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CHAPTER THIRTY
*Lace*
“What the hell are you guys playing at?” I puff out my bare chest at Coty, making sure my hardened nipples tease the hoodie beneath his jacket. Not only am I attempting to make a statement but also because my entire body vibrates with the need for contact. The only thing keeping me from tumbling and getting lost in this drug is the insanity that has been going on around me since they arrived. Adrenaline and self-defense fuel my faux sobriety. The fact that once upon a time not too long ago my tolerance was incredibly high also contributes.
Baylor watches from a distance, acting as temporary Enforcer since Kio had to attend the meeting. The room cleared out except for Coty and Baylor, seeing as they were in the original meeting that served as judge and jury for my apparent fate. Even Zane is in the office, having been plucked up by the collar and dragged there by Brodi.
“Appears your Universe is very giving tonight. Peas in a pod you two; you are about to be very giving tonight, too.” Coty sniffs.
I swiped my pants and top off the floor and bundled them under my arm before approaching. I take the opportunity to slam them — both gifts from Coty — against his chest. His hands remain loose at his sides. “I am not a charity case, Coyote! Take your damn gifts.” I press them against him harder.
Still he refuses to take them from me. When I let go, the clothes fall to the floor between us. I spin on the balls of my feet and storm away, nearly as naked as a jaybird. He apparently has something to “say” about that. His fingers wrap around my bicep, and he yanks me around to face him.
“I promised to take care of you — to give you anything you could possibly ever want or need.” His hand loosens, but he doesn’t let go, and I don’t run away. “You thought this was a game? Now it is. And guess what? You are the pawn. Don’t think for one second this is what I want, because you know damn well I hate the idea.”
“Then why? Why let Kal do this?”
“Let him? You underestimate Kal. He strategizes differently than the rest of us. How do you think he broke away from the Rolling Stones — the fucking son of the club President?”
I want to scream, Tell me! because I have no idea. But the attempt would be fruitless. Kal made it very clear that I would be kept in the dark.
Coty continues, “Anyway, for something like this, the club members have to unanimously agree. If even one man declines, the offer will be null and void.”
“B-but you already disagree.”
“Conflict of interest.”
Gratefulness flushes through me. These men are way too promiscuous to lock things in with one woman for any given amount of time. Plus, no way will Zane agree.
Coty finally lets go of my arm, but his eyebrows flatten in response to something internal before voicing the thought: “I requested exclusivity,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Kal twisted my words in his favor. Instead of me getting you exclusively, the club does. I hate sharing you with them, much less anyone on the outside. But I put up with it. Because before you were mine—” He shakes his head, tossing aside the rest of that comment and replacing it with a different one: “I want you to belong to me. Not them. Not Foster. Not some damn saloon stranger. Me and only me.” He drops his nose against my cheek and brings his mouth closer to my ear. “And not just twice a year, Lace. I want us to be a permanent thing.”
Permanent? He must be higher than I am right now. We both know that is an improbable option — not unless he gets out of the club. I would never in a million shooting stars wish that upon him. He might be intense with me, but that same fierce loyalty exists with Hell for Leather, even if the entire club is all moody bitches toward each other on the best of days.
What Coty is unaware of is that, like him, my own affections also extend beyond just him and me to Hell for Leather as a whole. These men have become my family over the years, even if we only reunite twice annually. Absence makes the heart grow fonder after all.
Every time they visit, I am perfectly happy to be shared. Some rallies I wish that sharing went beyond just the initiate, though. Like this Bike Week. Maybe because I mean it this time: this rally is my last. I will miss them all.
Admittedly, I also enjoy putting up with Coty. I get off from the attention. The passion. The danger. But I like all that because, come Monday, I get to focus on my dreams again. Fun, for future. “Well, luckily, this will all be dust under the rug in just a matter of minutes,” I state aloud in response to his concern about the sharing part but not about the permanency.
The only thing either of us can do right now is wait. I still stand by my assuredness that at least one of these men will vote against the idea. At least, I hope. Because those future plans of mine certainly do not consist of being the property of anyone other than myself.
Buzzing and flustered, I may be just this side of naive enough to believe I have a choice. Right now, I want to keep that illusion. I just need to get through the next five days. Come Sunday, they will leave. Then, I can move on with my life. For good.
Coty will eventually demand a response to his deeper comment, but for the time being, he lets my avoidance slide. “Just like how you underestimate Kal, you also underestimate yourself. The club members value you,” is all I give him.
The front door opens, and a stream of light fills the dark entrance space, illuminating the white and gray that streak through the sides of Coty’s hair.
Our attentions move that direction. Lainie, the girl from Groove Pizza, pops her head inside. Her innocent, blinking eyes peer around the barricade that separates the people entering the saloon from seeing what goes on behind it.
When she spots Coty and me, her eyes widen, but she enters anyway. The two of us walk forward, Baylor pushing out of a chair not too far from where Coty and I were engaged in conversation.
Her gaze immediately flicks to my bare chest and the pile of clothes on the floor for a heartbeat before she swallows hard and stutters out, “Yeah. Okay. Um. Getting that many pizzas here will take a couple trips unless. Uh…” Her attention moves to Coty and Baylor. “Unless you two want to follow me next door and give me a hand?” Her attention switches to my face again. “Y-you could help if you want, but” — Lainie flutters a hand toward my mostly naked body — “maybe not. For reasons.” She chuckles nervously.
“Yeah.” I ease her with a chuckle of my own. “Not sure I want to get arrested for indecent exposure today.”
“Right,” Lainie says. “Okay… well… I am gonna go grab ‘em. The pizzas I mean.”
Wanting to assist before she can embarrass herself any further, I nudge the situation forward: “Thanks. Coty and Baylor will definitely follow you over there.”
“Perfect.” Lainie slowly walks backward until her ass and ponytail bump into the front door. Baylor steps around me, reaches forward to palm the handle, and uncaring of how uncomfortable she is — probably preferring it — he grins, winks down at her with those glinting copper eyes, and opens the door slowly, lest she stumble out and land on her ass on the sidewalk.
Coty looks at me then lifts his gaze in the direction of the office and back down at me again before turning to follow with a quiet puff of complaint.
