That was a little scary.
“You ready to go home?” I asked.
“I’ve been ready to go home all night. I still hate you.”
“You need to find new insults. That’s getting old.”
“Fuck off.”
Grinning, I climbed onto my bike. She climbed up behind me, tucking in tight and wrapping her arms around my waist, tits pressed against my back. For the first time in forever things in my world felt right, twisted as that sounds.
She was mine. She’d always been mine. I’d be damned if I’d share her with another man.
• • •
We pulled up to her house a little before midnight. Pic had mentioned earlier that Izzy was sleeping over at his place, but I’d assumed it was because Mel had to work. Much as seeing her with the fuckwad pissed me off, the end result was working in my favor. Turning off the bike, I waited for her to climb off, then followed her toward the house.
“You don’t need to come in,” she said.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I do,” I replied. “We need to get cleaned up, and then we need to talk.”
“What’s to talk about?” she sniped, digging in her pocket for the key. She fumbled and nearly dropped it, so I reached out and took it from her, opening the door. I glanced around the cozy house as we stepped inside. Izzy had taken all the pillows off the couch, lining them up along the wall. On top were all her dolls and stuffed animals, including a little skeleton from last Halloween that she’d fallen in love with. They were covered in blankies, washcloths, and even a few tissues.
“She put her babies to bed before she left for London’s,” I said, feeling the same sense of peace I always got when I thought about Izzy. God, but I loved that kid. Mel smiled, glancing toward me with a look of shared pride in our girl.
“She always does. Tucks in each one and then she tells them a story. Does she do it at your place, too?”
“Yeah.”
“We made a good kid.”
“I want us to live together,” I said abruptly, running a hand through my hair. “We’re a family, Mel.”
She stared at me, covered in dirt, hair looking like she’d survived a tornado.
“We’re fucked up,” she said. “Look at us. There’s something wrong here, Painter.”
“That was the best sex I’ve ever had,” I told her. “Look me in the eye and tell me it wasn’t the same for you.”
Mel glared at me, but she didn’t say a damned thing. I bit back a laugh—busted.
“The sex is good. We’ve got a kid. You already admitted you want me around—don’t think I’ve forgotten that. So far as I can tell, the only reason we aren’t together is that you’re so damned stubborn you can’t let yourself just accept it and be happy.”
“What about Aaron?” she asked. “That’s messed up, Painter. You would’ve killed him. I saw it in your face.”
She was right. Almost.
“But I didn’t kill him,” I reminded her.
“That’s because Puck stopped you.”
“Maybe,” I admitted. “But he was with me for a reason. That’s the thing about having brothers, Mel—they got you covered when you can’t cover yourself.”
“Yeah, I noticed that,” she said, her voice growing harder. “Particularly the way they all pretended you weren’t dragging me out against my will. I was screaming for help and they just watched. That’s sick.”
“He’s a dealer,” I said, derailing her. She blinked.
“Who?”
“Aaron. He was using you for cover—he was at the Silver Bastards’ clubhouse to pick up a shipment. Drugs—or maybe guns. I didn’t get the specifics and I don’t care. What I do care about is the fact that if he’d gotten busted, you would’ve gone down as an accomplice. So far as I’m concerned, I didn’t hurt him enough.”
She stilled.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. That’s what Boonie was telling me.”
“Shit,” she said, collapsing onto the couch. She let her head fall back, staring at the ceiling. “He met Izzy. He gave her a little stuffed unicorn . . . I thought it was sweet.”
“Fucking asshole. Where is it?”
She looked around. “I don’t see it—she probably took it out to London’s. Don’t worry, I’ll bribe her or something, get it away from her. No way I want that in this house, knowing how he used me.”
I sat next to her, propping my feet up on the coffee table. We both needed a shower in a bad way, but we needed to get this shit settled even more. She was on the edge, though. I could see it. Christ, but women were complicated.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked.
“Sure.”
“Would you ever do that?”
“Do what?”
“Carry something illegal around me or Izzy?”
I sighed, wondering how to answer. Fuck it, might as well give her the truth.
“I have a gun on my bike. That’s illegal—I’m a felon, not allowed to own a firearm.”
“Where is it?” she asked.
“Got a hidden compartment for it,” I told her. “Ruger rigged it up. You want to see?”
I don’t know why I offered, but for some reason it seemed like the right thing to do—maybe if she saw it for herself, she’d believe me when I promised that I wasn’t smuggling anything worse.
“Yes,” she said, looking a little surprised that I was so comfortable with it—good. Maybe she’d believe I was serious, because I was. I’d never put her in that kind of danger. “I think I would.”
“Okay, then.”
We went back outside. There wasn’t much light, but I carried a little flashlight in one of my saddlebags, along with a first aid kit, a sewing kit, some tools, and a few other essentials—never know what might happen on the road.
“You’re like a Boy Scout,” she said, and I heard a smile in her voice.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I replied, laughing. “Here it is.”
I popped open the compartment using the hidden latch, showing her the small semiautomatic pistol inside. It was loaded and ready to go, and there was a spare ammo cartridge, too.
“Note the complete and utter lack of drugs,” I pointed out dryly. “For the record—it’s not illegal for you to be holding this gun, just me. There’s no danger to you if we happened to get caught with this.”
“Will you show me how to open it?”
“The gun?” I asked, surprised. She gave a little laugh.
“No, your supersecret compartment.”
I closed it back up, looking at her.
“What is this, some kind of test?”
“I don’t know. Do you need testing?” she challenged. I sighed, because she probably did want to test me.
“Give me your hand.”
Guiding her, I let her feel the little latch for herself, then watched as she opened and closed the compartment several times. Then we walked back to the house, but at the door Mel stopped me, putting a hand on my chest.
“You should leave now,” she said. “I can’t handle any more tonight. I need to take a shower and then get some sleep, and I’ll do that a hell of a lot better if you aren’t around. Safer for you, too. Now that I know where to get a gun, I might be tempted to kill you in your sleep.”
“All right,” I said, and while I wanted to argue, I could see she was telling the truth—Mel was done. Spent. “I have shit to do tomorrow. Important shit. Club business. But when I finish, we’re going to talk. I’ll come for you tomorrow night.”
She shook her head.
“I’ll call you when I’m ready to talk,” she protested.
“No fucking way. I’ll give you tonight, but tomorrow we’re settling this. For real.”
“Fuck you.”
I leaned forward, kissing her on the lips. She softened for an instant, then she was pushing at my chest.
“I already did,” I reminded her. Mel frowned.
“Huh?”
“I already fucked you. It was amazing. But then, us fucking always is, right?”
Her face hardened, and she slammed the door in my face.