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“It’s actually not something I can just help myself to,” I wait for them to finish whatever it is they are doing. It ain’t kissing, more like fucking each other’s faces.
“The girl from the reserve, she needs something for putting on under her shirt.” I try a tactful approach but neither of them pays me any attention. They’re both far too consumed in each other.
Grimm’s hand drags over Rogue’s skin and dips into the front of her panties.
“I need to borrow a bra, Rogue,” I spit it out, needing to get the hell out of here, fast. This ain’t the first time I’ve witnessed them get it on. These pair fuck all over the club, not giving a shit who sees, but this feels weird. Like some private pornographic viewing.
Grimm’s free hand slides up Rogue's back and without taking his mouth from hers he skillfully unclasps the back of her bra, pulling it off her shoulders before holding out his hand with its strap dangling off on the end of his finger.
“Thanks, man,” I snatch the damn thing up and get my ass out of there.
When I’m back at my cabin, I head for my room to place it on the pillow beside her. The exhaustion is catching up with me now, and I’m so tempted to rest beside her and grab some shut-eye, but the last thing I want is to scare her. So, I back out of my room and close the door after me.
I take a long swig from the bottle of Jack left on my coffee table, then light up a smoke. Staring down at my dirty jeans and filthy hands, I figure I could use a shower myself, but I slump onto the couch instead. Taking a long draw of my cigarette, I tip my head back and let the smoke consume my lungs before I blow it back out again.
Have I made a mistake bringing her and her people here?
What if we can’t get her uncle back like I’ve promised? What if we can’t save them, and they have to leave the reservation?
The thought of sending her back to him makes me angry again, and I’m starting to really hate how that feels.
Loud slamming against wood wakes me up with a jolt and I’m up on my feet before my brain has a chance to catch up with what’s happened over the past twelve hours.
When I open the door, Jessie and Prez both stand in front of me, and Prez looks pissed as hell.
“You wanna tell me why there’s a tribe of fucking Indians moved into my clubhouse,” he yells at me, and the angry-looking vein on the side of his neck looks set to explode.
I scrub my jaw while figuring the best way to answer that question.
“Troj?” he barks at me impatiently.
“Ivan attacked the reservation, set some of the buildings on fire, and took the chief,” I start, and Prez raises his eyebrow, clearly still waiting for an explanation as to why they are now all communed in our dining hall.
“I figured the best way to get them on side was to help them.” I shrug.
“He’s got a point.” Jessie places a hand on Prez’s shoulder like he’s ready to hold him back.
“I’da made the same call had I been here,” he admits. Proving I can always rely on him to have my back.
“Fuck,” Prez huffs, pushing past me to get inside. “Tell him, Jess,” he adds looking stressed.
“Mads called last night, she did some digging and it’s looking like Ivan’s got himself some backing.”
“What kind of backing?” I ask.
“Alteo Osmani.”
“Alteo?” I huff a laugh.
“Yep, Cooper’s brought in the Albanians.”
“But the Osmani’s have always been good with us.”
“Brothers fell out six months ago, I take it Alteo is branching out.”
“So what’s the fuckin’ plan?” Prez asks, pulling a cigarette from his cut and lighting it.
“I ain’t got a plan, but I figured once we get their chief back, maybe there’s a chance we can go back to our plan A and have them on our side.”
