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“Sin, you’re gonna have to do hard the work tonight.”
“Perfectly happy with that,” I told my husband. I rolled back over and began kissing my way down his chest. Yeah, I was delighted with that.
Drake
Drake rubbed his eyes wearily. Over the last forty-eight hours, he’d hardly slept. Drake glanced across to the bed where Gunner lay perfectly still. He’d not woken up yet, but the doctors gave him a far better chance than twenty-four hours ago. The door opened, and Drake looked surprised as James Washington entered. James stared at Gunner and took a chair near Gunner’s bed.
Drake’s thoughts raced as he studied a man he knew was dirtier than dirt. He’d only crossed paths with Washington in passing, but it was enough. The man’s illegal activities rivalled Santos and Washington was a guy that even Santos avoided. The fact James was here in Gunner’s room meant shit was about to hit the fan.
“Why?” Drake wondered out loud, rubbing a hand over his face.
“Rage nearly destroyed Rapid City years ago in your war with Bulldog. I don’t want to see my home ripped apart again. Plus, I loathe child traffickers,” James said simply.
Drake nodded, and they sat there in silence.
“Rage has a problem,” James told Drake.
Drake leant forward, his elbows resting on his thighs and his hands dangling loosely.
“We do?” Drake asked.
“Santos,” James responded. Drake rocked in his chair. Shit, he hadn’t expected that name as the one who put a hit on Gunner.
“Santos is coming after the club?” Drake inquired.
“Yup.” James continued to stare at Gunner. Worry creased his brow, and Drake sat back, observing quietly. “You know, don’t you?” James asked Drake finally.
“Think you’ll find there ain’t much I don’t know,” Drake muttered, still watching.
“Santos signed his death certificate when he came after Gunner.” James rose to his feet and looked down at the bed. Then James stared Drake in the eyes. “Gunner’s the better of us. The one who took the shit he was dealt and honed it. He’s the stronger man, my baby brother.” Drake nodded as James spun on his heel. James stopped by the door.
“When he wakes, I’ll tell Gunner you were here,” Drake muttered.
“No, don’t. Drake, you understand the situation with us. Putting a hit on Gunner was a message to you and me. Santos is a dead man walking.” James left the room. Drake turned to see Gunner’s silver-grey eyes focused on him. Gunner glanced towards the door where his brother had left and looked at Drake.
“War is coming, brother,” Drake said, leaning forward. Gunner stared at Drake and then nodded.
Epilogue.
Isat on the bar stool wearing a cream dress Phoe had insisted I wear. We’d been shopping the day before, and Phoe forced me to buy an entire outfit for today. All I knew was this was the meeting that should have happened three weeks ago but had been postponed until Gunner came home and everyone’s injuries had healed.
Phoe and Artemis had their heads thrown back, howling with laughter next to me. Opposite me, Mac, Ezra, Lowrider, Manny, and Jett looked horrified. Jett’s eyes kept searching my face as if to see if I was serious.
“You want Artemis to do what?” Manny finally asked.
“Teach me to fight like her. She’s a supreme badass,” I replied calmly and took a sip of my margarita. Manny and Mac shook their heads in disbelief.
“One Artemis running around is enough. Fuck, Phoe can kick the shit out of anyone, and Marsha is a crack shot. Don’t need another kickass woman.” Lowrider shook his head as I nodded mine.
“I want to be Artemis,” I disagreed, pointing at my hero.
“No, you don’t.” Ezra shook a finger at me, trying to make me change my mind. Jett chuckled and wrapped a hand around the back of my neck.
“Prefer you not train like Artemis does,” Jett told me. Humour lit his eyes; I bit my lip for a few seconds.
“Can Artemis teach me a few self-defence moves and how to shoot?” I asked.
Jett nodded, and I shrieked, leapt off my stool, and threw my arms around him. I kissed Jett madly, and he chuckled and responded.
