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“So one time he was balanced up on a roof for almost two days. He must have fallen asleep because a car pulled up to the back of the building and blew its horn. He ended up tumbling down the roof into a pile of snow and ended up having to run out of the village before a mob of angry locals got him. Our C.O. luckily thought it was hilarious and said he startled and ran like Hannibal’s elephants from Roman trumpets at the Battle of Zama. He’s just lucky we didn’t call him Zama.”
Jade giggled, and Ink was glad they were able to lighten the mood. He was afraid things with her ex-friend weren’t over, but there was no use in dwelling.
“If you tell anyone that story I’ll deny it.”
“My lips are sealed.”
Ink smiled at them both. “So what are your plans for today, darlin’?”
“I’ve got a class to teach in about two hours, and a pile of paperwork I’ve been avoiding. Why?”
“How about you join us back at the Clubhouse once you’re done work for the night? You could spend the night here.”
The look Hannibal gave him was filled with happiness and joy. Ink wanted to roll his eyes. Jade was the only woman they had ever spent the night with at their house. Both times had been more a matter of exhaustion than forward planning. Inviting Jade to spend the night on purpose was a big step for him.
“Maybe if you’re a very good girl. You can get Ink to show you some of his whip work.” Hannibal winked at Jade.
The shiver that ran across her skin had his cock coming to attention. “I don’t know about that. Is he any good with the whip?”
“Oh yes, darlin’. I’m very good with my whip.”
Chapter 23
I didn’t have a welcome mat at my door for you because I’m not a liar.
Jade
Jade stepped out of the car sore, tired, and floating on cloud nine. The tattoo Hannibal and Ink had designed was going to be spectacular. It was more than she had ever dreamed possible.
The relationship between the three of them was advancing at a speed that left her breathless. It had been less than a week, yet it felt like she had known them forever. Her thoughts and daydreams were full of images of the three of them and their possible future together.
A relationship between three people wasn’t traditional. Before she met Hannibal and Ink, she wouldn’t have even considered it. But it seemed to work for them.
The things they did to her body should be illegal, or at least classified as a dangerous addiction. If they didn’t work out, not only would it shatter her heart, but no man would ever match them in the bedroom. The phrase ‘ruined for other men’ had taken on a new meaning.
Her gym had been the center of her life for years. All of her time and energy had gone into making it a success. It was all hers now. It would succeed or fail based on the decisions she alone made. It was finally at a place that it didn’t require her attention every moment of every day.
She was making new friends. Not just the Old Ladies, but the Brothers she had met last night. All the people she had met at the Clubhouse had been wonderful and open. It was hard not to want to be a part of the Dark Sons’ family, because that’s what they were.
It was amusing to realize she was waxing poetic about a motorcycle club. She wasn’t blinded by the rose tinted glasses she wore. The Dark Sons weren’t Boy Scouts. Even she understood everything they did couldn’t be legal. Or why would they call themselves outlaws?
Despite that, she liked them. Even Hawk, the gruff and kinda scary man who was their President, hadn’t set off her danger sense. Unlike the men who had come with Eric the other day.
She walked through the doors of her gym and tried to force her head down out of the clouds. Christina scrambled out from behind the front counter on a quick path to intercept her. The look of anxiety and worry on her face was concerning.
“What’s wrong?”
“There are three men waiting for you in your office.”
Jade was confused. “Why did you let someone in my office?”
She glanced over towards the stairs to the office. “I didn’t let them in. They just kinda pushed by and went in themselves.”
Terror prickled up her spine. “Can you describe them?”
“Yeah, two muscle-heads. The kind that look like they eat barbells for breakfast. Lots of black tattoos. The third guy has dark hair and odd, washed-out blue eyes. He’s wearing a suit but doesn’t look like a corporate paper-pusher.”
“Did they give you their names?” The description matched Eric’s Russian contacts, but she was praying she was wrong.
