Undeniable

By

Madeline Sheehan

Undeniable

Madeline Sheehan

Copyright 2012 Madeline Sheehan

This ebook is licensed for your

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purchase your own copy. Thank you for

respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names,

characters, businesses, places, events and

incidents are either the products of the

author’s imagination or used in a fictitious

manner. Any resemblance to actual

persons, living or dead, or actual events is

purely coincidental.

Dedicated to undeniable love.

There will always be a reason why you

meet people. Either you need them to

change your life or you’re the one that will

change theirs.

- Angel Flonis Harefa

PROLOGUE:

Mark Twain said, “The two most

important days in your life is the day you

were born and the day you find out why”

I don't remember the day I was born

but I remember the day I found out why.

His name was Deuce.

He was my “why”.

And this is our story.

It is not a pretty one.

Some parts of it are downright ugly.

But it’s ours.

And because I believe everything

happens for a reason, I wouldn’t change a

thing.

CHAPTER ONE:

I was five years old when I met

Deuce, he was twenty-three, and it was

visiting day at Riker's Island. My father,

Damon Fox or "Preacher", the President

of the infamous "Silver Demon's"

motorcycle club -mother chapter- in East

Village, New York City, was doing a

five-year stint for aggravated assault and

battery with a deadly weapon. It was not

the first time my father had been in prison

and it wouldn't be the last. The Silver

Demon's MC was a notorious group of

criminals who lived by the code of the

road and gave modern society and all it

entailed a great big fuck you.

My father was a powerful and

dangerous man who ruled over all Silver

Demon's worldwide and was highly

respected but mostly feared by other

MC's. He had government connections

and ties to the mafias but what made him

his most dangerous and most feared was

his many connections to average everyday

people. People who didn’t run in his

circle, people who were off the grid.

People who could get things done quietly.

His way with words and his killer

smile made him friends everywhere he

went and considering he'd been riding

since he'd still been in my grandmother's

womb, when I say everywhere, I mean

everywhere.

My father's shortcomings, the

constant crime and the club lifestyle

weren’t strange to me, it was all I knew.

I was holding my Uncle “One eyed”

Joe's hand as we walked through Riker's

family visiting room. Since my father

was my only parent, my Uncle Joe and

Aunt Sylvia had been given temporary

custody of me. My mother, Deborah

“Darling” Reynolds, had split a few

weeks after I was born. Many men would

have crumbled under the responsibility of

a newborn baby, especially a biker, a

biker who couldn't handle more than a few

weeks without needing the open road.

But not Preacher.

Aside from going to prison every

once in awhile, my father was a good dad

and I’d never wanted for a thing.

Dressed in an orange jumpsuit, his

long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail

at his nape, Preacher spotted us

immediately and jumped up. He was

hindered slightly by the handcuffs around

his wrists and ankles, looped together by a

chain, and the prison guard standing

behind him who shoved him back down.

"Eva," He said softly, smiling down

at me as I climbed into an uncomfortable

plastic chair. My sneaker-clad feet didn't

reach the floor and my chin barely cleared

the table. Uncle Joe slid into the chair

beside me and put his arm around me,

pulling my chair close to his.

"Daddy," I whispered, trying so

hard not to cry. "I want to hug you. Uncle

Joe says I can't. Why can't I?"

My father blinked. Then he blinked

again. I didn't know at the time but my big

strong, rough and tough father was trying

not to cry.

Uncle Joe squeezed my shoulder.

"Baby girl," He said gruffly, "Tell daddy

'bout the spellin' bee."

Excitement battled my tears and

won. "I won the spelling bee, daddy! My

teacher, Mrs. Frederick's, she says even

through I'm only in kindergarten I can spell

as good as a third grader!"

My father grinned.

Seeing this grin and not wanting to

lose it, I kept going.

"Do you know how old third

graders are, daddy?"

“How old baby?” My father asked,

laughing.

"They are eight," I whispered

excitedly. "Or sometimes nine!"

"Proud of you baby girl," My father

said, his eyes shining.

I beamed. When you are young,

your parents are your entire world. My

father was my world. If he was happy, I

was happy.

Uncle Joe squeezed my shoulder

again. "Eva honey, why don't you go get

somethin' from the snack machines so

daddy and I can have a word."

This was typical. At the club

everyone was always "having a word",

words I wasn't allowed to hear. Most

times, I didn't really care since all the

boys loved me and gave me lots of hugs

and let me ride on their shoulders and

bought me presents all the time. To a

five-year-old biker brat, an MC full of

surrogate big brothers and daddies is the

equivalent to a normal child being able to

celebrate Christmas every day.

I took my Uncle Joe's money and

skipped off to the snack machines. Two

people were in line ahead of me so I did

what I always did when I was bored, I

started singing. Unlike most children my

age who were listening to New Kids on

The Block or Debbie Gibson, I was

listening to the music played around the

club. A particular favorite of mine was

Summertime by Janis Joplin. So there I

was shaking my butt and singing

Summertime way, way out of tune waiting

in line for stale potato chips in the

Ricker's Island family visiting room when

I heard,

"You like Hendricks's too, kid?"

I swiveled around and met with a

pair of denim-clad legs, the knees worn

clean through. I looked up and my eyes

widened in delight. He was tall and tan,

his arms and legs were thickly muscled

and his waist was trim. His forehead was

wide, his jaw, strong and square. His

head was shaved, only a fuzz of blonde

hair showing and his forearms were

heavily tattooed with different depictions

of elaborate dragons. I’d never seen a

more beautiful man. Overall, he looked

tailor made from The Man Cookbook.

There are three different types of

men in this world. There are weak men;

men who run and hide when life slaps

them in the ass. Then there are men; men

who have a backbone yet occasionally,

when life slaps them in the ass, will rely

on others. And then there are real men;

men who don’t cry or complain, who

don’t just have a backbone, they are the

backbone. Men who make their own

decisions and live with the consequences,

who accept responsibility for their actions

or words. Men who, when life slaps them

in the ass, slap back and move on. Men

who live hard and die even harder.

Men like my father and my uncles.

Men I loved with all my heart.

Men like Deuce.

"I like Hendricks's," I said. "But Janis rules. I listen to "Rose" almost

every single day!"

He grinned down at me and dimples

popped out all over the place.

"I like you, kid," He said, still

grinning. "You got good taste in tunes and

you've got a pair of chucks on instead of

those stupid fuckin' high tops everyone's

wearin'."

He liked me. This was hands down

the best day ever.

"I hate high tops," I said, wrinkling

up my nose.

He winked. "Me too."

I was so throwing out all my high

tops when I got home.

When it was my turn in line I stood

on my tiptoes and popped change into the

machine. I took my time studying the

selections, deciding on small bag of salted

peanuts. Moving out of the way, I

watched as the man bought two bags of

potato chips, three candy bars and a big

chocolate chip cookie.

"Wow," I said. "You're really

hungry."

He laughed. "Not for me." He

pointed across the room. "My old man."

I spared a quick glance at my father

and Uncle Joe. Their heads were bowed

over the table still "having a word".

"Can I meet him?" I asked.

His eyebrows popped. "Uh, he’s

kinda cranky."

I laughed. All the men I knew were

kinda cranky.

I slipped my hand in his and looked

up, ready to go meet his father. His hand

was warm and comfortable like my bed

was after I'd slept in it all night.

He stared down at our joined hands,

his expression confused.

“Ready,” I told him, tugging on his

hand. Shrugging, he led me to a nearby

table where an older man with a long gray

beard and a shaved head sat, cuffed the

same way my father was. He released my

hand to take his seat and I climbed into the

seat next to him.

"Hi," I said cheerfully.

"You got somethin' to tell me?" The

old man asked his son.

"She likes Janis," He replied.

The old man studied me, "You like

Janis, kid?"

I nodded. "And Steppinwolf and

Three Dog Night and the Rolling Stones

and Billy Holiday-

"Billy Holiday?" He interrupted,

sounding surprised.

I popped some peanuts in my mouth

and nodded. "She rules."

The old man grinned and his entire

face changed. I knew immediately, a long

time ago this cranky old man had been as

beautiful as his son.

"I like Billy Holiday,” He said

gruffly.

"I like you," I said spontaneously,

because I always said stuff

spontaneously. "Do you want some

peanuts?"

"Sure kid," He said, smiling. "I'd love some."

I poured the rest of my peanuts into

his hand and he popped them all into his

mouth at the same time.

"Eva!"

I jumped at the sound of my Uncle

Joe's voice. He was walking briskly

across the room towards me. Once he

reached the table not only did Uncle Joe

looked pissed off but so did my two new

friends.

"You gotta death wish?" Uncle Joe

whispered to the old man. "Horsemen are

in good with the Demon's. Let's fuckin'

keep it that way."

"Ah," The old man said, looking

back at me. "You must be Preacher's little

girl. He's talked 'bout you. Proud as fuck,

he is."

I nodded proudly. "I am Preacher’s

little girl. And I'm gonna be just like him

when I grow up. I'm gonna have a Fatboy

but I want mine to be sparkly and I want a

pink helmet with skulls on it. And instead

of being the club President, I’m gonna be

the club Queen cuz I'm gonna marry the

biggest, scariest biker in the whole world

and he's gonna let me do whatever I want

because he’s gonna love me like crazy."

My Uncle Joe burst out laughing and

the old man shook his head, smiling. The

beautiful man turned to face me and leaned

forward.

"I'm gonna hold you to that," He

whispered.

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I was

captivated by the intensity I saw in his

bright blue and white flecked eyes. They

reminded me of a frosted over lake. He

had beautiful icy blue eyes that sucked me

in to a warm safe place that I wanted to

stay inside of forever.

He stuck out his hand, breaking the

spell. "Name's Deuce sweetheart. My

old man here is Reaper. It was nice

talkin' with ya."

I put my hand in his and his big

fingers closed around mine. "Eva," I

whispered. "That's my name and it was

so, so great to meet you too."

He smiled. And his eyes smiled

too. And I got lost again in his pretty

eyes.

Then Uncle Joe picked me up and

threw me over his shoulder. "Isn’t that

fuckin' expensive as hell private fuckin'

school teachin' you 'bout talkin' to

strangers?" He said. "Gonna have a talk with those prissy fuckers. Gonna have a

talk with my fist."

"Bye," I yelled, waving frantically,

as I was marched away.

Reaper gave me a two handed

handcuffed wave and a big smile.

Deuce got to his feet grinning and

gave me a two-finger salute. "Bye

darlin'."

Darlin’.

It was official. I was head over

heels in love.

☼☼☼

Deuce watched One Eyed Joe,

Silver Demon CM, stalk off with

Preacher's kid hanging over his shoulder,

grinning and waving like a lunatic. He

shook his head and smiled. When he

could no longer see her, he lost his smile

and turned back to his old man.

His old man had lost his smile too.

"Cute kid," Reaper grumbled.

“Shoulda had a girl instead of you two

fucks.”

He stared at his old man. He’d had

a moment of longing watching him smile at

that kid, talk to her the way he should have

talked to his own kids but never had.

He’d been too busy beating on him and his

brother.

Good times.

"Preacher's on the move," Reaper

growled. "Takin' that fuckin' deal with the

Russians right out from under you. Why

the mother fuck didn't you snap that shit

down when you had the chance?"

And there it was. He was VP and

that’s all he was to his old man. Someone

to pass the fucking gavel to when he

finally - and it couldn't come fast enough -

kicked it.

"Preacher's RC beat me to it.

Snagged that shit fore' I even heard about

it."

Reaper's expression went glacial.

"You're such a fuckin' fuck up. Shoulda

made Cas VP, shoulda had that fuckin'

cunt of whore get ridda ya."

His mother had been a whore. Not

a streetwalker but a club whore. She'd

been sixteen when his father knocked her

up, his old man nearly thirty. After he was

born his old man kicked her to the curb

with nothing but the clothes on her back.

All he'd ever had of his mother was a

gritty picture of a very young girl sitting

on his old man's Harley, Olivia Martin

written on the back. He liked to think that

she'd started a new life somewhere else,

with someone who was nothing like his

old man. Found some peace and a family

who loved her.

His younger brother Cas was the

product of another knocked up whore.

Same story, different day.

Twenty three years he'd been putting

up with his shit. He'd had enough.

Pushing out of his chair he stood up,

placed his palms on the table and leaned

forward.

"Nobody, and when I say nobody, I

mean fuckin' everybody, gives two fucks

about what happens to you, you miserable

shit. The club respects their Prez but not

one of your boys fuckin' give a fuck

whether you live or die. You got life old

man and I been runnin' shit in your

absence. And seein' as I been runnin' shit

a fuck of a lot better than you, I don't have

to come here but I fuckin' do outta fuckin'

respect and I just lost the last shred of

respect I had left."

"You little shit," Reaper hissed,

"You're gonna pay-

"No. You're gonna pay. Puttin' the

cash up for bids the minute I walk outta

here."

Fear flashed through his old man's

eyes. He'd never seen anything sweeter.

"Remember you piece of shit fuck,

when you're bleedin' out, that it was me

who fuckin' ordered it."

He turned away before his old man

could say another word and strode through

Riker's visiting room breathing hard, his

heart pounding in his chest, determined to

end that man.

"Deuce!" A little voice squeaked.

He turned.

Eva Fox was gunning for him. Just

before she reached him, she came

skidding to a stop, breathing heavy and

thrust her hand out. "Didn't get to share

with you," She said breathlessly.

He bent down and closed his hand

around a small bag of peanuts.

His throat closed up.

This kid, this little fucking kid who

didn't know him at all, had just given him

his first gift, nothing expected in return, no

favors, no stipulations, no nothing. He’d

been wrong. There was something

sweeter than seeing fear in his old man’s

eyes. Eva Fox was far sweeter. If he

ever had a kid, he wanted a kid like this

one.

"Thanks darlin'," He said hoarsely.

"Will I ever see you again?" She

cocked her head to the side, wide eyed,

waiting for his response. He stared into

her eyes; her fucking phenomenal eyes, too

big for her face. Big and smoky gray like

a thunderstorm. Fucking beautiful.

He smiled. "Hope so sweetheart."

She gave him a killer cute grin and

bounced back to her old man and uncle -

who were staring daggers at him - shakin'

those pigtails.

After shoving the peanuts in his

pocket, he left. First street payphone he

saw, he posted the hit. It took all of an

hour and he had a buyer. Three days later,

his old man bled out in the showers.

CHAPTER TWO:

Seven years passed before Deuce

and I crossed paths again.

During those years, my father had

been released from prison and I had

gained an older, pain in the ass brother,

Frankie.

Franklin Deluva Sr. had been my

dad's road chief. He had died in a head

on collision with a Mack truck a few

years back and his old lady had died

several years earlier from breast cancer.

As was the case with most biker brats,

Frankie didn’t have any other family

willing to take him on. Since my father

didn't have a son, he took Frankie in and

under his wing and began mapping out his

future as a Demon. If Frankie stayed the

course my father had made it clear he'd be

taking the gavel from him one day. Which

was fine, great even, there was just one

big problem.

Frankie was angry.

All the time.

So much so that all he did was get

into fights. At school, at the club, on the

sidewalk, in the grocery store. Frankie

would fight with a brick wall if it pissed

him off. You would not believe just how

many walls have pissed Frankie off.

His poor fifteen-year-old body was

already covered in scars from street

fights. Since he had come to live with us

he'd been hospitalized sixteen times for

various broken bones, knife wounds and

numerous concussions.

Frankie also had serious

abandonment issues.

When he had first moved in with my

father and me, he had violent nightmares.

He would wake up terrified, covered in

sweat and screaming at the top of his

lungs. The nightmares turned into night

terrors and Frankie began thrashing in his

sleep, beating his head with his fists while

screaming and crying uncontrollably. My

father had to hold him down until he either

calmed or regained full consciousness.

One night, when my father was out

on a run, Frankie snuck into my room and

slipped in bed with me. He slept soundly

for the first time since he'd moved in with

us and he’s been in my bed ever since.

And life moved on.

Two weeks after my twelfth

birthday my father decided it was time for

Frankie to tag along on an MC run. When

he found out I wouldn’t be going he threw

a violent fit until my father caved. When

it came to Frankie, my father was a total

pushover.

On the back of Frankie’s bike I left

Manhattan, Northern Illinois destined, our

first stop: A pumpkin farm. When your

father and his cohorts were involved in

illegal dealings and needed to meet

privately, criminal gatherings at pumpkin

farms were more frequent than one would

think.

These sorts of meets usually lasted a

couple of days; the adults stayed inside

and the kids outside. There was always a

lot of yelling, a lot of fighting and a lot of

drinking. And a lot of slutty women.

I'd started developing early and

looked rather awkward being as skinny

and as tall as I was, all elbows and knees

with a pair of C cups. Several boys who

had accompanied their father’s to the meet

had been following me around, snapping

my bra strap, and calling me “stuffer”.

Which was how I found myself hiding in a

tree, my headphones on, listening to the

Rolling Stones, swinging my legs, bobbing

my head and singing along.

I felt a tug on the toe of my chucks

and I jerked my foot away.

"Go away Frankie!" I yelled.

Frankie tugged my toe again and I

ripped my headphones off my head and

glared down at him.

It wasn't Frankie.

Except for his hair, which was now

thick and sandy blonde and hung down to

his shoulders, he looked exactly the same.

Still devastatingly beautiful.

He grinned his multi dimpled grin.

"Heard you were around here

somewhere, darlin'. You remember me?"

"Deuce," I whispered, staring at

him. "From Riker's."

He burst out laughing. "I'm not

actually from there. Home sweet home is

in Montana. I was just visitin' my old

man, same as you. Remember?"

I nodded. "Reaper. I liked him."

His smile slipped. "He's gone

now.”

I never knew what to say to people

who had lost their loved ones. Nothing

ever sounded right.

But seeing the faraway look in

Deuce’s icy blue eyes, I had to say

something.

"He had a great smile," I said

softly. "Just like yours."

His eyes shot to mine and he

smiled.

And I smiled.

"You know," He said as he pulled a

thin gold chain out of his dirty white tee

shirt and lifted it over his head. "You

should have this."

He grabbed my hand and placed the

chain in it.

"It was my old man's," He said.

"Ain't no one ever said nothin' nice ‘bout

that bastard. Ever. Not even his own

mother. Not until right now. Figure that

makes it yours."

I held the chain up and studied the

small, round medallion hanging on it. The

Hell's Horsemen's insignia was on the

front. The words, “Hell’s Horsemen”,

encircled a hooded grim reaper straddling

a Harley and holding a scythe.

On the back it read, "Reaper".

"That day seven years ago was the

first time I'd seen that asshole smile. It

was also the last."

I didn't know what to say. So I

didn't say anything, just slipped the chain

over my neck.

"Thanks," I said and tucked the

medallion under my Jimmy Hendrix tee

shirt. "I like it."

Nodding, he looked off into the

distance.

"Gonna take a walk through them

pumpkin's darlin'. You wanna join?"

I hung my headphones around my

neck, clipped my walkman to my jeans

pocket and hopped down.

I didn’t give it much thought, just

slipped my hand into his like I would with

my father or Frankie. He glanced down

but didn’t pull away and his thick, warm

fingers curled around mine and we started

walking.

As we walked, Deuce stared up at

the cloudy gray sky, chain smoking, not

speaking.

“Are you sad?” I asked.

He glanced down at me and his

brows furrowed. I bit my lip. Had I said

the wrong thing? Maybe he hadn’t wanted

anyone to know he was sad. My heart

started beating faster and faster, I felt my

palm grow clammy, and because my hand

was in Deuce’s hand, I became

embarrassed and started sweating even

more.

“Little brother died, darlin’. Few

days ago.”

I stopped walking and threw my

arms around his waist, squeezing as hard

as I could. “I’m so, so sorry,” I

whispered.

Deuce sucked in a breath. “Darlin’.”

Then he fell to his knees and

squeezed me until I couldn’t breathe but I

didn’t care because it felt so nice and I

knew he needed it.

“You’re a good kid, darlin’. A

good, sweet kid,” He whispered in my

ear.

He pulled away and looked me in

the eyes. “Promise me you’ll stay that

way, yeah? You and me kid, we were

fuckin’ born in the life, reared by the road

and the wheel; it’s what we know and

where we belong but that don’t mean it

won’t take its toll. So you promise me, no

matter what you see, no matter what sort

of fucked up shit happens to you. Don’t

let this life turn you bitter.”

I stared into his icy blue eyes,

entranced by the safety and comfort

blanketing me, warming me. I couldn't

look away. I wanted to tuck this feeling in

my back pocket, take it home with me and

keep it safe under my pillow to have when

I needed it most.

Eventually, when I remembered

what he’d said, I nodded.

He brushed his knuckles down my

cheek and stood. I slid my hand back into

his and we resumed walking, Deuce

resumed smoking and I began pointing out

unusually large pumpkins.

“You ever watch, "It's the great

pumpkin Charlie Brown”," Deuce asked.

“Stupid fucker makes me laugh.”

I decided I too really liked that

stupid fucker Charlie Brown and made a

mental note to watch everything featuring

Charlie Brown as soon as I got home.

"You gonna dress up for Halloween,

darlin'?"

"I haven't decided," I told him.

"Halloween is very tricky. Once a year

you get to dress up and pretend you're

something or someone entirely different

then you are. There’s nothing else quite

like it. You don't want to mess that up,

you know? It's important to pick carefully

that way you have no regrets only fabulous

memories."

Deuce stopped walking and stared

down at me.

"What are you thinkin' you might

wanna be?"

"Maya Angelou," I replied

immediately, "Or Eleanor Roosevelt."

He started choking.

"But," I hurriedly continued, “In

order to dress up as Maya Angelou I’d

somehow have to make my skin black

without insulting the African American

community. I will probably end up as

Eleanor Roosevelt. Not that I mind. She

was an amazing woman.”

"How old are you?" He asked

roughly, pounding on his chest with his

fist.

"Twelve."

"Twelve?"

Looking bewildered, he shook his

head. "Thought you were a pretty smart

kid when I first met you, now I know you

are."

I blushed. Deuce, President,

according to his cut, of the Hell's

Horsemen, thought I was smart. How cool

was that?

"How old are you?" I asked.

"Thirty, darlin'." He looked down

at me and wrinkled his nose. "Old, yeah?"

I shrugged. "My dad's thirty seven.

And he's still pretty cool."

His eyes bugged out of his head.

"Lemme get this straight. You're twelve

years old, you’re probably gonna dress up

as Eleanor Roosevelt for Halloween and

you think your old man is cool?"

I nodded.

He shook his head again, smirking.

"Damn."

My stomach dropped. He was

making fun of me.

I ripped my hand out of his and

crossed my arms over my chest. "I know

I'm weird. Everyone at school always

tells me that. Everyone except my best

friend Kami. They hate my music because

it's old. They hate my clothes cuz they're

boy clothes. They think I'm a freak! So go

ahead and say it! You think I’m freak,

don’t you!"

Deuce knelt down in front of me.

"Darlin' you ain't weird. You're twelve.

An those kids don’t hate you, not even

close. The girls are jealous cuz you're so

damn pretty and the boys are just bein'

boys tryin' to flirt but not havin' the first

clue how to go about it."

You're so damn pretty.

"I'm pretty?"

His lips twitched. "Only twelve

and already fishin'. Yeah, darlin', you're

pretty. Gonna be beautiful someday.

Gonna make some boy happier than a pig

in shit."

I grinned. Who would have thought

the words "pig" and "shit" used in the same sentence could make a girl blissfully

happy.

“There it is,” he said quietly.

“That’s what I like to see. Nothin' better

than a pretty girl smilin'.”

I stared up at him; he stared down at

me. His hard eyes gentled and I felt my

body go butter soft. Something was

happening to me, something important,

monumental even.

The shift from child to teenager.

Although I wouldn't understand this until I

was much older, what had happened and

why it had happened, standing there in the

middle of a pumpkin field I’d known I

was irrevocably changed. And that I'd

changed because of and for this man.

"EVA! WHAT THE FUCK!"

I swiveled around. Frankie was

storming towards us, kicking poor

innocent pumpkins out of his way.

"Great," I groaned. "Frankie found me."

"Your man?" Deuce asked watching

Frankie's temper tantrum with marked

interest.

My eyes bugged out of my head.

"Ew! He's my fake brother!"

Frankie's long brown hair was

flying all over the place and his dark

brown eyes had darkened further with

burgeoning anger. Only fifteen and he was

already six foot tall with the body of a

quarterback. He wasn’t as big as Deuce

was but he would be someday.

"I know you?" Frankie hissed,

stopping only inches from Deuce.

Deuce's eyebrows popped and he

smirked. "No kid. Fraid' we haven't had

the pleasure."

Frankie hated being called a kid,

especially in front of me. I watched as his

hands clenched into fists.

Deuce wasn't smiling anymore.

"You're gonna wanna reel that in. I don't

take shit from grown men and I'm sure as

shit not gonna take shit from an asshole

who's pretendin' he's grown cuz he wants

down a girl's pants."

I closed my eyes. Deuce didn't

know Frankie therefore he didn't know

that Frankie wasn't trying to impress me,

this was just the way he was all of the

time. Before he could throw a punch and

get his butt kicked by Deuce, I pushed in

between them and wrapped my arms

around Frankie’s middle.

“I missed you,” I said hurriedly.

“I've been looking everywhere for you and

couldn’t find you anywhere. I asked

Deuce to help me look for you.”

Frankie’s arms wrapped around me

and his hard body sagged against mine.

One of his hands fisted in my hair and the

other held tight to my waist.

"Sorry," He muttered. "I just

thought…I don't know…you gotta stay

close to me. I can't fuckin' protect you if I

don't know where you are. If somethin’

happened to you baby, I would kill

myself. Can’t be in this world without

you. Fuck, I can't even think 'bout you

bein' gone, makes me fuckin' crazy."

"Oh Frankie," I whispered. "You

gotta stop worrying. Nothing's going to

happen to me and I'm never going to leave

you."

☼☼☼

Deuce hesitated leaving Eva alone

with that crazy little shit but it looked as if

she was the only person who had any sort

of control over him, so he left her to it.

He had known kids like Frankie growing

up. Jacked in the head, no control, caught

crazy at the drop of a hat and usually

ended up dead before they turned thirty.

Preacher giving him a cut had been a big

mistake. He didn’t give a shit how much

love he had for the boy. When shit got

intense, and it always did, you needed

level headed men on your crew.

"Dare you to touch her tits."

Deuce paused beside a rundown

barn at the edge of the farm.

"Dare you to fuck her."

"Preacher finds out he'll kill you."

He stiffened. Little shits were

talking about Eva.

"I'm not scared of Preacher. ‘Sides

she's the only bitch here old enough to

fuck."

"She's fuckin' ugly. Except for her

tits, bitch has nice tits. I'd fuck her just to

see those tits."

Deuce saw red. Eva was twelve

years old. Yeah, she had tits, twelve-

year-old tits. And these fuckers were

around sixteen and seventeen. He cracked

his knuckles and stalked inside the barn.

Five little shits were leaning back

against a row of empty horse stalls

smoking cigarettes, acting like they were

grown.

"Deuce," One of the little shits said.

"What's up man?"

He didn't answer, just walked up to

the first little shit and kicked him in his

face then moved onto the next. Yanking

little shit number two up by his collar, he

spit in his face, gave him a fist to the gut

and tossed him to the side.

The remaining three had scrambled

behind stacked bales of hay.

"Git your fuckin' asses back here,"

He said, pulling his piece from the back of

his jeans. "And take your fuckin'

punishment like the men you ain't. If not I

got some bullets with your fuckin’ names

on ‘em."

"What the fuck did we do?" A

pimply faced, gangly little shit screeched.

Using his gun, he gestured to where

they had been sitting just moments ago.

"Get. The. Fuck. Over. Here."

They got.

"I hear you talkin' 'bout Eva again. I

see you lookin' at Eva, I see you within a

hundred feet of Eva, you are all dead.

You feel me?"

Wide eyed they nodded.

"Gonna go find your father's next

and tell them what kinda bastards they're

raisin' and I ‘spect they'll be beatin' the

shit outta you next but first you're dealin'

with me."

He took the third little shit by his

greasy hair and brought the kids head

down on his knee. Out cold, he shoved

him to the side.

The forth little shit pissed himself

the moment he stepped to him. Laughing,

he moved on to the last little shit. The one

who had called Eva ugly. Grabbing his

neck, he shoved the barrel of his gun in the

boy’s mouth.

"Know for a fact you got a coupla

sisters. Know for a fact one of ‘em is just

a year older than Eva. How's 'bout I go

find your little sister and fuck her? How's

'bout I get some of my boys to fuck her

too? Maybe we can all fuck her at the

same time? Fuck her in her mouth, and her

pussy and her fuckin’ asshole. Sound

good?"

Crying, the kid shook his head.

"You respect women you little

fuckin' shit. It was a fuckin' woman who

carried you around in her fuckin' body,

fuckin' birthed you and fuckin' loved you,

and it's gonna be a woman who keeps you

warm at night, who lets you inside her

body and it's gonna be a woman who

carries around your fuckin' children. You

fuckin' respect that, you feel me? You

fuckin' respect women, all of ‘em, or I

will end you."

He released him and the kid fell to

his knees retching.

"Fuckin' little shits," He muttered.

Tucking his gun back in his jeans he

walked away.

CHAPTER THREE:

I was sixteen.

It was summer in Manhattan.

And it was the first Sunday of the

month.

Smack dab between Morissey's Bar

and a Middle Eastern grocery store, up on

the roof of the Demon's five story Portland

Brownstone, the MC’s monthly family

barbeque was in full swing. Old ladies

and wives, children, cousins, friends of

families and business associates were

talking and laughing, dancing and drinking

while dogs and burgers were being

flipped on the grills as fast as the kegs

were emptying.

On top of a picnic table, Frankie

and I were sitting side by side sharing a

pair of earbuds. My discman was wedged

between us, our heads were pressed

together, while we rocked out to Led

Zepplin's Dazed and Confused. I had my

arm slung over Frankie's broad shoulders

and his hand was sliding up and down my

thigh, his fingers tapping out the beat of

the song.

"Heads up brothers the Horsemen

are here!"

My head swiveled right.

Another yell. "Hide your women!"

This was followed by loud guffaws

and a lot of feminine giggling.

I watched as a large group of leather

clad men joined the crowd on the roof.

On the backs of their cuts were the Hell's

Horsemen insignia.

Just like the insignia on my

medallion.

My heart started pounding. Was

Deuce here? I scanned the crowd but the

Horsemen had already dispersed within

the sea of people.

Frankie squeezed my thigh to get my

attention. I pulled out my ear bud and

slanted my eyes at him.

"Want me to hide some booze for

later? Some smoke?"

Demon barbeques were infamous

for becoming wild and reckless and more

often then not every last biker would be

passed out drunk before midnight. This

was when their offspring partied with

their leftover booze and green.

"Yeah," I said and smiled at him.

Frankie stood, ran his fingers

through my long dark hair and pulled my

head flush against his hard abdomen. "Be

right back," He whispered.

"And Eva?"

I looked up.

"Don't fuckin' go anywhere until I

get back."

Rolling my eyes, I put my earbuds in

and resumed my head bobbing, foot

tapping and overly loud singing, happily

ignoring the openmouthed stares my

singing always caused.

Middle school had been rough for

me but I'd since grown into my

awkwardness. I'd embraced my

weirdness, I was cool with my oddities. I

was who I was and I didn't care anymore

what anyone else thought. High school so

far had been good to me. I was pretty, I

was popular and I had a ton of friends. I

suspected most of my girlfriends used to

me get near Frankie, trying to bag him.

Frankie was a good-looking guy, big and

broad with finely chiseled features. He

was a pureblood Italian with brown eyes

the color of dark chocolate and thick

brown hair he'd grown long.

The girls flocked and bag them he

did. In droves. Never did the same girl

twice. So other than having to listen to all

the girls at school whine and pine over

Frankie, life was good. It was fun and

uncomplicated and I was happy.

My eyes trained on the blacktop

beneath me, a shadow fell over me and a

pair of leather boots walked into my line

of sight. I stared down at them. Full grain

black leather with a rubber sole. Detailed

at the ankles with metal buckles, they

looked edgy, sexy.

I looked up.

"Still wearin' chucks and singin' out

of tune I see."

Yep. Edgy and sexy. Just like the

man wearing them.

Deuce was all dimples and smiles

and icy blue eyes that matched perfectly

with his long blonde hair that he'd pulled

back in a stubby ponytail. He was just as

large as I remembered, broad and well

built; he towered over me and was at least

half a body wider. He looked hot as hell

in a tight white tee, his leather cut and

ratty, low-slung jeans. This time when I

grinned at him, it wasn't with little girl

awe it was with sixteen year old sexual

fascination.

"Eva fucking Fox," He drawled.

"You've grown."

"Deuce," I said, smiling impishly.

"You've aged."

He threw his head back and laughed

a deep, rumbling laugh that had my belly

clenching and my nipples tightening. I

wasn't the only female affected; several

women on the roof were openly fawning

over him.

Reaching inside his cut, Deuce

pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He kept

his eyes on me as he lit it. "How old are

ya now, darlin'? Eighteen, nineteen?"

"Sixteen," Frankie hissed appearing

beside me. "Six fuckin' teen."

Deuce's eyes cut to Frankie and I

watched as recognition dawned. It wasn’t

happy recognition.

"Crazy fuckin' Frankie," Deuce said

smirking. "Got a pretty impressive rep for

a brother so fuckin' young."

Frankie had been coined “Crazy

Frankie” a few years ago because…he

was crazy.

Hands clenched into fists, Frankie

glared at Deuce. "You're gonna wanna

back the fuck off Eva, Horseman."

I tugged on his cut. “Calm down.

He’s friends with daddy.”

Frankie turned his glare on me. “No

baby, he’s not. He’s in business with

him. It’s fuckin’ different. You shouldn't

be around him, he's fuckin’ dangerous. If

Preacher could he’d take him to ground.”

I gaped at Frankie.

He shrugged. “Way it is babe.”

Unaffected by Frankie’s casual talk

of his death, Deuce took a deep drag of his

cigarette and blew a long stream of smoke

right into Frankie's face. Frankie turned

red with anger.

"Killed two of Bannon’s boys last

week in Pittsburg, yeah Frankie? Whole

circuit knows. Word is he’s gunnin’ for

ya. You got Eva cuffed to your side all

the time, think that might be kinda fuckin'

dangerous for her?”

My mouth fell open. “You killed

someone?” I whispered, floored that

Frankie was capable of killing. I knew it

happened when MC business went bad but

no one ever talked to me directly about it

and I certainly hadn't thought my nineteen

year old brother had been doing his fair

share.

Frankie’s nostrils were flaring, his

dark eyes trained on Deuce. “You fuck,”

He hissed.

Deuce shrugged. “Way it is

brother,” He said, throwing Frankie’s

words back at him.

“Frankie,” I whispered. “Bannon’s

gonna kill you.”

Mickey Bannon was a bad guy.

Irish mafia kind of bad. He ran most of

his business out of Pittsburg but he had

ties all over the place, even overseas. I

knew my father was having problems with

him reneging on deals but I hadn't thought

it had gone so far as to result in murder.

With his eyes still on Deuce,

Frankie gripped my shoulder. “No babe.

I already took care of it. Me and Trey.

Nobody’s fuckin’ comin’.”

Trey was my cousin, Uncle Joe's

oldest son and not a nice guy. Well…he

was nice to me and his mother but that

was about it. Trey committing murder did

not come as a surprise to me.

Deuce snorted. “Gonna need a new

bedpost to keep countin’ your notches.

You’re rackin’ up bodies faster than the

Germans took out the Jews.”

Reflexively, I jerked away from

Frankie. "What!"

His head whipped in my direction.

“Ev-

“No!” I snapped. “I need you to go

away right now!”

“Be fuckin’ pissed Eva, I don’t give

a shit! But no way I’m leavin’ you alone

with this fuck!”

“How long you been followin' her

around now Frankie? Protectin’ her from

fuckin’ nothin’?"

"Ten years," I helpfully supplied.

Frankie glared down at me.

"You gonna follow her down the

isle too? Move in with her and her man?

Be their fuckin' nanny?"

Instead of looking at his face, Deuce

was watching Frankie's hands, waiting for

Frankie to make his move so he could take

him down. If he knew Frankie's rep then

he knew Frankie's fuse was non-existent

and he was purposely baiting him.

"I'm. Her. Man." Frankie spat

through clenched teeth. "Any fuckin'

babies she'll be havin' will be mine."

Oh, good lord.

"Frankie," I said sternly. "First of all you are not my man. I have no man.

And I don't plan on having one anytime

soon especially not one who has fucked

my entire high school! Second, I don't

want to talk about hypothetical weddings

or babies. Ever again. Third, if you get

into another fight with one of daddy’s

business partners that daddy's cool with,

he's gonna kill you this time, not just put

you in the hospital with minor brain

swelling but put you in the ground. So, do

me a favor, go get a beer, go take a walk,

go get a blowjob, whatever. Just calm the

hell down. And lastly, I need some time

to process all this new information. So

please give me some space."

Frankie growled at me. An honest

to god growl.

"I'm gonna tell daddy," I warned.

“Do have any idea how fuckin’

dangerous this asshole is?”

I glanced up at Deuce. Our eyes

locked and those baby blues sucked me

in. Sheesh, he was beautiful.

“I’m guessing he’s about as

dangerous as you,” I said, still staring up

at Deuce, unable to look away. “So go,” I

demanded.

"We're talkin' later Eva," Frankie

said, fuming. "Count on it."

He stalked off into the crowd.

"Boy's got it bad for you darlin',"

Deuce said, taking a seat beside me. I

lifted my right leg onto the table and

turned to face him. Suddenly all my

senses went on hyper alert. The proximity

of him allowed me smell the booze on his

breath and a day’s worth of summer sweat

on his skin. It wasn't altogether a bad

smell. It reminded me of…man.

"Not that I blame him. I was his age

and you were mine, I'd be jumpin' up and

gettin' in faces too."

If I was his age and you were

mine. Wow. Just…wow.

"I'm nobody's," I shot back.

His eyebrow rose. "Not sure

Frankie agrees with that."

I snorted. "Frankie's a whore."

“He fuckin’ your friends?

“Yep. All of them except Kami, my

best friend. She would never touch him.”

Kami and I had gone to prep school

together since kindergarten. She was the

daughter of a former senator and an

heiress. She’d been raised by nannies and

spent most of her time with me and steered

clear of Frankie. She'd didn't like him and

in all honesty I think he scared her.

Smirking, Deuce shook his head.

“He’s tryin’ to get you to notice him.

