over the handlebars, her legs spread for me to eat her sweet pussy. I wanted to bash that old bastard, Henry, but that wouldn’t have gotten me anywhere. Besides, I wasn’t too proud to admit there was something in the old man’s eyes that gave me pause. He wasn’t just an old man. He was a warrior, plain and simple. I might go up against him, but not without a little recon first. I might be an asshole, but I wasn’t a dumb shit.
I sat down the street from Danica’s house on my Harley. Christ! I could still smell her! Feel her silky skin! Danica was the woman who was destined to haunt me until I died.
This was crazy! I could have any woman I wanted. I didn’t have to sit here and mope over one who wouldn’t talk to me. Maybe I needed to cleanse my palate, so to speak. Lord knew there were a horde of club whores who’d fuck me willingly. All I had to do was crook my finger.
Yep. That’s what I’d do. Fuck this shit.
I started my bike, revving it a couple of times. Not to get Danica’s attention or anything. I just felt like making some fucking noise. Maybe I’d take a ride before I went back to the clubhouse. Maybe that would settle this pain in my chest.
After a couple of hours, I rolled back into the compound, exhausted, the pain inside me growing with each passing minute Danica refused to talk to me. And yeah, I’d called her and texted her. After the first couple of each, she’d turned her phone off. Which frustrated me to no end. I could still track her and the girls. Unless she’d taken off without a phone -- which she’d never do unless both girls were with her and their phones were on and at their house -- she was still home. So no worries there.
Fuck this fucking shit.
Again.
I parked my bike in front of the clubhouse. Normally, I’d never leave it out, but I just didn’t feel like putting it up. Either a prospect would see it out and put it up or it would still be here when I got ready to leave.
Stomping up the stairs, I snarled at anyone who got close to me. I also got more than a few glares from my brothers. Yeah. Wasn’t dealing with that. I knew I’d fucked up. Literally. I even got why Danica didn’t want to talk to me. What I didn’t get was why I couldn’t charm her into talking to me even though she didn’t want to, and why it fucking mattered to me that she wouldn’t fucking talk to me. This was what I wanted! She wasn’t the woman for me. She was way too fucking sweet and wonderful to be part of Iron Tzars, and that was what she’d be signing up for. To say nothing of Apple and Lemon. OK, so Lemon would fit right in, but that wasn’t the point. The point was I wasn’t a one-woman man. I wasn’t looking for an old lady.
Swearing inventively and creatively, I powered up my gaming gear. Maybe if I killed things online, I’d blow off some steam. Yes. That would help.
I was deep into a battle when Deacon burst through the door to my locked office. One big, booted foot landed heavily on the floor where he’d kicked it open.
I jerked off my headphones. “What the fuck, man? Knock next time!”
“Did. You didn’t fuckin’ hear. Get your shit and come with me.”
“What shit do I need to get?”
Deacon stalked in and grabbed me by my shirt. “Now, you fucker!”
I stumbled after him, swearing at him the whole way. Once outside, Deacon shoved me into the back seat of that fucking Bronco. The second Deacon climbed in the front seat, Clutch stomped on the gas and we took the fuck off.
“What the fuck? Why are we taking off outta here like our hair’s on fire?”
Deacon didn’t turn away or answer me. Clutch filled me in.
“There was a raid on Danica’s home.”
“What? A raid? What the fuck does that mean?” I got a sick feeling in my stomach. That band continually squeezing around my chest, tightening even more.
“It means,” Deacon continued, “the police got a call from someone claiming to be Apple, saying she and Lemon were being held hostage in the house by Danica. Apparently, Apple told the dispatcher Dani had stabbed Lemon and had a gun, threatening to kill the girls, then herself. She stressed that her sister had snapped or something. That this wasn’t in her character. But Lemon needed medical attention or she’d die and Apple was afraid Danica would kill both of them.”
