For once in my life, I wasn’t.
Go figure.
I just wanted to see how she was and make sure she knew about the truce. No, that was a flat-out lie. I just wanted to see her. Period. For all I knew she was about to shoot me, and I couldn’t really blame her if she did. Didn’t change how bad I needed to be near her, even if it was just so she could hate me in person.
Not only that, I didn’t trust Hayes to fill her in on the changing situation. She shouldn’t have to live in fear for the next year, wondering if the Jacks were out for revenge. Not that Skid was her number one fan … But he wanted the truce as much as the rest of us, not to mention she’d kept her club from killing him. He’d been drifting in and out of consciousness at the time, but he remembered that part.
Unfortunately, the Jacks’s leadership was still up in the air. Our current president, Mason, had rallied. Now the doctors said he had a few more months. I thought we should just get the elections over with while we had the votes, but Burke was holding off. He felt like he couldn’t really count on the full support of the club while Toke was still alive.
He was probably right about that.
The good news about the situation was that Clutch was expected to make a full recovery—eventually—despite the fact that Toke had taken a baseball bat to his leg. In the end, it hadn’t been either MC that found him. Some Good Samaritan heard him moaning through a hotel room wall and called the cops. They’d come bursting in to save Clutch and they’d caught Toke when he came back to the room with food.
“Liam?” Em called, her voice cool in the darkness. Christ, I loved the way she said my name. Nobody else called me Liam, it felt like something special, just from her. Went straight to my cock, which wasn’t so good because tonight wasn’t about getting her naked. Chances were, that’d never happen again.
“Over here,” I called softly. She walked toward me, pulling out a small gun and pointing it at me. Of course she’d taken me up on my suggestion. The fucking thing looked like a toy.
I’d bet my bike it wasn’t.
“Did you like the presents I got you?” I asked.
She looked blank.
“The shit you bought with my credit card,” I continued, cocking a brow. I still couldn’t believe she’d picked my pocket. Pissed me off, but I had to admire her for it. “I shut it down, by the way. No more shopping.”
She smiled and a wave of lust smacked straight through me. Fuck, I’d forgotten how beautiful she was. I really, really wanted that beauty wrapped around my dick, screaming my name. How did she do that to me? A cunt was a cunt, but not Em … Christ. Unsexy thoughts, I told myself. Slugs. Athlete’s foot. Skid.
“Sorry,” she said lightly, in a tone that clearly wasn’t sorry at all. “I suppose you could report me to the cops.”
I had to smile. Cops. Yup, that was unsexy enough to do the trick.
“I guess you earned it,” I admitted.
“Oh, I earned more than that,” she said, the gun unwavering. “You kidnapped me, you fucked me over, and then you took pictures of me naked. Gonna take more than pretty panties to make that right.”
“I’ll concede the point,” I said, considering the photos. I might regret everything else, but damned if I’d regret those. “Anything I can do to make it up to you? More shit from Victoria’s Secret sounds perfect to me, but I’m open to suggestions.”
“You know, I’ve given this quite a bit of thought over the past week, and I keep coming back to one idea … How about I shoot you in the balls? Payback seems only fair, right?”
My eyes widened. Em laughed, the sound delicate in the darkness. Then she shook the gun at me like a little finger “tsking” me for being too loud in a library.
“Hey, you asked,” she said. “I’m going back inside now.”
“No, stop,” I said quickly, holding up a hand. “I have shit to tell you. About the situation between our clubs.”
She frowned.
“Why should I trust you?”
I shrugged.
“You don’t have to trust me,” I said. “But I owe you my life. Thanks for that phone call, by the way.”
She flinched.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Okay, well, assuming you had done something for me—theoretically, of course—I’d want you to know how much I appreciated it,” I said softly. “I’d also want to tell you what’s happening with the truce, maybe make sure you know you’re safe now.”
I reached toward my pocket. She straightened her arms into a shooting stance.
“I’m just grabbing some weed,” I told her. “Been a hell of a week, could use a smoke. You want some?”
She shook her head, but when I pulled out the joint, I saw her relax a little.
“Go ahead, sit down,” I told her. “Keep your gun on me if it makes you happy. But I’d rather you didn’t. Knowing my luck, a spider will fall on you or something and the fuckin’ thing will go off.”
“Sexist much?” she asked, frowning. “Poor little Em, scared of spiders. Can’t handle her gun. Afraid I won’t remember which end goes bang?”
I started laughing. In fact, I laughed so hard that I couldn’t talk at first. She glared at me the whole time, but she also lowered the pistol.
“Babe, I nearly shot Skid in the ass one time because a spider fell on me while I was holding a gun,” I finally managed to say. “Those things freak me right the hell out. They got eight fuckin’ legs, and that ain’t natural. That’s some Dr. Seuss shit right there.”
She cocked her head at me and a smile crept across her face.
“It’s really hard to take you seriously when you’re afraid of spiders and Dr. Seuss,” she murmured. Damn, I loved the sound of her voice. If I ever found myself alone with Toke, I’d be killing him with my bare hands. Not because of what he did to Clutch—no, I owed the bastard for ruining my chance to fuck this gorgeous girl.
“So, what’s the proper, Devil’s Jacks–approved policy regarding scary spiders and children’s books?” she asked lightly. “Do your bylaws stipulate extra points for making more than one reference in a conversation? ’Cause I’m not really a Dr. Seuss fan.”
I stared at her, startled.
“Em, you gotta be a fuckin’ communist, you don’t like Dr. Seuss. Jesus.”
She started laughing and relaxed her stance. The gun was still out, but she came over and sat down about six feet away from me, back to the bunkhouse wall. I lit up and took a hit, feeling the harsh smoke slide down my throat and into my lungs. I wasn’t a huge stoner, but I figured I’d earned a little relaxation.
“So what did you want to tell me?” she asked. I took another hit, then let my arms rest on my knees.
“Well, the cops caught Toke,” I said. “You probably knew that.”
“Nope,” she muttered. “I’d guessed things were settling down, seeing as we’re not at war, but nobody confirmed it for me.”
“You sound a little tense. Sure you don’t want some?”
“No. I want to shoot you in the balls.”
“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned that,” I said slowly. “I’m startin’ to think it’s not a joke?”
She smiled at me. Not a nice smile.
“Nope. Not a joke. Like I said, I’ve been thinking about this all week. Just because I’m not screaming and yelling doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you.”
I studied her face, trying to decide how to play this out. I took another long drag, enjoying the cloudy feeling in my head.
To this day, that’s the only explanation I’ve got for what I did next.
“Okay, let’s compromise,” I said, standing slowly. “No shooting, but you can kick me if it means you’ll forgive me? I get that it’s over between us, but I don’t want you hating me. It’s important.”