Tryin’ to make you jealous. A fuckin’

blind man could see how bad that boy

wants down your pants.”

Grossed out, I scrunched up my

nose. “Not gonna happen. He's like my

brother. Besides, I'm not about having a

boyfriend. I don't even like boys."

Except him. Only Deuce wasn’t a

boy, he was a man, full grown. It was

ridiculous to feel this way but I couldn't

help it. Ever fiber of my being felt

drugged with his presence. I kept catching

myself leaning into his space.

"Darlin', you just haven't met the

right guy," He said, smiling. "If you were just a little bit older…"

He stopped talking and shook his

head.

"If I was older," I prompted,

needing to hear what he'd been about to

say.

He leaned sideways and bent his

head to mine. His lips brushed against my

cheek. "If you were older darlin', I'd have

you on the back of my bike and in my

fuckin' bed and you'd be not just likin' it

but lovin' it, beggin' me for more."

My lips parted and my chest

expanded as I sucked down much needed

air. Holy shit. I’d felt that statement all

the way down to my toes and back up

again. And I wanted to feel it again. And

again. Only naked and wrapped around

Deuce's body.

"There it is, darlin'," He said softly,

his lips curving slowly in a sexy grin.

"Nothin' like seein' a pretty girl gettin' all fired up."

I. Just. Stared.

"Back of a bike is comin' for ya and

soon too, cuz baby the way you’re lookin’

at me is tellin’ me you want it. And you

want it bad."

Pushing himself off the bench, he

winked once and disappeared into the

crowd.

My heart pounding I looked around

feeling embarrassed and over exposed but

no one was paying me any attention at all.

I put my ear buds back in and started

singing again, not quite as loud as usual

since my voice was shaking.

☼☼☼

Deuce stayed up on the roof long

after everyone had moved inside the club

to keep partying, start fucking or pass the

hell out.

He was having a hell of an internal

battle and had already gone through half a

bottle of Jaeger and two packs of smokes

while he was having it.

Eva. That fucking girl. She should

have stayed awkward and skinny, all

elbows and knees and legs too long for

her body with insecurity blazing in those

big gray eyes.

She was damn beautiful now. Her

face had carved out nicely, baby fat gone,

ivory skin as far as the eye could see, dark

wavy hair hanging down her back, full

fucking lips and those damn big and

beautiful eyes; color of a rain cloud. God

dammit mother fucking shit. Her awful

singing. Those damn chucks. Those

fucking tits. Fucking fat and heavy,

nipples hard, pressing through her

threadbare Harley tee. Jeans, big and

baggy, hanging real low on her hips, low

enough to see her hip bones.

He wanted inside of her. It was

sick and he knew it. His old man kinda

sick. But there it was.

And he wasn't the only one. Frankie

had it bad and not in a good way. Kid

was fucked up. Got crazy eyes every time

he looked at her. He got the jealousy

thing. Eva was a fine piece of ass; being

as sweet as she was, as smart as she was,

and not giving a shit about mainstream

crap, only made her even hotter.

“Fuck,” He muttered. He had to get

out of there. Get on his bike and get the

fuck out of Manhattan. Away from Eva

fucking Fox and her soul sucking eyes.

He made it down to the fourth floor

stairwell when he heard yelling coming

from the floor below. Pausing, he leaned

over the railing.

“What's wrong with me?” Frankie

demanded.

“Nothing,” Eva said. "It's not just

you. I don't want to be involved with any

one…like that."

"You looked pretty fuckin' involved

on the roof talkin' to that fuckin'

Horseman! I watched you with that fuckin’

asshole! You were fuckin’ flirtin’ with

him! You let him touch your fuckin' face!”

“Yeah Frankie, I was flirting with

him not shoving my tongue down his

throat. He’s hot, so what? It’s not like he

gives two shits about some sixteen year

old girl he barely knows!”

She thought he was hot? Women

didn’t think he was hot. They thought he

was scary as fuck. But this beautiful,

young, sweet as fuck girl thought he was

hot. His cock jerked.

Fuck.

Don't go there asshole. Do not

fucking go there.

“Not the fuckin’ point babe! What

the fuck did I tell you? WHAT THE

FUCK DID I TELL YOU ABOUT

OTHER FUCKIN’ GUYS?”

Eva sighed noisily. “You said

they’d hurt me. They’d use me and throw

me away.”

“Yeah, baby.” Frankie’s tone had

gone soft and threatening. “What else did

I say?”

"Sheesh, Frankie, what is up your

butt tonight?"

"What. Else. Did. I. Say."

"That they would never love me.

That only you will love me."

Man, this kid was sick.

“Want you on my cock, Eva. Sick

of waitin'.”

Deuce’s teeth clenched. If Frankie

wasn’t Preacher’s fucking golden boy he'd

fucking kill him.

"Then stop waiting!" She shot back.

"Because it's not gonna happen! You're

like my brother Frankie! My brother!"

“You keep sayin’ that,” He

growled. “But we’re fuckin’ sleepin’ next

to each other every night, an your pressin'

your tits on my arm an your ass on my

cock and I’m so fuckin’ hard I can’t see

straight and you won’t fuckin’ do shit 'bout

it. Makin’ me go out and fuck other

bitches when you know I only want you.

When you know I’m not gonna let anyone

else fuckin’ near you. Ever. Never ever

Eva. You get me or you get nothin’. Do

you get that? You're not with me, you're

never with no one.”

Ass. Hole.

"Frankie," She said evenly. "Stop

acting crazy. I do not press anything

against you. You wrap yourself around

me like a damn blanket and it's you who is

always rubbing against me and copping

feels. And if you keep throwing this shit

in my face I'm going to tell daddy you

sleep in my bed every night. And I'll tell

him you jerk off right next to me."

He heard Frankie’s heavy boots

pounding the wood floors, then a door

slammed. He waited a beat then

continued down the stairs.

Eva was sitting in a corner on the

third floor landing, knees pulled up to her

chest, smoking a cigarette. Her head

turned in his direction and she smiled. He

smiled back.

"Hey," She said softly. "Thought

you left."

He'd been trying to leave. He

should still be trying to leave.

"I heard," He said gruffly. "You and that crazy fuck."

She pressed her lips together and

looked away. "He's just overprotective."

"So your definition of

overprotective is makin’ sure no man gets

anywhere near you, forcin’ you into bein’

with him?"

She shrugged. "My father's going to

pass him the gavel someday and Frankie

and I together would give him peace of

mind."

He got that. Preacher was looking

out for his baby girl. Made sense. Put

your VP and daughter together you know

the club is going to be there for her when

you no longer can. What he didn't get was

how Preacher could, in good conscious,

hand off his girl to a fucking mess of a

man.

"Doesn't sound to me like that's

what you want."

He watched her suck her bottom lip

in her mouth and roll it under her teeth.

Damn. Fuck. He really needed to adjust

his cock.

"It's not," She whispered, dipping

her head down, looking up at him through

her eyelashes.

Walk away, he told himself. Walk

the fuck away.

He bent down in front of her. "What

do you want babe?"

She turned away from him and hid

behind her hair but not before he saw her

turn bright fucking red.

He filled with primal male

satisfaction. She wanted him. Her, a

fucking angel in a mess of demons, wanted

him, one of the biggest fucking demons he

knew.

“Say it,” He said harshly.

Fuck. What the fuck was he doing?

She turned back to him and tucked

her hair behind her ears. God, that face.

That sweet, perfect face.

“You a virgin, Eva?” He already

knew the answer.

“Yes,” She whispered. Christ.

He leaned in closer, close enough to

smell the nicotine and beer on her breath.

“You ever been kissed darlin’?”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “No,”

She breathed.

Good. So fucking good.

He turned his head and rubbed his

cheek up against hers, inhaling her

strawberry scented hair.

“You wanna be kissed?” He

whispered in her ear.

He licked the skin just behind her

ear and she shivered. He sucked on her

skin, bit down lightly and rolled it

between his teeth.

She was breathing hard, her pulse in

her neck fluttering wildly against his

mouth. He started sucking with vigor and

her legs fell open. He took advantage and

shoved himself between them.

He spread kisses across her neck

and under her chin, up to her cheek,

kissing a line to her mouth. His lips met

hers. She trembled.

“One more time babe,” He said low

and raspy. “You wanna be kissed?”

“Yes,” She whimpered.

He was instantly on his feet, yanking

her up with him. Grabbing her waist, he

hefted her up and pinned her against the

wall. "Legs babe," He rasped. She

wrapped her legs around his waist, he

jammed his erection between her thighs

and shoved his tongue inside her willing

mouth.

He’d lost his mind. None of this

should be happening.

But there it was.

…the road to hell is paved with

good intentions and he’d just bought

himself a one way ticket.

☼☼☼

Deuce's hand tangled in my hair

while his other hand cupped my jaw and

squeezed my cheeks, causing my mouth to

open. His tongue plunged inside, slid

along mine and began exploring my

mouth. No, exploring isn't the right word.

He laid siege to my mouth, he plundered

and pillaged until I had no reservations,

no choice but to kiss him and so I kissed

him back with all the fervor and passion a

sixteen year old who has never been

kissed has when kissing the man of her

dreams.

Which was a lot.

I have no idea how long we kissed,

you tend to lose track of time when you're

young and enthralled. But like all things

sexual in nature soon kissing was no

longer enough.

I tried desperately to get closer.

Burning hot, feeling ready to explode, I

tore his hand from my hair and shoved it

on my breast, whimpering needy little

noises into his mouth. I needed more, so

much more. I wanted his hands on me,

touching me, I wanted skin against bare

skin.

Shifted me in his arms, he lifted me

higher and slid his hand down the back of

my pants. One hand was squeezing my

backside as the other slipped under my

shirt and did the same to my breast and I

was panting and he was cursing and it was

the most wonderful thing that had ever

happened to me. If he would have asked

me to, I would have jumped on the back of

his bike and rode to the ends of the earth

with him.

"Deuce," I cried softly. "Oh my god, Deuce." His hips were between my thighs

and he was grinding his body into mine.

The friction of our jeans and the feel of his

hands on me and his tongue in my mouth;

something was happening, something that

felt right and wrong and too much and not

enough. Something I wanted more than my

next breath.

He shifted me again and jammed his

hand down the front of my jeans.

"Shhh," He growled into my mouth.

"I got you, I fuckin' got you. Just let it go baby girl, just fuckin' let go."

His fingers slipped inside of me and

my body locked up tight. My sex

contracted and exploded, pulsing through

the wonderful sensations.

He bent his head, pressing his

forehead against mine.

"Wish I coulda felt that on my

cock."

Oh god.

He pulled his hand from my pants

only to slide it back up my shirt and

resume playing with my breasts. His hand

moved from one to the other and his

fingers snagged on my necklace. Cupping

the medallion in his palm, he looked up.

"Baby," He breathed. "What the

fuck."

"You gave it to me," I said lamely. I

left out the part where I loved it, never

took it off and sometimes would hold it in

my hand and stare at it for hours.

"Yeah," He whispered. He began

thumbing my nipple, pinching and

kneading the flesh around it. His groin

pressed harder into mine. He started

breathing faster. I started breathing faster.

“Kiss me,” I said breathlessly

needing his mouth. "Please…"

Gently, he sucked my bottom lip into

his mouth, pulling and lightly licking and

my head fell back against the wall. His

mouth again found my neck and my body

lit up like a firecracker. I reached

between us, reached for him; cupped him.

Groaning, he pushed himself into my hand.

The world ceased to exist. It was only

Deuce and me and this beautiful, perfect

moment.

It ended abruptly.

"Fuck," He muttered, running his

hands through his hair, backing away from

me. "Fuck, I fucked up."

I took a step towards him, reaching

out, wanting him back but he stumbled

backwards putting more distance between

us. I dropped my hand.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, not feeling

at all sorry.

He shook his head. "No darlin', you

didn't do anything wrong. It's all on me

cuz I knew better and I did it anyway."

We stared at one another. He still

wanted me, I could tell by his eyes.

Frankie looked at me like that, like he

wanted to eat me alive.

"I'm married," He said quietly.

I knew that. My father kept tabs on

everyone he considered even a mild threat

to him and the people he considered a

major threat, people like Deuce, he had

extensive amounts of information on.

“I know that,” I said just as quietly.

"And you're sixteen…and I'm thirty

four."

I knew that too.

"Fuck," He muttered, running his

hands through his hair. "Fuck!"

He stared at me a moment longer,

his indecision plain as day.

Next thing I knew the door to the

stairwell was slamming behind him and I

was alone. I sat back down and lit up

another cigarette. And grinned.

☼☼☼

Deuce got the fuck away from Eva

as fast as he could, took the stairs two at a

time and burst out onto the sidewalk and

slumped against the clubhouse, breathing

heavily. He'd fucked up. He'd fucked up

big time. He was so fucking far beyond

disgusted with himself but his cock was

hard as a rock fucking aching for sixteen-

year-old pussy. Christ. Yeah. He was

just like his old man. Rock fucking

bottom.

He couldn't even blame his fucked

up marriage since he'd been solving that

problem with club whores. This was

different, so fucking different and so

fucking confusing. He hadn't wanted a

sixteen year old girl since he was sixteen,

maybe eighteen, but he wanted Eva, and

now that he'd gotten a taste he wanted her

something fierce.

Girl had been about to give it up to

him, too. And not because he'd been

coercing her into it but because she

straight up wanted him. She didn't have

the first clue how to kiss but instead of

being timid like the teenagers he

remembered from when he was a

teenager, she'd thrown everything she had

into it and when she came on his hand,

fuck, but that was beautiful.

God dammit! What the fuck! How

could he have lost control so completely?

He was all about control. How could a

sixteen year old have fucked him up?

"Holy fuck," He muttered, scrubbing

his palms over his eyes. "Holy fuckin'

fuck I fucked up."

"Yeah you did."

His hands fell to his side. Preacher

stood a few feet away. Alone.

Not good. No witnesses to be

seduced into ratting Preacher out if his

body was ever found.

"Got cameras all over the club," He

informed him. "Even in the stairwells."

He nodded. If he'd been thinking

clearly he would have known that and

gotten the fuck out. He had cameras all

over his club too. Security in this

business was fucking necessary.

"You ready?" Preacher asked,

pulling his piece. He watched him screw

the silencer on.

Was he ready to die? No.

Did he deserve to die? Yeah. For a

long time now.

Was he just going to turn tail and let

Preacher kill him? Fuck no.

"Alleyway, Deuce. Now."

Preacher pointed with his gun.

He faked a turn and went for his

own piece. He wasn’t fast enough and

Preacher’s first bullet took out his right

leg. He stumbled backwards and fell on

his side in a pile of garbage.

Preacher's boots pounded the

concrete and he braced himself for the

killing blow. Fucking fitting that he was

going to die in a fucking pile of garbage.

His old man had always said he was

garbage. He sure as fuck felt like garbage.

His body jerked as pain exploded in

his shoulder.

"Fuck," He groaned. He hated

getting shot. Shit fucking hurt.

"I'll call your boys to come collect

you," Preacher said, surprising him.

"Unfortunately, I need you alive.

Our boys are in too deep together, got too

much ridin' on shit you got a hand in. That

said, you come anywhere near my girl

again, first hit's gonna be in that sick dick

of yours, second in your brain. Second,

you even try for retaliation I will gut every

last boy in your Queens chapter."

"Understood," He croaked. Since

he liked both his dick and his brain just

the way they were and none of his boys

deserved to go to ground for his fucking

sins, he was never going to go near Eva

Fox again.

But fate was one mean bitch.

And two years later she slapped him

in the face.

CHAPTER FOUR:

I loved dancing. I loved Club Red.

And I loved my best friend Kami.

She was loaded, I was loaded. She

was spoiled, I was spoiled. She was

bored out of her mind and I was being

suffocated to death.

Being the spoiled, bored, suffocated

girls we were, with the help of another

bored and spoiled rich kid, we procured

fake I.D.s and were able to escape to our

happy place every Saturday night. Club

Red.

Best part, Frankie had no idea

where I was.

We were able to accomplish this

with the help of Kami’s sexy chauffeur,

Jacob, who Kami had been giving it up to

since she'd been thirteen and Jacob

eighteen. I'm fairly certain Jacob was

head over heels in love with her but he'd

gave up trying for anything more than sex

years ago.

Kami, being as starved for attention

as she was, had convinced herself

sleeping with a lot of different men was a

good way to go about getting what she

was lacking at home. It never worked but

she never stopped trying

Anyway, this is how my Saturday's

went. Frankie would drop me off at

Kami’s penthouse. If Kami’s parents

were home, we’d get prettied up, wait

until they went to bed and then sneak

down the back stairwell. Jacob would

meet us in Kami’s underground parking

garage, drive us out the back exit that was

only used by the penthouse occupants,

deftly evading the tails Frankie put on me,

and off we went.

Freedom.

☼☼☼

Deuce hated New York City

something fierce. Always had and always

would.

Even more then he hated New York

City was the New Yorkers that resided in

it. Even more then he hated New Yorkers

was New York City nightclubs filled with

New Yorkers.

Two of his boys had rode up with

him on business. They wanted a party and

some pussy and since he sorta wanted to

pick up some pussy for himself, he tagged

along. He wished he hadn't.

He was standing against a wall in a

packed nightclub with red satin hanging

all over the place and red fucking disco

balls twirling on the ceiling while

surrounded by wall to wall drunk

fuckwads grinding against each other to

what he supposed was music but sounded

a lot like television static with a crappy

beat.

He was a simple man. He liked

kegs, country music and down home

pussy. He didn't see the need to dress up

the fact that he was getting drunk and laid.

It was all the same in the end. Sloppy

kissing, skin slapping and a nasty

hangover. Why the fuck put a decorative

umbrella on it?

His boys had ditched him about an

hour ago in favor of some slutty club

bitches. He'd seen Cox disappear with

two scantily clad Latinos and Mick had

gone off dancing with a woman he was

pretty sure was packing a cock under her

seriously short skirt. He was so fucking

miserable he had momentarily considered

taking pictures of them with their whores

and sending them to their wives as

payback for making him endure this shit.

"Hey," A female voice slurred. He

rolled his head left. Christ. Fucking

skinny bitches everywhere in this city. No

tits. No ass. All of them wearing skin

tight clothes that emphasized the fact that

they had no tits and no ass. This

particular bitch, tall, skinny, and bleached

blonde, was so fucking skinny her

breastbone was on display through her

skin. The napkin she was fronting as a

dress was practically see-through and he

could see she wasn't wearing any

underwear.

"Fuck off," He said.

Her eyes went wide. “What?”

"You deaf?" He asked. "I said,

fuck off."

Her mouth fell open. "What?" She

whispered.

Christ.

"Bitch, I don't wanna fuck you so I

ain't gonna buy you drinks and tell you

how fuckin' hot you are hopin' you're

gonna spread those bony ass legs for me,

cuz one, you're not hot, you might be

someday if you start eatin' but as it is right

now, you're not. And two, I don't wanna

fuck you so I’m givin' it to you straight.

Fuck off."

She blinked. Then she leaned

forward and placed a bony hand on his

chest. And smiled. He stared down at her

hand debating on whether or not he should

break her fingers.

"Wherever you want it, however

you want it," She breathed. "Right here, in the bathroom, behind the club. Where.

Ever. You. Want. It."

His eyebrows shot up. She had

either major self-esteem problems or

some serious daddy issues or maybe she

was just plain fucking crazy.

"Kami!" A female voice squealed.

"Kami!"

The bitch beside him straightened

up and looked around. "Evie?" She

yelled.

A giggling mass of dark brown hair

surged forward through the crowd of

people and barreled straight into the

blonde. They were both shitfaced; instead

of hugging they just kind of fell into each

other and then into him. Annoyed he

shoved them both backwards and the

blonde's drink went flying. People

scattered as the glass shattered.

Laughing hysterically and clinging

to each other, they both stood up straight.

He watched, frozen, as a Horseman's tag

slipped out from the brunette's shirt. Her

imposter of a shirt.

Then she flipped her hair out of her

face and his blood ran cold. Then hot.

Really fucking hot.

Last time he had seen Eva Fox he'd

been two seconds away from sinking balls

deep into all that sweetness and he'd taken

two bullets because of it.

"Kami!" Eva cried, oblivious to his

presence. "Where have you been? I've

been looking everywhere for you!"

Oblivious was the last thing he was.

Bitch had on some kind of shirt that wasn't

actually a shirt but a triangle of sequins

that appeared to be staying on her only by

a complicated looking series of strings.

The fucking thing barely covered her tits.

Her fat, heavy, perfect tits. Her entire

back and her midriff were exposed, her

belly button pierced with some shiny

fucking bullshit and the rest of her was

incased in tight black leather pants. Tight

as in he was damn positive she'd had to

lube up her legs and juicy as hell ass to

get those bad boys on.

On her feet, black chucks.

His chest tightened.

Now standing, she tucked his old

man's tag back inside her non-shirt and did

a little wiggle as she straightened her top

that wasn't actually a top causing her tits

to bounce. He got hard. Just like that.

Like he was seven-fucking-teen.

Still giggling, she surveyed her

surroundings, finally catching sight of

him. Her -made to suck cock- lips parted,

her stormy eyes went wide and she

swayed a little to her right.

"Deuce," She whispered.

He didn't know what the fuck to say

so he said the first thing that popped into

his head.

"Babe."

Kami looked between them. "You

know him?"

"Yeah," she said, her eyes on him.

Jesus Christ, those eyes. She was damn

beautiful.

"Introduce us!"

"Deuce, this is my friend Kami,

Kami this is my…friend Deuce. But-

She turned to her friend. "He's

married. Got kids too. So hands off."

He stared at her, confused. He was

married? He had kids? Oh right. He was

sorta married. And yeah, he had kids. He

loved his kids. Their mother…not so

much.

"Shame," Kami purred. “The whole

scary faced, bad ass biker thing is really

working for you.”

His lip curled in disgust. He’d just

told this bitch he found her unattractive,

that he in no uncertain terms wanted

anything to do with her and yet she still

wanted it. Fucking whore. Fucking

fucked in the head stupid fucking whore.

"He's not scary," Eva scolded.

"He's beautiful."

Fuck…him.

No one had ever called him

beautiful and he was pretty sure he'd never

wanted to be called beautiful until Eva

Fox had called him beautiful and now he

wanted her to say it again. But this time

he wanted balls deep inside of her while

she said it.

"Do you want to dance?" Eva

asked.

His eyes refocused. "What?"

"Dance. Do you want to?"

"No."

"No?"

"This isn't music and I can't dance."

She bit her lip and he knew she was

trying not to laugh at him. Usually when

people laughed at him, or tried not to

laugh at him, neither of which was often

because he wasn't a funny guy, he punched

them in their fucking face. Eva laughing at

him made his cock twitch. This bitch did

strange shit to him. His fucking brain

didn't work around her and his balls

fucking swelled, ready to repopulate the

world as long as he was doing it inside

her pussy.

"Everyone can dance," She giggled.

He shook his head. "I can't. I

lumber. My wife says I lumber."

She wrinkled up her nose. "Your

wife is a fucking cunt."

He choked. Coughed. Pounded on

his chest. Took a long swallow of his

beer. Cleared his throat.

"Darlin', you have no idea."

Grinning, she sidled up next to him

and leaned her shoulder against the wall

so the front of her body faced his and took

a sip of her drink. Her bright pink drink

with a pink umbrella and lots of floating

cherries that reeked of tequila.

He narrowed his eyes. How long

had it been since he'd last seen her, since

he'd taken two bullets because he’d been a

fucking moron.

It hadn't been five years, so he knew

she wasn't twenty one.

"How old are you darlin’?"

Her lips quirked. "My I.D. says I'm

twenty four."

He raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"And what does your birth certificate

say?"

She looked him dead in the eyes and

he felt himself leaning towards her.

"I'm eighteen," She said quietly and

her eyes went soft. He knew that look.

Fucked a lot of women in his life, knew

the signs and knew them well. Eighteen

year old Eva Fox was handing him her

pussy on a silver platter.

And he was fucking starving.

Fuck.

"Deuce?" She leaned into him,

pressing her fat tits against his arm.

He stared down at her. "Yeah?"

Keeping her eyes locked with his,

she wrapped her hand around as much of

his bicep as her fingers could reach and

started slowly sliding her hand down his

inner arm. When she reached his palm,

her fingers spread out and slid between

his. Her hand folded closed. He closed

his over hers.

"Let's dance," She whispered.

"Okay," He whispered back

because, fuck, he didn't know which way

was up at the moment.

Those unfathomably plump lips split

into a smile and his cock freaked the fuck

out. If she hadn't started leading him out

into the club he would have thrown her up

against the wall and slammed his way

home.

She took him dead center of the

dance floor. It was packed with bodies.

Sweaty, writhing bodies. He felt

completely out of his element.

Then Eva began to move and he

forgot all about elements and skinny

bitches and stupid red disco balls. All he

could see was Eva. Nothing else existed

but Eva and what she did to him.

With her back to his front, she lifted

her arms over her head and hooked her

hands around his neck. He grabbed her,

harder than he meant to, and dug his

fingers deep into her hipbones. As her

juicy ass hit his cock, he groaned.

"All you have to do is move with

me!" She shouted over the music.

He didn’t, he couldn’t, he was far

too busy trying to convince himself it

would be a bad idea to take her right then

and there, on the dance floor.

Her ass was grinding into his rock

hard cock; her head had fallen back on his

chest and her hands…

She grabbed his hands, interlocked

their fingers and had him stroking across

her bare stomach, her hips, the vee

between her legs, and, fuck him, her tits.

When he couldn’t take much more, he

slipped his hand down her pants and gave

her what she was silently begging him for.

Her head fell back on his chest and

she looked up at him with unfocused gray

eyes, her nostrils flaring with heavy

breaths, her wet lips parted.

He'd taken two bullets because of

this bitch. If he ended tonight the way he

wanted to end it Preacher was going to

bury him. He should care about that. His

kids needed their father, his MC needed

their president. He had business that

needed getting done and he sure as fuck

wasn't ready to kick it quite yet.

He should care about all that shit.

But he didn't. And because he didn't,

because he wanted her so fucking bad he

could taste the need, feel it in his fucking

gut like a livewire, he brought his mouth

down on hers and kissed her hard and fast,

still thrusting his fingers in and out of her,

swallowing her cries as bodies pressed

up against them, shoving them back and

forth to the rhythm of the bass pounding in

his ears.

☼☼☼

It was pouring out, we were soaking

wet, the alleyway smelled like a month’s

worth of old garbage, Deuce was fumbling

with his jeans and I had completely lost

my mind. I was frantic, crawling up his

big, hard body like a sex starved spider

monkey in heat and kissing him, fucking

kissing him, giving as good as I was

getting. Every kiss was full of hot, wet

tongue, sometimes hit sometimes miss.

Teeth were clacking together, lips were

bitten, and noses were getting in the way. I

mauled him not caring where his or my

mouth was landing or what part of his face

I was kissing, licking, biting. His cheeks,

his forehead, his chin, his neck, they were

all fair game. His hands were full of my

ass, my hands were full of his hair, our

mouths were full of each other and I had

no idea where my clothing had gone. And

I didn't care.

I wanted this man inside of me. So

far inside of me that he wouldn't ever be

able to leave.

"Gimme what I need baby, gimme

that sweet pussy I been dreamin' 'bout."

Oh god.

I didn't think it was possible to want

him anymore than I already did. But he'd

just proven me wrong.

"Please, please, just fucking take it,"

I mumbled, desperate for more of him.

Staring into one another's eyes,

breathing heavy, while rain sluiced down

in sheets between us, over us,

everywhere, he started pushing inside of

me.

"Oh fuck yeah," He breathed.

"You're so fuckin' wet. You fuckin' want

this bad, don't you?"

"Yes," I whimpered.

"Yeah you do," He grunted and

pushed harder. "Fuckin' tight baby, you're

so fuckin' tight."

There was a reason for that. A

reason he was going to find out in about

two point five seconds.

"Give it up, Eva, fuckin' open for

me." Growing impatient, he gripped my

backside and pulled me down as he

slammed up into me. I cried out and he

froze. Just went statue still.

"Fuckin' shit!" He yelled. "God

dammit Eva! God mother fuckin'

dammit!"

Oh, my god, he was pulling out.

"No! Please! I want this!" I dug

my nails into his back and tightened my

legs around his waist. "I wanted it to be

you! I've been dreaming about this!

About you and me! Ever since you kissed

me! Even before then!"

He sagged against me. "Fuck," He

whispered.

He was still inside of me and I was

so full of him and it felt so good and when

I tried to move, because I had to move,

wanted, needed to move, he groaned. I

liked hearing him groan almost as much as

I liked the feel of him inside of me and I

wanted more, wanted him to move. So I

told him this, told him everything I was

feeling and everything more that I wanted

to feel and it just kept pouring rapidly out

of me, feelings and needs, because I

needed him to know how much this meant

to me, that it was him I'd wanted to take

this from me, him I’d wanted to give it

too. That it was only him I’d ever wanted

inside of me and only him I'd ever want

inside of me.

His eyes met mine, arctic blue and

beautiful.

"Please," I begged. "Deuce,

please."

"I’m fuckin' married Eva. Got two

kids. This is fucked. It shouldn't have

been me."

What? Here he was inside of me,

because I wanted him inside of me,

because he was the only man I have ever

wanted inside of me and he had the nerve

to tell me it shouldn’t have been him?

After making me beg him?

"Fuck you!" I snapped. "I don’t give a shit about your wife and either do you or

you wouldn’t have been finger fucking me

in the club and you definitely wouldn't

have carried me out here with every

intention of fucking me! You can't tell me

it shouldn't have been you! You don't get

to make that decision, I do! And I did and

it's done! And I’m not giving it back!"

His eyes flashed with anger. "I can't

give you shit!" He hissed. "All I've got to give you is my fuckin' cock and that's not

good enough! Not for you! Not even

fuckin' close! You deserved better than

this! Better than a fuckin' shit filled

alleyway and definitely better than me!"

There is was. The pain I glimpsed

every time we crossed paths. The sadness

that never seemed to leave him.

"You're better than you think," I

whispered. "I didn't realize it when I was

little, didn't understand that look in your

eyes, why you always looked so sad, but I

get it now. Someone got inside of you and

messed you all up, made up down and left

right so now you think you're shit when

you're not even close. So you need to

listen to me when I tell you that you are

better than you think. You're even better

than that. To me, you're the best."

His nostrils flared. "Eva," He

groaned.

"What?"

"Shut up." His mouth met mine and

we kissed slowly, deeply, deliciously

lazy.

"Gonna fuck you now baby," He

muttered into my mouth.

Oh. Good. So good.

"Okay," I breathed.

And he did. Up against a dirty brick

wall, in a garbage filled alleyway home to

rats and feral cats, while warm summer

rain poured down over us. And it was

perfect. Better than I'd imagined. Better

than anything. The best.

I spent the next four years in

college, spent my days studying, shopping

with Kami, trying to ditch Frankie, and

enjoying my life. And I spent my nights

reliving my moments with Deuce. All

four of them.

The day after my graduation

ceremony, I packed a backpack, grabbed

Kami, wrote my father a note and got on

an airplane headed for Miles, Montana.

Headed for Deuce.

CHAPTER FIVE:

If I had needed anymore proof that

the Hell’s Horsemen were into some

seriously illegal shit, other than their

alliance with my father, all I had to do

was take one look at their clubhouse.

Smack dab in the middle of the

Montana hills, down a barely there dirt

road, fenced in with an electric fence

topped with razor wire, sat their

whitewashed warehouse, massive at

around 30,000 square feet, with their

insignia painted huge on the front of the

building. A line of Harley's were parked

outside, some pickup trucks and a shiny

red sports car.

I pulled our rent-a-car up to the gate

and peered into the camera. The intercom

underneath crackled.

“Help you with somethin’ darlin’?”

I cleared my throat. I was so

nervous.

“I…um…wanted to…um...”

“Smooth Evie,” Kami whispered.

“Really smooth.”

I glared at her.

“You here to party?” The intercom

crackled.

“Uh,” I said and glanced at Kami.

She bugged out her eyes. “Say yes you

idiot!”

“Uh, yes.”

The gate clicked and slowly swung

open and Kami started jumping around

excitedly.

I had just parked when two guys

came running outside. Kami grinned.

“H-O-T,” She spelled out. “Me

wanna lick.”

I gave a shaky laugh. My stomach

was in knots. I hadn’t seen Deuce in four

years. Not since the night I’d given him

my virginity. I wasn’t sure how he was

going to react to me just showing up.

A well-built, good-looking Latino

guy with a shaved head, lots of body

piercings and tattoos as far as the eye

could see, grinned at us.

“Name’s Cox,” He said, looking me

up and down. “This is Ripper.” He

jerked his thumb at the man standing next

to him. A drop dead gorgeous man. He

looked like a surfer straight out of Cali.

Long wavy blonde hair and dark blue

eyes. There was man candy to be had all

around.

“Hey,” Ripper greeted, his eyes on

Kami. "You two been here before?”

I shook my head. “I’m looking for

Deuce.”

“I’m not,” Kami said, “I’m looking

for you.”

I covered my mouth, stifling my

laughter.

“Or you,” She said to Cox,

shrugging. “Doesn’t matter.”

Cox and Ripper looked at each

other.

“Don’t wanna fight you brother,”

Ripper said. “But I fuckin’ will.”

“You’ll lose,” Cox growled.

“Boys?” Kami swept her long

blonde hair over her shoulder and cocked

her hip. “This is my last summer of

freedom. My dad is a rich asshole who is

making me marry another rich asshole. I

have three months left before I become a

proper little Jackie O and have to start

fucking my staff just so I can get off. That

being said, if you guys don’t mind sharing,

I’ve got a whole lot to give.”

“I don’t,” Cox said quickly.

“Nope, me either,” Ripper said.

“Awesome, now do you have any

liquor in this big scary building of yours?”

Ripper grabbed her elbow, Cox

slung his arm over her shoulder and they

steered her towards the clubhouse.

Sheesh. It was like I was invisible.

Rolling my eyes, I followed them

inside.

All around me were bikers ranging

from age eighteen to eighty and the sluts

who loved them. I realized that the Hell's

Horsemen were having what my boys in

New York called a “pussy party” which

was undoubtedly the only reason Kami

and I had been allowed inside. I scanned

the room looking for Deuce

The inside of the warehouse looked

nothing like the outside. The entire place

had been gutted, renovated and

remodeled. Running the length of the

warehouse front was one giant man cave

with fifteen, sixteen, foot ceilings and

modern sunroofs that gave it a cathedral

like appearance.

A fully stocked bar lined the entire

right side of the room surrounded by

several bar topped tables and stools, and

beyond, five large pool tables took up a

good portion of the room. The opposite

side gave the impression of a high-class

men’s club complete with dark leather

furniture as far as the eye could see, flat

screen televisions, and a state of the art

stereo system. There were two hallway

entrances on either side of the back wall

and smack dab in the center were a set of

doors surrounded by photographs of the

members. Above the doors was plank of

wood nailed to the wall that read, “Prez’s

Office”. My heart started pounding and

my hands went clammy.

I willed my feet to move and headed

towards his office. Taking a deep breath,

I curled my hand into a fist and rapped on

the door.

“WHAT?”

Oh god, that voice. That hard,

rough, beautiful voice.

I swallowed hard and turned the

knob.

I saw a woman first. Tall, blonde,

very tan and curvy as hell. Beautiful. She

was wearing a tight jeans skirt, frayed at

the bottom and a hot pink tank top that

showed off her copious amount of

cleavage. I had large breasts but I almost

never put them on display unless I was

going out. I just didn't see the point.

I glanced down at my Led Zeppelin

cropped tee, way too baggy jeans that

hung low and my chucks. The tee had

once belonged to my mother and I'd

altered it to make it more my style and to

show off my belly ring and the circle of

black and pink stars I'd had tattooed

around my belly button. The jeans I'd had

forever, I wasn't even sure where I'd

gotten them, Frankie, maybe? That had

been a running theme during my teenage

years, stealing his clothing. They were

comfy and so deliciously worn in they felt

like silk against my skin. Most

importantly, they dragged when I walked.

That was a thing for me. I liked to be able

to hide my feet inside my pants at all

costs. Weird, I know, but I was an only

child, and a girl no less, who grew up

with a single MC President, his crew and

Crazy Frankie. I could have turned out a

whole lot weirder.

But I felt like a homeless person

next to this woman. This, super model

sort of beautiful woman who was more

than likely his wife.

Deuce was seated behind a desk,

turned away from me, cursing into a cell

phone.

Whoever had decorated the office

was either secretly gay or of the female

variety. Although the dark oak desk, hutch

and meeting table were distinctly male, no

man, correction – no biker, would have

ever picked out these particular pieces to

coordinate with each other. They were

too perfect, each piece different yet

worked fashionably together. A woman, I

surmised, probably this woman, had a

hand in decorating. Knowing this made

me feel incredibly uncomfortable.

The blonde glanced over at me,

gave me a once over and her pink painted

lips curled into a sneer. “Who the fuck

are you?”

“I…um…was looking for Deuce.”

“Well you…um…fuckin’ found

him.”

Sheesh. Attitude.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”

Deuce growled into his phone. “You tell

Street he gets his ass to the docks and

picks up the shipment or I will fuckin’

bury your chapter! You feel me? I will

scatter your boys and take you to ground!

You don’t fuckin’ mess with the

Buonarroti family! I made fuckin’

promises and I’m aim to keep them. A

man's fuckin' word is a man's fuckin'

word. You think this is a game? No?

Good. Now get your fuckin’ ass in gear!”

He swiveled around, his narrowed

eyes swept over the blonde, across the

room, and then finally to me. And stared.

He had let his beard grow out, there

were signs of gray interspersed among the

blonde and a few lines around his eyes. I

sucked in a breath. He'd grown even more

beautiful with age.

“Gotta go,” He said to his phone

and tossed it on the desk.

I cleared my throat. “I was in the

neighborhood,” I said dumbly. “Thought

I’d stop by.”

“You were in the neighborhood,”

He repeated.

I nodded. Wow. I was such an

idiot. If she’d heard this, Kami would

have kicked my ass.

“Cole,” The woman hissed. “Who

the fuck is this girl?”

I had never heard anyone call Deuce

anything but Deuce. I knew his real name,

Cole West, but it didn’t fit. Deuce,

meaning “Devil”, fit him.

Deuce blinked and looked back at

the blonde. "Get the fuck outta here,

Christine. You got your fuckin' money,

now go."

He glanced back at me and I

watched his icy blues drink me in from

head to toe and back up again, stopping on

his father’s medallion. His lips curved

into a smile.

