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Gate
The next time he had to get Anna somewhere, food or no food, he was putting her ass on the back of his bike and to hell with the consequences, Gate decided.
It had taken him the entire ride back to Talon and Jenna’s to get his throbbing cock under control.
Anna had always had that effect on him. He didn’t even have to touch her to be rock hard and ready.
And with a decade and a half between the last time he’d had her under him and now, it was all he could do to keep from bending her over the kitchen island and reminding her in a not so delicate fashion just how good things had always been between them.
Now found him shot of Talon’s mammoth truck and back on his Harley, the familiar rumble doing nothing to cool his blood.
He turned Jenna’s words over in his mind,whatever kind of statement you’re thinking, make it bigger.
Hell, he’d already married her, and he couldn’t think of a statement bigger than that, but he had to come up with something because his girl wasn’t getting away again.
She could back away from him all she wanted to. She could duck and dodge and think he’d give up.
But she’d apparently forgotten the merry chase she’d led him on before he’d ever touched her the first time, and she’d also apparently forgotten that he loved that chase and was pretty fucking excellent at catching her.
He was old, but he wasn’t dead, and he’d learned some new tricks over the years. He’d developed skills she’d never seen, and if being president of his club taught him anything, it had taught him that no ruthless was too ruthless when it came to getting what you needed to survive.
And Gate knew that without Anna, he was just existing. His life was empty, and besides his kids, meaningless.
He was lonely, even when he was surrounded by a clubhouse full of people, because none of those people belonged to him.
Not like Anna had.
And he was done going through the motions, taking care of everyone else, and having nothing for himself.
So he was getting his woman back, one way or another.
Whether it took him one huge statement or a hundred thousand little ones.
He wasn’t going back to a life without her again.
She was his.
She always had been, and she always would be.
Now, he just had to think of a message loud enough for her to hear it.
Chapter Eighteen
So Are Women Like You
Anna
“I can’t believe Judge Hawthorne let him do it,” Brent said, sliding folders into neat piles and dropping them into his briefcase.
“Holy shit,” I breathed, gathering my own documents and heading for the door to the judge’s chambers.
Knowing Gate the way I knew Gate, I wasn’t too surprised at the chain of events, but considering how many man-hours we’d put into making a clean arrest with an iron-clad witness, I understood Brent’s trepidation.
It had all started about fifteen minutes before when Jeff, escorted by the same Iron Dragons who’d ridden out to his house last night, made the court room.
The defendant, a community youth leader scum bag, had nearly wet himself, the bailiff had called in the deputies, the defense counsel had flipped his lid, and Judge Hawthorne wore an extremely pleased smirk while he banged his gavel and told the defense to shut his client the hell up or he’d have him hauled out. Permanently.
After that, the judge had taken the defense attorney, Jeff, and Deuce to his chambers, left the scum bag in custody of the deputies with about two tons of pissed off biker staring him down, and I was scrambling to keep up.