I felt my body go soft, warm and

needy. He did this to me just by looking at

me. His power over me was incredible,

indescribable, as it had always been. It

didn't matter that I hadn't seen him in four

years; I wanted him every bit as badly as

the last time and the time before that.

Even more because I’d had him and had

craved him ever since.

He saw the change in me, noticed it

instantly. His nostrils flared and his eyes

darkened with hunger. I knew this look.

Deuce was hungry. I was food.

I loved that look. It made me feel

beautiful, powerful and utterly feminine.

I sucked in air through my nose

willing myself to stay put when I wanted

nothing more than to run to him, strip him

naked and fuck him blind.

“You here alone?” He asked

roughly.

I shook my head. “Brought Kami

with me.”

His eyes narrowed and I stifled a

laugh. He obviously remembered her.

“Where is she?”

“Entertaining a few of your boys.”

He smirked. “Cox?”

“And Ripper.”

He rolled his eyes. “Nice.”

“Cole! Who the fuck is this bitch

and why the fuck is she wearin’ a

Horsemen tag?”

His head swiveled back to

Christine. “What the fuck did I say to

you? Get the fuck outta here!”

Her face went arctic. Glacial.

“No,” She hissed. “Tell me why this little

girl is standin’ in your office wearin' a

Horsemen tag! Old ladies don’t get ‘em,

kids don’t get ‘em unless they get a cut and

ain't no girl ever got a cut and whores sure

as fuck don’t get em. So why the fuck

does this bitch have one!"

Deuce stood up. His Harley belt

buckle sagged low on low rise, baggy

jeans, jeans that were as equally holey as

his white tee shirt. To quote Kami, “H-O-

T”.

"Get out," He growled.

"TELL ME WHY SHE'S WEARIN'

IT!"

Deuce's fists came slamming down

on his desk sending papers and file

folders flying everywhere. "Because I

fuckin' gave it to her!"

Christine's head snapped sideways.

"You little fuckin' whore!" She screamed.

My mouth fell open and I took a step

backwards. This was exactly why my

father didn't allow his boy's old ladies in

the club unless it was a planned visit or a

Sunday barbeque.

"Christine!" Deuce bellowed. Take

the money you came for and get your

fuckin' ass outta here!"

Ignoring Deuce, she kept her

frightening gaze on me. "What the fuck

did you have to do to get that?" She

hissed. "You some kinda kinky fucked up

whore who takes on three brothers at a

time? Was that your fuckin' prize for

being such a goddamn slut, for fuckin'

other women's men? You fuckin' proud of

yourself you stupid little skank bitch?"

Wow. Just…wow. How did one

respond to that?

I looked to Deuce for help. I didn't

know what to do or say, or if I should do

or say anything at all. This hadn't gone at

all like I’d planned. Not that I'd actually

planned on anything specific happening,

only vague scenarios all including Deuce

without pants on and being really happy to

see me. Being screamed at by Deuce's

wife, I can honestly say, hadn't crossed my

mind.

"Christine," He growled low. Scary

low. "Only gonna say this one more time.

Get your fuckin' ass outta my club."

"I'm gonna bleed you dry," She

hissed. "Gonna take everything you

fuckin' have, gonna take your kids, your

money, and when I tell the fuckin' cops

what goes on round here, I'm gonna take

your fuckin' freedom."

This had gone past uncomfortable

and well into hazardous. I should never

have come here. Since they were busy

glaring at one another I started backing out

of the room and backed right into a hard

body.

The biker standing behind me I

recognized. His name was Mick and I had

seen him here and there growing up. His

messy black hair hung long. He had pretty

green eyes and a well trimmed goatee. He

was tall, leanly muscled and looked

extremely pissed off.

“Prez?” He asked. “You need help

with this bitch?”

Deuce was rounding his desk and

advancing on Christine. She met him head

on, swinging her purse through the air. He

ducked, grabbed her purse strap, and

barreled into her. She went up and over

his shoulder, screaming and flailing.

Deuce, with Christine, stalked

across the room. Mick and I hurried out

of the way. As soon as Deuce was gone,

Mick turned to me.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

He growled.

My mouth opened but no sound

came out. What?

He shook his head, glaring at me.

“Thought Deuce learned his lesson when

Preacher put him the hospital but, christ,

the two of you just keep goin’ back for

more.”

My heart stopped beating. “What

did you say?” I whispered.

“Your old man, babe. Capped him

twice, he nearly bled out. He was in

surgery for a fuckin’ minute. Needed a

transfusion. Was in the hospital for

weeks.”

I blinked rapidly, trying to process

everything he'd just said. Shot him

twice? Bled out. Surgery. Transfusion.

“Because of me?” I whispered. My

voice caught and my eyes filled with

tears. I hadn’t known. If I had, I would

have stayed away from him. Never ever

would I have put Deuce in danger. God, I

was so stupid. Stupid to push him into

having sex with me. Stupid to think my

father wouldn't know. He always knew,

he knew everything.

☼☼☼

“Go,” Deuce demanded, pushing his

wife toward her car. “Now.”

“Who is that?” She screeched. He

squeezed his eyes shut, wincing. God, this

fucking woman.

“She is none of your fuckin’

business, bitch. Now fuckin’ go.”

“I fuckin’ saw the way you were

lookin’ at her! You’ve never looked at me

that way! Never!”

“Never looked at you like much of

anything cuz you’re not much of anything

‘cept a crazy fuckin’ bitch.”

She came at him, fake nails flying.

Grabbing her shoulders, he threw her up

against her car. "Get the fuck outta here!"

He bellowed.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?”

She demanded. “What’s she got that I

don’t?”

He let her go and backed away from

her. “What’s wrong with you?” He

sneered. “You’re not her, that’s what’s

wrong with you. What’s she got that you

don’t? Bitch, she’s got me and you never

fuckin' did.”

He watched her suck in air. She

blinked rapidly trying to stop the tears he

knew were coming. He wanted to care, he

really did, but he didn't. Not anymore.

Too much ugly shit had gone down

between them over the years, for too many

fucking years. Met her at twenty five,

married her when she got pregnant, lived

in misery with her ever since. There is

only so much nagging, screaming and

crying a man can take. He had stopped

fucking her years ago and now he could

barely stomach looking at her.

"Leavin' you Christine, gonna move

into the cabin," He said quietly. "Can't do this shit no more. Haven't slept at home in

over a year, you been showin' up here

demandin' money, throwin' attitude around

and just plain pissin' me off with your

fuckin' threats. Can't do it no more."

She put her hand on her throat and

her giant diamond engagement ring caught

the sun. He had taken his ring off years

ago, not to pick up women, that had never

been a problem, but because looking at it

made him sick.

"You gave her a tag," She

whispered hoarsely. "You don't let any of

your boys give their women tags."

He stared at her. "She doesn’t

belong to one of my boys, she's fuckin’

mine."

It hit him then how right that

sounded. Four years had gone by since

he'd been inside her, four years of thinking

about her, wondering what she was doing,

who she was doing.

Always thinking about her.

“Cole,” She whispered. “Don’t do

this. We can make it work, we’ve done it

before.”

"Go," He barked. "Don't fuckin'

come back here."

He left her crying and stalked back

inside. He had just reached his office

when what he heard from inside made his

blood boil.

“Yeah babe. He almost died.

Because of you. So I’m standin’ here,

lookin’ at you, wonderin’ why the fuck he

thinks you’re fuckin’ worth gettin’ shot for

cuz I sure as fuck ain't seein’ it. You got a

golden pussy or somethin’? Or was it the

fuckin' innocent act he’s likin'?”

“What the fuck,” He seethed.

Mick whirled around. A quick

glance at Eva only enraged him further.

She was shaking, trembling, tears pouring

down her face.

Mick met him glare for glare. “She

needed to know what the fuck you'd gone

through just to get some underage Demon

pussy who ain’t all that anyway.”

He saw red. He saw mother-

fucking-red.

He swung, his right fist then his left

then his right again. Mick blew

backwards with every hit until he ran out

of room and hit wall. Grabbing Mick’s

shirt collar he got up in his face.

“Take off your fuckin’ cut and get

the fuck outta my club.”

Mick’s eyes went wide. “You can’t

-

He swung his fist into Mick’s jaw

and the brother’s face whipped right and

hit brick. “I fuckin’ can. You got no idea

what you just messed with. No fuckin’

clue. You think you know but you fuckin’

don’t cuz I didn't tell you shit about it cuz

it's none of your fuckin' business. So you

take off your fuckin’ cut and go the fuck

home and when I fuckin’ feel like it, I’ll

send Cox to bring you back.”

Still holding Mick’s shirt he yanked

him away from the wall and swung him

out of his office. Mick hit the floor and

went sliding across the room. Jase

jumped out the way and Mick crashed into

a pool table.

“Get him outta here,” He growled to

no one in particular. “Anyone else got

somethin’ to say to Eva or somethin’ to

say about her you’re gonna answer to my

fuckin’ fist. We fuckin' clear?”

He received a series of grunts and

nods during which he slammed the doors

closed and locked them.

“Eva, babe, look at me.”

She shook her head. “I should

leave,” She whispered brokenly. His

chest went tight. No way was he letting

her leave.

“Eva,” He said forcefully. “Fuckin’

look at me!”

Hugging herself, she turned away

from him. “I got you shot,” She

whispered.

Fuck.

“EVA, FUCK! FUCKIN’ LOOK

AT ME BEFORE I SPANK THE

FUCKIN’ SHIT OUTTA YOU!”

Her head jerked up and her

narrowed eyes zoomed in on him. He

grinned.

"Babe, don’t you fuckin’ dare think

any of that shit was your fault. It was

mine darlin’, plain and simple. I shoulda

left you alone but I couldn't fuckin' help

myself. Marriage had already gone bad

and I saw you sittin' there, with a pair of

great fuckin' tits, tappin' your chucks and

bobbin' your head and singin' your heart

out to fuckin' Zepplin. And you looked so

damn innocent and fuckin' sweet as hell,

without a care in the fuckin' world except

for right then, right there. And I was so

fuckin' jealous, would've given an arm and

a leg to have life be that simple again.

And then that little shit head showed up

and I knew he fuckin' worshipped you and

then I heard that shit he said to you and

knew wasn't nothin' gonna make that boy

back off until he got inside your sweet

pussy and so I kissed you babe, cuz I was

selfish, I wanted to taste that fuckin’

sweetness before he took it all.

"And babe, when I kissed you and

you kissed me back, not knowing what the

fuck you were doin' but doin' it anyway,

not carin', just feelin', I fuckin' lost myself

in that kiss. Couldn’t remember ever

losin' myself in a kiss until then.

"That fuckin' kiss, Eva, has gotten

me through some pretty bad nights. That

fuckin' kiss reminds me that life ain't all

bad.

"As for what happened in that

alleyway, you’re old man never found out

about it. But even if he had and he’d

buried me I wouldn’t have fuckin’ cared

cuz when it comes to you darlin’ I got no

fuckin' sense. You fuckin' pull me in until

you're all I can fuckin' see and suddenly I

can't fuckin' breathe but I don't care cuz,

you babe, you're you, and I ain't never met

anyone as fuckin' perfect as you. And

knowin' you gave me your first kiss and

then you gave me that sweet pussy first,

knowin' that I got that and no one else can

ever have it cuz its fuckin' mine, fuck Eva,

there ain't a day that goes by that I don't

think 'bout that, 'bout you, and how much I

fuckin' wish shit was different.

"And that’s the God's honest truth,

darlin' and I wouldn’t change a fuckin’

thing ‘cept for you being in so deep with

the Demon’s and me being a Horsemen

and me being fuckin’ married to the

biggest fuckin’ cunt on the planet and your

old man being who he is. Take all that

shit away and you’d be on the back of my

bike and in my fuckin’ bed. And you

wouldn’t be leavin’ and I wouldn’t be

walkin’ away from you ever again.

“Now woman, you need to start

doin’ what you came here to do or I’m

gonna do it for you.”

☼☼☼

I ran to him, wrapped my arms

around his neck and buried my face in his

chest.

“Missed you,” I whispered. "So,

so, much.”

"Babe, yeah," He said softly. "Now you gonna give me that sweet fuck me

mouth or do I need to take it?"

I went up on my tiptoes, he bent

down, I took his mouth, and I took his

tongue and I ate him alive. Four years I

had gone without him, without his

mesmerizing eyes and his devastating grin

and his perfect mouth and his perfect

hands and his perfect body and his perfect

cock. Desire, slick and hot, heated my

blood and pooled low in my belly. I had

so much time to make up for and it

couldn't happen fast enough.

Frantically I pushed his cut down

his shoulders. Shrugging out of it, he

tossed it aside.

Up went his tee shirt, over his head

and across the room. Mine was next; he

yanked it up over my head and tossed it

aside. Then my breasts were in his hands

and then in his mouth and I died a

heavenly, happy death. We tasted,

touched, grabbed and gripped one another

until it wasn’t enough anymore, not even

close.

I released him, slid down his

perfect body and onto my knees. After

wrestling open his jeans I took him in my

mouth, all of him and again I ate him

alive. His breathing hitched and his hands

gripped a hold of my hair. I clung to the

backs of his thighs, digging my nails in,

keeping myself steady when I otherwise

would have collapsed under the heady

sensations rippling through me.

I made love to him with my mouth in

the same frantic, desperate way I have

always kissed him. I couldn’t stop, didn’t

want to ever stop, I felt so alive, taking all

I could as I gave all I had. My mouth

loved Deuce, my hands loved Deuce, my

body loved Deuce. Loved, loved, loved,

loved… I loved Deuce.

Loved.

“Baby,” He groaned, fisting my hair,

pulling on it painfully. “Fuuu-ck…me…”

He exploded and I took it all,

whimpering desperate greedy little

whimpers, already wanting more. I

wanted to own this man’s body, this man’s

innate sexuality; I wanted to own this man.

I stared up at him through my wet

lashes, trembling, my body quaking under

the onslaught of need. For him.

“Eva baby, fuck, do you know what

you fuckin’ do to me?” He bent down to

cup my cheeks and ran the pad of his

thumbs over my fluttering eyelids.

“You make me insane,” I breathed.

God, he so did.

"Babe," He rasped, "Yeah."

Scooping me up, he carried me to

his black leather couch and stripped me

naked, divested himself of his jeans and

bent me over the arm of the couch. He

settled himself between my legs, lifted my

hips and leaned down over me. His chest

pressed against my head, his stomach

rubbed against my back and his growing

erection was pushing into me.

We were blessedly bared to one

another. We were skin on skin.

Your mother holds you skin on skin

when you enter this world, feeds you with

her own body; skin on skin. Your father

runs his fingers over your tear streaked

cheek, presses his lips to your forehead;

skin on skin. You make love, skin on skin,

with a man you love, a beautiful man.

And then, if you’re lucky, your own baby

will enter this world and you’ll hold her,

skin on skin. Feed her with your own

body, skin on skin. It’s a magical thing.

Nothing compares.

"Gonna fuck you now baby."

"Yes please," I whispered.

He pushed inside of me and my

breath caught. He withdrew and pushed

back in, this time harder, this time going

further. I whimpered.

"Babe,” He rasped. “So goddamn

tight.”

“Only you,” I breathed. “No one

else since you.”

He sucked in a breath. “Christ,

Eva. What the fuck did I do to deserve

you?”

"You're you," I whimpered.

He pulled out and again pushed in.

We both groaned.

"God damn your fuckin' body, so

fuckin' hot baby."

He pulled out again and again

pushed in a little further. I pushed back

trying to take him deeper.

"So fuckin' sweet and wantin’ an

asshole like me."

His hips swiveled, grinding into me,

causing me to moan. He did this four

more times before pulling away and

thrusting roughly. It was all I needed. My

body blossomed for him, stretched and

spread, allowing him to seat himself fully

inside of me.

"Not carin’ that I got shit to give

you, you just wantin’ me for me and not

the club and not the fuckin’ money, just

straight up wantin’ me.”

He pulled out and slammed back

inside of me. I dug my fingernails deep

into the leather and cried out.

“Fuck me,” He rasped, his hips

pumping back and forth, in and out of me,

excruciatingly slow. “You fuckin’ show

up out of nowhere, lying, saying you were

in the neighborhood and standin’ in my

office wearing my old man’s tag, always

wearing my old man’s tag and drop

straight to your fuckin’ knees.”

He stilled and I squirmed until his

fingertips bit painfully into the skin on my

hips and held me still. "You want it hard

baby?” He whispered. “Or you want it

slow?”

"Hard,” I breathed.

"Yeah," He said gruffly. "You want me to own you don't you baby? You been

waitin' for me to own you for a long time

now, haven't you?"

Oh my god, my heart was going to

explode; I wanted this man so bad. I

wanted him to own me. All of me. Every.

Single. Inch.

I shuddered with need, "Yes,

Deuce."

"Sweet fuckin' girl," He rasped and

thrusted hard and deep.

"Sweet and beautiful." He thrust

again, harder.

"Please," I moaned. “More.”

He gripped my hips. "Anything you

want darlin'. Anything you fuckin’ want."

“You,” I whispered. “All I want is

you.”

“Fuck,” He muttered. “Fuck.”

Then he gave me everything I

wanted and he gave it to me hard.

☼☼☼

Cradled in Deuce’s arms, I stared

up at him with unfocused eyes, my sated

body limp and heavy. He ran his hand

down the side of my face, down my neck,

across my collarbone and over my

breasts.

I arched my back pushing more of

me into his hand.

"Fuck me," He muttered, thumbing

my nipples, making them hard. His other

hand slid down my stomach and in

between my hipbones where his fingers

traced my indented abdomen.

"Know I don't deserve nothin' as

sweet as you," He whispered darkly as his

hand dipped in between my legs.

"Anything a man's gotta steal to have he

don't deserve."

“You didn't steal this,” I breathed,

writhing against his hand. "I gave it."

His blue eyes glittered with

amusement. “Naïve, darlin'," He

murmured. "I stole you a long time ago.

Round the time you fuckin' stole me."

You fuckin' stole me.

He'd just said that. He’d really,

really, said that.

"I love you," I breathed into his

mouth, overcome by sheer sensation and

the larger than life force that was Deuce.

He went rigid and the pleasure

induced fog I'd been floating around inside

of instantly cleared. Oh no.

Ohnononono. I did not just say that.

There was no way he was going to

understand what he meant to me. I barely

understood it; I just accepted that it just

was.

"Wait…that's not what I meant," I

stammered. "I didn't… I don't…"

Deuce wasn't listening to me; he

was moving me off of him, laying me

down on my back, settling his hips

between my thighs and pushing back

inside of me.

"Say it again, Eva," He growled.

I bit my lip.

"Babe. Say it again."

I didn't. Mostly because he was

inside of me again, so full, so big and he

was fucking me deliciously slow. I went

soft beneath him, staring up into his eyes.

Eyes that I could never look away from.

Eyes that pulled me inside of him where it

was warm and safe. Eyes that I loved.

And that's when I realized he wasn't

fucking me. He was making love to me.

“Say it,” He demanded, his

expression fierce. Dominant. Possessive.

"I…didn't mean-

He pulled his hips back and

slammed inside of me. "You love me.

Say it."

"No, I meant-

"You love me."

I gave up. “Yes,” I cried. “I love

you! I've loved you forever!”

His eyes closed and his head

dropped to my chest. “Fuck,” He

whispered.

"Deuce," I whispered.

He looked up at me. "Yeah baby,"

He asked hoarsely. His eyes were hooded,

his mouth slightly parted, his breath

coming in short hard pants. Beads of

sweat dotted his brow. He wasn't Deuce,

bad ass biker and I wasn't Eva, his rival’s

bad ass biker's daughter. He was a

dangerously beautiful man and I was a

woman he wanted and it was so fucking

beautiful. I wanted to freeze time and stay

in this moment with him forever, touching,

fucking and loving.

"Come on me," I said, driven only

by need. "I want you to come all over

me."

His body went stiff, his nostrils

flared. He barely had enough time to pull

out of me before his body let go.

“God baby…fuck…fucking god.”

Watching Deuce orgasm was

absolutely beautiful, Aurora Borealis kind

of beautiful. His face drew in tightly then

loosened as his release began. For a

moment he looked younger than he was,

young and vulnerable like I remembered

him looking the day I’d met him. His eyes

were glazed over, his lids at half mast. A

small noisy breath passed through his lips

and swept warmly over my breasts. Wet

warmth shot up over my stomach and chest

and suddenly Deuce's fingers were inside

of me, pumping. My sex clenched and

clenched again, throwing me into orgasm.

Taking his fingers away, he slid his

hand over my body rubbing his liquid heat

into the skin on my stomach and breasts,

down between my thighs, and up into my

sex, staring into my eyes the entire time.

He was marking me.

Claiming me.

Owning me.

"Say it again," He demanded.

"I love you, Deuce," I whispered.

CHAPTER SIX:

My eyelids fluttered open and I

blinked sleepily. The thick, steel band

around my stomach tightened.

I lifted my arm behind me and

encircled Deuce's neck, pulling his head

down until I could see his eyes.

"Morning," I breathed.

His hand left my belly and moved

lower, cupping me. I lifted my leg and

hooked my foot behind his knee. He made

a hungry noise in the back of his throat that

I felt all the way to my toes.

"You sore?" He asked roughly.

"Uh huh,” I whispered. “In a really,

really good way."

He chuckled. "You want it?"

"Please," I breathed.

"You want it hard?"

"Please," I breathed.

“Bitch is gonna kill me,” He

laughed. “Keep wantin’ it raw.”

Oh god, he was teasing me. Here

we were lying in his bed and he was

teasing me. It was so…domestic. I loved

it.

He groaned as he entered me and I

whimpered as I stretched for him, molded

around him, drenching him and then

finally, eagerly accepting him. All of

him.

I came and I came hard.

Shaking his head, he let out an

amused grunt. "Fuck. Never seen a

woman catch fire the way you do, darlin'.

The way you squeeze my cock and that

body of yours shakin' so hard while you

scream in my ear and pull my fuckin’ hair

and claw up my fuckin' back. When I let

you outta my bed darlin' I’m gonna be

spendin' the rest of my life thinkin’ 'bout

that pussy and not findin' anything that

comes close and, babe, my balls are gonna

fuckin’ explode.”

We switched positions and he

started moving again, this time with vigor;

hard and fast, skin slapping skin. Then

slow and sweet, our sweat slicked bodies

sliding against one another.

There was nothing else quite like it.

And there was no one else quite like

Deuce.

"Oh fuck!" I cried out, cursing and

clawing through my second orgasm.

"Holy fucking shit!"

He grinned down at me, all beautiful

blue eyes and laugh lines and dimples.

"There it is," He rumbled

appreciatively. "There’s my fuckin' girl."

His girl.

How long had I been waiting to hear

him say that?

☼☼☼

After fucking Eva all morning, she

had fallen asleep again. It was late

afternoon now and Deuce and a few of his

boys were drinking brews and grilling

steaks out back of the clubhouse.

"Where's the hottie?" Tap asked

around the neck of his beer bottle.

"Which one?" Jase asked. "The

blonde or the brunette? They're both

badass."

ZZ laughed. "The blonde's been in a

Ripper Cox sandwich since she got here."

Hawk made a face. "Shit's not fair.

If it'd been me that walked out there first,

bitch would be in my bed."

Deuce shrugged. "Kami's a fuckin'

whore. Doubt she'll be opposed to you

joinin' the party."

"Naw," Chips said. "I already

tried. They don't wanna share. Not that I

blame ‘em. Not many holes left available

when they're both hittin' that shit at the

same time. So how's 'bout yours Prez?

You wanna pass her on yet?"

ZZ spit out his beer.

"Asshat," Jase muttered. "That's not a whore. That's Eva Fox, Preacher's

fuckin' daughter. The bitch our Prez can't

seem to think straight around. The bitch

who got him shot."

Chips eyes went wide.

"I got myself shot," He muttered.

"Wasn't her fuckin' fault. She was sixteen,

I had my hand down her fuckin' pants and

my tongue down her throat. He's her old

man, do you really fuckin' blame him?"

"You die," Marsh said, his

expression hard. "Then yeah, I would

fuckin' blame him."

"Sixteen, huh?" Danny D. grinned.

"Nice."

Tap frowned at Danny. "You're

fuckin' sick dude. I gotta a fifteen year old

daughter. Some fuckin' old asshole like

Prez get's anywhere near her pants I’m

gonna put him to ground. I'm puttin' a one

year age difference on her datin' life."

Tap turned to him. "Not a fuckin' eighteen

year difference."

"It's not like that," He muttered,

feeling strangely embarrassed. "Got

nothin' to do with her age. Never has.

Been likin' her since she was just a kid

and now her bein' a woman, my cock likes

her too. But it's never been 'bout her age.

Straight up, it's always been just 'bout

her."

His boys were staring at him as if he

had grown a second head.

"Damn, Prez," Jase muttered.

"Just…damn."

CHAPTER SEVEN:

Aside from Cox and Ripper and

Mick - who'd hadn’t returned- I met Blue,

ZZ, Chip, Bucket, Worm, Freebird, Hawk,

Bucket, Marsh, Danny D. and Danny L.,

Tramp, Dimebag, Tap, Dirty and Jase.

And those were just the names I

remembered.

Out of everyone I met, I liked Cox,

ZZ and Freebird the most. ZZ was an

eighteen year old novitiate who, like me,

had been born into the life. He also

reminded me of Frankie with his

chocolate brown eyes and shoulder length

brown hair he kept in a ponytail mid

skull. He was tall and lean with an

overall innocence that I knew would soon

be wiped right out of him.

Figuring out how Freebird got his

name wasn't hard. Long gray and black

hair hung greasy and stringy halfway down

his back. He was balding on top but he

hid it well using Brett Michael's bandana

balding solution. His gray beard was

braided in one long braid that reached his

chest and he still wore bell bottom jeans

that had been patched over so many times

I wasn't sure if any of the original denim

remained. His arms were covered in

tattoos; peace signs, ying and yang, and

words like freedom, peace and the open

road. Kinda hypocritical for a biker

belonging to the Hell's Horsemen MC but

whatever, he told dirty jokes and made me

laugh.

The clubhouse whores weren't half

as bad as the ones constantly camped out

at the Demon's NYC MC, half of which

were actual whores. That's not saying

these girls didn't have their problems. The

biggest being they desperately wanted to

become an old lady and early on had made

the mistake of sleeping with half the club.

Now they were stuck. No biker was going

to put a woman on the back of his bike

who's slept with half his brothers.

My least favorite was a bleached

blonde named Miranda. She was twenty

five, a high school dropout and a mom of

two, father's unknown. When I asked her

where her kids were, what she did with

them while she was here - which

apparently was all the time- she told me

her mother had custody. This disgusted

me. I had no love for deadbeat moms.

I asked Deuce if he'd been with her

and he gave me a cocked eyebrow, lazy

eyed look.

Then he'd said, "Babe," in such a

way that made me feel like I'd just asked

the most ridiculous question ever asked.

I’d stormed off and he’d burst out

laughing. Next thing I knew he was

tossing me up over his shoulder and taking

me back to bed.

As for the rest of the regulars, they

varied in ages and sizes same as the

biker's they catered to. Some were young,

other's middle aged. Some were thin and

shapeless others plump with a little too

many curves in all the wrong places.

Most were average women who wore too

much makeup and not enough clothing.

All of them were pathetic.

All except Dorothy, a petite redhead

with lots of adorable freckles. She was

twenty four and married with a seven year

old daughter. Her husband was a scumbag

truck driver who was gone three weeks

out of every month. She would wake up in

the morning, drive her daughter to school

then come straight to the club. Aside from

participating in her exclusive relationship

with Jase - who wasn't exclusive to her

and was married to boot - she was paid to

clean the club, make breakfast and lunch

for the brothers and do their laundry

before she left for the day. Jase was there

every day she was, they would spend an

hour or two in his room, he would leave

and she'd get back to work. Around three,

she'd leave to pick up her daughter and

wouldn't return until the next morning.

Every now and then, she would drop her

daughter off at her sisters on a Friday or

Saturday so she and Jase could spend the

night together. All this I knew because

she had made lunch for Kami and I and

we'd spent the afternoon talking.

At twenty five, Jase was a fairly

gorgeous man in the Marine reserves with

a high and tight haircut and a kick ass

body. The club whores flocked to him

like flies to shit and Dorothy - pretty but in

a girl next-door sort of way - knew this

and simply accepted it. She was prime

old lady material. She was a good woman

who obviously loved him, who put up

with his shit and had no problem with

having to put up with more. Only she

would never be his old lady because Jase

already had one.

I wasn't sure how to feel about Jase

knowing what I knew. From what I saw,

he treated her well enough. I'd watched

him slip money in her wallet when she

wasn't looking and most important he

didn't carouse in front of her, but still…

He was married to a girl he'd

knocked up in high school (information

also gleaned from Dorothy) and while I

can understand that he's unhappy with his

situation he should have rectified it before

he involved himself in someone else's life.

But this was typical. And I was

used to it. I was also used to keeping my

opinions to myself.

"Earth to Eva," Dorothy said in a

singsong voice while waving her tiny hand

in front of my face.

I jerked my head up and she started

laughing.

"Did you hear anything I just said?"

"No," I said honestly. "I was lost inside my head."

"She's always lost inside her head,"

Kami announced.

I cut my eyes at her. "Speaking of

head… Where are Cox and Ripper?"

It was lunchtime and I hadn't seen

either of them since they'd dragged Kami

off again last night.

"Sleeping me off," She stated

proudly. Both Dorothy and I burst out

laughing.

"Speaking of which," She continued,

popping her last bite of ham sandwich into

her mouth. "I should go wake them up."

She slipped off the barstool and sauntered

through the kitchen looking graceful and

beautiful despite her lack of sleep and

vigorous exercise.

"Hey Deuce," She purred.

I spun around. Deuce was standing

in the doorway, arms above his head, his

hands grasping the top of the doorframe

causing his muscles to bulge and his black

tee shirt to ride up, revealing a fabulous

abdomen. He was also covered in

grease. Head to toe.

Kami was looking up at him like he

was a hot fudge sundae.

"Go easy on my boy’s woman; they

got shit to do today."

He moved aside to let her pass and

slipped into the stool she had just

vacated.

"You’re gonna kill me babe."

I took a sip of my coffee. "What?"

"That fuckin’ dress babe. Killin’

me."

I glanced down at my strapless

sundress. It was dark green, virtually

shapeless soft cotton that hung just slightly

above mid thigh. It was simple,

comfortable and very me. And not at all

sexy, not compared to the clothing women

like Kami wore.

"Um…seriously? It's like a big

green bag."

He narrowed his eyes. "No babe,

it's not."

Jase chose that moment to barrel

into the kitchen. He crossed the room and

literally swept Dorothy off her feet and

into a passionate embrace like the ones

you see in the movies.

"Missed you baby," He groaned into

her mouth.

She giggled. "You saw me

yesterday."

With her legs wrapped around his

waist and her arms around his neck, he

strode back through the kitchen.

“Eva!” Dorothy yelled, “Are you

going to be here for the barbeque?”

"Twenty four hours,” Jase growled.

“Babe, it's been twenty four horrible

fuckin' hours and you're talkin' 'bout

barbeques. This is me time and you need

to focus. You gotta let me get you your

own place, you gotta leave that man, so I

can see you whenever the fuck I want and

you'll be fuckin' focused. On me. You

gotta let me take care of-

The doors closed behind them

leaving Deuce and I alone.

“Speakin’ of the barbeque, how

long you stayin’ babe?”

My gaze slid back to Deuce. I

couldn’t tell by his expression if he

wanted me to stay or not.

“Babe?”

“Um…”

Laughing, he reached out and pulled

me into his lap. His hands wrapped

around my middle and he buried his face

in my neck.

“How long you got?” He murmured.

“All summer,” I whispered.

“Then you're stayin' at my cabin.”

Oh god. He wanted me to stay all

summer. At his cabin.

“The clubhouse is fine with me,” I

whispered, reeling from this new

development.

“No babe. I know you’re used to it

but I don’t want you seein’ all the fucked

up shit the boys are always doin’.”

"It doesn't bother me."

He snorted. "Me fuckin' Miranda

bothers you."

"Not if it's in the past tense." I

narrowed my eyes. "It is in the past tense,

right?"

He snorted. "You’re here; it's in the

past tense."

Huh. I wasn't sure I liked that

answer.

"Okay," I said slowly, "Then it

doesn't bother me."

"Babe. Old ladies don't hang at the

club. And they sure as shit don't sleep

here. You know that."

What?

What!

I twisted around in his lap so we

were face to face. "What did you just call

me?"

His eyebrows drew together.

"Babe?"

"No!" I yelled. "You called me an

old lady! I am not an old lady; I'm a

Demon! I was born and raised in the life

and I'm not going to be locked up in some

cabin in the middle of nowhere waiting

for you to hang out with me!”

"You done?" He asked evenly.

"Are you going to let me hang out

here?"

"No."

I scrambled off his lap. "No?" I

whispered.

"Yeah babe. No. You're goin’ to

my place and I'll be there with you when

I'm not here."

I gaped at him. “You won’t let me

stay here but you’ll let Kami?”

His expression hardened. “Kami’s

a fuckin’ whore," He said flatly. "Locked in a room with two of my boys right now.”

"Fuck. You." I spat. "If I wanted to be treated like this I'd be in a Demon’s

bed not yours!"

In the blink of an eye, Deuce was off

the stool, gripping my shoulders.

"First," He growled. "Don't run

your fuckin' mouth at me. Ever. Second,

ain't no way I'm lettin' you hang here so

stop fuckin' askin'. Third bitch, you throw

shit 'bout bein' in someone else’s bed at

me again an I'm puttin' you on plane back

to New York so you can climb right the

fuck in someone else’s bed and you can

fuckin' stay there."

Staring up at him, watching the lines

around his eyes tightening, his nostrils

flaring, his lips pressing together in a thin

white line, hearing the raw anger in his

voice, made my stomach drop. This

wasn't the Deuce I knew glaring down at

me; this was Deuce, bad ass biker, cold

blooded killer, furious with me. Me.

What had I done?

My lip began to tremble and I bit

down on it.

"You feel me, Eva?"

I nodded.

"Say it," He growled.

Sheesh. My own father, even when

mad at me, had never spoken to me like

this.

"I feel you," I whispered.

He shoved me towards the doors.

"Go to my fuckin' room if you're gonna

cry. Last thing I need is weepin' females

in my fuckin' club."

My tears spilled over as I pushed

blindly through the swinging doors and

down the back hallway, past the hall of

bedrooms, to the very end, Deuce's suite.

Digging through my backpack, I pulled out

my credit card and called the airlines. I

was going home.

☼☼☼

Deuce ran his hands through his air.

Fuck, she pissed him off.

She had called herself a Demon!

What the fuck was Preacher thinking

raising her inside the club? The entire

fucking circuit knew Eva Fox. Why the

fuck had Preacher done that shit?

Christ. He would not rearrange his

whole fucking life for some bitch just

because he had some fucked up obsession

with her.

"Hey you."

He turned and found Miranda

pushing through the kitchen doors.

"You want somethin' to eat baby? I

was gonna make myself a salad."

"Yeah," He said roughly, "I want

somethin' to fuckin' eat.”

Miranda was his bitch. He didn't

share her. He'd given her a room at the

club so he had access to her when he

wanted it. Eva’s arrival had him

considering sending her to the apartment

he paid for.

He was seriously reconsidering that

now.

Gripping Miranda's tiny waist, he

swung her up on the counter in front of him

and pushed down the straps of her tank top

revealing the double d's he bought a few

years back.

"You done with that little girl?" She

purred.

"Shut up," He muttered and took her

mouth in his.

☼☼☼

After booking a flight home for

tomorrow afternoon, I dried my eyes and

set out to find Kami. I found her in Cox's

bedroom in a seriously compromising

position with Cox and Ripper that I was

pretty sure would be giving me nightmares

for the rest of my life. I told her I would

talk to her later and slammed the door.

Then I headed towards the front of the

warehouse to tell Deuce I was leaving.

He wasn't in the main room or his office

which left the kitchen or the bathrooms. I

checked the kitchen first.

Miranda's back was facing me but I

could see Deuce just fine.

I was not going to cry. Nope. Just

because he wasn't the man I'd thought he

was didn't mean I was going to cry. It was

my own fault, putting him on some kind of

pedestal when in reality he was just

another biker, who lies, cheats, and steals

and who can't resist slutty club ass.

He looked up and saw me standing

in the doorway. If he was surprised to see

me, or felt any sort of guilt at all, he didn't

show it. For this I was grateful. My

threatening tears were replaced by anger;

anger that allowed me to meet him stare

for stare.

I was still standing there, staring,

when the gate alarm went off.

ZZ came flying down the hallway

past me. “RAID!” He bellowed. Several

more brothers's followed him, looking

panicked. Cox and Ripper were next,

shirtless and pulling on jeans as they ran.

I moved out of the way of the

stampede and into the kitchen. Miranda

had since jumped off Deuce and was

pulling up her tank top. Deuce walked by

without even looking at me.

Miranda and I caught eyes. "Eva,"

She said softly. "I'm gonna tell you this

because you're a sweet girl. Deuce is not

a one-woman man. He never will be.

You'd do well to find yourself a nice guy

who will worship all that beautiful you've

got goin' on, not just once in a while but

all the time."

She was being sincere; she even

looked apologetic.

I shrugged. "It's really not a big

deal. I was on summer vacation and

wanted to have some fun without my

daddy and brother breathing down my

neck, you know?"

Lie. Biggest lie I had ever told. But

that last thing I wanted was a club whore

feeling sorry for me. She bought it and

took off down the hallway to hide in her

bedroom. I was still standing there staring

at nothing when Deuce walked back in.

“ATF’s outside, we got ‘bout two

minutes before they blow the gate,” He

said. "Figured Preacher might have used

you before, yeah?

"Yes," I said.

He handed me a ring full of keys.

"Those are for the doors. Code to the gate

is 009673.”

I nodded. “009673,” I repeated.

He stared at me.

“Go,” I said. “Do what you need to

do, I'll stall them.”

☼☼☼

Outside the gate stood white-collar

special agents wearing bulletproof vests

over their button downs. Behind them

SWAT was pouring out of several large

paddy wagons dressed in military issued

boots and BDU's. They too wore

bulletproof vests but unlike the agents,

they had glocks strapped to their thighs

and assault rifles slung over their

shoulders.

“ATF,” An older, seasoned agent

greeted me. “You mind opening the gate.”

I smiled. “What’s this about?”

Another agent, young, clean cut and

good looking, waved a piece of paper

around angrily. “Warrant,” He barked.

"Open the fucking gate!"

“Can I see that?” I asked sweetly.

He shoved the piece of paper

through the gate and I scanned it quickly. It

was a search and seizure, dated correctly

and signed by a judge. In order and legit.

I handed it back but took my time

punching in wrong code after wrong code

after wrong code until a good fifteen

minutes had passed by and the agents were

getting angry with me.

As soon as the electricity running

through the gates was disarmed they

clicked open and the tarmac flooded with

SWAT headed straight for the club.

“Front doors locked!”

"Side doors locked!"

I rolled my eyes. Of course they

were locked. I wasn’t stupid.

"Get the ram!"

“Wait!” I yelled. “Don’t break it

down! I have the keys!”

The younger, good-looking agent

turned to glare at me. “Get over here!” He

barked.

I hurried to the door and the good-

looking agent leaned down over me.

“Open it,” He hissed.

I tried the first key and it didn’t

work and truth be told I didn’t know

which one would. Deuce hadn’t told me.

By the third key, I had two agents

screaming at me. By the sixth key, the

good looking agent grabbed a fistful of my

hair and yanked me roughly aside.

“Give me the keys,” He growled

and snatched them from my shaking

hands.

When the doors were open, I was

shoved aside as the crowd poured in.

Aside from ATF no one else was in the

front of the warehouse. I took shelter in a

corner near the bar and watched the room

being torn apart. Leather couches were

sliced open, televisions were smashed,

cupboard doors were ripped off their

hinges. Crashes and the sounds of wood

splintering and plastic cracking came from

inside Deuce's office and the kitchen.

There was so much activity going on

around me that I didn't see the good

looking agent until he was standing right in

front of me, breathing hard, his face red

with rage. “Where are they?” He

bellowed, sending spittle flying in my

face.

Wiping off my cheek, I shook my

head. “I don’t know,” I whispered,

because really, I didn’t know.

He grabbed my arm and shook me

hard. “Where. Are. They.”

Tears burned in my eyes. The

Horsemen must not have any feds on their

payroll or this wouldn't be happening.

"Please," I begged. "I really don't know."

Pain exploded throughout my face.

My mouth flooded with blood. His punch

had landed on the left side of my jaw the

force of which had me stumbling

backwards into the wall. He closed the

distance between us and I turned my head

into the wall, bracing myself for another

punch. His fist barreled into my stomach

and my lungs exploded. I doubled over

clutching my mid section, gagging and

gasping for air.

“GOT EM!” A voice boomed.

"Trap door! Basement!"

The brothers were led single file

into the room, their hands zip tied behind

their backs. Individually they were shoved

up against the far wall.

Deuce was directly in the middle of

the lineup nonchalantly scanning the room

full of people. He came to me, lying on

my side, holding my stomach, trying to

breathe and he went ramrod straight, his

eyes blazing with fury. More tears

flooded my eyes and the room went

blurry.

I recognized the good looking

agent's voice.

“I have witnesses placing your L.A.

boys meeting with Curtis’s boys in Vegas.

I know for a fact you’re distributing for

them, I also know you haven’t moved it

yet. So let’s make this easy. You tell me

where the fuck you stashed the weapons

and you blow in Curtis and I'll go easy on

you.”

"No fuckin’ clue whatcha talkin’

‘bout."

I thought that sounded like Cox but I

couldn't be sure.

"Really?" The agent sneered. "AK-

forty seven rifles, AK-forty seven pistols,

FN five point seven millimeter pistols and

point fifty caliber rifles, twenty five

hundred in all, all from fucking Curtis,

isn't ringing any fucking bells?"

"Nope." That was Deuce.

"How about the twenty thousand

grams of cocaine, a thousand grams of

crack and a pound of methamphetamine?

All intercepted yesterday. Got your

handiwork written all over it, West."

Holy crap. That was going to come

straight out of Deuce's pocket. I didn't

know the Horsemen's finances but that

would hurt anyone.

"You got any proof of that?"

Several heartbeats passed. "We

will," Came the biting reply.

"Good fuckin' luck with that

asshole." Definitely ZZ. This was

followed by a large whoosh of air and

familiar gagging and coughing. ZZ had

just gotten slammed in the gut.

“Where's Davis's team?" An

unknown voice bellowed.

"Still searching," Was the answer.

"Tell me someone found

something!”

“Aside from a few females hiding in

bedrooms, the place is clean. The

assholes have permits for all the weapons

found. There’s nothing here. Not a god

damn thing. Not even a dime bag of

weed.”

If I wasn't in so much pain I would

have laughed. Who called weed, weed?

Too funny.

"You run I.D.'s on the girls?"

"All of ‘em except the one on the

floor over there. But check this shit, one

of them is the daughter of a Senator and

the heir to the Carlson Food fortune."

I swallowed. They were talking

about Kami. If her parents found out about

this… Things would not be good for her.

A pair of dress shoes stopped in

front of my face and the toe of one poked

me in the leg. "Name?" A man's voice

demanded.

"Eva…Fox," I croaked.

The man's legs bent. His pudgy,

blotchy red face came into my field of

vision. "Eva Fox?" He repeated slowly.

"Who's your father?"

This was either going to go very bad

for me or very good. I didn't know which

so I when I answered it was a very timid

and terrified sounding, "Damon Fox."

"Shit," He muttered. His arm

slipped around my back and under my

armpit and then I was being lifted and

settled onto a barstool. Still clutching my

stomach, feeling like at any moment I was

going puke, I slumped forward and put my

forehead on the counter.

"Who the fuck beat the shit out of

Damon Fox's kid?" Pudgy faced

demanded.

The entire place had gone silent.

"I did." I recognized the good-

looking agent's voice. "She was playing

us, stalling."

"You fucking moron!" Someone else

yelled.

Okay, so it was going good. Either

they were on my father's payroll or they

were scared shitless of him.

A gentle hand came down on my

shoulder. "Ms. Fox?"

I turned my head slightly. Pudgy

face bent his head to mine.

"I've written down the name of the

asshole who hit you on the back of my

card. You give it to Preacher, you tell him

what he did. And I'd appreciate it if you'd

tell him that no one else touched you."

Definitely on his payroll. Probably

getting a hefty percentage of the sales from

the weapons they were supposed to be

confiscating. Probably sending half the

weapons they did confiscate straight to my

father for redistribution.

"Okay," I whispered, knowing I

wasn't going to tell my father anything.

Me disappearing only to show back up

beaten by the ATF…

That would not go over well. For

me or the ATF.

The hand patted my back. "Okay,"

he whispered. He slid his card across the

bar and walked away.

☼☼☼

Deuce carried Eva down the hall to

his bedroom. Kicking the door shut

behind them he laid her out on his bed and

stared at the growing bruise on the side of

her face. Since she'd told him her old

man didn't have clue where she was, he

knew she wasn't going to tell him what

happened. That meant it was up to him to

take out the agent. Which was fine with

him. This fucking girl had just taken a

beating for him and his club.

“I'm okay,” She whispered. “He

punched like a girl.”

Fuck him. She was perfect. Perfect

old lady material. Perfect heart shaped

face, big gray eyes, smooth skin and fuck

me lips. Perfect tits, long legs, and a flat

stomach. Perfect curves to run his hands

over, long hair to grab hold of.

And he'd gotten angry, let his temper

get the better of him and completely

fucked everything up.

Sighing, he sat down on the bed

beside her. "Bout earlier," He started. "I-

"Don't," She whispered. "I get it. I was stupid for expecting anything from

you. I'm leaving tomorrow anyway."

His chest went tight. He’d been too

hard on her. He had a horrible temper,

couldn't think straight when he was angry.

Add Eva Fox to the mix and his brain was

just a big lump of idiot.

"No babe. You're not leavin."

There. Now she wasn't leaving.

Fire flashed in her eyes. "Yeah,

Deuce, I am. You made it clear that I

couldn't hang at the club, that you didn't

want me around your boys and I refuse to

be locked in some cabin for an entire

summer. Besides, Kami and I had planned

on going to Hawaii after this."

She was lying. He could see it in

her eyes.

"Babe, calm down. You can come

to the club with me when I don't have to

work."

She snorted then winced in pain.

"Sorry, babe. I've already made up my mind. You pretty much sealed the deal

when you decided I had to share you. My

daddy's going to be angry enough when I

return; I'm pretty sure bringing back an

STD as a souvenir would result in me

being locked up in a nunnery."

Fucking shit. She was running her

mouth again and he was getting pissed.

"Woman, if you think I’m gonna let

you walk outta here, you’re fuckin’ crazy.

You showed up outta nowhere cuz you

fuckin' wanted me, so you fuckin' got me,

and I'm gonna tell you straight up that a

few fuckin' days of you hasn't been

enough. So you reel that fuckin' attitude in

cuz you're fuckin' stayin'!"

Her face wiped clean, no

expression whatsoever. "Get the fuck

away from me," She said evenly. “Now.”

He curled his hands into fists.

“Eva,” He growled. “Stop it.”

She rolled to her side, facing away

from him.

Stiffly, he got off the bed and

stalked to the door. He shot one last look

at her. She was staring off to the side at

nothing.

☼☼☼

I woke up in darkness as the bed

dipped and Deuce slid in beside me.

Instead of curling up next to me he stayed

on the opposite side of the bed. I couldn't

let it end like this. Not with him. My

stomach was sore but nothing like my face

and nothing I couldn't handle so I rolled

over and crawled on top of him.

"Hey," I whispered.

His arms wrapped around me.

“You still mad, darlin’?”

Instead of answering, I kissed him.

When I pulled away, we were both

breathing heavy.

I rubbed my lips across his and

whispered, "You want it hard or you want

it slow?"

"Babe," He said thickly. "I want it fuckin' slow."

So I gave it to him slow.

☼☼☼

He woke up alone.

Deuce rolled over and hit air. He

patted around for a moment looking for

Eva and came up empty. He clicked on

his bedside lamp. No Eva. No IPod on

his nightstand. No chucks by the door.

No backpack on the floor. His stomach

clenched.

Pulling on a pair of jeans he headed

straight for Cox's room and kicked open

the door. Ripper was snoring loudly, his

long body draped over an armchair. Cox,

lying belly down in bed, jerked his head

up.

“Prez?”

He scanned the room. No Kami.

The vice around his chest went

painfully tight.

“Where’s your fuckin’ bitch?”

Cox looked right then left. “Shit,”

He muttered. “I thought I heard something

earlier. Figured she was fuckin’ Ripper

again. Fuckin’ hell. I was gonna ask her

to marry me.”

“You’re already married shithead.

This ain’t fuckin’ Utah.” He slammed the

door shut and took off down the hall.

He found Blue sitting alone at the

bar in the dark. Seventy-two years old,

two pack a day smoker and a raging

alcoholic, yet healthy as a twenty year old.

"Eva?” He asked.

Blue swallowed down a shot of

Petron. "Gone."

His chest went so fucking tight he

had to slap his palm over his heart and rub

before he could breathe again.

"When?”

Blue poured then threw back

another shot. "'Bout two hours ago."

Fuck.

FUCK.

"Sorry Prez, I woulda woken you

up, told you what she was doin', but she

was cryin' her fuckin' eyes out.

Hysterical. Beggin' me to open the gate.

Beggin’ me not to wake you up. Can't

deal with hysterical women myself.

Makes me want to drink."

"Right," He said numbly.

"Left you this." Blue held out his

hand.

He took the small folded piece of

paper and opened it.

Deuce,

I'm sorry.

I shouldn't have come and imposed

on your life.

<3 Eva.

P.S. Take care of yourself.

"Prez?"

"What?"

"She's a good girl," Blue said.

"Sweet too. Knows her way round a club,

took two fuckin’ fists for it. Fuckin'

adores you too, woulda thought you were

the King of fuckin' England way she looks

at you, and she's good to the boys, not

givin' ‘em shit 'bout the girls, bringin' them

beers, talkin' and jokin' with ‘em, makin'

friends with Jase's piece a ass. Didn't

much like Miranda…"

Blue tossed back another shot and

chuckled.

"But I don't much blame her. I were

you I woulda done everything I coulda to

keep a girl like that in my bed.”

What else could he have done short

of tying her to the bed or drugging her.

"Yeah," He muttered, "Too late

now."

His hand fisted around the note,

crushing it.

“Pour me one of those,” He

muttered, taking a seat beside Blue.

Fuck Eva Fox and her perfect face

and her perfect tits. He had a life to get

back to.

So he got back to it.

For three long years he lived his

fucking life.

His miserable fucking life.

And then he saw her again.

And miserable got a fuck of a lot

worse.

CHAPTER EIGHT:

Groaning, Frankie collapsed on top

of me.

"Off," I demanded, pushing at him.

"I can't breathe."

He lifted his head, grinning. "Like

you where you are babe. Fuckin' naked

and underneath me."

Frankie was insatiable. I almost

wished he would start whoring around at

the club and give me break.

"Frankie! I can't breathe! Get off!"

Grunting, he pushed himself up a

few inches. "I'm tryin’ babe but you're not

lettin’ me back in."

"Ahhh!" I yelled, shoving him as

hard as I could. Which wasn't very hard

but I did manage to shove him off to the

side so I was able to roll away.

Frankie rolled too, reaching for me.

I jumped backwards and slapped his

hands away. Glaring at him, I headed into

the bathroom to dress.

“Remind me why we had to sleep at

the club?” I asked, stepping into my

underwear then slipping my jersey cotton

sheath dress over my head.

“Got a meetin’ this mornin’.”

I pulled my hair up and turned on the

faucet. Scooping water in my hands, I

started washing my face. “So, why did I

have to stay at the club?”

“Can’t sleep without you babe.”

Grabbing Frankie’s toothbrush, I

loaded it with toothpaste and shoved it in

my mouth.

“What’s the meeting about?” I

mumbled around the toothbrush.

“Bunch of MCs havin’ trouble with

Angelo Buonarroti. Seems the douchebag

put out a coupla bids for the same jobs.

Things got messy, brother's got buried.

Need to get this shit straightened out.

Maybe Buonarroti needs to go to ground.

We’ll see.”

I spit, rinsed the toothbrush and put

it back in its holder. Then I grabbed my

makeup bag and set to work making

myself look presentable.

“Gonna go have breakfast with

Kami while you’re working.”

“At her place?”

I leaned forward, dotting some

cover up underneath my eyes.

“Probably.”

“Don’t like that fucker she married,”

Frankie muttered.

I grinned. “Who does?”

Chase Henderson was a high paid

lawyer for a predominant law firm who

had made partner by the age of twenty

five. We’d all gone to prep school

together but he’d gone off to Harvard

whereas Kami and I had stayed in

Manhattan to attend NYU. Their parents

had arranged their marriage a long time

ago. It was ridiculously old school but it

wasn’t unheard of in their circle. There

were many wealthy, political families that

still practiced arranged marriages.

Chase was extraordinarily good

looking in an All-American Calvin Klein

underwear model kind of way. Never

once had I seen him not clean-shaven and

without one of many designer outfits on.

He never had a single gelled hair out of

place and always wore a pissed off,

haughty expression. There was nothing

simple or comfortable about him. He

reminded me of a house that was too

expensive, too new, too clean, too perfect,

to feel comfortable in.

Kami despised him.

She had been cheating on him with

her personal trainer since they had gotten

home from their honeymoon. He cheated

on her with a variety of women, none of

whom lasted longer than a few weeks, if

that.

It was ridiculous.

“Don’t like the way he looks at you

babe.”

I snorted. “Frankie, you don’t like

anyone looking at me. Period. You didn't

like my college professor's looking at me

when I raised my hand. Remember

Professor Reynolds? Daddy had to pay

him off big time for the beating you gave

him. Besides, Chase thinks I’m biker

trash.”

“Bitch, get a fuckin’ clue!” Frankie

yelled. “Asshole looks at you like he’s

fuckin’ starvin’ and you’re a goddamn

steak!”

Letting my hair down, I rolled my

eyes. Men. Always hungry.

“Don’t you have a meeting to get

to?”

“Waitin’ for your sweet ass so I can

walk you out.”

I shook my head and smiled at him.

Frankie was a great looking man.

Long brown hair, a scruffy beard, a body

made for sex, covered in tattoos and sexy

scars. He was good in bed, too. A good

combination of attentive and demanding

and he didn’t stray. This I knew because

wherever I was, at home, at the clubhouse,

in the supermarket, in the shower, Frankie

was there too. Or somewhere nearby. Or

on his way there. Or skyping me. Or

tracking me through my cell phone with

his cellphone.

Three years ago I had come home

from Montana and was met with insanity

the likes of which I'd never seen before.

The club was in an uproar, first because

I'd gone missing, second because Frankie

had completely flipped his shit and was

beating on anyone who got near him,

beating himself with the butt of his gun,

bashing his head and fists into walls until

they bled, screaming, swearing and

cursing me to hell.

Ignoring my father's temper tantrum

and responsibility speech I went straight

to Frankie’s room and found him curled up

in a corner covered in blood.

"Shit," I muttered, getting to my

knees beside him.

"Frankie," I whispered. "Baby,

look at me."

He moved fast. His hands shot out

and gripped both my forearms. Dragging

me down to the floor, he rolled over top

of me. Blood encrusted eyelids blinked

down at me.

"Eva," He croaked. "Where the

fuck have you been?"

"I just needed some breathing room

baby, I'm sorry I left you."

He cupped my cheeks, ran his

fingers through my hair, then down to my

shoulders and up and down my arms.

Before I knew it, his hands were all over

me, pulling the top of my sundress down,

baring my breasts. He took one in his

hand and the other in his mouth.

“Fuck,” I breathed. “Frankie, no…”

“Not waitin’ anymore, babe,” He

muttered around my breast. Lifting his

hips, he pulled the hem of my dress up.

I tried to push him off me. “I’m not

going to leave you again!” I promised.

“We don’t need to do this!”

Frankie dug his fingers in between

my knees and wrenched my legs open.

His hips surged forward forcing them to

stay open and he yanked on his belt. I

started to panic.

"Please!" I cried. "Please don't do this!"

"No baby," He growled, "I’m not

gonna fuckin’ let you say no to me

anymore. You get me? You’re not fuckin’

runnin’ from me anymore. Told you a

long time ago you were mine and its ‘bout

time you got that shit through your thick

fuckin’ skull.”

This was all said while he was

opening his belt and unzipping his jeans.

Now he was yanking my underwear to one

side and I could feel him trying to enter

me.

"Wait!" I cried, shoving at his

chest. "Don't!"

"Fuck," He muttered. He spit in his

palm then rubbed his hand over me,

wetting me, then he was back, pushing

inside.

“Frankie!” I screamed, trying to

wiggle backwards to prevent him from

fully seating himself.

“STOP!”

His hand slapped down over my

mouth; I kept screaming but the sound was

muffled and hoarse and no one heard but

Frankie and me.

“Been waitin’ too fuckin’ long for

this,” He groaned, pushing harder, his

heavy chest crumpling my attempts at

moving him. “You’re not fuckin’ stoppin’

me anymore. You're never fuckin' stoppin'

me again.”

He thrust. Hard. And found

purchase. I stilled, tears in my eyes,

staring up at him. Frankie had just forced

himself on me, inside of me. My Frankie.

It was surreal, confusing, like a dream or

a movie you remember from a long time

ago.

“Lock your ankles around my back,”

He rasped. Dazed, I did as he asked. He

released my mouth to grip my backside

and pump harder. Numb, I listened to his

skin slapping against mine, his heavy

breathing, my head knocking against the

wall.

"How the fuck could you leave me?"

He rasped. "I can't fuckin' sleep without

you, haven't fuckin' slept in days. You

fuckin' did that to me, bitch. You fuckin'

let that happen."

I had. I'd known he was going to

freak and I'd left him anyway. I should

have realized this was going to happen,

that he would completely lose it and need

to bind me to him in a way he thought was

permanent. God, this was all my fault.

"I'm sorry," I whispered brokenly.

"God Frankie, I'm so sorry. It won't

happen again, I promise."

"No shit," He hissed. “You won’t

fuckin’ like what happens if you do…

Eva… Fuck baby…I’m gonna come…

Fuck…"

His hips pistoned into me, slamming

my head harder into the wall. "I’m

coming baby, I’m fuckin’ coming…”

I stared up at the ceiling. I wasn't

on birth control. I would need to get the

morning after pill. I blinked. Did all of

our bedroom ceilings look like that? I

wasn't sure. I made a mental note to

check.

"Fuckin' love you, Eva," Frankie

breathed.

I wiped my tears away and wrapped

my arms around his neck. “I love you too,

baby,” I whispered, holding him tight,

rubbing his back, murmuring apologies.

It wasn’t a lie. I did love Frankie.

With all my heart. But it was the wrong

kind of love. I loved him like a best

friend or a big brother, and not at all like a

lover. But he'd forced his way into the

lover category and there was nothing I

could do; he needed me, he wasn’t going

to let me go, so I gave him what he needed

and tried to make the best of it.

That was three years ago.

Three years of being on the back of

Frankie's bike and in Frankie's bed -

which was actually mine. My room at the

clubhouse was bigger and better.

"Who do you love, babe?”

I finished brushing my hair and

walked out of the bathroom. "You," I

said.

"Fuck yeah you do."

Frankie finished dressing and sat

down on the bed to pull his boots on. He

looked me over and frowned. “Lot of leg

you’re showin’ babe.”

I snorted. "Hardly."

Suddenly Frankie was on his feet

unbuckling his belt and reaching for me.

“Jesus!” I screamed, scrambling

away from him. “Focus you horny

bastard! You have a meeting! I have a

breakfast date!”

He had my belly pressed up against

the wall in two seconds flat. His tongue

shot across my neck.

“Don’t care babe. You can’t fuckin’

walk around half naked and expect me to

keep my hands off.”

“You don’t play fair,” I whispered.

“When it comes to you Eva, I don’t

fuckin’ play at all.”

It was nearly an hour before Frankie

decided it was time to go to his meeting

and even then, he did this reluctantly.

☼☼☼

Deuce frowned at Preacher. “Don’t

know whatcha talkin’ ‘bout old man. I got

no connections with Angelo Buonarroti.

His old man, yeah. Coupla of his cousins

too, but not him. If you lost your deal with

them it ain’t on me.”

“You’re full of it,” Preacher

growled. “My boys seen yours on the

fuckin’ docks.”

“Can’t help it if my boys in Queens

got business on the side. They got

families to take care of.”

Preacher’s dark eyes narrowed and

cut to his right where Dog, One Eyed Joe

and Tiny sat. Next to Joe were his boys,

Mick, Cox and Jase. He was seated at the

end of the table directly across from

Preacher. Next to him, on the other side

of the table was Kickass Charlie,

President of the MC, Notorious, and two

of his boys. Shit was tense. Not one

brother in this room wanted to be here.

He and Preacher for their own personal

reasons involving sixteen-year-old Eva

and a gun and Charlie because Frankie

had buried his old man a few years back.

It was one of the crazy fuck's few caps that

had been on the grid. Charlie's old man

had been a tried and true dirty bastard.

Yeah, shit was real tense. Even

without Frankie in attendance.

The meeting room door burst open

with a loud bang. Startled, several

brothers shot out of their chairs, pulling

their pieces.

Frankie sauntered in, grinning. He

was zipping up his jeans, buckling his belt

and completely oblivious to the firearms

pointed at his head.

"Sorry I'm late," He said to no one

in particular and slid into his chair at

Preacher's left.

Preacher glared at him. "Where the

fuck you been?

Frankie started to open his mouth

when an empty coffee cup sailed across

the table hitting him in the chest.

One Eyed Joe scowled at Preacher.

"He’s walkin’ in here grinnin’ like a dirty

dog, zippin’ up his pants and you’re askin’

him where he was! You know where he

was, you fuckin’ idiot and you know what

he was doin' and who he was doin’ it with

cuz that’s all the two of them ever do!

Spankin’ each other, day and night, not

carin' that we all gotta hear it! And you're

gonna ask him stupid questions bout'

where he's been knowin’ he’s gonna start

talkin’ ‘bout fuckin’ my niece! And I just

can’t fuckin’ stomach that shit. He says

one more word about hot pussy or titty

fuckin' in relation to my girl I’m puttin’

him back in the hospital!”

Frankie grinned.

His stomach dropped.

Preacher sighed. "You tryin' to say

I should keep my own baby from the

club? Not sure I could handle not seein'

her all the time."

Dog gasped. An honest to god

gasp. Like a little fucking girl.

"Nobody's keepin' Eva from the club!"

"No fuckin' way!" Tiny bellowed.

"She keeps my old lady off my back and

does my laundry!"

"Damn straight!" Joe's fist came

down on the table. "That's our girl! We

didn't have Eva here who would keep the

books straight? Who would cook us

fuckin’ breakfast? If anyone’s gonna go

it’s gonna be Frankie!"

Frankie was still grinning. "Can't

kick me out. Your baby girl loves me.

Case you haven't noticed that's her room

I'm sleepin' in upstairs."

He blew out a breath. He hadn't

wanted to come to New York, he really

hadn't wanted to meet with Preacher or

Charlie, he especially hadn't wanted to

meet them at the Demon's MC and he

fervently hadn't wanted to lay eyes on

Frankie.

And now that he knew Eva was

giving it up to him…he wanted to blow

holes into the skulls of every asshole in

the room.

And that wasn't even the worst of it.

These men, her father, her uncles, three

hundred pound, sweat drenched Tiny, all

of them looked horrified at the thought of

Eva being kept out of the club like their

old ladies were. Not caring that she was

well aware of the debauchery that went

on, probably having seen most of in,

helped hide it and cleaned up after it.

She even had her own room. Her

own room. At a fucking MC. What. The.

Fuck.

His mistake slammed into him like a

fucking freight train. He had thought her

bratty and obstinate when she'd only been

reacting to him wanting to push her away

from what she'd always known. She

hadn’t been running from him, she’d been

running from the cage he’d wanted to lock

her in.

"Ya think you can save the fuckin'

drama for later?" Charlie asked. "Maybe we can get back to fuckin' business?"

Frankie turned his head and gave

Charlie a crazy eyed, vicious smile.

"Sure thing Chuck," He said pleasantly. "I fuckin' loved doin' business with your old

man, gonna love doin' it with you too."

Charlie's nostrils flared but he

wisely kept his mouth shut. The whole

circuit knew Frankie was bad news,

trigger happy and more than willing to

throw down at the drop of a hat.

"Alright," Preacher growled. "If

were not playin' each other then it's the

fuckin' Buonarroti family that's playin' us.

Someone needs to pay Sal a visit, ask him

if he knows what his fuckin' kid is up to.

You get the sense that he does-

The door burst open and again guns

were drawn as Eva tore through room.

Frankie slid down his chair and

disappeared under the table.

"I see you!" She screamed. "Get out from under there and give me my purse

and my chucks! I was supposed to meet

Kami a half an hour ago!"

Cox sat up straight in his chair.

"Kami? Where’s Kami?"

"Don't know what you're talkin'

'bout babe," Came the muffled, laughing

reply from under the table.

"Oh, christ," Preacher muttered,

pinching the bridge of his nose.

"DADDY!"

"Busy Eva baby," He sighed. "Can

we do this later?"

"NO!"

Fucking hell. She was beautiful.

Hair, dark and long falling in soft waves

over her shoulders and past her breasts.

She was wearing makeup, more than he'd

ever seen her wear, it looked good, made

her appear polished, but he didn't like it.

He couldn't see the freckles on her nose or

the natural pink of her cheeks. Her dress

was thin cotton, off the shoulder and

shapeless, showing off a lot of leg, giving

her a casual and sexy appearance. She

looked hot as fuck, but he liked her better

in baggy jeans hanging low on her hips

and tiny tee shirts that showed her belly.

His gaze traveled to her neck, to the gold

chain still on it and his old man's tag that

he knew was hanging in between her

breasts underneath her dress.

She was so mad, so focused on

Frankie that she hadn't even noticed him.

He was staring at her, boring holes

through her head and still nothing.

"Frankie, tell Eva where her shit is

‘fore I kick the fuckin' shit outta you!"

Preacher's body jerked and a shout

came from under the table. Frankie

crawled out, holding his side, and glaring

at Preacher.

"Franklin Salvatore Deluva," Eva

snapped. "I am waiting."

Jumping to his feet Frankie pulled a

cell phone out of his back pocket and

tossed it to her. She caught it one handed.

"Where's the rest?" She demanded,

not quite as angry as she'd been a moment

ago.

"Chuck's are in the freezer babe,"

Frankie said, grinning.

"You put her chuck's in the freezer?

With our food?" Dog asked.

"Yup."

"Huh."

Eva started tapping her bare foot.

"Purse Frankie, where's my purse?"

"Purse?" Joe snorted. "Dontcha

mean that fuckin' potato sack you could fit

a family of midgets in?"

Preacher, Dog, Joe, Tiny and

Frankie all burst out laughing.

Pissed off, Eva spun around, ready

to march out of the room. Her eyes found

his and she froze in mid spin and lost her

footing. He shot out of his seat but Cox

was closer and grabbed her waist,

hoisting her up from mid fall and what

would have been a nasty spill.

“Hey Foxy,” Cox whispered,

grinning. She blinked up at him.

He helped her straighten up and she

quickly stepped away, glancing warily

back at Frankie.

Frankie’s face was bright red, his

hands were clenched into fists, and his

veins were bulging out of his neck and

impressive muscles. He looked like the

madman everyone thought he was.

Preacher rolled his eyes. “Frankie,

he was just helpin' her. You bury your

bullshit right fuckin’ now.”

He didn't. His crazy eyes stayed

focused on Cox. Cox, who has never

backed down from a challenge in his life,

held Frankie's stare and didn't back

down.

"FRANKLIN!" Preacher roared.

Pouting like a five year old, Frankie

sat down hard in his chair and crossed his

arms over his chest.

Swallowing hard and avoiding any

eye contact with him, Eva turned back to

Frankie. "Purse baby," She said softly. "I need it."

Some of the crazy faded from

Frankie's eyes and he smiled at her.

"Microwave babe."

Tiny guffawed loudly and Preacher

shook his head.

"Sorry I interrupted," She said,

turning to Preacher. "Love you daddy,

love you Uncle Joe, love you Uncle Dog

and love you too, Tiny, with extra sugar."

Every single one of those men went

liquid. She wasn’t just another biker brat

she was the biker brat. The glue that held these men together. Eva Fox was the

princess of The Silver Demon's MC.

Even Charlie looked affected. Girl

was sweet and bright. She blinded every

man in the room.

"Love you baby," She whispered to

Frankie.

His heart seized.

“Fuck yeah baby,” He whispered

back. “Always.”

Preacher looked back and forth

between them and smiled proudly.

Since he was pretty sure he was five

seconds from pulling his piece, he

excused himself.

☼☼☼

"Is Mrs. Henderson expecting

you?"

I glared at the snotty woman.

"Yes.”

“You’re not on her list for the day,

Ms. Fox, and I’m afraid I can’t let you up.

The Henderson’s do not like being

disturbed on the weekends.”

I slammed my fists down on the

desk. “CALL HER!”

Scowling, the woman turned away

and dialed Kami's apartment. Or rather,

her two story sky rise penthouse with a

bird’s eye view of Manhattan.

"Mrs. Henderson, I have a Ms. Fox

here to-

The woman's jaw went slack and I

knew Kami was laying into her. I could

hear her screaming through the phone from

where I stood.

The woman hung up. "Go on up,"

She said crisply, avoiding eye contact.

“Thanks,” I sneered.

I burst into Kami's cathedral foyer

complete with Romanesque pillars,

shoved passed a bewildered Chase -who

was surprisingly wearing flannel pajamas-

and ran through a series of white rooms,

furnished with either white or gray

furniture and colorless abstract art that

didn't resemble anything I'd ever seen

before in my life except maybe an ink

stain after a pen explodes, and burst into

Kami's bedroom.

She was lying in her king sized

canopy princess bed in a pale pink teddy

and a pale pink silk robe, her long blonde

hair fanned out around her head, flipping

through a fashion magazine.

"Kami!" I screamed, throwing

myself at her. “Kill me!”

“Oh god, Evie, what’s the matter

baby? Is Frankie acting crazy again?”

“No,” I whispered, rolling off her

and onto her bed. “Well, yes…when isn’t

Frankie acting crazy?”

“I don’t like that guy,” Chase

muttered, appearing in the doorway

holding a decanter of whiskey and two

glasses.

He held the decanter up in offering.

"Yes please," I whispered.

I gulped it down quickly and held

out my glass for a refill that I drank just as

quickly. The burn of the whiskey subsided

and soothing warmth spread in my

stomach. I took a deep breath.

“I walked into daddy’s office this

morning and I was yelling at Frankie and

then I saw Deuce and I tripped and Cox

caught me and-

“COX!” Kami screamed, sitting up

straight. “Cox is here?”

“Who’s Cox?” Chase asked.

“None of your business,” Kami

snapped. “Oh my god Evie, did he ask

about me?”

“Um…” I glanced at up at Chase. I

knew he was aware of Kami's affairs, just

as she was of his, but they didn't talk about

them, at least not to each other and I

wasn't sure how Chase would feel having

to hear about it.

He shrugged. “Go right ahead Eva.

I don’t give a shit who she fucks.”

“Okay,” Kami breathed, looking

wildly around the room at nothing in

particular. “I'm going to get changed and

then we are going straight to the club.”

“Uh, Kami…”

"What?"

"Did you not hear what I just said to

you?"

"You said Cox was here."

I backhanded her bicep. "Bitch! I

said Deuce and Cox were here!"

"Who's Deuce?" Chase asked,

taking a sip of whiskey.

"None of your business!" Kami

snapped. "Oh my god Evie, what did you

do?"

"Nothing!" I cried, doing a face

plant into my palms. "What was I

supposed to do? Frankie was right there!

You know, my crazy, over protective,

homicidal, boyfriend Frankie? I had a

silent freak-out and left! Now I’m having

a loud freak-out because Frankie isn't

here!"

"I don’t like that guy," Chase

muttered.

"Go away," Kami hissed.

Ignoring her, he sat down on the foot

of her bed. Kami gaped at him.

"Seriously Chase, don't you have

anything better to do?"

He took another sip of whiskey.

"Nope. It's Saturday morning. What the

fuck should I be doing?"

"Your eighteen year old assistant?"

I said, helpfully.

Kami started laughing.

Chase, clearly not bothered by this,

shook his head. "She got clingy. Fired

her."

Kami snorted. "She's eighteen

Chase, what did you expect?"

"To have some fucking sense and

realize it wasn't going anywhere," He

muttered. "It wasn't as if she could have

forgotten I was married, not with the five

million pictures of you, that you

annoyingly wallpapered my office with.

Pictures she saw up close and personal

when I was bending her over my desk."

"Gross!" Kami cried out. "You

should have at least moved the pictures!"

"Nah," He said. "I like to look at you while I'm fucking other women."

"Hmm," Kami said thoughtfully. "I

don't like to look at you ever."

"Ahh," He replied. "So that's why

you always have a pillow over your face

when I'm fucking you."

"Pretty much," She said cheerfully.

"You guys are so weird," I informed

them.

"You'd be weird too if your dad

forced you to marry a douchebag."

Chase raised his glass in the air.

"Cheers to that," He murmured.

Kami rolled to her side and brushed

my hair out of my face. "Let's go

shopping," She said softly. "Retail

therapy. It's on Chase."

I giggled. "Not exactly hurting for

cash, Kam."

"My cash is legally earned," Chase

stated. "Not a drop of blood on it."

I glared at him. "You're a lawyer

Chase. There's blood all over you."

"Kinky Eva," He murmured silkily.

"I like it."

I wrinkled up my nose. "Maybe you

should have a cup of coffee."

He raised an eyebrow. "If I accept

my drinking problem and turn to god does

that mean you'll finally accept my offer

and become my mistress?"

This was exactly why Frankie hated

Chase.

“God Chase, you’re so pathetic.

Eva would never fuck you. Hell, the only

reason I fuck you is because I have to."

"Eva will fuck me eventually,"

Chase said lazily. "Everyone has their

price; I just haven't found hers yet."

Any normal person would have

found this insulting, but this was Chase

and I was used to it. So I decided to give

him a taste of his own medicine.

"Chase," I purred. "You wanna

know why you’ll never get this?” I swept

my hand down the length of my body.

“Do tell,” Chase said, staring at my

chest.

“Because baby, I'm wild pussy and

wild pussy can't be bought. Wild pussy

doesn't like having pretty things thrown at

it and being expected to do the samba on

someone's cock in return. Wild pussy

doesn't do deals. Wild pussy lives free

and for itself and takes it however it likes

it; on a bed, on a couch, on the hood of a

car, in a bathroom stall or up against a

wall in an alleyway and it laughs the

entire time. I've known you for a while

now Chase. I know you've never had

wild pussy and I know you never will.

Wild pussy doesn't fuck uptight cock. And

it sure as hell doesn't like silk boxers."

Chase's mouth fell open.

Kami’s high-pitched laughter

echoed throughout the large room.

"Time to go shopping," She said in a

singsong voice.

“Pick me up some cotton boxers

while you’re out,” Chase muttered.

“Pick them up yourself!”

“Can’t. I’m going to be jerking off

all day to the beautiful imagery of Eva's

pussy that she has so graciously provided

me with.”

☼☼☼

Courtesy of Chase, Kami and I spent

the entire day shopping, Kami because she

can shop for weeks without tiring, me

because I wanted to be nowhere near the

club.

Around eleven and after a few

drinks at a neighborhood bar Kami's

driver took us to the clubhouse. Three

Harley's with Montana plates were still

parked out front and Kami was beside

herself with excitement.

I was beside myself with anxiety.

We found them in the clubs spacious

living room with several of my Demon

boys and their girls. Mick had a whore on

his lap and Cox was in the middle of

heated debate with my cousin Trey. No

Deuce. I didn't know whether to be

relieved or upset.

The second we entered the room

Cox locked on Kami.

“Babe,” He groaned. “You up and

left me in the middle of the fuckin’ night.

Haven’t slept good since.”

Kami grinned. “You need me to

tire you out?”

Cox bolted across the room,

scooped her up over his shoulder and

headed for the stairwell.

“Christ,” Mick muttered.

"Second floor," I called after them.

"Empty beds!"

"Frankie?" I asked a Demon named

Split.

He grinned. "Passed out cold a

while ago. Took three of us to lug him

upstairs."

I gave Split a kiss on the cheek,

waved to Trey and turned to go.

I was halfway to the stairwell when

a large hand came down on my shoulder.

I quickly shrugged out of Mick's grasp.

"Don't ever touch me," I said evenly.

His eyebrows shot to his hairline.

“Didn’t mean nothin’ by it, darlin’. Just

wanted to apologize for how shit went

down last time we crossed paths. Deuce

is my Prez and my brother and I got love

for him, you feel me?”

“I feel you,” I snapped. “But none

of that changes how you treated me when

you didn't know shit about me! So keep in

mind you're in my club, these are my boys

and if you fuck with anyone, I will bury

you myself.”

He stared down at me. "You've

gotten harder babe, fire's burnin' brighter,

life's takin' its toll on you, ain't it?"

I blinked and it was Deuce's face I

saw.

You’re a good kid, darlin’. A good,

sweet kid. Promise me you’ll stay that

way, yeah? No matter what you see, no

matter what sort of fucked up shit

happens to you. Don’t let this life turn

you bitter.

I wasn't hard, was I? I definitely

wasn't bitter. Right? Why did I suddenly

feel like crying?

"Whatever Mick. Just stay out of

my way and don't fuck with my club."

He smiled. "I feel you babe. You

got love for the club, I get that and I

admire that in an old lady. Been hearing

bout' how fuckin' awesome you are all

day. "

I glared at him. “I am not an old

lady.”

“You in Frankie’s bed?”

“Nope,” I shot back. “Frankie’s in

my bed.”

Turning on my heel, I left him to

stew on that.

After dumping my purchases in my

room and divesting Frankie of his boots

and jeans, I made my way downstairs.

Yawning, I pushed open the door to the

kitchen and felt around for the light. It

switched on.

Rubbing my eyes with the heels of

my palms, I trudged to the fridge, grabbed

a bottle of purple Gatorade and turned to

go.

I dropped the Gatorade.

There was Deuce, leaning back

against the opposite wall -mere inches

from the light switch- with his pants

around his ankles and his hands full of

badly bleached blonde biker babe hair.

The space of three years closed and I was

back in Deuce's kitchen watching Miranda

bounce in his lap.

“What the fuck,” I whispered

hoarsely.

The girl jerked her head up; Deuce

shoved her back and laughed bitterly.

“What the fuck? You sneak out of

my bed in the middle of the fuckin’ night

and hop straight into Frankie’s and have

the fuckin' nerve to ask me, what the

fuck!”

The girl jerked again and again he

pushed her back. "Bitch, you stop suckin'

one more time and I'm gonna slap you,"

He threatened.

I gaped at him. "You're a pig," I

choked out.

"Yeah."

"No really, you're a sick pig."

"Yeah, darlin', I know."

Furious, disgusted, feeling oddly

betrayed and heart broken, and a whole

bunch of other emotions I couldn’t

pinpoint because my mind was spinning

wildly, trying to comprehend and deal

with what I’d just walked in on and

couldn’t, I ran for the door. Deuce's hand

shot out and hooked around my forearm,

his grip as tight as a vice.

Tears burned in my eyes. “Let me

go!”

"No."

"This is sick," I whispered.

“Yeah babe,” He whispered back.

"I just don't give a fuck.”

He yanked me sideways and I

tripped over the girl's feet. Deuce pulled

me forward and I fell into his chest, right

on top of the girl.

My stomach was pushed against the

girl's head and I was straddling her back.

Back and forth, I went with her as she

continued sucking him off.

Our lips were nearly touching;

Deuce was breathing hard, his hot breath

smelling strongly of rum. Actually, his

entire self smelled like rum. Like he had

taken a bath in it.

"I'll scream," I hissed.

"Go ahead," He shot back. "I really don't give a fuck."

God, he really didn't. His beautiful

eyes looked empty. But I wouldn't resort

to screaming. Screaming would result in

Deuce dead. And I loved him far too

much to be the bearer of that blow.

"Just let me go," I whispered.

"You're shitfaced!"

"Yeah. Your fault babe. Want you

so bad I fuckin' ache.”

Oh god. Pain and regret so violent

gripped my insides and my knees buckled

under the onslaught. Deuce caught me

under my arms and hauled me back up.

He pressed his mouth against mine

and breathed into it. “One fuckin' kiss,

baby,” He whispered.

I choked on a sob. “Deuce,” I

whispered through my tears. “Please

don’t do this. This is really, really,

fucked up.”

“That's the thing darlin', I've always

been really, really fucked up. For some

fuckin' reason you weren't seein' it. But

you get it now, so shut the fuck up and

lemme fuckin’ kiss you and pretend that

hot mouth around my cock is your sweet

pussy.”

“Deuce, please…"

"Yeah," He breathed into my mouth,

"Keep beggin'."

"Fuck you," I whispered.

"No babe," He gritted out. He

released me and his hands shot into my

hair, gripping handfuls. "Fuck you."

He shoved his tongue in my mouth

and tightened his grip on my hair to keep

me in place. He came moments later,

groaning, and I burst into tears.

"Please, please," I begged, "Please let me go.”

His nostrils flared. “Let you go?”

He hissed. “Let you fuckin’ go?”

He pushed me backwards and I

tripped over the girl's legs and landed

hard on my backside. Deuce shoved the

girl away from him and hiked up his

jeans. He glared down at me.

“Been tryin’ to let you go, been

tryin' for fuckin' years,” He said roughly.

“Haven’t figured out how yet.”

Speechless, I watched him stalk out

of the kitchen.

The girl, who I had just realized

was Lynn, my Uncle Joe’s favorite girl,

wiped the back of her hand across her

mouth and looked over at me. “Bikers,

Eva,” She huffed. “Fuckin’ crazy.”

“Don’t say anything to Joe,” I

whispered.

“No worries, baby.”

I heard the telltale sounds of Harley

pipes growling loudly then fading off into

the distance. I wondered if this was the

last I would ever see of Deuce. For five

years, I wondered.

Then one summer night I didn’t have

to wonder anymore.

CHAPTER NINE:

Deuce cut his engine, toed his

kickstand down and studied the farmhouse

in front of him. Mick pulled up beside

him. Five more of his boys followed suit.

"You sure ‘bout this Prez?" Ripper

asked, leaning forward on his handlebars.

Even in the dark Deuce could see the ugly

looking slashes that married the entire

right side of his face. Right eye gone,

right side of his mouth slashed, frozen in

an ugly looking frown. His chest was

worse. This was all courtesy of Crazy

Frankie, who had done him over real good

about two years back. Frankie was all

about the torture before the killing.

Luckily, Ripper had gotten away before

the fucker could do him in.

"How can you ask that?" Mick

said. "After what he fuckin' did to you?"

Ripper shrugged. "Don't get me

wrong Mickey, I want the fuck dead more

than any of you."

He wasn't so sure about that.

"I'm just lookin' out for the club.

We do this, we do Frankie, and we're at

war with Preacher. Full out war. Shit

won’t be easy; it will be downright fuckin'

ugly."

He looked back at the house. Loud

music was blaring, bikes and a few

pickups covered the lawn. Through the lit

windows he could see people dancing

with beers in their hands. It was a typical

MC party.

But he wasn’t here to party, he was

here to kill the Silver Demon's VP.

He looked back at his brothers.

"We all agree or we all leave."

Tag, ZZ, Cox, Mick and Jase all

gave him the thumbs up. He looked at

Ripper.

Ripper stared at the house. "We got

the manpower to go up against Preacher.

We got the connections, we got the money,

we got the Russians, fuck, we even got

some of Preacher's connections ready to

go up against Preacher for the right price,

so what the fuck. Let's do it. 'Bout time

someone put that rabid dog down."

Deuce nodded to Cox. "You and me

are goin' in. Tag and ZZ take back, Mick

and Jase take front and Ripper…you just

fuckin' wait and I'll bring the fucker right

to you and you can gut him like the fuckin'

pig he is."

Ripper grinned his deformed half

grin. "You sure do know how to turn a

guy on, Prez."

He shoved an extra clip in the back

of his leathers. "I try," he said dryly.

He grabbed Cox's arm before they

entered. "Remember we need to be cool.

Frankie knows we got beef. Look like

you're here to party. Start drinking just

don't get shitfaced or grab some pussy but

keep your eye on your phone."

"You got it."

It wasn't hard to grab pussy at an

MC party, it was usually a free for all.

But Cox, being Cox, shaved head and

pierced everywhere, every-fuckin'-where,

covered from neck to ankle in tats, the

women fucking flocked. Boy didn't even

have to crook his finger. They just

magically appeared on their knees in front

of him.

They walked in and split up. The

place was packed solid with Demons. He

saw a few Red Devil cuts wandering

around and healthy mix of nomads, but

fuck, there was a crap load of Demons.

He went straight to the kitchen, nabbed a

blue, pushed off a crack whore who'd

grabbed at him and started walking

around, getting the lay of the place.

"Horseman!" A familiar voice

shouted. A meaty hand hit his shoulder.

He turned around and faced the

three hundred pound, sweat covered

asshole.

"Tiny," He said evenly.

"Whatcha doin' in Virginia?"

"Passin' through."

"Lucked out brother. Mad fuckin'

pussy here. Got sugar too."

Fucking morons. Snorting what

they're supposed to be selling. Fuck-ing

mor-ons.

"Gonna get some pussy first. Been

on the road for weeks. You gonna be

around?"

Tiny slapped his bicep. "Blow your

load and come find me. Got some side

business goin' on that you might be

interested in."

Rolling his eyes, he resumed

walking, stepping over drunk fucks and

drunks fucking. When he reached the

back, a closed in porch that ran the length

of the house, he stopped walking and

started staring.

Leaning casually against the wall,

smack dab in the middle of a long line of

Demon's was mother fucking Frankie.

And no, his eyes hadn’t gotten any less

crazy. But he had gotten a fuck of a lot

bigger.

His long brown hair was pulled

back in a man bun, displaying his spider

web neck tattoos interspersed with

extensive, thick scars. His beard was long

and ratty and the brother's muscles were

bulging out of the skintight Val Halen tee

he had on.

He might have half an inch on

Frankie but bodily they were evenly

matched. And with the asshole being as

crazy as he was he wasn't too sure he'd

come out on top.

Frankie and his crazy eyes were

fixated on something across the room. He

followed his line of sight.

Fuck.

Black Harley tee, the collar cut off

causing it to fall off her shoulder,

exposing a new tat, a colorful collage of

flowers. Her pants were leather, tight,

and on her feet, sparkly silver chucks.

Her dark wavy hair had grown even

longer, nearly reaching her ass. She'd

gained a little weight, none of it bad.

How long had it been since he'd seen her

last and acted like a fucking asshole?

Four years? Five? She had to be around

thirty now. She didn’t look it. If he didn't

know her he’d think she was in her early

twenties.

He wanted her still. Fucking. Bad.

He looked back at Frankie whose

gaze hadn't moved, whose body hadn't

moved. Every inch of him was solidly

trained on Eva.

Crazy. Fucking, scary crazy.

Eva looked up from her

conversation with another woman, older,

battered looking, wearing stripper heels,

definitely an MC whore, and her gaze

caught Frankie's. Frankie's eyes fucking

blazed with possession and…insanity.

Eva handed her beer to the woman

next to her and started for Frankie. Crazy

fuck never took his eyes off her, watched

her like a vulture does when it’s waiting

for something to die.

When she reached him, his arm

wrapped around her wrist and he pulled

her up against him. His head lowered and

his mouth covered hers and he just fucking

ate at her. Eva's arms went up around his

neck; she pressed her body into his and

kissed him back just as hard.

He stared at them, his fists clenched,

his chest aching something fierce.

Frankie pushed Eva off him. "Got

business babe," He yelled over the music.

"Stay right fuckin' here until I get back or

you’re gonna catch a lot of fuckin’ shit

from me that you know you don’t fuckin’

want and I don't wanna give it to you but I

fuckin' will if you don't fuckin' listen."

She nodded. She just fucking

nodded. Frankie walked off and

disappeared out the back door.

Turning around, he dug his phone

out of his pocket and dialed Cox. Brother

answered on the first ring, breathing hard.

The sound of skin slapping against skin

came through the phone loud and clear.

"Yeah?"

"Got a problem."

"Fuck. What is it?"

"Eva."

"She here?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck."

"Yeah."

"Is Kami here?"

Deuce closed his eyes. What. The.

Fuck.

"No asshole. Kami is not here."

"Damn."

"Cox, call the fuckin' boys. Have

‘em stick with Ripper till I figure this shit

out."

"Got it."

He shoved his phone back in his

pocket and headed back the way he came.

After grabbing another beer, he headed out

the kitchen door. The door had just barely

shut behind him when he felt the barrel of

a gun pressed against his temple. Startled,

he dropped his beer.

"What's up fucker? Think I didn't

see you standin' there watchin' me. Think

I don't know you're here for me? Been

waitin' on you assholes for a grip now.

Figured you didn't give a fuck I carved

your boy up but here you fuckin' are givin'

a fuck. Took you long enough."

He didn't say anything. There

wasn't anything he could say that would

make a man like Frankie back down. He

had to think fast or he was going to die.

Frankie didn't fuck around. So he played

the only card he had. Eva.

"Saw your old lady in there Frankie,

she's lookin' fuckin' good."

The barrel pressed in harder.

"She's my fuckin' wife and you shouldn't

be lookin'. People who look get fuckin'

dead real fuckin' quick."

Wife. Christ.

He shrugged. "She ever tell you

'bout us?"

Frankie went stiff. "There ain't shit

to tell," he growled.

Perfect. So perfect. Asshole

walked himself right into it.

"First taste wasn't yours kid. That

was all fuckin' mine. Demon barbeque

'bout fourteen years ago. Right after she

fuckin' denied you I had your bitch up

against a wall, a hand on her tit, two

fingers up inside and my tongue shoved so

far down her throat I could taste her heart

beatin'. Bitch loved it, was ready to give

it up right fuckin' there. Didn't even

remember your fuckin' name cuz she's

pantin' mine. Her first fuck, got that too.

Stripped her naked and fucked her in an

alleyway in the pourin’ rain; had her

fuckin' beggin' me for it."

Frankie sucked in so much air

Deuce felt the world go dry. Time to

sucker punch. He slammed his elbow into

Frankie's chest, simultaneously grabbing

the barrel of the gun, then he grabbed

Frankie's arm and twisted, wrenching him

to the ground. With one hand gripping

Frankie's forearm, he put his boot on the

fucker's shoulder and fucking yanked.

Crazy fucker didn't even scream when his

shoulder dislocated. Didn't even flinch.

Crazy. So fucking crazy.

Pressing Frankie’s own gun into his

forehead, he leaned down over him.

"Know how I know I had her first?

Aside from her being tighter than a mother

fuckin' vice. Bitch fell to her knees after

she caught fire and sucked her own pussy

blood off my cock. Didn’t even know

what she was doin’, but bitch fuckin'

licked my shit clean and let me blow in

her mouth. So it don't matter how many

times you been takin' that ride cuz I fuckin'

own that shit. You can choke on that

while your brains are leakin’ all over the

place."

"If you kill me," Frankie said

quietly, eerily calm. "You'll kill Eva."

He blinked.

"What?"

"Eva. I die, she dies."

"How do you fuckin' figure?"

He grinned. "As a weddin' present I

put a fuckin' hit on her. I die, she dies.

Bitch by my side in life, bitch by my side

in death. Way it should be."

He. Just. Stared.

Stared.

There wasn't a whole lot in this

fucked up world that could shock him.

He'd seen so much shit in the forty eight

years he'd been alive, most of which had

all happened to him personally. And it

had happened so often that when he came

across some pretty fucked up shit, he

wasn't surprised. But this, Frankie telling

him in all seriousness that he'd put a hit on

Eva, his life long obsession, his mother

fucking wife, had shocked the fucking shit

out of him.

It also told him that Frankie needed

to die. He just didn't know how to take

care of that with Eva's life on the line.

Yet.

With Frankie's gun still trained on

Frankie, he pulled out his cell phone and

called Mick. Two by two, his boys began

appearing at his side forming a circle

around Frankie. He held his palm up,

silently telling them not to take Frankie

out.

"Get up you sick fuck," Ripper

growled.

Frankie got to his feet, his arm

hanging limply at his side. He turned his

back on them and positioned the side of

his body against the house. With a heave

and a shove, his shoulder popped back in

its socket. Everyone stared. Fucker had

balls of steel.

Rubbing his shoulder, he focused on

Ripper. "Nice face fuckwad. I were you I

woulda just let me finish you off, now you

gotta go round' life lookin' like Freddy

fuckin' Krueger."

Ripper's gun hand started shaking.

Jase grabbed his wrist and lowered his

arm.

Frankie shook his head smirking.

"Fuckin' bitches, the lot of you. Cryin'

'bout scars and missin' eyes like little

fuckin' girls."

Frankie turned to him. "So I’ve

been gettin' Horsemen sloppy seconds all

these years. Whore coulda least picked an

MC Prez worth fuckin'."

Furious, he took a step forward.

Mick's hand came down on his

shoulder and squeezed. "He's baitin' us,

Prez," He whispered. "Crazy fuck wants

one of us to step to him."

Frankie grabbed a cigarette from

behind his ear and dug out a Zippo from

his front pocket, oblivious as all seven

men tensed, ready to shoot.

He took a few long drags before he

spoke again.

"Knew she wasn't a virgin when I

took her the first time. She cried like one

but she wasn't. Never would tell me who

broke her in. Been tryin' to get her to give

it up for fuckin' years. She won’t, cuz she

knows I'd kill ‘em."

His chest went tight. She was

protecting him from fucking Frankie. He

didn't know whether to be insulted that she

thought he needed protection from this

fuck or to do a mother fucking jig because

the woman obviously still cared about

him.

"You're fuckin' twisted," ZZ spat.

"Don't matter anymore how fuckin'

twisted he is," Jase hissed. "Cuz he's

done."

Frankie ignored them. "Knowin' it

was you, shit makes sense now. Bitch

cries in her sleep, says shit I don't catch

but she's always grabbin' that fucking

Horsemen tag round her neck and holdin'

tight when it happens. Never did think

much of it, seein' as she's had it nearly her

whole fuckin' life but you gave it to her,

yeah?"

He didn't say a word but he didn't

need to. Frankie knew.

"Yeah," Frankie said, "You got to

know, Deuce, that shit ain't sittin' well

with me."

Tap laughed. "Why the fuck should

he care if shit's sittin' well with you, you

fuckin' asshat? He's not the cocksucker

with seven fuckin' cannons pointed at his

fuckin' head."

Frankie, as usual, never seemed to

care about anything other than Eva.

"Figure he's gonna care when I'm

rippin' out his insides and makin' Eva

string ‘em up on our Christmas tree."

"Yeah dude," Tap muttered.

"You're fuckin' normal."

Frankie's head whipped left and he

stared his crazy eyed stare until Tap took

a step back.

"Prez, what the fuck we waitin'

for?" Tap said warily. "Just fuckin' kill him."

Frankie grinned. An evil, sadistic

grin that sent chills up his spine.

"Prez isn't gonna let you kill me,"

Frankie drawled. "Are you Prez?"

"No," He said flatly. "I'm not."

"What the fuck!" Tap yelled. "Look at your boy's face!"

He stared at Frankie feeling nothing

but hate. "He dies, Eva dies. Asshole put

some fucked up death pack hit on her."

"Fuck," Jase breathed.

"Then we can't kill him," Ripper

said, pulling out his cell phone. "But

were not lettin' him go so he can start

decoratin' Christmas trees either."

"Yo, Gina, babe it's Ripper…Yeah

babe, I know…Babe…Wait, I…No, I

fuckin' apologized for that shit…BABE…

Yeah, through a fuckin' text message, what

the fuck you want? A singing telegram…

Would you just shut the fuck up and listen

to me? I need you to run a Franklin

Deluva and tell me what you got."

Frankie, looking bored, was leaning

up against the side of the house, smirking

at nothing.

Ripper held the phone away from

his ear and glared at it. When Gina

stopped screaming he put the phone back

to his ear. "Deluva, D-E-L-U-V-A…

Right."

There was a long pause during

which Ripper started to smile. "Fuckin'

sweet…Bitch, I fuckin' love you right

now…”

Another long pause. “Aw, christ,

Gina don't fuckin' start up again…"

Deuce grabbed the phone and

tapped "End". "Care to share?" He growled.

"Bitch said he's got four outstandin'

warrants for assault and he's wanted for

questionin' in two murder cases. She's

'bout six hours out so she’s passin’ the bid

to some dude named Crank nearby.

Should be 'bout five minutes."

Never in a million years would he

have ever thought he'd be happy that

Ripper was fucking a bounty hunter,

seeing as his entire crew was fucking

swimming in illegal shit. But there it was.

"Tap, man the front door. Jase, the

back. Make sure shit is tight until we get

this wrapped." Last thing they needed

was a Demon-Horsemen standoff.

"And Ripper, get rid of Nikki and

put that fuckin' kick ass bitch on the back

of your bike."

"Yeah dude," Mick said. "Nikki's a cunt."

Ripper shrugged. "Yeah, but she's

got great tits."

ZZ choked on his laughter. "Cuz

you fuckin' paid for ‘em to be great."

Ripper flipped ZZ off. "Gina's a

drive by. Never fuckin' around. What the

fuck would I be fuckin' in the meantime?"

He laughed. "Are you really gonna

stand there and tell us you ain't got shit to

fuck ‘sides Gina and Nikki? What a

fuckin' crock. Ever since your face got all

fucked up bitches been fallen to their feet

wantin' to make your boo-boo's all better.

I see your dick so fuckin' much you'd think

I'm fuckin' you."

"Yeah dude, you never put that

fuckin' thing away."

Ripper glared at ZZ and ZZ

shrugged. "What? You don't. And

personally, I'm sick of seein' it."

"Tap!"

"Prez?"

"Find out who bought Eva’s hit from

Frankie. Use whoever you got to, the

fuckin' Russians, the fuckin' Japs, cash in

all my fuckin' favors, I don't give a shit,

just find ‘em and end ‘em."

"On it." Tap pulled out his cell and

walked off.

"Prez?"

He turned around and found Jase

standing beside Eva. She was staring at

Frankie with tears in her eyes.

Shit.

"She came outside," Jase

explained. "Lookin' for Frankie. She

heard you, Prez."

"You put a hit on me?" She

whispered.

Frankie wasn't smiling anymore.

Eva took a step towards him and Cox

stepped between them and pressed the

barrel of his gun into Frankie's throat.

"Don't come near him, Foxy."

"Why baby?" She whispered.

"What haven't I given you that you

needed?"

Frankie blinked. "Don't fuckin' cry

baby," He said quietly. "Wasn't tryin' to hurt you, just wanted you with me always.

Can't fuckin' sleep without you an dyin' is

sleepin' forever. Can't sleep forever

without you."

Eva’s tears spilled over and Frankie

went stiff.

“I love you so much baby,” Frankie

whispered. “I thought you’d want to be

with me forever.”

Letting out a strangled cry, Eva

reached for him. He lunged forward to

grab her but ZZ was faster. Catching her

around her middle he started dragging her

backwards.

"No!" She screamed, thrashing.

"Let me go to him!"

Seeing Eva upset and struggling

Frankie's face went ice cold and his eyes

cut to Cox. Shit was about to go bad.

"COX!" He bellowed. The crazy

fuck grabbed the gun, head butted Cox,

then dropped to his knees. One swift

punch to Cox’s balls then Frankie was

jumping to his feet, aiming at him.

He didn't think, just reacted and

barreled straight into Frankie and they

went rolling. By punching Frankie in his

newly set shoulder he was able to gain the

upper hand and managed to pin him face

down in the dirt.

Cox was lying on the ground,

cupping himself, groaning about never

being able to fuck again; Eva was

screaming hysterically and struggling

violently and ZZ was having a hard time

keeping a good hold on her. It was a

fucking mess.

"Gonna find a way to end you

asshole," He hissed in Frankie's ear.

Frankie laughed.

Frankie was still laughing when a

pair of headlights turned off the street and

headed up the driveway.

Crank was a big guy. An ex-marine

who had no trouble taking Frankie off his

hands and chaining him up in the back of

his ride. It wasn't the preferred ending but

it was better than nothing and it would

keep Eva safe until he could figure out

Frankie's tangled web of crazy.

And speaking of crazy…

☼☼☼

"NO!" I screamed, struggling to get

free as Frankie was taken away. "GOD,

NO! You can't do this! He won't make

it!"

Frankie couldn't go to jail. He

wouldn't last. He couldn't sleep, he

couldn't play nice with others, it was a

recipe for disaster.

"Good," Mick sneered. "Let's hope

he doesn't make it five fuckin' seconds."

I jerked my head in Mick’s

direction. "You piece of shit!" I

screamed. "Can't ever keep your big

fucking mouth shut! Always butting into

business you have nothing to do with!"

"Reel it in, Eva," Deuce growled.

I stopped struggling and stared at

him. Had he lost his mind? My husband

is being sent to his death and he's telling

me to reel it in? Oh, hell no.

I let out a bloodcurdling scream and

twisted out of ZZ’s grasp, headed straight

for Deuce.

"You fuck!" I screamed, slapping,

punching, clawing at any part of him I

came into contact with. "You stupid piece

of shit!"

It didn't take him long to bring me

down. Straddling my hips and pinning my

wrists above my head, he glared at me. I

happily noted his fat lip, bloody nose and

scratched cheek.

"What the fuck Eva?" He roared.

"You find out your man's got a fuckin' hit

on you and you're attacking me?"

I was so beyond upset, beyond

angry, beyond hurt. I felt so helpless,

destroyed, ripped apart by my seams and

everywhere in between. I'd been taking

care of Frankie for so long now and I was

so tired but it wasn't his fault he was sick,

that he couldn't see things the way other

people did.

As for Deuce. Who the fuck did he

think he was?

"Who the fuck do you think you

are?" I screamed.

"I’m pretty sure I’m the asshole

who’s trying to save your fuckin’ life you

stupid bitch!”

"Stupid bitch? Stupid bitch! Don't

do me any favors you fuck! I've never

needed your help and I sure as fuck don't

need it now!"

Blue eyes blazing, he lowered his

face to mine. "Bitch," He growled, "We came here to bury your fuckin' man. What

the fuck woulda happened if he wouldn't

have told us ‘bout the hit? Huh? What,

bitch, you fuckin' tell me!"

I gathered as much saliva as I could

and spit in his face. "Fuck you!" I yelled and bashed my forehead into his. My

vision swam. That was definitely not as

cool as it looked in the movies. Deuce

shifted both my wrists into one of his

hands and slapped his palm down on my

forehead holding my head down.

“YOU FUCKIN’ DONE?” He

roared.

I was so far from done.

"The last time I saw you, you were

getting your dick sucked by a club whore

and trying to make out with me at the same

time! The time before that I found you in

the kitchen with a half naked whore on

your lap only a few hours after you fucked

me! You're fucking trash Deuce! Fucking

garbage! What the fuck makes you think I

would be grateful to you for fucking

anything?"

Deuce’s eyes were bugging out of

his head; his body was shaking with fury.

Having a cold blooded killer boring down

on you with a murderous expression might

have made any normal person feel fear but

I was so far gone. Pure adrenaline is

more powerful than any street drug. And I

was flying over the fucking mountain.

Not even the cold steel of Mick's

gun pressed into my cheek could cool me

off.

"Reel it in you fuckin' cunt," He

growled.

"Fucking do it,” I hissed. “I fucking

dare you, you stupid, mother fucking piece

of shit. Bring down every Demon in the

fucking country on your stupid, piece of

shit ass!”

"Reel it the fuck in Eva!" Deuce

bellowed.

I looked back at Deuce. "Tell him

to do it," I hissed. "But let me close my eyes first. I don’t want your ugly fucking

face to be the last thing I ever see."

Deuce's nostrils flared.

And that was the last thing I ever

saw…for a little while.

CHAPTER TEN:

Deuce stalked out of a no-tell motel

office with three keys. He tossed one at

Mick and another at Jase.

“What the fuck,” ZZ complained.

“There are only two beds in a room.”

“You’re on the floor,” Ripper said.

“Fuck you,” He shot back. “You

and Cox should share, it’s not like you

don't share everything else.”

Ripper grinned. "Best couple days

of my life."

"Speaking of Kami." Cox looked

down at Eva, who was passed out cold in

his arms. "Prez?"

He shook his head. "She wakes up,

she's with me, shit's gonna get ugly. I'm

the last fuckin' asshole she wants to see."

Mick cursed. "Why the fuck didn't

we just leave her there?"

"Dude," Jase said, "You'd leave a

hot piece of unconscious ass at a fuckin'

club party without her man? Might as

well put a fuckin' sign on her that says,

"Free fucks for all"."

"Who fuckin' cares?" Mick

growled. "Bitch wasn't even grateful that

we're tryin' to save her ass! I shoulda

knocked her harder and then we wouldn't

be havin' this discussion at all!"

He knew his boys were arguing but

he wasn't listening. He was staring at

Eva, hanging limply in Cox's arms,

replaying in his mind everything she'd said

to him, over and over and over again.

You're fucking trash! Fucking

garbage! What the fuck makes you think

I would be grateful to you for FUCKING

ANYTHING?

It was Eva he'd been looking at but

it was his old man's voice he was

hearing.

What a fucking coincidence. The

last time he'd seen his old man was the

first time he'd ever seen Eva. His blood

ran cold. It was his old man's tag around

Eva's neck.

The asshole was still here, ruining

his fucking life. Fucking shit up with the

only woman he’d ever given a shit about.

They'd spent only moments

together. Here and there, some good, most

painful. It didn't make any sense. They

didn't make any sense. He should have let

her go a long time ago. But he couldn't.

And he still couldn't. Because he didn't

want to. Because he fucking loved her.

He dialed Preacher.

“Yeah?”

“It’s Deuce.”

“What the fuck you want?”

“Frankie’s up river. Got him a one

way ticket tonight. Woulda buried him but

it turns out your boy put a hit on your girl.

If he gets buried, she goes down with

him. You know 'bout that?”

Silence.

“Fuck,” Preacher rasped.

“Yeah. Got my boys workin’ my

connections tryin’ to find who bought it.

Not gonna be easy, doubt Frankie left a

fuckin’ paper trail and grave diggers ain’t

exactly forthcomin'.”

“FUCK!” Preacher roared. He took

the phone away from his ear and looked at

it while Preacher cursed and yelled

nonsense and broke everything, it sounded

like, within a mile radius of him. Turns

out temper tantrums run in the family.

“Horseman,” Preacher rasped into

the phone. “Where the fuck is my baby

girl?”

“Got her with me. Got six of my

boys. She’s safe.”

“Good,” He barked, “Lemme talk to

her."

Deuce glanced at Eva. She was still

out cold.

"She's sleepin'. Don't really wanna

wake her. She's not to fuckin' happy 'bout

what went down."

Mick snorted.

"Understatement," Cox added.

“Yeah,” Preacher muttered. “I bet."

“Preacher, we cancel Eva’s hit and

Frankie's not buried within a week, I’m

takin’ him down.”

“We’ll talk. For now Frankie's

locked up and I gotta hit to find. Right

now you just take care of my girl.”

"Preacher," He growled. "Frankie's gotta go to ground."

"That's my fuckin' son in law you're

talkin' 'bout! This is family business and I

aim to keep it that way! Now shut the fuck

up and get my girl home, or I'll fuckin' take

you to ground!"

Preacher hung up.

Jesus. Crazy. All around.

☼☼☼

Groaning, I rolled over, gripping my

head. Where the hell was I? Why did my

head feel like the Incredible Hulk had

been Irish Step Dancing on top of it?

I had…three beers? Not nearly

enough to merit a hangover of this

multitude.

With one hand holding my forehead

I reached around in the dark. Okaaay. I

was on a bed with cheap scratchy sheets

and a nylon comforter.

Had Frankie and I gotten a motel?

Why would Frankie and I get a motel

while on a run when there were MC's we

could stay at?

"Frankie?" I croaked, wincing as

my own voice reverberated painfully

inside my skull.

No answer.

I felt my way around the bed until I

found the edge. Carefully, so as not to jar

my head, I swung my legs over the side

and met with floor. I cracked an eyelid.

To my left a small clock read two forty

three AM. I edged my way over and felt

around until I found a lamp.

I switched it on.

Yep. Motel. Crappy one too.

Burnt orange walls and floral pattern

comforters. A carpet that had probably

been new in the seventies and furniture

that had seen better days.

Shielding my eyes, I headed for the

door. The chain lock wasn't on so I

grabbed the wobbly knob, turned and

pulled open the door.

Deuce and Cox swiveled around.

I gaped at them. Deuce took a step

towards me.

I slammed the door closed and put

the chain lock on.

Shit.

SHIT.

That asshole got Frankie arrested

and kidnapped me. No, he knocked me

out and then kidnapped me!

The door slammed open a total of

five inches, hindered by the chain lock.

"EVA!"

"Fuck off!" I yelled then crumpled

to the floor grabbing my head.

I heard the chain lock snap and the

door hit the wall. I heard heavy footsteps

and then I felt myself being lifted against a

large, warm body and gently set back

down on top of the uncomfortable bed.

"I need to go to the hospital," I

whimpered.

"Do you?" Deuce asked, "Or are

you just tryin' to get the fuck away from

me?"

"Yes and yes!" I snapped. "I don't often associate with fuckwads who steal

my husband then pistol whip me!"

"Eva," He said evenly. "I get you’re fuckin' pissed. “But I didn't have much of

a choice."

I snorted. It hurt to do it but I did it

anyway.

"Showed up at the party plannin' to

take him out for what he did to Ripper,

saw you there, didn't know what the fuck I

was gonna do. Frankie blindsided me

outside, put a fuckin' gun to my head and

started spoutin' crazy. Only way I could

get the drop on him was to tell him the one

fuckin' thing in the world that would

distract him from a kill. You know what I

had to tell him, dontcha?"

Oh god. "No," I whispered.

"Yeah," He bit off. "That's when he decided to tell me about his hit on you.

Didn't know what the fuck to do at that

point. Thought if I let him go he was

gonna fuck you up for fuckin' me and I

knew if I buried him, you were gonna be

next. Didn't want either to happen, so here

we fuckin' are."

"Go away," I hissed.

"Sorry darlin'. Paid for this room

and I plan on gettin' my money's worth."

"Go fuck yourself," I shot back.

"Later," He said. "Right now I gotta get a girl outta her muddy clothes."

He took my chucks off first then

pulled my pants down my legs and lastly

he lifted my shirt over my head, leaving

me in only my underwear. His eyes

dropped to my breasts. I watched as he

leaned forward and lifted up his father's

medallion. He stared at it, his nostrils

flaring.

"It's all his fuckin' fault," He

growled. Then he gave the chain a sharp

tug and it broke.

I sat up too fast and gripped my

head. "What are you doing?" I cried.

Deuce was storming across the

room. He threw open the door and tossed

the necklace outside. "Get rid of that," He barked to someone I couldn't see then

slammed the door closed.

"Shoulda never given it to you," He

said roughly.

My mouth fell open. "What?" I

whispered.

"You heard me. You been wearin'

that piece of shit's tag for eighteen years

now. For eighteen years that fuckin'

bastard has been hangin' round your neck

and I'm fuckin' sick of it."

Tears burned in my eyes. "But that

was mine and you gave it to me and I

loved it and I-

"Shut up," He growled. "Reaper

was a dirty fuckin' bastard who didn't care

who he had to fuck, beat or kill to get his

way. No way in hell should I have ever

given you somethin' that belonged to him."

My chin began to tremble. What

was he trying to say? That everything that

happened between us had been a mistake?

I couldn't handle this right now. Not after

today.

Frankie had always had problems,

but to do this…to put a hit on me. Me. I’d

given him everything. Me, my love, my

body, my life.

I couldn’t comprehend it. Or didn’t

want to comprehend it. Or couldn't. I

didn't know.

I’d known Frankie’s feelings for me

had surpassed love a long time ago, if

love was ever what he’d felt. Frankie had

convinced himself at a very young age that

he needed me to breathe. It was unhealthy

for him, for me, for our relationship but I

had thought I’d gotten him relatively under

control. I’d been dead wrong.

And it hurt like hell.

And now this. From Deuce.

I rolled away from him and hugged

my knees to my chest. My tears started out

small, leaking out of the corners of my

eyes and running slowly down my nose

and cheek but once I let myself go,

released the pent up anger and pain, regret

and guilt, my tears turned in a torrential

downpour. I sobbed uncontrollably,

hiccupping, gasping for air as I rocked

back and forth and cried and cried until

my tears ran dry.

☼☼☼

When I woke it was light out. I

didn't remember falling asleep and I

certainly didn't remember falling asleep in

Deuce's arms. I untangled myself from

him and headed for the bathroom. I was

covered in dirt, my hair was a rat's nest

and I had splattered blood all over me.

Not mine, Deuce's. Tentatively I felt the

side of my head. I had a good size goose

egg, it was tender and hurt to touch but

otherwise I felt fine.

After a long shower, feeling numb, I

wrapped myself up in a towel I headed

back to the bedroom. Deuce had thrown

the sheet off him and rolled on his side.

Wearing nothing but his boxers, the Hell’s

Horsemen insignia tattooed on his back

gleamed black against his tan skin.

He had to be nearing fifty now. His

short shadow of a beard was mostly gray;

the gray in his hair wasn't as easily

noticeable but it was there. His body was

every bit as impressive as it had always

been, lined and cut in all the right places,

his muscles still large and toned. He was

still beautiful. The most beautiful man I’d

ever seen and still the biggest asshole I'd

ever met.

And I loved him still. That had

never changed.

I made a quick phone call to the

motel office and then another to Tiny,

telling him when and where to pick me up

and then I climbed back into bed beside

Deuce. Lying on our sides, face to face, I

stared at him. God I missed him.

Especially lying awake at night, thinking

about all that could have been but would

never be. It all revolved around him. If I

could go back in time and take back what I

had said about being his old lady I would.

I would have become his old lady, stayed

away from the club, done whatever he

wanted. Been happy because I would

have had him.

But it hadn't gone down that way.

And there was no going back from the

decisions I'd made over the years.

Without thinking, just feeling, I

pushed him gently until he rolled onto his

back. Then I pulled down his boxers,

touching him gently at first, holding him,

stroking him, once again familiarizing

myself with his body.

When it came to Deuce, my body

took control, my body and my heart. My

brain was always on a permanent vacation

in his presence.

I took him in my mouth and he

groaned in his sleep, shifted a little, but

kept on snoring.

When he was full and ready, I

straddled him and slowly took him inside

my body. I trembled as he stretched me

and let out a shuddering moan.

His hands went to my hips and his

eyes flew open.

“Hey,” I whispered.

"Fuck," He said hoarsely.

I bit my lip. "Do you want me to

stop?"

"Fuck no."

"I'm so, so sorry about last night," I

whispered.

"Eva?"

"What?"

"We’re good babe. Don't need to

explain."

“Deuce?”

“Yeah?”

I clenched my sex around his.

“Gonna fuck you now.”

He inhaled sharply. “Babe. Yeah.”

☼☼☼

Deuce stared down at Eva. Lying

on her back, naked, sleeping beside him.

He ran his hand from her neck to the dark

curls between her thighs and back up

again.

“Not lettin’ you go this time

darlin’,” He whispered. “Chain you up,

fuckin' drug you if I have too.”

It was crazy and he knew it, he just

didn't care anymore. He was sick of

thinking about her all the time, wondering

what she was doing and if she was

thinking about him. He was sick of aching

for her. He was sick of this fucking game

they played, running into each other,

fucking or fighting and then taking off. He

wanted more. He needed more.

He pulled his Horsemen chain over

his head and trying not to disturb her slid

it over hers. She should have never had

his old man’s tag; she should have had

his. She should have had him.

Then he pulled her close, tucked her

head under his chin, tossed his leg over

hers, and fell asleep.

When he woke up, she was gone.

Again.

CHAPTER ELEVEN:

For three weeks, I had been home.

For three weeks, I had been meeting with

the club's lawyers and lawyers all over

the city, none of whom could get anything

done as quickly as I needed it done. For

three weeks, I had been begging Chase to

take a look at Frankie’s case, to use the

dirty connections I knew he had, that his

family had, that they'd all used to worm

their way into the positions of power they

were in. For three weeks, Kami had been

trying to threaten Chase into looking into

Frankie’s case. So for three weeks, I’d

been going out of my mind.

My nerves were shot. Frankie was

losing it. Every visit to Queensboro to

see him left me reeling. His grip on

reality had become non-existent; I had

never seen him this bad before and I

couldn't do a damn thing without legal

help. I needed Chase and I needed him

badly.

The morning Kami called me

informing me that Chase had finally

agreed to meet with me I practically fell

out of bed and nearly killed myself

dodging Manhattan traffic getting to the

35th floor of Martello Tower, where the

law offices of Fredericks, Henderson, and

Stonewall were housed.

"Mrs. Fox-Deluva?"

I stopped my anxious foot tapping to

Janis's, Me and Bobby Mcgee and yanked

my ear buds out. "Yeah?"

"Mr. Henderson will see you now.”

I had only been inside Chase's

office once before when he had first made

partner and wanted to show it off. It was

every bit as opulent and extravagant as his

home was. The office itself was huge,

plush carpeting, wall-to-wall

bookshelves, a cozy seating area, a mini

bar, and a private bathroom complete with

a shower. His desk was dead center,

solid oak, large and imposing with two

leather wingbacks for clients.

When I walked in, Chase was

standing by his mini bar pouring two tall

glasses of whiskey. He turned when I

walked in and paused to smooth out non-

existent wrinkles in his pinstriped suit that

I knew cost more money then most people

spend on cars.

"Eva," He drawled, gesturing to a

wingback. "Please have a seat."

I narrowed my eyes. "Cut the shit

Chase. Why the fuck did you make me

wait so long?"

His brow rose. "I'm sorry; we're

you in the waiting room long?"

Sheesh. He needed a good kick in

the balls.

"No Chase. You made me wait

three weeks just to talk to you! What. The.

Fuck."

He smiled and I wrinkled up my

nose. If a shark could smile, it would

look just like Chase.

Chase gestured for me to take a

seat. When I did, he handed me a glass of

whiskey. I took it and gaped at him.

"You do realize it's nine in the

morning, right? And this is an eight ounce

glass of booze?"

He took a seat behind his desk.

"Eva, you do not refer to Macallan single

malt as booze. For seventy five thousand

dollars a bottle I think it deserves some

respect."

I wrinkled up my nose again. "You

paid seventy five thousand dollars for a

bottle of booze?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I've paid

more for better."

I raised both my eyebrows. "Um…

cool?"

He smirked. "Yes, I can tell you're

impressed as usual with the finer things in

life."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever

Chase. Frankie?"

He drummed his fingers on his

desk. "I've already gone over Frankie's

extremely large files with a fine toothed

comb."

I perked up. "And? Can you help

him?"

He smiled his wide bleached white

smile and again I thought of sharks.

"I can," He said smoothly. "I'm

fairly certain that with the aid of some

business associates of mine I can have him

on the medication he’s obviously needed

for some time now. I believe the

introduction to psychiatric drugs will not

only improve his prison stay but also

allow him to speak with law enforcement

without trying to kill them. When his

mental health has improved we can start

looking into the charges against him.”

"Oh my god," I breathed. "Thank

you."

"Ah, ah, ah." He waved his index

finger at me. "Here's where the booze

comes in. I figured you would need it

when I tell you how much my services

will cost you."

"Money isn't an issue; you can have

whatever you want."

His malicious smile spread to his

eyes. "As you are well aware, I have

more money than I can spend in ten

lifetimes."

I narrowed my eyes. “What are you

doing Chase?”

"Frankie attacked a guard last night,

almost killed him," He continued, "Which is why I agreed to meet with you today."

Oh god.

Oh no.

Eva will fuck me eventually.

Everyone has their price; I just haven't

found hers yet.

"Chase," I whispered, feeling sick.

"Please don't do-

He held his hand up. "Frankie's in

solitary Eva. In. The. Hole."

I bit my lip to keep from crying.

Frankie would not survive the hole.

"God Eva, you poor thing. You

must be feeling pretty desperate right

about now and willing to do anything to

save your psychopath of a husband."

I blinked and two tears slipped out.

"Everyone has a price, right Chase?"

He grinned. Then he pointed to my

abnormally tall glass of whiskey. "I

figured you would need it."

"You're sick," I choked out. "You

fucking planned this; you purposely

waited until Frankie didn't have any more

time."

Unperturbed, he took a sip of his

drink and nodded. "I did."

"Fuck you," I rasped. "I thought you were my friend."

He had the nerve to look offended.

"We are friends Eva. In fact we are such

good friends that I want to be the one to

save the homicidal maniac you married."

"Why?" I demanded. "I'm biker

trash, right? You've said it a million

times. I come from dirty money and my

family, the club, is a stain on society. So

why are you so hell bent on fucking me?"

He took another swallow of

whiskey. "Since you were oblivious to

my attempts at bedding you all throughout

high school, during and after college, I

thought maybe you were one of those

women who responded to being put

down. I was wrong. Nothing works with

you. Unless you’re with Frankie you’ve

got a chastity belt on.”

"You've been engaged to Kami

since you guys were in diapers!"

His upper lip curled in disgust. "I

know,” He sneered. “And I would have

told my father to go fuck himself when

he’d ordered me to marry that vile woman

if I hadn’t had my eye on her closest, most

beloved friend.”

“Are you serious?” I whispered.

“Quite,” He said. “You see when it

came to who I was to marry I knew it

would never be about anything other than

politics and family ties; meaning I would

be free to fuck whomever I wished. I

realized my mistake too late. You aren’t

the sort of woman to have an affair with a

married man, nor will you cheat on your

husband.”

I knew true rage then. Chase had

backed me into a corner; he had made sure

to cover every angle, leaving me no

choice to make but the choice he wanted.

For the first time in my life, I

wanted to kill someone.

“You’re wrong Chase," I hissed.

"On both counts. I have cheated on

Frankie; in fact, I’ve been fucking a

married man for twelve years now.”

His eyebrows popped.

“So you see,” I continued, “You’re

perception of me is seriously

misconstrued. It’s only you I do not want

to fuck.”

His jaw clenched. "What's it going

to be Eva?" He bit out. “Will you be

lowering yourself to fuck me or will

Frankie be left to his own devices?”

I raised my seventy five thousand

dollar glass of Whiskey. “Fuck you,

Chase.”

While I drank, Chase pulled his cell

phone from his suit pocket.

"It's Henderson," He said. "Get

Deluva out of solitary now…Yes, I am

aware of how violent he is…I'm also

aware of how much I'm paying you…Then

make sure he's out cold and restrained

before removing him…I'm not interested

in how many men it will take to sedate

him, I’m only interested in it getting done

and it getting done now…Good. Make

sure he is taken directly to the med center

and you are to call me when he's awake

and somewhat in control of himself and I

will send both a physician and a team of

psychologist's to complete a full

psychological profile. You and your staff

are to concur with their findings, sign and

date where it is required and await my

next instructions."

I finished my whiskey and set the

glass down hard.

"Very good," Chase continued,

eyeing me. "Am I to assume said guard

has been taken care of?"

I took a deep breath that did nothing

to calm me. Although my belly had

warmed from the whiskey and my body

had loosened, my heart was firmly lodged

in my throat. I might need the entire

bottle. All seventy five thousand dollars

of it.

As if he read my mind, Chase

pushed his half empty glass across the

desk.

"Wonderful," He said into the

phone. "I will be in touch."

He hung up. Then pressed a button

on his desk phone.

"Yes, Mr. Henderson?" Came

through the speaker.

"Cancel the rest of my day."

"Pardon? You have two meetings,

one with Judge-

"Cancel the rest of my day."

"But-

"If you want to keep your job,

cancel the rest of my day."

"Yes sir."

The intercom clicked off and Chase

looked up at me. Shuddering, I turned

away and chugged the rest of his whiskey.

"Eva," Chase said. "I don’t need to tell you that this will not be a onetime

occurrence, correct?"

"Isn't that what you just did?" I

asked sarcastically.

He glared at me. "It's not going to

work if you're going to view this as a

chore."

"Oh," I sneered. "What should I

view it as? A workout? A date?"

“We could go somewhere,” He said

quietly. “Have lunch first. I have

standing reservations at everywhere worth

anything in the city.”

I snorted. “We’re not dating Chase.

I just agreed to spread my legs for you.

You don’t need to woo me.”

Chase’s already dead eyes went

cold. Chase was a beautiful man but

someone, probably his parents, had

repeatedly broken him until there was

nothing left to fix.

“Fine,” He said callously. “Strip.”

We glared at one another.

"Strip," He bit out. "Now, Eva."

Gritting my teeth, I yanked my tee

shirt over my head and tossed it aside. I

kicked off my green chucks then stood to

unbutton my oversized jeans; they fell to

my feet and I kicked them away. Hooking

my thumbs in my underwear, I shoved

them down and stepped out of them.

Chase looked his fill, his face

tightening, his eyes darkening, with

hunger.

“Where do you want me?” I said

sarcastically.

"Where do you want it?" He asked,

just as sarcastically.

I leaned over his desk causing my

breasts to swing forward. Chase’s eyes

followed their movements. I was so

angry, furious, crazy with hate for this

man. A man I had considered somewhat

of a friend.

And, to my astonishment, I was

furious with Frankie.

Something happened to me while I

glared at Chase, something both terrifying

and profound. I wasn’t just furious with

Frankie; I hated Frankie. He had fucked

me up so badly that I didn’t know who the

fuck I was.

All I'd ever known was Frankie.

What Frankie wanted.

My entire life had been about him…

and a few secret longings that I had so

rarely given in to.

Realizing all of this shit only made

me even angrier.

Fuck Frankie.

Fuck everything.

With a hard sweep of my hand, I

sent everything within my reach on

Chase’s giant desk flying across the

room. His laptop smashed into his

bookshelf, framed photos of his wedding,

others of just Kami and a few of Kami and

Devin, their four year old son, flew across

the room and shattered, papers went flying

into the air, I wasn't sure where his phone

ended up.

I jumped up on his desk and slid

myself to the edge, directly in front of

him. I placed my feet on his thighs and

spread my legs wide open.

Chase sucked in air through his

teeth.

"This is what you want, isn't it?" I

growled. "You want wild pussy, don't

you Chase?"

He gripped my calves and looked

up at my face. "Yes," He hissed.

And I wanted to give it to him. I

had only ever been wild with Deuce. I

wanted wild. I wanted free. I wanted my

secret longings to become my reality.

"Then kiss me," I whispered,

leaning forward. Just before his mouth

met mine I reared back and slapped him as

hard as I could. His head whipped to the

right.

When he turned back to me, his cold

eyes were blazing with fury.

And it turned me on.

I moved my foot from his thigh onto

his bulging erection and gave him a nasty

grin. Stroking him, I crooked a finger. "I

thought you wanted wild pussy, Chase.

You want it, you gotta work for it."

His eyes widened with

understanding.

"Fuck…me," He whispered. "I

knew it.”

I leaned forward and hooked

several fingers in between the buttons on

his dress shirt. “You know nothing,” I

hissed and yanked. Buttons flew every

which way and I jumped into his lap.

Chase and I didn't have sex and we

certainly didn't make love. Chase and I

fought. I made him work for every kiss,

for every touch. This turned out to be

perversely exciting for me but what really

threw me over the edge was how much I

loved that that final moment when he

finally managed to pin me on my back long

enough to pry my legs open and force

himself inside of me.

I felt like screaming at the top of my

lungs, “FUCK YOU FRANKIE!”

I stopped fighting then.

That's when we fucked. Sick,

depraved fucking.

Chase got off on things that would

turn the stomachs of most people. He had

me doing things I'd never done before,

things I hadn't thought myself capable of

doing, let alone capable of enjoying.

And I'd begged for more.

Exhausted and sore, I left Chase’s

office on shaking legs with a key to his

suite at the Waldorf and an invitation to

use his personal driver whenever I

wanted.

I had just hit rock bottom and I

didn't care. In fact, I didn't give a shit

about anything at all.

☼☼☼

Lying on his bed, Deuce stared

down his naked body at the bobbing head

between his legs, shuddered, and took

another long swallow of Jack. He wasn't

going to come; he desperately wanted to

come but it wasn't going to happen. He

was drunk, he was pissed and he wanted

the release too fucking badly.

Fucking Eva. He should have left

her at that party. Bitch wasn't his, never

was. She'd always been Frankie's and

he'd been…what? A once in a while

distraction? A fucking joke?

Cursing, he pushed Miranda off him,

positioned her on her knees, and sunk

inside of her. He fucked her until he had

fucked himself into oblivion and passed

out, unsatisfied.

And he dreamt of Eva. He always

dreamt of Eva.

CHAPTER TWELVE:

It wasn’t long before my meetings

with Chase had become more and more

frequent. He was calling me four times a

week, making me stay overnight with him

at the Waldorf, buying me shit I didn't

want but kept asking him for, raising the

price of the items each time. He started

taking me out to dinner at exclusive

restaurants and raunchy nightclubs, the

existence of which, the general population

in Manhattan knew nothing about. He

began making me dress up for him in the

sort of clothing I never would have looked

twice at, clothing even more ridiculous

than what Kami wore. That was for our

dinners. What he had me wearing to go

clubbing was far, far worse. As were the

clubs. Sex clubs, weekend long partying

from Friday night to Monday morning.

Booze, drugs, free sex, kinky sex, violent

sex, every kind of sex imaginable and all

of it public.

Any inhibition I'd ever had quickly

diminished after being fucked in front of a

club full of people, some watching, some

touching, others involved in their own

public fucking.

I stopped talking to Kami, I stopped

going to the club, I was constantly

cancelling my lunch or dinner dates with

my father unless Chase was with me,

discussing Frankie’s case.

And Frankie…Frankie was gone. I

didn't visit him, I didn't write him, I

refused to accept his calls. Gone. And I

didn't care. And I did care. Half the time

I didn't know what I cared about or what I

was feeling, maybe because Frankie

wasn't here to tell me how I felt and what I

should care about and Chase could care

less about anything other than what he was

feeling.

My already precariously tilting

world had gone and spiraled out of

control and shit was dropping from the

surface and being sucked into outer

space. I didn't try to stop it, I didn't do

much of anything really, except what

Chase wanted me to be doing which

usually involved his cock and an orifice

on my body. Or several of them.

Then one day my world stopped

spinning and I fell flat on my face.

It was a Thursday in late August. I

was sitting on my bed at the club and I

was glaring at my cell phone. It kept

ringing and ringing and ringing. I was

supposed to have met Chase over an hour

ago for lunch at his office but I couldn't

stop staring at the pregnancy test in my

hand. The freshly peed on, undeniably

positive pregnancy test.

My phone started ringing again.

Knowing he wasn't going to stop, I

answered it.

"Where are you?" Chase demanded.

"The club."

He didn't say anything. He knew I

didn't go to the club anymore. I could

practically hear the wheels in his head

working overtime at this new

development.

"Listen Chase, I, uh, can't-

"You can't what?" He ground out.

"I can't meet you today," I

whispered. "I don't, um, feel good."

"What's going on, Eva? You felt

fine yesterday."

No. I'd felt nauseated yesterday, I

just hadn't told him.

"I think I have the flu," I continued

in a whisper. "I just want to stay in bed,

okay?"

"Eva, what the fuck is really going

on?"

I took a deep breath. "Nothing

Chase, I just don't feel good. I'm not up to

cage fighting with you today."

He hung up.

I stared at the phone. I should tell

him. If he was the father, he had a right to

know. Only, I wasn't sure if he was the

father. Early June, I'd slept with Deuce. I

closed my eyes, remembering rocking

back and forth overtop of his large,

powerful body, watching every change in

his hard face as my body worked his and

that beautiful moment at the end when he’d

tensed, our eyes locked and I felt him spill

himself inside of me. It was greedy, I

knew that even in my haze of need, but we

had both been greedy. For that one

moment, we were done pretending. I'd

wanted it, he'd wanted to give it, and then

I'd ran back to Frankie when it was over.

I choked back a sob. I was such an

idiot. And I desperately needed Kami.

Grabbing my purse, my four hundred

dollar Poppy Line COACH purse that

Chase's personal shopper had picked out

for me last week because it was designer

but edgy and not overly expensive and

Chase had decided it worked for me, I

headed for Kami's. I was going to tell her

what was going on and I would deal with

whatever she threw at me.

The cab ride was uncomfortable but

the elevator ride up to her penthouse was

downright awful. My nerves were

jumping out of my skin, add that to my

constant nausea and I was headed for a

full blown panic attack. By the time the

elevator doors opened, I'd broken out in a

cold sweat and was gripping my stomach.

It didn't help that it was Chase who

was standing in front of the elevator and

not Kami.

"Shit," I muttered and backed further

into the elevator.

He slammed his palm against the

sliding door, keeping it open. "What the

fuck," He growled.

I stared at him. Seeing him here, in

his home, Kami's home, the realization of

what I'd been doing and who I'd been

doing it with was even more awful than I'd

imagined it would be.

"I…um…”

"I knew you lied to me," He bit out.

"And you've got two fucking seconds to

explain why before I pick you up, take you

straight to my room and let Kami hear me

fucking the shit out of you."

“Chase-

“I mean it, Eva. Unless you want

Kami to hear you screaming my name you

better start talking.”

I blew out a shaky breath. "I'm

pregnant," I blurted out. "I needed Kami."

His eyes went wide. "What?"

"Pregnant, Chase!" I cried out

softly. "Baby inside of me!"

He stared at me. No longer angry,

no longer anything. Just a blank faced

stare.

Then the strangest thing happened.

Chase's eyes went soft. Chase didn't have

soft eyes; he had cold eyes, blank eyes,

calculating eyes, I'm going to fuck you

blind eyes, but never soft.

It changed his entire face. And so

did the smile that followed. Not his shark

smile but an honest to god smile.

He looked…human.

I stared at him not knowing what to

say or do, wondering what the hell he was

so happy about. Then I froze because I

realized Chase was happy. Chase.

Happy. And he was happy because I was

pregnant. This revelation brought me up

short and my world resumed spinning.

“Eva,” He whispered, reaching for

me. “I-

"EVIE!" Kami screamed, running up

behind Chase. He immediately moved

away from the elevator door and I stepped

into their foyer and caught a velour sweat

suit covered Kami as she barreled into

me.

"Where have you been?" She

squealed, squeezing me tight.

"Busy with Frankie," I whispered,

staring at Chase over her shoulder. Arms

folded in front of his chest, he was leaning

against an intricately carved pillar smack

dab in the center of the foyer, staring back

at me. Smiling.

I closed my eyes and squeezed

Kami back. "Missed you," I choked out.

"God Evie, me too. Devin too."

She pulled away. "Devin!" She

bellowed. "Aunt Evie is here!"

She turned back to me grinning and

her mouth fell open. "Evie, what are you

wearing?" She whispered.

I looked down. Crap. I had been

dressed to meet Chase for lunch. I wasn't

wearing any of the elaborate crap he'd

bought me but I wasn't wearing anything I

would normally wear. Designer skinny

jeans, artfully distressed, covered my

legs, my tank top was a black, shimmery

silk that both clung and flowed. All of

this was paired with Jimmy Choo strappy

black sandals and my black rhinestone

covered COACH bag. I had blown my

hair straight, then feathered it. I had a shit

ton of makeup on and more jewelry then I

had ever worn in my life, all of it

expensive and chic. It wasn't me,

whoever me was, and she knew it. We'd

both had to wear uniforms to school but

I'd always found a way to make mine my

own and even though I'd worn a designer

evening gown to prom I'd paired it with

my chucks and hadn't done a damn thing to

my hair. It had still been wet from my

shower when the limo picked up Frankie

and me.

I turned bright red as she continued

to gape at me.

"I think she looks stunning," Chase

said, his voice low, his eyes blazing. A

surge of desire shot through me. I wanted

his hands on me. I wanted the pain and the

pleasure and humiliation he brought me

and I wanted it now, was starting to

breathe heavier just thinking about it. He

saw this and he smiled his shark smile.

"No one cares what you think!"

Kami snapped. She narrowed her eyes at

me. "What's going on?" She demanded.

I swallowed thickly. "I had a

meeting with the D.A. this morning.

Frankie's bullshit you know? I didn't want

to look like biker trash."

Sheesh. Lying to Kami made me

feel filthy. Disgusting. I had never lied to

her before, not once in twenty five years

of friendship.

This seemed to placate her but she

still looked suspicious. "You've never

cared before, and you've never looked

like trash because you aren't trash."

I opened my mouth, another lie on

the tip of my tongue, but was saved from

having to dig my hole deeper when Devin

barreled into the room much the same way

his mother had.

"Aunt Evie!" He screamed as I bent

down to engulf him in a squeezing hug. I

buried my face in his sweet smelling neck

and fought the urge to cry. I had been

avoiding both Kami and Devin, two

people I loved more than anything for this

bullshit with Chase.

"You look so pretty," He said,

giving me a cute kiss on my cheek.

"Thanks baby," I whispered. "And

you look very, very handsome."

"Amazing isn't it," Chase sneered.

"How my very handsome son looks

nothing like his mother or his father but

more resembles, Mrs. Gonzalez, our

housekeeper."

My eyes shot to Chase. It wasn't

any secret Devin wasn’t his. Devin was

dark. Both he and Kami were light.

Devin had black hair, dark features and

tanned skin that had nothing to do with sun

exposure. He was taller and broader than

any other four year old I had ever met. He

looked every bit his father's son.

His father…Cox.

Kami glared at Chase. Thankfully

Devin seemed oblivious, as always to

Chase's digs.

"Kind of hard to have a child that

looks like you," She hissed softly, "When your wife refuses to fuck you."

He shrugged. "As much fun as it

was to fuck a dead fish, I've since found

much better. Much, much better."

I closed my eyes. I had to get out of

here.

Giving Devin another big hug, I

stood. "Let's do lunch tomorrow. And

some shopping," I suggested to Kami.

"There's a new thrift store in SoHo that

Snickers said has a boatload of mint

condition Vinyl's." I tried to smile. "You know I have to hit that up."

"Who's Snicker's?" Devin asked.

"One of Papa Fox's friends from the

club," Kami said. "All he eats are

snicker's bars."

"What lovely names they all have,"

Chase muttered.

"Evie, lunch and shopping

tomorrow sounds perfect but I want today,

too. I was just about to drop Devin

downstairs for a play date. I'll only be a

minute and then we can go get pedicures,

my treat, sound good?"

"Okay," I whispered, glancing at

Chase, knowing he was going to be pissed

at me.

Kami glanced over at Chase then

back at me and her eyes narrowed.

"One minute, don't leave," She said,

grabbing Devin's hand.

The elevator doors closed behind

them.

"Cancel with Kami," He demanded,

"Go straight to the Waldorf."

"God, you're an asshole," I hissed.

I found myself pressed up against

the elevator, Chase’s erection grinding

against me. I sucked in a breath.

“You want me,” He said coldly.

God, I did. I wanted him badly.

Right here, right now.

“Go Eva. I’ll be there shortly.”

Thirty minutes later, I was at the

Waldorf begging Chase to fuck me.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:

Deuce watched Eva tear out of

Kami's building looking like a brunette

version of Kami. The hair, the clothes, the

makeup and she'd dropped a good twenty

pounds. What had happened in the three

months since he'd seen her last?

He had come to Manhattan for two

reasons. One, he'd had lead on Eva's hit,

two he wanted to see Eva, three he wanted

to see Eva and four, he had to fucking see

Eva or he was going to go insane. So

more than two reasons.

Three days ago, accompanied by

Mick and Cox, he pulled out of midday

Manhattan traffic into the Silver Demon's

MC parking lot. He had just removed his

helmet when he saw some pretty boy

asshole step out of the front doors of the

club accompanied by Eva and Preacher.

He'd signaled his boys to remain

where they were as he watched the three

of them interact. Preacher stuck his hand

out and shook the pretty boy's hand then

retreated back into the club.

The pretty boy focused on Eva and

his chest went tight. He'd seen that look

before; it’s the look a man gets when he's

looking at something he wants inside of.

Gripping Eva’s chin, the pretty boy

backed her up against the club doors.

Cox's hand came down on his

shoulder. "Breathe Prez. She's not

exactly fightin' him off."

No, she wasn't. She had her arms

wrapped around his neck, gripping him,

while the fucker gnawed on her face and

groped her backside like he was digging

for change. None of this made sense to

him. She’d run away from him to help

Frankie but how she was going to

accomplish that by fucking some uptown

douchebag was beyond him.

Something was up. Something he

was pretty sure he wasn't going to like.

"Mick," He hissed. "Find out who

the fuck that is.”

His VP's eyes met his. Mick thought

his relationship with Eva was fucked up

and he made no bones about telling him.

They stared at one another. Mick

gave first. "On it Prez," He said quietly.

The pretty boy strolled arrogantly

down the walk and slid inside a sleek

silver Aston Martin db9. When he pulled

out into traffic, Mick's Harley pulled out

behind him and they both disappeared into

the mess of New York City traffic.

Eva sat down on the front steps,

slumped forward and buried her face in

her hands.

Fuck him. Something was way off.

"Somethin' goin' down here Prez,"

Cox muttered. "Your girls not lookin' too

good."

"I get that," He growled. "And she's not my girl. Not sure she ever fuckin'

was."

"Load of fuckin' crap," Cox said.

"Seen the way you two look at each other.

Like no one else in the world exists."

He cut his eyes at his RC. "You a

fuckin' poet?"

Cox shrugged. "If that's what it

takes to get laid, then I'm a fuckin' poet.

Other times I'm a fuckin' accountant. Or a

plumber. Sometime's a man's gotta do

what a man's gotta do."

Cox pretending to be an accountant

with all his piercings and tattoos was just

about the funniest thing he had ever heard.

"Come on Prez. Let's go to

Queens." Cox slapped him on the back.

"We came here for a reason. And that

fuckin' reason is to keep that woman of

yours breathin’."

They'd gone to Queens. They had

tortured and killed two independent grave

diggers to get the information they'd

needed. Then they'd crossed the Hudson

and took out the hit. The asshole had a

file on Eva as thick as a phonebook, full

of photos, addresses and schedules.

Despite not needing to bury her unless

Frankie kicked it, the digger was thorough

and ready at the drop of a hat to get his job

done.

The digger had been paid to kill her,

he didn't know Eva from a hole in the

wall, but Deuce knew her and he loved

her. Because of this love, instead of

giving the asshole a merciful death, he

prolonged the pain and let him bleed for a

good long time before finally stopping his

heart. It hadn't made him feel any better

about the pretty boy with his tongue

shoved down Eva's throat but it relieved

some pent up aggression.

Until he found out who the pretty

boy was. Then all that aggression came

back tenfold.

So he’d followed her. He watched

her run out of Kami's building and hail a

cab. He followed her to the Waldorf

Astoria, watched her wave to the doormen

like she fucking knew them and disappear

inside. Not even ten minutes later he

watched Chase pull up in his db9, toss his

keys to the valet and stride through the

doors.

He wanted to kill something. No, he

wanted to kill Chase.

Instead, he waited. He waited all

day and all night and neither of them came

out.

At dawn, when the sun was cresting,

Eva came walking through the front doors

looking half asleep, pale and disheveled.

A doorman moved quickly, ready to hail

her a cab but he didn't give her the option.

His Harley roared to life, he gunned it

straight across four lanes of traffic and

came to a rubber burning, tire squealing

stop directly in front of her.

Her mouth fell open.

"Get the fuck on," He growled. "I

won't tell you twice."

Her mouth worked soundlessly for

several moments and just as he was

getting really fucking impatient and angry,

she burst into tears and threw herself into

his arms.

Fuck.

Flipping off the gaping doormen he

held her for a long time just breathing her

in, knowing she'd just fucked another guy,

smelling him and the sex they'd had on her

and feeling like crushing skulls with his

bare hands because of it. But he kept it

reeled in because she was in his arms, she

was seeking comfort from him, she needed

him, so whatever the fuck she'd been

doing while they’d been apart didn't

fucking matter unless she started doing it

again. And since he was going to put

Chase to ground the minute he got a

chance he figured there was no chance of

that happening anyway.

"Get on Eva," He said. "I’m taking you home and then I’m taking you home

with me."

She surprised the fuck out of him.

She got on without a word, without an

ounce of fight and no attitude tossed his

way. This scared him more than the tears,

more than her selling her pussy to save

Crazy Frankie. If his girl was broken,

someone sure as fuck was going to die for

that.

Preacher met them in the hallway of

the club, Cox and Mick by his side. He

took one look at his puffy, red eyed,

blotchy faced daughter and lost it.

"What the fuck?" Preacher shouted.

"What happened?"

When her old man tried to touch her

she shrank into him and buried her face

into his armpit, not his first choice of a

hiding place seeing as he’d just spent

twenty four hours in the same clothing but

she didn't seem to care, so he didn't move

her, just held her tight.

Preacher looked bewildered. The

man really didn’t have a clue something

was wrong with his daughter.

"What's goin' on," Preacher

demanded.

"I don't know," He said. "Where's

her fuckin' room?"

"You think I'm gonna let you take my

daughter up to her fuckin' room? I haven't

fuckin' forgotten what you did when she

was just a kid."

"Daddy!" Eva whirled around,

glaring. "I've been fucking Deuce since I

was eighteen! I wanted to fuck him when I

was sixteen! Maybe I even wanted him

when I was twelve too! Who knows!

What I do know is I have been in love

with him since I was five! So get over it!

And don’t you dare shoot him or I'll shoot

you!"

Cox slapped his hand over his

mouth and turned away.

Mick rolled his eyes.

Preacher's jaw dropped.

Oh…shit. At least he knew her fire

was still burning bright, but still… oh,

shit. He didn't have a good track record

dealing with his bitch's fathers. For some

reason they never liked him and the one in

front of him had already shot him twice.

"Don't fuckin' shoot me again," He

growled. "I didn't do shit to her when she

was twelve. That shit when she was

sixteen, that wasn't my fault. I was

shitfaced and she was jerkin' herself off

on my fuckin' belt buckle and her tits were

bouncin' in my face, and what the fuck, I'm

only fucking human. I blame her tits for

the whole fuckin' thing. But every time I

fucked her she was fuckin' legal. So no

fuckin' shootin'. This time I'll shoot back."

"Tact Prez," Cox muttered. "You

fuckin' need some."

Both Eva and her old man were

gaping at him.

"Did you seriously just say all of

that to my daddy?"

He looked down at her. "What?

You're the fuckin' dumbass who brought it

up. It's the fuckin' truth anyway."

"The fuckin' truth," Preacher

muttered. "Is I already knew she was a

willin' participant you fuckin' idiot.

Doesn't change the fact that you took

advantage of a sixteen year old girl."

"Daddy," Eva hissed. "How old

was my mother when you knocked her

up?"

Preacher's eyes shot to his

daughter. "Deuce is forty eight Eva! I'm

fifty five! Don’t that seem a little fucked

up to you?"

"How old, daddy?" She demanded.

"Six fuckin' teen," He said darkly,

glaring at her.

Damn. Looks like his old man and

Preacher had some shit in common. At

least he didn't belong to that fucking club.

That was something. Sorta.

"Yeah," She shot back. "And how

old were you?"

"Eva!"

"Daddy!"

"I was twenty four," He snarled.

She folded her arms across her

chest and cocked her hip out. "Huh," She said. "Interesting."

"Yeah," He shot back. "Fuckin'

interesting. Your old man was a fuckin'

idiot who fell in love with a junkie

runaway who took off runnin' scared after

she gave birth to you! Real fuckin'

interesting! Didn't get to spend nearly

enough time lovin' her, treatin' her to all

the shit her parents never gave her and all

the women since her have been fuckin' bed

warmers, nothin' more! Excuse the fuck

outta me for not wantin' that kinda shit for

my baby!"

Preacher's eyes had gone glossy

halfway through his revelation and now

tears were flowing freely down his

cheeks. Everyone stared. Preacher didn't

cry, Preacher killed in cold blood. But

there it was.

"Didn’t matter cuz I fucked you up

anyway, baby girl," Preacher rasped.

"Didn't see how bad Frankie was ‘til it

was too late. Trapped you in that shit

without even knowin' it. Shoulda got him

help a long time ago. Shoulda gotten you

away from him. Shoulda done fuckin'

somethin'."

"Doesn't matter," She whispered.

"He's not getting out anytime soon and

he’s getting the help he needs."

This made Mick stomp off down the

hallway. His boys wanted Frankie dead.

He wanted Frankie dead but Eva and

Preacher loved Frankie. He got that. You

can't turn feelings on and off like a fucking

light. He knew. He had tried. He'd tried

to love his wife and he'd tried to stop

loving Eva. Neither had worked.

That said, Frankie still needed to go

to ground.

"EVA!" Hurricane Kami came

bursting through the front doors. Kami

shoved him out of her way, grabbed Eva

by her upper arms, and started screaming.

"You fucking idiot! Why didn't you

tell me what he was doing? For gods sake

Eva you didn't have to fuck him! Do you

know how much dirt I have on that skanky

asshole? Tons Eva, TONS! I would have

broken him down in time!"

"Frankie didn't have time!" Eva

screamed back. "Chase wouldn't meet

with me until Frankie got put in solitary!"

Deuce saw red. The asshole hadn't

just played on her love for Frankie he'd

outright cornered her with her love for

Frankie.

Preacher's eyes darted back and

forth between Kami and his daughter.

"Eva, what the fuck did Kami just say?"

They both ignored him.

"Oh Evie," Kami cried. "I'm going

to kill him! You are too good and too

sweet and a man like Chase didn't deserve

a taste of that kind of beautiful!"

If she kept saying shit like that about

his woman maybe he could learn to like

Kami.

“How did you find out?” Eva

whispered.

Kami let out a frustrated breath.

“He came home like twenty minutes ago

informing me that our marriage was

over.” She snorted. “Can you believe

him? I was like, “What marriage?” and

started laughing at him. He got pissed,

told me about you, told me you guys were

together, told me you were having his

baby, but left Frankie out of it. Only I

knew, I JUST KNEW, you would never

touch him without a good reason! And I

knew that reason was FRANKIE!

Avoiding me for months, the clothes Evie,

the makeup, the Jimmy fucking Choo's…I

am not stupid!”

"I'm gonna ask one more time, Eva,"

Preacher growled. "What the fuck is

Kami talking about?"

He stared at Eva.

She was pregnant.

His woman was pregnant. And it

wasn't his.

All eyes were on Eva but she only

had eyes for him and damn her fucking

eyes but he couldn't look away. He

couldn't even blink.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered.

He blinked.

“Kami?” Cox said quietly, his voice

unusually low. His head swiveled to his

RC.

Kami, noticing Cox for the first

time, shrieked and scrambled backwards.

That's when he saw the little boy she was

shoving behind her. Eva jumped beside

her and they created a wall.

"Wait," Kami whispered holding

her palms up. "You don’t understand."

Confused, he looked at Cox's

furious expression then back at the little

boy, scared out of his mind, peeking out

between Kami and Eva’s legs.

Understanding dawned. Little shit

looked just the bigger shit.

“Fuck,” He muttered. This was

going to get ugly. There were two things

in the world Cox truly cared about. The

club. And his daughter. If he had known

he had a son, the kid would have been on

that list, too.

"What don't I understand?" Cox

hissed. "I don't understand that there's a

fuckin' kid standing behind you 'bout four

fuckin' years old who looks just like me?

I don't understand that I fucked his mother

thirty ways from fuckin' Sunday the last

time I fuckin' saw her, which was when,

bitch? Five fuckin' years ago? Is that

what I don't understand?"

Preacher stepped in front of Kami.

"You're talkin' shit 'bout the boy's mother

right in front of him which is bad enough.

But that mother is family and so is the boy

and talkin’ shit to my family does not

happen in my fuckin' club."

"Fuck off Demon," Cox spat. "In

case you haven't noticed that's my fuckin'

kid!"

"Yeah asshole, I fuckin' noticed.

Hard not to when he looks just like ya.”

"Would everyone shut the fuck up?"

Kami screamed. "He doesn't know about

you! All you're doing is scaring the crap

out of him!"

Preacher shoved between Kami and

Eva and scooped up the little boy.

"Once I got Devin upstairs and out

of fuckin' earshot from you lot of assholes

you can resume fuckin' screamin' at one

another." He looked at Eva. "Me and you baby girl are gonna be havin' words. If

what I think happened actually happened

I'm gonna get real trigger twitchy."

Nobody said a word until Preacher

disappeared into the stairwell. Once he

was gone, Cox exploded.

"This is so fucked bitch! Hide a

man's kid from him! Really fuckin'

fucked!"

"You crazy fuck!" Kami screamed.

"You live in Montana, you're fucking

married, you already have a kid! I live in

New York, I'm fucking married! What the

fuck was I supposed to do?”

“What you were s’posed to do,

bitch, was tell me you fuckin' shit out my

kid!"

"You're disgusting!" Kami hissed.

“A fucking dirty, disgusting, biker

whore!”

Cox's eyes bugged out of his head.

"Bitch, you think I'm fuckin' disgusting?

Were you or were you not the same fuckin'

whore who was ridin' my cock bareback,

shovin' your fuckin' tits in my mouth

begging me to bite harder while Ripper

drilled into your fuckin' ass?”

Eva went screaming crazy and

lunged. Cursing, he tried to grab her but

the crazy bitch faked right and then went

left, managing to cold clock Cox in the

jaw just before he caught her and hauled

her backwards.

"You're fuckin' dead bitch!" Cox

shouted.

He snapped. Shoving Eva off to the

side, he spun around, grabbed Cox by his

shirt and slammed him into a wall. "Bitch

is pregnant and you're gonna threaten her?

You're gonna fuckin' threaten my fuckin'

pregnant woman?"

"Oh Evie," Kami wailed, forgetting

entirely about a very homicidal Cox. She

threw her arms around Eva and together

they sank down to the floor in a tangle of

brown and blonde hair.

He released Cox and slumped back

against the wall. He hadn’t slept in over

twenty four hours and there was too much

crazy going on around him to deal with on

no sleep.

"Settled this shit in my head

already,” Cox hissed. “I'm takin' my kid

home."

"You're not taking my son away

from me!" Kami cried.

Cox glared at her. "Then you best

pack your shit and find a fuckin’ place to

live in Montana."

Kami scrambled to her feet.

"Montana!" She shrieked. "Devin is not going to Montana!”

Deuce wasn't quick enough to grab

Cox before he got up Kami’s face.

“Bitch,” He hissed, “I want to know my

fuckin’ kid. You already stole four fuckin'

years from me. You're not stealin'

anymore.”

Kami’s lower lip trembled. “You

don't understand," She whispered. "Until Devin, my entire life was spent doing

what I was told and then finding ways to

fill up the empty space in between. The

drugs and drinking and the sex, all of it,

was me not knowing what to do with

myself, not knowing where I belonged.

The moment Devin was placed in my arms

everything clicked into place and suddenly

I knew exactly what I was meant to do,

where I belonged. I couldn't let you take

him from me."

Her voice grew shrill. “I couldn’t

let you take the only person in the world

besides Evie that has ever meant anything

to me!”

Eva burst into a fresh set of tears.

Sighing, convinced he was the only sane

person left in the world, he pulled her to

him and started rubbing her back.

Cox turned away from Kami.

"Shit," He muttered. "Shit. Shit. Fuckin'

shit."

He turned back around and took

Kami’s hand in his. “Woman, I wouldn’t

have taken him from you, we woulda

worked somethin’ out, back and forth

bullshit. I’d never take my boy from his

mama.”

Kami burst into tears and her knees

buckled. Cox caught her before she

crumpled to the floor, scooped her up in

his arms and took off down the hall. He

watched him lean down and kiss Kami’s

forehead before he made a left and they

were out of sight.

He decided to start back up where

he’d left off. "Where's your room Eva?"

"I'm sorry," She whispered.

His nostrils flared. Jesus Christ, all

he wanted to do was get this bitch to her

room and take care of her.

“For fucks sake, what the fuck are

you sorry for?"

"The motel," She whispered. "I

wasn't thinking and I didn't put a condom

on you before I…and you didn't pull

out…" She trailed off.

He stared at her.

"You tellin' me that’s my kid inside

you? Not that fuckin' pretty boy's?"

"No," She said, dropping her eyes.

"I’m telling you I'm sorry because I don't

know whose kid is inside me."

☼☼☼

I had never planned to tell Deuce I

was pregnant therefore, I had never

envisioned what his reaction was going to

be. Whatever reactions I had dreamed up

during the three seconds it took me to tell

him that the baby might be his, the reaction

he had was not one I would have ever

dreamed up.

"Can you walk?"

Huh?

"What?"

"Can you walk?" He repeated. "Or

do you need me to carry you?"

I blinked. "Carry me?"

"Yeah babe. Carry you to the

shower."

Oh, god, he was trying to take care

of me. How could a man be so perfect for

me and yet so wrong for me all at the same

time.

"I'm disgusting," I whispered.

His eyebrow rose. "Yeah babe,

that's why I'm tryin' to get you in the

shower."

"No!" I cried. "I mean I'm

disgusting! I'm a whore!"

Deuce's face went rock hard.

"Fuckin' listen to me. Up until you started

askin' favors usin' your pussy as payment

you'd only been with two men. Me and

Frankie. You're not a fuckin' whore,

you're a fuckin' idiot."

I gaped at him.

"Yeah babe, an idiot. You’ve been

taken care of that crazy fuckwad so damn

long you think it’s your fuckin' destiny.

Chase knew that, he saw an opening and

he fuckin' took it. And because he took it

he's gonna fuckin' die. But babe, you're

not a whore, farthest thing from it."

I swallowed hard. "I'm still

disgusting," I whispered.

His eyes flashed with anger. "God

dammit Eva! What the fuck did I just-

"I liked it!" I blurted out. "I don’t even like Chase all that much but I liked

fucking him and stuff… because I'm

fucking disgusting! I did things with

him…" My voice cracked and I

swallowed hard.

“Disgusting things…and I liked

them and I liked that it was him doing

them,” I finished in small voice.

Deuce took a deep breath then blew

it out slowly. This was it. In about two

seconds, he was going to tell me exactly

how disgusting I was and then I would

never see him again.

"Eva," He growled. I braced

myself.

"You're bein' an idiot again."

"Excuse me?" I whispered.

"You heard me. You're bein' an

idiot. But I get why you're bein' an idiot.

You’d never fucked someone just to fuck

‘em. So I'm gonna lay this out for you

babe. You don't gotta like someone to like

fuckin' ‘em. You can even hate their

fuckin' guts and still like fuckin' ‘em.

Sometime's that's the best kinda fuckin'.

Angry, crazy, fucked up, fuckin’. You got

nothin’ to be ashamed of darlin’.

“That said, it don’t mean I’m not

fuckin’ pissed as hell that you’ve been in

another man’s bed and enjoyin’ it; that you

might got a kid inside you that ain’t mine

and that you’ve been runnin’ from me for

eight fuckin’ years now. I know I’m a

fuckin’ bastard with a bad temper and I

don’t fuckin’ deserve you but, shit Eva, if

you woulda stayed put I woulda done

better by you than you’ve had. You feel

me?"

I stared at him. And fell in love

with him all over again.

"I feel you," I whispered.

His eyes went soft. "Babe," He said

gently. "I know that fuckin' look. Can't

fuckin' tell me you might have my kid

inside you then look at me the way you're

lookin' at me and expect me to keep it

reeled in."

I shook my head. "I can't do this

anymore."

"What part babe? You can't keep

tryin’ to save Frankie from himself? Or

you can't keep fuckin' Chase? Or you can't

keep pretendin' that this crazy shit

between us is gonna go away just cuz you

keep runnin'?"

It was infuriating how well he knew

me without even knowing me.

"All three," I snapped.

"That's good babe, cuz I can't do this

anymore either."

I drew my brows together. "What

can't you do?"

"I'm gettin’ old babe. Got grown

ass kids and gray fuckin' hair. Spent too

much time married to a bitch I couldn't

stand, too much time beatin' myself up for

wishin' I was balls deep in a bitch

eighteen years younger than me. Add that

shit together and that equals me being

fuckin' miserable for a long fuckin' time.

So yeah, I can't do this anymore. Can't

fuckin' live without you. Want you on my

bike and in my bed. Want my kids inside

you. Want you by my side babe for as

long as I got left."

By his side.

“By your side?” I whispered.

His hand went to my neck and

tugged on the chain around it. For a

moment, I thought he was going to break

his father’s necklace again. Instead, he

tugged it out of my shirt and held it up in

front of my face. The medallion spun

around. “You think I just like decoratin’

ya?”

I sucked in air.

It wasn’t his fathers. It looked

exactly the same as his father’s except the

back of this one read, "Deuce".

My chin began to tremble. “I

thought…I…I thought you’d put your

father’s necklace back on me.”

He shook his head. “Told you, you

shoulda never been wearing that. You

shoulda been wearin’ mine.”

Sheesh. I was going to cry again.

"Fuckin' listen Eva and listen good.

Words are shit and I ain't good with them

anyway. So here’s the fuckin’ truth for

you, straight up, I'm forty eight years old,

gonna be forty nine all too soon and I

damn well know a good thing when I see

it and babe all I’ve ever been able to

fuckin' see is you. Not many chances a

man has in his lifetime to do right, to earn

the love of a good woman, and to get a

taste of true freedom. And babe, for me,

you're all fuckin' three. Have been for a

good while now.”

He dropped my necklace, cupped

my cheeks and tilted my head back.

“Whatever this shit is between us

it’s always been there and it’s always

gonna be there. I’m shit-fuckin’-tired

tryin’ to ignore it. I’ll try to do right by

you Eva, you’d be the first, but I’ll fuckin’

try my damndest. And baby, true freedom

is the open road, the wind on your face

and a good woman on the back of your

bike holdin’ you tight like you’re her

reason for breathin’ because she sure as

fuck is yours.”

My mouth fell open. Hadn’t he just

told me he wasn’t good with words and

then he went and said all that to me? I

was floored. Shocked to my core. I

hadn’t been wrong about him after all.

"Deuce," I whispered. “You love

me.”

He eyes went skyward and he

snorted. “Babe. Yeah. Long time now.”

☼☼☼

Deuce watched her go liquid.

Every part of her just went soft. Fuck, he

loved that look. That look told him that he

was her whole fucking world.

“Okay,” She whispered. “No more

running.”

He breathed in a ragged breath of

relief.

“Jesus babe,” He muttered as he ran

his knuckles down her cheek. "'Bout

fuckin' time. Now where’s your fuckin’

room?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:

Deuce, accompanied by Cox,

walked onto the 35th floor of Martello

Tower and into the law offices of

Fredericks, Henderson, and Stonewall and

stopped in front of a very pretty, very

young, wide eyed receptionist.

“Do you have an appointment?”

She asked.

“Yeah,” Cox muttered. He pulled

an envelope out of his back pocket and

slapped it down on the desk. “A thirty

fuckin’ thousand dollar appointment which

buys us you keepin’ your mouth shut and

not callin’ security. You feel me?”

Her mouth fell open and she stared

down at the envelope. “Thirty thousand

dollars?”

“Yup.”

“Legal?”

“It’s not tagged, darlin’.”

She jumped out her chair and spun

around. They both stared as her skirt-clad

ass went up the air as she bent down and

rummaged through a file cabinet. She

resurfaced with a purse and sweater and

snatched up the envelope.

“Thank you,” She said breathlessly.

“I hate Mr. Henderson! He is the worst

boss I have ever had! I’m so going back

to bartending!”

She let out an excited shriek, flashed

them a killer grin and ran out of the office.

They looked at each other. “That

was easy,” Cox said.

“She forgot her photos,” He said,

pointing at her desk.

Shrugging, they headed passed

reception and straight into Chase’s office.

He glanced up from his laptop.

Deuce stepped forward. "Eva Fox,"

He growled.

Chase glanced between him and

Cox and stuck on Cox. His eyes went

wide. "Jesus," He muttered. "It's about time you came and picked up your kid.

Wasn't sure how much longer I could

stomach pretending the little spick was

mine."

Cox's fists clenched.

"Eva Fox," Deuce reminded him.

Chase glanced back at him. "I'm a

little busy right now. Do you mind coming

back another time? Maybe making an

appointment?"

Cox sat down on a leather armchair

and put his feet up on Chase’s desk.

"We'll wait."

"Yeah," He said, spotting a

photograph of Eva. He picked it up off the

desk. "You take your fuckin' time."

Her high school graduation. She

was wearing her gown, holding her cap in

her hand and grinning, looking like she

didn't have a care in the world. His mouth

went dry looking at it. That photo had

been taken right before he'd had her in that

alleyway and made her his forever.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Chase

murmured.

Yeah, she fucking was but he wasn't

going to mince words. He had come here

for a reason and it wasn't to discuss how

beautiful his woman was.

"Thought you only had to worry

'bout Frankie Deluva, yeah? And since

Deluva's locked up tight you thought you

had nothin' to worry 'bout."

Chase smirked. "I take it I was

wrong?"

"Yeah asshat," Cox said. "You

were fuckin' wrong."

Chase pointed his index finger

between him and Cox and grinned. "Are

you both here defending Mrs.

Fox-Deluva's honor? Because if that's the

case, I'm sorry to tell you but I'm pretty

certain I fucked it all out of her."

"Sorry slick," He said to Chase.

"Eva's got fire inside her you ain't never

touched."

"Considering I've touched every

possible part of her there is to touch,

including her womb, I'm inclined to

disagree with you."

His nostrils flared.

"Oh," Chase arrogantly continued.

"Didn't you know? Funny thing about

condoms. They don't work very well

when you break them before hand. So as

far as Eva's fire is concerned, I think I've

cornered the market."

"Funny thing 'bout condoms," He

growled. "They don't work very well

when you don't use them at all."

He watched, satisfied, as Chase lost

his grin and anger flickered in his eyes.

"Oh, dinchya know," He said.

"Been cornerin' that fuckin' market 'bout

twelve years now."

Cox leaned forward and plucked a

framed photo off the desk. "God damn

Kami looks slammin' in a bikini," He

drawled. "Like her better naked though.

And ridin’ my face screamin' my fuckin’

name."

Chase shrugged. "You think Kami

screams, you should hear Eva."

Holy shit he wanted to kill this

asshole.

Chase folded his arms across his

chest and leaned back in his desk chair.

"That baby is mine," He said evenly. "I made sure of it."

Gritting his teeth, he counted to ten

before he did something that would land

him a cell next to Frankie. While he was

counting, he stared at the picture of Eva.

Why did this asshole have a picture of

Eva from her high school graduation?

Unless…

He looked back at Chase. Fucker

was a cruel bastard but if he’d just wanted

a taste of Eva he wouldn’t have tried to

get her pregnant, he wouldn’t have her

photo on his desk; a photo taken twelve

years ago no less, and he wouldn’t give a

shit who else she was fucking.

Jesus Christ…

"I know what Eva sounds like when

she's screamin'," He said quietly, waiting

for the reaction he knew would come.

"Know what it feels like to be

buried deep inside her sweet pussy

squeezin' my shit so fuckin' hard it hurts."

Chase’s face went tight.

"Best part -and you should know

this since you’re fuckin’ her- is when

she’s comin’ and screamin' she loves me

and-

Chase lunged forward in his chair

and his fists came down on his desk.

"Shut the fuck up!"

Yeah. Chase Henderson loved Eva

Fox.

"Funny thing 'bout Eva," Cox said.

"Prez don't ever shut up 'bout her. We quit

tryin' to make him a long fuckin' time ago.

Always talkin’ 'bout her big titties and

tight pussy-

"Get out," Chase hissed. "Or I'm

calling security."

"Don't worry, kid," He said. "We're gettin' the fuck out. Came up here to feel

you out, see what the fuck your game was.

See if I needed to take you to ground, but I

get it now, know exactly what you're

about. You ain't got no game. You just

want my woman, plain and simple.

Wanted her for long time now. Wanted

her so bad you were desperate enough to

settle for fee for service fuckin' instead of

love."

Chase's jaw locked up tight.

"I ain't got shit to worry 'bout. Eva's

never gonna look at you as anything more

than a ride she got off on.”

"GET! OUT!"

Grinning, he lifted his chin at Cox

and they headed for the door. Not a

moment later, after they had closed his

door behind them, something smashed

against it, rattling the walls.

"We're not gonna kill ‘em?" Cox

asked.

"Trust me," He said. "This is much fuckin' worse. Boy is in a world of hurt.

Been hurtin' for a long time now, we just

sharpened the fuckin' blade a little. He'll

bury himself in no time…that is if Frankie

doesn't find out and do it first."

Cox nodded. “Sweet.”

Once they were inside the elevator,

he grabbed Cox by his neck and slammed

him into the wall. “You ever fuckin’ talk

'bout Eva’s tits or pussy again I will

fuckin’-

“Prez!” Cox said, laughing. “That

was all for show. Chill the fuck out.”

☼☼☼

Freshly showered and sipping a tall

glass of gingerale, I was sitting in my

beanbag chair, watching Kami and Devin

curled up in my bed, sleeping, hoping like

hell Devin wasn't going to need

counseling from the events of the day.

Because I sure did.

My bedroom door clicked and

opened slowly. Cox walked in first,

followed by Deuce. Cox's gaze flickered

over me before landing on Kami and

Devin. There was possession in his eyes.

He wasn't giving up his kid. No way in

hell. I wasn't sure what that meant for

Kami but I was going to find out.

"Cox," I whispered. He turned.

"I'm not sure what your plans are but

Kami and Devin is a packaged deal. You

try to fuck that up and you're going to go

up against a wall of Demon's? We clear?"

Deuce's lips twitched but Cox

remained impassive. "Yeah, Foxy," He

whispered. "We're clear. You don’t gotta

worry 'bout your girl. Had some time to

cool off. Figure some shit out.”

Cox walked over to my bed and sat

down beside Kami. "Bitch," He

whispered in her ear. "Wake the fuck up."

Kami blinked sleepily, saw Cox

looming over her, and let out a shriek.

Cox slapped his hand over her

mouth. "You crazy? My kid is sleepin'."

Kami's pretty blue eyes narrowed

and she mumbled something nasty

sounding against Cox's hand.

"Just met your fuckin’ husband and

sure as fuck don’t want my kid near that

asshole ever again, ‘specially don’t want

him callin’ that mother fucker daddy.” He

gently pushed a lock of hair out of Kami's

eyes. "And bitch, you’re not goin’ back to

him. Not ever."

Kami visibly relaxed and sunk back

into my pillow. Cox removed his hand.

"Gonna lay it out for you babe," He

said. “Not 'bout to take my boy away

from his mama. So we can work

somethin’ out. I gotta get to know him

first, want him to feel safe with me then

we can talk ‘bout him goin’ back and

forth, yeah?

"Or you can pack up your fuckin’

shit and haul your bony ass down to

Montana and I’ll help you get a place.

Maybe shit could happen between us,

maybe not cuz you’re fuckin’ crazy, but no

way in hell you ever goin' near Ripper.

Basically bitch, you will promise me right

the fuck now that you will be stayin’ away

from Ripper from now til’ fuckin’

forever."

Shocked, I glanced at Deuce. He

was looking to the ceiling, praying for

patience maybe?

"What about your wife?" Kami

hissed. “Will you be staying away from

her?”

"I'll take care of it," Cox hissed

back.

She snorted. "And how will you be

taking care of that?"

"Not your concern."

Kami jackknifed into a sitting

position. "You expect me to pack up my

life, uproot my son, move to a town where

"Super Sluts" is the only salon in sight, just so some shit may or may not happen

between us? You might be fine as hell

and fuck like a god but sorry, I don’t think

so.”

Cox grabbed Kami's upper arms and

jerked her forward. Nose to nose, they

glared at one another.

"I'm gonna be brutally honest with

you. Not one woman has ever worked me

like you do. Not one and I've fucked a lot

of women. Pissed me off every time you

split when I still wanted more. Now you

got my kid and you still look slammin’ and

I still want more. You come to Montana

we'll see if this shit works, it does, I'll

leave my wife, it doesn't, I'm not fuckin'

leavin' her. Don't wanna do my own

laundry and sure as shit don't wanna be

payin' alimony."

“Oh my god,” Kami breathed. “You

are the biggest asshole I have ever met.”

“And you’re a damn crazy, seriously

spoiled bitch.”

I'm still not sure who moved first,

maybe they moved at the same time. One

second they were glaring and the next they

were kissing. And wrestling. Wrestle

kissing?

They rolled off the bed in a heap,

Kami reaching for Cox's belt while he tore

open her shirt.

I ran for Devin since neither of his

parents were taking into account that their

four year old was mere feet from them.

"Jesus, you're fuckin' perfect," Cox

rasped.

"Shut up," Kami hissed. "And fuck

me!"

Deuce held the door for me while I

carried Devin out of the room.

Last thing I heard before Deuce

closed the door was Cox groaning loudly,

"Oh fuck yeah, bitch, you're crazy ass is

comin' home with me."

“No I’m not!”

I shook my head. What a difference

a day makes.

“You ready to go home darlin’?”

I looked over at Deuce. He was

staring at the little boy in my arms.

"Yeah," I said softly. "I'm ready."

He looked up and smiled. "That's

good babe. Real fuckin' good."

☼☼☼

Deuce turned onto the interstate.

Wearing his helmet, Eva sat behind him,

her thighs were cradling his hips, her arms

were encircling his waist, her cheek was

pressed between his leather-clad shoulder

blades. It felt good. Right. It felt like a

fuck of a long time coming but it was here

now and he could finally breathe easy.

Extending his arm straight out, palm

facing down, he signaled his boys to slow

down. Then he put his arm up in the air

and extended his index finger. The boys

slowed and went single file in order of

their rank: Deuce, Mick, and Cox bringing

up the rear.

They headed home.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:

"I'm not going in there."

Deuce folded his thick arms across

his wide chest. "You gonna sleep out

under the stars?"

I shrugged. "Since I'm not going in

there, yeah."

Closing his eyes, he took a couple

deep breaths. I knew I was wearing down

his last nerve but honestly, I couldn't find

a shred of give a damn. He had good

intentions, yes, but he wasn't listening to

me, didn't care how I felt about any of

this. I had just up and left behind

everything I’d ever known for him and he

was expecting me to move in with him and

his kids! His grown up kids! His grown

up kids who I had never met!

From what I could see, he had a

beautiful home. It was a two story rustic

Montana cabin, widespread with a

wraparound porch and a backyard that

went on for miles. It was off the beaten

path, no neighbors, no traffic. No

nothing. Just Deuce. And his two grown

kids.

Holy crap. I had to get far, far

away.

Was there a bus stop in the

mountains? I didn't remember seeing any.

In fact, I don’t think I saw any buses

either. Or people. Or anything at all

actually. But there had to be a bus stop,

right? If there's a road more than likely a

bus will show up eventually…right?

"Reel it in, Eva," Deuce growled.

"How far you think you're gonna get? You

don’t even know where the fuck you are."

"This is kidnapping!" I yelled.

“And stop reading my mind!”

"Fuck me," He muttered. "Are you

always this crazy?"

"Yes!" I screamed. "Which is why

you need to take me to an airport or a bus

station or any sort of civilization and let

me go home!"

He ignored me. "I don't remember

you bein' this crazy."

"You want to know why you don't

remember me being this crazy? Because

out of the twenty five years we've known

each other we can count on our fingers and

toes how many days of that we've spent

together! And some of those days weren't

even full days!"

"Eva," He said, exasperated.

"You’ve spent four days on the back of my

bike and sleepin' in a tent, pukin’ your

fuckin' guts out. You look like shit, you

smell like shit and I'm willin' to bet you'd

love to sleep in a real bed. So how's 'bout

you and I continue this fuckin' bullshit

inside?"

I was praying for serenity, praying

for the strength not to rip his throat out

when I heard the most awful noise in the

entire world.

"Dad?"

A miniature Deuce was sauntering

down the driveway. I stared at it. It was

nearly as tall as its father, not quite as

well built but still impressive for an

eighteen year old. Its hair was long and

blonde and pulled back in a man bun and

when it flashed me its ladykiller grin, it

was Deuce at Riker's all over again. But

it didn't have its father's eyes. Whereas

Deuce’s were frosty blue, mini Deuces

were brown.

Deuce pointed at his mini him.

"Cage," He grunted. Then he pointed at

me. "Eva."

Sheesh. He sounded like a

Neanderthal. "Me man, you woman.”

The mini Deuce grinned again and

lifted his chin. "Sup' Eva."

I buried my face in my hands. "Oh

my god," I whined. "I need a bus station."

"Daddy!"

I peeked through my fingers at the

screaming, giggling mass of blonde hair

flying down the driveway. Dear god.

This chick was a teenage diva. Skinny

jeans and a sparkly pink tank top with

furry pink boots, highlighted blonde hair,

long and layered with perfectly side swept

bangs. Way too much eye makeup. This

did not bode well for me.

I was not a diva. None of my

clothing had ever been accused of being

furry.

She launched herself at Deuce and

wrapped her body around him. Since no

one was looking at me, I decided to tiptoe

slowly out of the driveway. How hard

can it be to find a bus stop?

"Eva!" Deuce bellowed. "Don't you

fuckin' dare!

I stopped and glanced over my

shoulder. Deuce was storming towards

me, while both his kids looked on

curiously.

So I did what any victim of being

forced to live with your man’s grown

children would do. I turned tail and ran

like hell. True, I had no idea where I was

going but there was a road and a road had

to lead somewhere, if it didn't how would

people get anywhere?

Deuce's boots pounded heavy on the

pavement behind me, growing closer and

closer until he was close enough to grab

me. I screamed and made a hard right off

the road, jumped over a small ditch and

headed straight for the woods.

I didn't make it.

"Bitch, I know I wasn’t fuckin’

hallucinatin’ when you said you were sick

of runnin’," He growled.

"Fuck you," I hissed. "FUCK

YOU!"

“That what you need Eva? You

need me to fuck you to remind you where

you fuckin’ belong?”

“Daddy?”

“Fuck,” He muttered. “Go back to

the house Danny.”

“I want to talk to Eva.”

“House. Danny. Now.”

“No daddy, I want to talk to her.”

Sighing, Deuce set me down. I

scrambled away from him, glaring. He

glared right back.

“Hi,” Danny said cheerfully.

“Daddy told me all about you!”

Danny grinned at me. Sheesh, she

was gorgeous. She had Deuce's eyes. Icy

blue and hypnotizing. But her face was

her mother's, sweetheart features, delicate

and utterly beautiful.

"I thought you would be older," She

said and giggled. "Daddy’s age or maybe

my mom's age. But you're so young."

"Fuck," Deuce muttered. “She’s not

that young.”

I glared at him. "I'm thirty."

Danny burst out laughing. “She’s

like closer to my age then yours daddy!

You’re like fifty!”

Deuce looked to the sky and closed

his eyes. “I’ll be on the porch,” He

growled. “She runs again,” He pointed at

me. “You fuckin’ yell.”

He stalked off.

☼☼☼

Deuce sat on his porch steps, his

elbows on his knees, his face in his

palms. He was destined for a life of

crazy.

"She's hot, dad. Really fuckin' hot."

He turned his head towards his son.

"Yeah," He muttered.

"Great fuckin' legs," Cage

continued. "And her tits, jesus, no fuckin'

bra with tits that big…fuck me."

He glared. Cage didn't shut the fuck

up he was going to knock him out.

"You get done with her, pass her the

fuck to me."

"Reel it in," He growled. "Or I’m

gonna knock you the fuck out."

Cage stared at him. "Are you

serious?"

"As tequila."

"Since when do you give a fuck if I

tap club ass?"

"Since right fuckin' now. And she's

not a club whore. Call her that again and

you're gonna be pissin' blood for a fuckin'

minute."

Cage burst out laughing. "Oh shit,"

He gasped, holding his stomach, still

laughing. "You fuckin' like this one."

Like? That didn't even begin to

cover how he felt about that crazy bitch.

He grabbed his whore of a son by

the front of his tee shirt and yanked him

across the step until they were nose to

nose. "You're fuckin' young, you think

ridin' and pussy are all that fuckin'

matters, I get it, I've been there, but you're

gonna learn real fuckin' quick to respect

women, whores, good girls, old fuckin'

ladies, all of ‘em, or I'm gonna bury you.

You feel me?"

"Yeah, dad," He said quietly.

"Sorry."

He shoved him back and looked

towards the woods. Still no sign of Eva

or his daughter.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"She the reason you’re pissed off all

the time?"

"Yeah."

"She the reason you left mom?"

"Yeah."

"You love her?"

"Yeah."

There was a long pause.

"Cool."

"…yeah."

"Dad?"

"Jesus, Cage. What?"

"Does this mean I can have at

Miranda?"

Christ.

"Yeah, you fuckin' hornball. Have

at it."

"Cool."

☼☼☼

Danny and I walked back to the

house, me silent with my arms wrapped

around my middle and her, a bouncing

blonde ball of teenage girl, telling me all

about her summer break from school. She

was sixteen, the same age I was when I’d

first kissed her father, fell hard for him,

and it all felt supremely awkward.

As we reached the end of the

driveway, I could see Deuce and Cage

sitting on the porch steps. Cage was

leaning back on the railing smoking a

cigarette; Deuce was doing a face plant in

his palms. My heart clenched; he was

upset.

When he spotted us, Cage kicked

Deuce in the calf. Deuce’s head jerked

left, his face tight with anger and Cage

reared back, pointing at me. Our eyes

locked.

"Danny," Cage yelled, getting to his

feet. "Help me make dinner!"

Danny touched my arm. "You

good?"

"Yeah," I muttered.

"He would never hurt you," She

whispered.

I looked down at her. "Yeah baby, I

know."

She grinned and I cringed. The girl

didn't just have his eyes she had his heart

stopping grin.

"Daddy calls me baby," She

whispered. Then with a hop and skip, she

ran off. Her and Cage disappeared inside

the house leaving Deuce and I staring at

each other.

Oh, lord, help me. I couldn't do

this. And yet, I was walking straight

towards him.

I stopped in front of him. "Look, I

can’t do - Hey! What the hell!"

Deuce grabbed my waist and pulled

me on his lap. "Fuckin' hell, bitch," He said hoarsely. "You make me fuckin’

insane."

I let out a long shuddering sigh and

sunk into his body. His arms tightened

around me.

“You’re not leavin’ Eva.”

I was. But I didn’t tell him that.

Instead, I told him how unbelievably bad

he smelled.

"Yeah babe. So do you."

☼☼☼

Deuce's home was incredible. An

honest to god log cabin dream home. The

inside had been decorated rustic chic.

When you first walk in you are greeted

with a two story foyer complete with a

handmade wooden chandelier. The entire

first floor is an open plan. The only

divider is the sprawling staircase that

leads to the second floor balcony.

To the left of the foyer is a living

area, separated from the family area only

by furniture. The furniture was top of line,

not at all lived in and reminded me of

Chase. The family area was more my

thing, beat up wide seated couches, a thick

furry throw rug, an enormous flat screen

and every video game console a teenage

boy could dream up. Photos of Deuce and

his boys, of his kids, of his different

motorcycles over the years covered the

width of two walls. To the right of the

foyer was an enormous kitchen and dining

area. The kitchen was nearly identical to

the one at his clubhouse. Black and

chrome appliances, black and white

marble counters. The dining set was

exquisite. Solid cherry stained oak, high

back ladder chairs fitted with forest green

cushioning.

Up the sprawling staircase and

across from the balcony were five

bedrooms, three bathrooms not including

the master bedroom’s all inclusive

bathroom with a Jacuzzi for a bathtub and

a shower big enough to fit a family of ten,

complete with benches and multiple

showerheads. Deuce's bedroom was just

as ridiculous. Although sparsely

decorated, what was there was not at all

how I pictured Deuce’s bedroom. A long

horizontal dresser with a large vanity

mirror and a matching stool lined one

wall. A tiffany lamp hung off to the side.

On the opposite wall were two vertically

tall dressers. The bed was a four poster

California King with black silk bedding

and too many pillows to count. And there

were mirrors everywhere. Even on the

ceiling.

I stared at Deuce who shrugged and

muttered. "Christine."

Cage's bedroom was typical of a

teenage boy. Dark sheets, dark curtains,

posters of motorcycles and naked women

posing with motorcycles and stolen street

signs lined the walls. The floor was

carpeted with clothing and sneakers, his

bed was a mess, and dirty dishes were

piled high on his dresser.

Danny's was of the utmost girly girl

variety. Everything was either pink or

purple or pink, purple and fuzzy. The

second I stepped inside I felt like I'd

walked into candy land and instantly

retreated to safety.

When my tour was complete, Deuce

brought me back to his bedroom, pointed

me towards the dresser with the vanity

and ordered me to unpack. I scowled at

him. “I’m not staying,” I told him.

“Therefore I am not unpacking.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” He muttered.

Grabbing my arm, he dragged me into the

adjoining bathroom and started the

shower. Then he stripped.

When he was standing butt naked in

front of me, I stared at the tattoo of his

wife, a half sleeve of her face. I had seen

it before but never given it much thought.

Until now, until I was here in her home,

with her husband and her two children.

“Don’t fuckin’ go there Eva,” He

growled. I narrowed my eyes. How did

he always know what I was thinking?

Muttering something about crazy

women, Deuce crossed the bathroom and

pushed me up against the ceramic tiled

wall. He yanked my tee shirt over my

head and tossed it in the garbage can. Had

his wife picked out the garbage can? Was

her toothbrush in here somewhere?

I was momentarily distracted from

my musings when I felt Deuce's hands on

me. Deuce’s mouth on me.

"There it is," He murmured around a

mouthful of nipple. "There you fuckin' are

Eva. Gotta keep fuckin' you to remind you

where you belong, I got no problem with

it."

Deuce carried me into the shower,

his hands gripping my backside, his mouth

feasting on my neck.

"Fuck," He kept muttering, over and

over again like a mantra. “So fuckin’

sweet,” He murmured, nuzzling against my

neck. “Fuckin’ beautiful and sweet and

crazy and fuckin’ mine.”

I swallowed hard.

Fuckin’ mine.

God, the things this man did to me,

the things he made me feel.

“That baby Eva, it’s mine. You feel

me?”

My breath caught. “I feel you,” I

whispered.

His hand dipped down between us

and he slipped first one then two fingers

inside of me. Gripping his shoulders, I let

my mind go blank and gave myself over

and into the care of Deuce and his magic

fingers. It wasn’t hard to do.

"You feel me now, darlin'?" He

growled.

I didn't answer. I couldn't. But

yeah, I felt him. Everywhere.

☼☼☼

"You plan on patching shit up with

your old man?"

Deuce was in his bathroom brushing

his teeth watching a towel clad Eva sitting

on his bed, biting her nails, looking like

she was going to bolt at any second. He’d

set the alarm for this reason. She didn’t

know the code, so if she tried to open the

door or even a fucking window, he’d

know. And he’d haul her ass back to bed.

“You’re always calling my daddy

an old man,” She called out. “But you’re

almost as old as him.”

She thought he was old? He spit a

mouthful of toothpaste into the sink.

“What are you trying to say darlin'?”

She shrugged. "Just wondering

when you're going to start needing Viagra

too."

He froze.

What?

WHAT THE FUCK?

Throwing his toothbrush across the

room he stalked out of the bathroom

headed straight for her. He placed a hand

on either side of her and leaned down,

forcing her to lie on her back.

"Did I not just finish workin' you

over?"

The crazy woman pressed her lips

together. She was laughing at him.

Laughing!

Without preamble, he flipped her on

her stomach, yanked her ass up in the air

and sunk inside of her. Christ, she was

wet. She’d baited him. He shook his

head. She was crazy and sex crazed.

"How'm I doin' you little brat?" He

grunted. "You gettin' what you need?"

Panting, she shook her head.

"Nope. I think you might need to go

faster."

His nostrils flared and he brought

his hand down hard on her backside.

She burst out laughing. “Again,”

She giggled.

Christ.

“You want it raw, you promise me

you’re gonna stay and try this shit with

me.”

She pulled away, flipped onto her

back and spread herself open for him. He

pushed inside of her again. Their eyes

caught and locked.

“I promise,” She whispered.

“That’s good babe,” He said. “Real

fuckin’ good.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:

“I’m fat,” I whined, staring at my

ginormous belly.

Deuce, sitting on the edge of the bed

pulling his boots on, looked over his

shoulder. “Yup.”

I sat up in bed or rather I wiggled

myself up. “Did you just call me fat?”

“Yup.”

Oh my god. He was so infuriatingly

honest! I hated it!

“I’m not fat!” I cried. “I’m nearly

eight months pregnant!”

He stood up and grabbed his

deodorant from the top of his dresser.

“Yeah babe, I know. But that baby ain’t in

your ass.”

My mouth fell open. “Did you just

call my ass fat?”

In the middle of tying his hair back,

he turned around. “Yup.”

“I hate you,” I hissed. “If I could

get up on my own I would kick your ass!”

He grinned. “Not gonna lie babe.

Your ass got fuckin’ fat. Don’t really care

though cuz I got big fat hands so it’s all

good.”

I threw my pillow at him. Laughing,

he ran out of the room.

“Where are you going?” I yelled.

“The club!” The front door

slammed.

Huffing, I lay back down and pulled

the covers up over my head. I was so

bored. Which was probably why my ass

got fat. Deuce had kept true to his word

and was treating me good…when he was

home. Which most days and most nights,

he wasn’t. Two months ago I gone into

premature labor, had gone to the hospital

and was given magnesium sulfate to slow

my contractions. It worked, the labor was

stopped, but I was given strict instructions

stay off my feet as much as possible, to

stay away from stressful situations and to

refrain from sexual intercourse.

After that, Deuce stopped sleeping

at home. He was always at the club. And

I was not allowed at the club unless he

brought me there which was pretty much

never.

I wasn’t stupid. I knew he was

sleeping with other women. Only I didn’t

know what to do about it. He had laid it

out for me, told me he would try and I’d

told him I would try. So I was trying but

trying to maintain a relationship with

someone who was never around was

incredibly difficult.

There were a few times I had been

breaths away from throwing these things

in his face but then I would remember that

he had never promised me an exclusive

relationship nor had he promised me he

would be home on a regular basis.

It was official. I was an old lady.

And it was awful. I had gone from being

an vital part of my club with strong ties to

all my boys to this. To nothing.

In the meantime, I hung out with

Danny when she wasn’t at school; I hung

out with Danny and Cage when Cage was

home and not at the club which was a lot

less frequent then his father. And I’d

developed a pretty good relationship with

both of them. Cage and I had become

friends and Danny had pretty much

decided I was her role model. I thought

this was a bad idea but I didn’t mention it

because in all honesty I thought it was cute

bad idea.

I had access to Deuce’s pickup but

there was nowhere to go. Miles City,

Montana had a population of roughly nine

thousand people and consisted of a few

streets with various shops and restaurants

and a whole lot of empty land. The

residents didn’t seem to mind this. As

long as they had clothes on their backs,

food in their bellies and a post office, they

were good.

I wasn’t.

I’d been born and raised in New

York City.

New York City. Eight million

people. The most populous city in the

United States, one of the most populous

metropolitan areas in the world. A power

city, a cultural capital, the most

linguistically diverse city in the world, a

hodge-podge of commerce, finance,

media, art, fashion, research, technology,

education, and entertainment.

Sighing, I curled up on my side. I

missed my city. I missed my father and

Kami and Devin. I missed my boys.

But I loved Deuce. And I’d

promised him.

☼☼☼

It was late when Deuce pulled into

his garage. He shut down his bike and

headed inside. The kitchen was his first

priority, second was Eva. He hadn’t been

home in four days and he was itching to

touch her. He couldn’t fuck her,

something about the baby, but he’d been

solving that problem, usually with

Miranda, but Miranda wasn’t Eva. None

of those whores came close to working

him the way Eva could. He couldn’t be

around her without wanting her and her

mouth, as sweet as it was, wasn’t enough.

He wanted inside her. He’d wanted

inside her since the Demon barbeque

fourteen years ago.

Fucking hell, he was hard just

thinking about her.

Bitch made him crazy.

He grabbed a beer and was about to

head upstairs, had one foot on the first

step, when the sound of incessant female

giggling brought him up short. It was a

school night and Danny shouldn’t be up at

one in the morning. Eva knew this.

Narrowing his eyes, he went left,

through the living room and into the family

room. Eva, Danny and Cage were packed

onto the loveseat together, their eyes glued

to the television. Danny took up the left

corner, Cage had the right, his arm slung

over the back of the couch and Eva was

curled up in the space between his arm

and torso. Cage’s fingers were running

distractedly through her hair and her arm

was slung over his belly. A dark blue

woolen blanket covered the three of them.

He stared. What the fuck was going

on?

“Oh my god!” Danny cried,

bouncing up and down in her seat. “She’s

really going to make him a vampire!”

“No way,” Eva said. “She won’t.

She can’t. That is just so wrong.”

“She could make me a vampire,”

Cage muttered, “She’s so fuckin’ hot.”

Eva burst out laughing. “You’d give

up your life for a nice pair of tits, huh?”

If he wasn’t so pissed he would

have laughed. He’d been shot twice for a

nice pair of tits.

Cage looked down at Eva and

grinned. “For those tits, babe, hell yeah.

For yours too.”

Eva snorted.

“Pig,” Danny muttered.

“Yep.”

“You can be a pig,” Eva said,

laughing. “As long as you keep rubbing my

feet every day.” She sighed happily.

“Pure heaven, Cage.”

Cage’s grin turned into a soft smile.

“Anything for you gorgeous.”

His fists clenched. Rubbing her

fucking feet? Every day? Gorgeous?

“Ha!” Eva shouted, slapping at

Danny’s arm. “I told you she wouldn’t do

it!”

“Whatever,” Danny muttered with a

smile on her lips. “She should have.

Eventually he’s going to get old. If I were

her I would have immortalized all that

hotness.”

He stormed into the room and

stopped directly in front of the television.

“Daddy, move,” Danny said, trying

to look around him.

He didn’t.

“Danielle West,” He growled, “I

wanna know why you’re not in bed.”

He watched his daughter fold her

arms over her chest and scowl at him.

“Today and tomorrow are parent-

teacher conferences,” Eva said quietly.

“No school.”

He narrowed his eyes. She was

still curled up around his kid. Right in

front of him.

“Eva,” He barked. “Kitchen.”

“Here babe,” Cage said. He shifted

his body out from under hers and slipped

an arm around her back to help her up. She

tottered for a minute then both her hands

went to her swollen belly.

“Shit,” Cage muttered. “Are you

having contractions again? Or is it the salt

thing?”

“Oh!” Danny cried, jumping to her

feet, “Do you need your pills?”

Salt thing? Pills? What the fuck?

“Eva,” He growled, growing more

agitated by the second. “Get in the fuckin’

kitchen!”

“Dad!” Cage yelled. “Shut the fuck

up! She’s fuckin’ sick! Blood pressure’s

off the charts. Her OB has her coming in

nearly every day to check her!”

What? What and what and huh?

“Why do you know this shit?” He

demanded.

“Better question,” Cage shot back.

“Why the fuck don’t you?”

It was either deck his only son or

break something so he whipped his beer

bottle across the room. It slammed into

the stone fireplace and shattered in a spray

of beer.

“Answer me!” He roared. “Why the

fuck do you know this shit? And why the

fuck were you holdin’ her?”

Cage’s lip curled. “Who do you

think takes her to her doctor’s

appointments and the fuckin’ hospital?

Who do you think has to help her in and

out of bed and in the fuckin’ shower?

Sure as fuck ain’t you.”

His nostrils flared. “You help her

in the fuckin’ shower!” He hissed.

“Yeah, daddy,” Danny said quietly.

“You’re never home and I can’t help her

all the time. Her doctor said she should

be off her feet and we gotta keep her salt

intake low and calm her down when the

contractions start by havin’ her take warm

baths or rubbing her back. Most of the

time they’re Braxton hicks but because she

went into labor already the doctors are

worried.”

“And who the fuck you think is

drivin’ Danny to school?” Cage yelled.

“And pickin’ her up after cheerleadin’

practice. And takin’ her to fuckin’

gymnastics? Mom’s fuckin’ workin’ ten

hour shifts, Eva can’t do it anymore,

you’re not fuckin’ around, that leaves me!”

With tears in her eyes, Eva moved

slowly across the room and disappeared

into the foyer. He had planned on

following her only Cage wasn’t done

running his mouth.

“You’re doin’ it again,” He spat.

“You’re fuckin’ everything up. You did it

to mom, you’re doin’ it to Eva. You’re

never fuckin’ home, you’re leavin’ her

alone with no one to talk to and nothin’ to

do and she’s gonna leave dad you don’t

stop sleepin’ at the club and fuckin’

whores. And fuck you, but I don’t want

her to leave and either does Danny.

Havin’ her here has been fuckin’

awesome, she’s cool to talk with, she’s

fuckin’ fun and she makes shit feel good,

better than it has in a long time and you’re

fuckin’ it all up cuz you’re a fuckin’

selfish asshole!”

Danny moved to stand in front of

Cage and took a protective stance. “Yeah

daddy.”

He had to take several deep breaths

so he didn’t end up saying something he

didn’t mean. Done breathing, he turned

and left the room.

☼☼☼

Deuce entered the kitchen shortly

after I did. He walked right by me without

as much as a glance my way, headed for

the refrigerator. I bit my tongue. I had

been biting my tongue a lot lately but I

couldn’t fathom anything good coming out

of a heart to heart when he’d just gotten

into a fight with his kids.

Instead, I tried to think of something

to talk to him about and kept coming up

empty. I didn’t have a clue what he’d

been doing lately, not for work, not with

his boys, nothing.

“I got served,” I blurted out.

Empty handed, he closed the

refrigerator and turned around. “What?”

“Served,” I repeated. “Chase wants

a paternity test and he’s court ordered me

to have it done.”

He blinked.

"WHEN DID THAT FUCKIN'

ASSHOLE DOCTOR SAY THE

CONCEPTION DATE WAS?"

I took a step backwards. "Deuce,

why are-

"WHEN EVA, FUCKIN' WHEN!"

"The end of June," I whispered.

"But it's not always accurate."

"Really?" He sneered. "Is it not

accurate cuz it was the beginnin’ of fuckin'

June when we fucked?

I stared up at him, speechless.

"Jumped from my fuckin' bed

straight into Frankie's, jumped from

Frankie's right back into mine and then

from mine straight to fuckin's Chase's

bed! That fuckin' kid could be Frankie's

couldn't it?"

"Stop!" I cried. "You know it

wasn't like that! You showed up and you

had Frankie locked up and I was a wreck

and you were you and I have never been

able to be rational around you and I just

wanted to be with you one more time!

Chase was a mistake! I was trying to help

Frankie but then I was trying to hurt

Frankie and then I just wanted to hurt

myself and I was so fucked up in the head

and I don't know, Deuce! I just don't

know!"

"No, you never fuckin' did know

shit, did ya? Didn't know your old man

had cameras in his fuckin' stairwell.

Didn't know Frankie wasn't just crazy but

a fuckin' homicidal maniac. Didn't know

Chase fuckin' loved you, didn't know he

was hole punchin' the fuckin' condoms so

he could knock you up and keep you!

Don't even fuckin' know who put that

fuckin' bastard inside you!"

Chase was what? Oh my god.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod…

"Yeah," Deuce sneered. "Now you

get it. Now when it's too fuckin' late.

That's his fuckin' kid in you then he's

gonna play that fuckin' card. And I fuckin'

know you, shit starts to get hard, you get

upset, you're gonna run."

"Where am I going to run to?" I

demanded. "Since you know everything

you tell me where I am going to run to!"

"Back to daddy," He said darkly.

"Back to the fuckin' club. Back to where

it's safe and you don't gotta deal with your

fuckin' life cuz you got a whole shit load

of men who'll deal with it for ya. And

then you can keep tryin' to save Frankie

cuz that's all you've ever done with

yourself and you don't have a fuckin' clue

what to do when you're not tryin' to save

him. And you and Chase can get back to

beatin' each other senseless, fuckin’ each

other in public, and gettin' off on it cuz you

both fuckin' hate yourselves and your

fucked up lives."

I felt my face get hot. I was angry

but I was also embarrassed. Deuce had

just aired my dirty laundry in a house with

an open floor plan. I had no doubt Danny

and Cage had heard everything.

"Shoulda never fuckin' laid a hand

on you," He spat.

My heart seized. "What?" I

whispered.

"You heard me bitch. I wish I never

fuckin' touched you. Never fuckin' met

you. You've done nothin' but fuck with my

life."

As if he'd slapped me I staggered

backwards reaching for the counter top to

steady myself.

"Deuce," I whispered. "Please take that back."

He didn't. He didn't say anything at

all. Just turned away from me and left.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:

I stormed into the clubhouse on a

mission. Deuce hadn't been home in over

a week. He wouldn't answer his cell

phone and his boys were covering for him.

I made it to the back hall when Cox

was suddenly in front of me pushing me

back.

"I'll get him for you babe, just hold

tight."

"Fuck off," I hissed, shoving him

back. "I'm not stupid. I know what he's

doing back there!"

Cox grimaced. "I let you in there,

he'll kill me."

"Then write out your will because

nothing short of a bullet is going to stop

me from going in there."

"Foxy," He said quietly. "I can't let you back there."

I glared up at him. "Are you shitting

me?"

"No babe. He will take my cut if I

let you back there."

"Fine Cox, you wanna play with

me? Things are going pretty good with

you and Kami so far, right? Been going

back and forth and seeing Devin, getting to

know him? Been lying to his mother,

telling her you left your wife and all sorts

of other bullshit just so you can keep

fucking her, right?”

Cox's face went tight. "Eva," He

warned. “You can’t-

"Shut up," I hissed. "I can and I

will. I will tell her not only have you not

left your wife but that you are still fucking

everything on two legs that comes your

way. So what’s it gonna be, Cox? Are

you going to let me back there or are you

going to lose Kami?"

Glaring at me, he moved out of my

way and swept his arm to the side. "Go

right ahead you fuckin’ bitch.”

Deuce's door was locked but the

doorknob was cheap. Two solid fist

drops to the top and it busted. I kicked the

door open and Deuce’s eyes flew open.

"Eva!" Miranda exclaimed, turning

red. "You're here!"

Deuce was pushing out from

underneath her, pulling himself up into a

sitting position. His eyes were bloodshot

and unfocused, courtesy of the empty

bottle of Jack lying on the floor next to the

bed.

"I'm not here," I informed her. "I just need to tell him something and then

I'm gone."

She started getting up and I signaled

her to stop. "You should stay," I told her.

"After I’m done with him he'll probably

need to fuck you again."

“You stupid fuckin’ bitch,” Deuce

growled. “Get the fuck outta my club.”

That hurt worse than walking in on

him and Miranda. If he truly loved me, I

didn’t understand why didn’t he want me

to be part of his life.

Miranda scrambled off the bed.

"I'm…uh…I’m gonna go."

Without bothering to find her

clothing, if she'd even had any to begin

with, she took off down the hall.

"How the fuck did you get back

here?" Deuce yelled

I shrugged. "I’m a whore. I jumped

a couple of beds."

Deuce was instantly sober and

across the room. Gripping my bicep, he

started dragging me out of his room and

down the hallway. Butt naked.

"Since you're kicking me out I'll

make this quick," I told him. "I get why you’re mad about Chase but Frankie is

different. I've loved Frankie for as long

as I can remember."

Deuce's face went hard and he

started walking faster forcing me to

scramble just to keep up with him.

"We grew up together; we went

through a lot together. He was always

there for me and I was always there for

him. He lost everything at a very young

age. He latched onto me as a child and it

was in no way sexual. It wasn't until later

that he needed me for that as well."

Deuce yanked me to a stop.

"Needed you for that?" He hissed. "Do you have any idea how fucked that

sounds?"

"Yes!" I shot back. "But I loved

him! I wanted to help him!"

"You're sick babe." He started

walking again, dragging me with him.

"Frankie made you sick."

"Yeah," I yelled, "I know!"

"What do you fuckin' know?"

"I know I’m fucked up. I know I’ve

been fucked up for a long time. I know I

don’t know the first thing about a normal

relationship because fucked up is all I’ve

ever known but I have been trying so hard

to make us work! I also know that I am

sick of your bullshit! You made me

promises and I left my entire life for you

and you bring me to the middle of

nowhere and dump me in a house with

your kids and expect me to be your old

lady when you knew, you fucking knew,

that was the last thing I wanted. So I let

you treat me like a piece of fucking

furniture who’d be right where you left me

every time you decided to grace me with

your presence because I promised you I

wouldn’t run. But I can’t do it anymore!

"Cox!" He bellowed, making me

jump. A heartbeat later Cox appeared at

the end of the hall.

Deuce shoved me forward. "Get

her the fuck outta here. Make sure she

gets home and stays there."

Cox didn't move. "Sorry Prez. I'm

not draggin' an angry pregnant bitch that

just caught her man slammin' a whore

anywhere. I like my fuckin' balls where

they are."

I swiveled on Deuce. "Don't worry

about it. I'm leaving. You have whores to

attend to and I have fucking life I’d like to

start living!”

I whirled on Cox and he took a step

back.

"And you! I don't give a shit how

you treat your wife, I don't care if you

want to fuck every man, woman and dog

on the planet, but you keep fucking with

my girl and I will end it! You assholes

love to spout off about brotherhood and

the code of the road but you never think

about the trail of women you're leaving

behind you and I'll be fucking dammed if

one of those women is going to be Kami!"

"Jesus, Eva," He whispered, "What

the fuck did I ever do to you?"

"Not me," I hissed. "Kami. She is not club ass and I won't let you treat her

like it!"

"GET THE FUCK OUT!" Deuce

bellowed.

"I’M GOING!" I screamed.

I made it two steps outside the door

when blinding hot pain shot through my

lower back. More pain followed, my

vision swam as my belly tightened

painfully, and sharp stabbing sensations

prickled across my mid section. My

hands flew to my stomach. "No!" I cried.

"Please god no!"

☼☼☼

"Bitch caught you with your cock in

Miranda and didn't even flinch."

Deuce glared across the bar at Cox.

"Whose fuckin' fault is that?"

Cox glared right back. "Prez, she

already knew what you were doin'. Bitch

had your number before she even got

here. Bitch has everyone's number. I’m

startin' to think she knows us better than

we know ourselves."

Blue threw back a shot and cleared

his throat. "Course Foxy’s got us tagged.

She’s a biker brat who grew up in a club

full of brother’s who fuckin’ love her

more than they love their old ladies.”

“That’s the fuckin’ problem,” He

muttered. “Bitch doesn’t know her place

cuz Preacher’s a fuckin’ idiot.”

Blue shook his head. “Son, you are

a fuckin’ moron. You wanna know what I

see? I see a girl who isn’t just a girl but a

fuckin’ prize and why the fuck she chose

an asshole like you to give that fuckin’

prize to I haven’t a fuckin’ clue. Stupid if

you ask me.

“But you’re throwin’ it all away cuz

you can’t stop fuckin’ whores and cuz

you’re refusing to give her a piece of the

club. Not a lot to ask if you ask me but

since you ain’t askin’ I’ll shut the fuck up

and let you be a fuckin’ moron.”

He glared at Blue. If the bastard

wasn’t so damn old he would be in a

world of hurt right now.

"You need to start bein' straight with

yourself, " Mick said quietly, speaking up

for the first time. "You're not really mad

at her, you're fuckin' jealous."

He looked around the bar at his

somber faced boys. “What the fuck!” He

yelled. “Why are you all gangin’ up on

me?”

Mick shook his head. “Just givin’ it

to you straight Prez. You need to man up

and admit it. You're jealous of Frankie for

gettin' her for all those years, for gettin’ to

marry her, for her undyin’, misplaced

loyalty to his crazy ass. You're jealous of

Chase just cuz he got a taste and she liked

what he was givin’ and you're jealous of

that fuckin' baby inside her cuz you're

thinkin' it might not be yours and you want

that kid so bad to be yours cuz you want

so bad to own that bitch that you ain't

seein' shit straight.

“You've had a hard on for Eva Fox

for a long time now and you're so used to

either fuckin' her or fightin' with her or

losin' her that you don't even realize you

finally got her. That bitch loves you, has

for a long time now. You're not the only

one who's known her for a grip. I saw the

way she was lookin' at you way back

when in Chicago. She was just a kid then

but fuck me if she didn't think the world of

ya.”

Tap nodded. “He’s right Prez.

Don’t think you’re gonna be gettin’

another chance this time. She looks tired

as hell, can see it on her face. I’m bettin’

Frankie wore her down somethin’ fierce

with his bullshit. Only so much bein’ shit

on a woman can take before they just can’t

take it no more. Look at me. Tara left,

split to Atlanta. Now she’s shacked up

with some computer programmer, who my

baby girl is tellin’ me is big, fat, dork, her

words not mine. But I’m guessin’ he

couldn’t fight a fly if he had to. But Tara

wants him and not me cuz I didn’t treat her

right and he treats her like a goddamn

queen.”

He didn't know how to respond to

that -mostly because it was all true- so he

tossed back another shot instead. Mick

smirked at him. Fucking asshole.

He wasn’t doing right by Eva, he

knew that. His old habits were dying

hard. But he couldn’t afford to go soft, get

weak and Eva made him soft and weak.

Spending too much time with her and he’d

end up gluing her to his side. He needed

the space. He needed a clear head.

Didn’t want to drop the ball.

Shit.

He didn’t know what to do. Half of

him wanted her to go home and the other

half stopped breathing at the thought.

"PREZ!" Hands and arms covered

in blood, ZZ came barreling across the

room.

"Eva!" He said breathlessly. "She's not talkin'…eyes are closed…so much

fuckin' blood…called an ambulance…"

He didn't hear the rest because he

was running out the door.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:

Deuce sat in the hospital waiting

room in the same position he'd been in for

four days, elbows propped on his knees,

face in his hands.

He'd fucked up a lot in his life but

he'd never fucked up this bad.

He'd gotten Eva so fucking upset

she'd gone into labor six weeks early and

nearly bled out doing it. Doctor's had

done an emergency c-section and now

there was a tiny baby girl in an incubator

with tubes up her nose because she

couldn't fucking breathe on her own and a

woman, his woman, who was refusing to

speak to him because he was a fucked up

asshole who was out fucking other women

when he’d had the one he wanted in his

house, in his bed, hanging with his kids.

"Prez?" Jase nudged him with his

elbow.

"What?" He muttered.

"Kami's here."

He looked up and found a miniature

Cox smiling at him. He smiled at Devin

and looked higher. Devin's crazy mother

was scowling at him. He scowled.

"Chase is dead," She bit out

angrily.

He blinked. Okay. Well…that

wasn't exactly bad news.

“So what?” He said. “Save’s me

the time.”

Kami drew her brows together,

looking less angry and more confused. "It

wasn't you?" She said.

He jumped up and got in her face.

"Bitch, you crazy? You don't fucking talk

about that shit in public! Fact, you don’t talk about that shit ever!"

"I'm sorry!" She yelled. "You'll

have to forgive me! I tend not to think

clearly when I find out my best friend

almost lost her baby and her life and not

five minutes later I have the NYPD at my

door informing me that my husband was

tortured for hours then gutted! Fuck,

Deuce, they said his insides were strung

around his Christmas tree! He was so

mutilated they wouldn’t even let me see

his body!"

His blood ran cold. Turned into

mother fucking ice.

“Ripper!” He barked.

Ripper was already on his feet,

pulling out his cell phone. “On it Prez,”

He said, heading for the exit.

"What's going on?" Kami

demanded.

“Daddy!” Devin squealed and took

off running.

“Shit,” Tap muttered, nodding

toward the hospital entrance. “Anna’s

with him.”

Jase shrugged. “His own fault.

Havin’ babies all over the world.”

“He’s still with his wife?” Kami

hissed.

It took Cox a millisecond to realize

what he had just walked in on. Deuce

watched him have a millisecond of a

freak-out before dropping down on one

knee. He caught Devin as the kid

launched himself at him.

“Hey little man,” He said gruffly,

squeezing him tight.

“What the hell!” Anna shrieked.

Still holding Devin, Cox shot to his

feet. “Not in front of my fuckin’ kid,

bitch.”

Kami was crossing the room. She

held out her arms to Cox. “I can see you

still have things to take care of,” She

sneered. “So give me Devin while you do

that.”

Nostrils flaring, Cox handed him

over.

“Go sit down over there, baby,” She

whispered, pointing to a chair across the

room. Devin scurried off.

“You fucked this skinny, blonde

bitch?” Anna screeched. “You had a god

damn kid with her?”

Cox closed his eyes. “Jesus Anna,

get a fuckin’ grip, we’re in a hospital.”

“Yeah!” She screamed. “And I just

found out you are still fucking around on

me!”

“Did you seriously just call me a

bitch, you fucking bitch!” Kami shrieked.

Before this shit went full blown

soap opera, he grabbed Cox and pulled

him aside. "Chase is dead. His insides

strung around a Christmas tree. Three

fuckin’ guesses who did it. Get one of

your bitches out of here before there's a

fuckin' cat fight in the hospital my fuckin’

woman almost died in and I'm just

suggestin' that it might be Anna you wanna

get rid of seein' as Kami's Eva's girl and

the only way you’ll get her outta here is a

lot of kickin’ and screamin’ which will

upset my fuckin’ woman and if you upset

my woman that’s gonna end bad for you.”

Sighing, Cox turned away. “On it,

Prez,” He muttered.

"Tap."

"Prez?"

"Call all the boys. I want round the

clock guard on Eva and my girls. Cage

too. Best make that discreet though."

“On it.”

Ripper rejoined the group. One

look at his boy’s face he knew the news

wasn’t good.

"Frankie?" He asked.

Ripper nodded. "Killed three

inmates last week, was gettin’ transferred

upstate because of it. During transport he

killed all four guards and from what I

heard, the way he did ‘em in, shit wasn’t

pretty. A real fuckin’ gore fest. He's been

tagged for the Henderson hit, too. Law's

gunnin' for him. He's runnin' scared. Or

knowin' Frankie he's runnin' happy. And

no doubt he’s gunnin’ for Eva."

Kami's eyes went saucer wide and

she threw herself at Ripper. "He's going

to kill my Evie!" She cried.

"No baby, not gonna happen,"

Ripper whispered soothingly, rubbing her

back while he grinned over her head at

Cox. Cox, who had since escorted his

hysterical wife outside and returned alone,

froze when he saw this.

“Keep fuckin’ touchin’ her asshole

and you ain’t gonna have hands!”

“Fuck off,” Kami hissed. “Since

you’re still fucking your wife and

probably half the state of Montana, I’ve

decided I’m going to fuck Ripper!”

Ripper, who could care less that

Cox was two seconds from snapping his

neck, kept rubbing Kami and grinning like

a fool.

“You really want make him jealous,

Kami,” Jase said, “You could give me a

try.”

Scrubbing his hands over his face,

he left the group of idiots in the waiting

area and headed for Eva's room.

Danny met him at the door. She was

wearing her pink sweat suit from three

days ago and looked damn exhausted.

“No, daddy. Bad idea.”

He took a deep breath. “Bad shit

goin’ down baby girl. I know she’s hatin’

me right now but I gotta talk to her.

‘Sides, you need to take a shower and get

some sleep. Call your brother and go

home.”

Reluctantly she stepped aside and

he entered the room, closing the door

behind him. The dark curtains were

drawn tightly, the room dark and

shadowed. Eva was lying in bed on her

side. She looked pale and weak, had dark

circles around her eyes and an IV in her

arm. When she saw him, she turned away.

"Go away," She whispered

hoarsely.

His chest tightened. "Baby, I can't.

We gotta talk."

He rounded her hospital bed so he

could see her face and she immediately

rolled to her other side.

"No, we don't. Go away."

Okay, different tactic.

"Eva. Chase is dead."

He watched her body go rigid

"He was tortured," He continued.

"Gutted. Insides strung up on his own

Christmas tree."

Eva dragged herself into a sitting

position, clutching her abdomen.

"Where's Frankie?" She whispered.

"Off the grid."

"Oh my god. Chase…oh my god…

this is all my fault…he didn't…I… oh my

god-

"Baby," He gripped her face and

forced her to look at him. "Listen to me

good. Chase knew what he was getting

into when he made that deal with you. He

knew Frankie personally and he worked

Frankie's cases, he knew exactly how

fucked in the head Frankie is and what he

is capable of. Thing is, he wanted you so

bad, he didn't care."

A tear rolled down her cheek. "He

didn't deserve that, I mean no one

deserves that but Chase really didn’t

deserve that," She whispered. “He could

be a jerk but he wasn’t a bad person. He

just wanted to be loved; he wanted a

family to love and to love him…He just

didn’t know how…Oh, god, Chase…Oh,

god…”

She was grieving, he got that, but the

last thing he wanted was to hear her cry

for an asshole she had fucked and had

feelings for.

Feeling the jealousy start to creep

up and the anger that followed, he sat

down beside Eva, took her mouth and

kissed her hard.

She didn't fight him and they shared

a long, slow kiss, full of wet lips and

greedy tongues. When he pulled away,

Eva pressed her forehead against his and

sighed into his mouth.

"How is she?" She whispered.

He cleared his head. The baby, she

was talking about the baby. "She's still

not breathin' on her own babe."

Biting her lip, she nodded. "It's not

your fault," She whispered.

Yeah it was. He opened his mouth

to protest but she placed her finger over

his lips.

"It was a difficult pregnancy. It’s

not your fault.”

His chest compressed and he sucked

in air. He didn’t deserve her. He never

had. He never would.

"I named her," She said softly. "Ivy Olivia West. Ivy because it's sort of still

Christmas time and Olivia after-

"My mom," He said hoarsely feeling

like the biggest piece of shit in the world.

"Deuce?"

"Yeah babe?"

"The birth certificate. What do you

want me to do?"

"Nothin'," He whispered. "I'll fill it out, she's my kid."

She locked onto his eyes, sucking

him in, holding him still, making him so

fucking crazy. Always making him crazy.

"Deuce?”

“Yeah?”

“No more women."

Fuck.

"Yeah babe, I know. I've been

fuckin' up.”

"You get angry at me and you want

to take it out on pussy you take it out on

mine. It won't matter how mad I am, I will

never deny you." She gave a shaky laugh

that made his chest ache. He'd fucking

hurt his woman real bad.

"Eva baby," He said softly.

"There's not gonna be anymore women.

Already moved Miranda out; cut all ties. I

promised you I'd fuckin' earn you and it’s

'bout time I started doin' that."

She let out a shuddery sigh that only

made him feel worse.

"I love you, Deuce," She

whispered. "So, so, much."

He stared at her, she stared at him

and he knew exactly why his boys had

railed at him. She did love him. He was

her world. He knew because he could see

it in her big gray eyes. Suddenly the past

didn't fucking matter anymore. She wasn’t

going to run and he was going to treat her

like the goddamn queen she was.

CHAPTER NINETEEN:

For the first time in a long time,

Deuce knew true peace.

Three months went by and Ivy was

discharged.

Eva turned half his room at the club

into a nursery.

Then the crazy bitch gave Danny her

own room at the club, helped her decorate

the fucking thing too. Pink and purple as

far as the eye could see. He flipped his

fucking shit. Put a steel door on her room

with a sliding deadbolt. Put bars on her

window. Lined all his boys up and told

them straight up his baby girl was off

fucking limits. Told them if any of them

looked at her the wrong way they were

going to ground.

Not one of them so much as looked

at her. In fact, they stopped talking to her

altogether.

Shit moved forward.

Life got good. Real fucking good.

Kami and Devin moved to Montana

to be near Eva and Ivy. Not Cox. Kami

swore up and down Cox had nothing to do

with her decision. He might have

believed her if she hadn’t been in Cox’s

lap while she was spouting her bullshit.

He turned forty nine.

Cox left his wife and moved in with

Kami.

Danny got a boyfriend.

Danny's boyfriend broke up with her

and he swore he had nothing to do with

that.

Cox finalized his divorce. He put a

diamond ring on Kami’s finger. She

didn’t like it and bought herself a bigger,

more expensive one. And matching

earrings. And he thought he heard Cox

muttering about taking away her internet

access. Something about shoes that cost

several thousand dollars.

Devin turned five.

Cox bought him a dirt bike and

Kami beat the crap out of him with a

cooking pot.

Eva turned thirty one.

Kami kicked Cox out. Something

about not liking the way he’d been looking

at a supermarket cashier. He was more

interested in how she’d managed to get

Cox in a supermarket.

The boys had a new tag made for

him, the back of which read, "Foxy". He managed to punch three of them in the face

before they all turned tail and ran. Then

he put it on.

And grinned.

Summer was good to the club. Lots

of business. Lots of coin rolling in. Two

of his boys got married. The club voted in

three new brothers.

Eva’s ass deflated. Not that he

cared. He'd take Eva any which way he

could get her. Thin, curvy, juicy as hell.

A fucking blimp. What the fuck ever. It

had never been her body that kept him tied

to her. Shit with Eva went a hell of a lot

deeper than looks. Although those tits of

hers…and those lips…

And god knows those fucking eyes

made him damn crazy.

Cox and Kami got married; she let

him move back in.

Ivy turned one. She took one look at

her Hello Kitty birthday cake, Danny's

idea, and did a face plant dead center. A

picture of her covered in cake and

frosting, her white flecked blue eyes

glittering, grinning her old man’s grin, was

sitting front and center on his desk.

He started planning something big.

Something real fucking special for his

woman.

Then one summer day it all blew to

smithereens.

CHAPTER TWENTY:

Ivy, Deuce and I walked hand in

hand through the club’s large backyard;

country music was blaring through several

strategically placed speakers, three large

grills were already lit and cooking up hot

dogs, hamburgers and steaks as Biker’s

and their wives, girlfriends and children

were milling around, drinking beer or

soda, talking animatedly with each other.

Smiling.

Dancing.

Happy.

Deuce squeezed my hand. “Babe,

go get busy with woman shit, I gotta talk to

Ripper.”

Before I called him any one of the

assortment of names I had stashed away

for all of his chauvinistic bullshit I hurried

off to a long table housing several

different varieties of macaroni salad,

chips and dips, pretzels and assorted

veggies. Dorothy stood behind the table

wearing a black apron over her cute pink

sundress dishing out food.

I kicked off my sandals and went to

help her.

“Hey,” I whispered, nudging her

with my hip. “You okay?”

Biting her bottom lip, she shook her

head. “I’m never okay when I have to

watch him with her.”

I followed her line of sight to Jase,

his wife Chrissy, and their three kids.

Thirteen years he had been messing with

Dorothy, she was thirty three now and he

still hadn't made good on any of the

promises he'd made her. She had left her

husband for him; her daughter was sixteen,

headed for college next fall and she was

going to be all alone. It was none of my

business but that didn't mean I had to like

it.

“Take a break,” I suggested. “I got

this covered.”

Her eyes went wide. “You’re

Deuce’s old lady.”

I shrugged. “So? I pretty sure that

doesn’t mean I can’t serve noodles.”

Shaking her head, but smiling, she

untied her apron and handed it to me.

“Thanks,” She whispered and ran off.

Jase turned away from Chrissy and

watched her flee the barbeque and

disappear inside the clubhouse.

Frowning, he whispered something in

Chrissy’s ear – who nodded and smiled -

and took off after Dorothy.

“Eva?”

I turned back to the table and found

Cox's ex-wife Anna standing in front of

me. She’d cut her long black hair short; it

looked good.

“Hey,” I said, “Dropping Mary

Catherine off?”

She nodded and pointed to her

preteen daughter who was laughing,

chasing after Devin.

“Food?” I lifted up a plate in

offering.

She wrinkled up her nose. “No

thanks, I’m trying to lose weight.”

I looked her over wondering where

she needed to lose weight.

“Hi Eva! Anna!” Chrissy was

sauntering over. She was gorgeous. Tall,

lithe, big perky breasts, long auburn hair.

With her perfect tan and perfectly shaped

and symmetrical features, she was an all

American wet dream. She was everything

Dorothy wasn’t. Hell, she was everything

I wasn’t. Good thing I didn’t give a crap.

“Chrissy,” Anna said, greeting her.

“Are you two coming to Yoga

tomorrow?” Chrissy asked, bouncing up

and down in her cutoff jean shorts and

tight white tank top, drawing the attention

of every biker within thirty feet. Even

Deuce.

I glared at him. He flashed me a

mouth watering grin before turning around

and resuming his conversation.

"Yep," I said. Chrissy and her yoga

classes had been my saving grace. I had

lost all my pregnancy weight and then

some.

“Yep,” Anna said. “God knows I

need it.”

I shook my head. Anna had gone a

little nuts after Cox left her.

"Awesome!" Chrissy cried and

started bouncing again.

“Where’s Dorothy?” ZZ bellowed

from across the lawn, trying to be heard

over the music.

I raised my palms in an “I don’t

know gesture” and yelled back, “What do

you need?”

“Lighter fluid!”

I gave him the thumbs up and headed

inside.

I was halfway down the hall of

bedrooms when I heard loud moaning

coming from Jase’s room. I headed that

way knowing exactly what I was going to

find.

Sure enough, with his pants around

his ankles, Jase had Dorothy pinned up

against the wall, her dress pushed up to

her waist.

“I fuckin’ love you,” He rasped.

“You don’t even know D. You don’t even

fuckin’ know.”

Dorothy, whose face was buried in

Jase’s neck, whimpered.

Quietly, I reached around the door

to press the lock button then silently

pulled it closed; testing it to make sure it

was indeed locked. Chrissy did not need

to walk in on that.

Dorothy didn’t deserve to be led on

either.

But it was typical. And there was

nothing I could do.

A short time later Dorothy returned

to the barbeque looking flushed. Together

we watched Jase leave the clubhouse and

head back to Chrissy. Chrissy curled

herself around him while he stared at

Dorothy, promising her with his eyes all

sorts of things I knew he would never

make good on.

“He's finally going to leave her,”

She whispered, her eyes on Jase.

I pressed my lips together and

looked down at the serving spoon in my

hands. He was never going to leave

Chrissy; he loved her in his own fucked up

way. He loved Dorothy, too. He had

whittled his female admirers down to just

the two of them and had no plans on

leaving either.

Thankfully, Deuce appeared beside

me saving me from having to respond to

her.

He looked quizzically between us

then followed Dorothy’s gaze to Jase and

frowned.

“D,” He said in a low voice. She

glanced over and blushed.

“Sorry,” She whispered.

“Can’t have you pissin’ off my old

ladies and makin’ shit hard for my boys,

D.”

“I know,” She whispered. “I’ll go

if you want.”

I dragged him a good distance

away. “It’s his fault,” I hissed. “He

followed her inside and did you know

what!”

Deuce raised an eyebrow. “You

know what?” He repeated, smirking.

I folded my arms across my chest

and his gaze zeroed in on the cleavage that

had just popped out of my deep purple

sundress.

“Can we go do “you know what”?”

He asked, grinning.

I rolled my eyes. “No.”

“Please?”

I fought my smile and lost. He ran

his knuckles down my cheek.

"Got you a present," He said softly.

"A big sweaty man present?" I

asked.

Deuce grinned. "That too. Come

on."

He grabbed my hand, led me inside

the club, past the bedrooms, through the

living area, and pushed open the front

doors.

"All yours babe."

I blinked rapidly. Then I forgot how

to blink and just gaped at the priceless

beauty in front of me.

"No," I whispered.

"Babe. Yeah."

Solid cast aluminum wheels, a beefy

front fork and a wide-bodied fuel tank.

Twin shocks tucked neatly out of sight, the

rigid-mounted Twin Cam 96B engine, the

chrome over/under dual exhaust, and the

five-gallon fuel tank.

I was in shock.

"Boys who did the custom work

gave me a whole lotta shit 'bout those

sparkles darlin'. You fuckin' owe me."

It wasn't as if he'd had the entire

bike custom sparkled. Just the seat and I

absolutely loved it.

"I can't believe you remembered," I

breathed, running my hand over my bike.

My perfect, perfect bike.

"Cutest kid I ever met. And at

Riker's no less. Talkin' 'bout sparkly

Fatboys and pink fuckin' helmets with

skulls on them and tellin' me straight up

you were gonna be Queen of an MC. That

was your dream babe. I'm your man. You

feelin' me?"

Oh my god. He'd made me queen.

Because he was my man and that was my

dream. My man made my dream come

true.

He got me my sparkly Fatboy.

And my pink helmet with skulls on

it.

I turned, grinning so wide it hurt,

and poked him in the chest. "You love

me."

He snorted.

"Babe. Yeah."

I launched myself at him. Gripping

my waist, he swung me up and into his

arms. Our mouths crashed together and

we kissed the way we always kissed,

desperate, hungry, full of such crazed

intensity, that if bottled could power an

entire city.

Sheesh. He so loved me. Just…

sheesh.

"Hey," I said softly and cupped his

cheek.

"Yeah?"

“What about your dream?”

His face went dimples. “I’m

lookin’ at it, darlin’.”

Oh. Crap. My heart felt near

bursting. I was absolutely done for. This

man owned me, body and soul, and

everything in between.

“I wanna go do you know what

now,” I whispered.

“That’s good babe,” He whispered

back, “Real fuckin’ good.”

We fell onto our bed in a tangle,

kissing feverishly, tearing at each other’s

clothing. “Love you,” I breathed, “So, so

much.”

He pushed the straps of my dress

down my shoulders and spread kisses

along my collarbone. His mouth traveled

lower, his hands pulling my dress down as

he went. I threaded my fingers through his

hair, moaning, begging him for more.

Using the tip of his tongue he traced

the scar from my c-section.

“Fuckin’ love you, baby,” He

rasped.

Then he got to his feet and tugged

my underwear off. Lifting my legs, I

rubbed my grass stained feet over his bare

torso and giggled.

Grinning, he unzipped his jeans.

“You want it hard?” He asked gruffly.

I bit my lip and shook my head. “I

want it slow, baby.”

His eyes went soft. “Fuck,” He

murmured. “I just wanna look at you

babe. I just wanna stand here and look at

you until I can convince myself you’re

really fuckin’ here and you’re not goin’

nowhere and you really want me.”

I closed my eyes letting his words

sink inside of me.

"Get the fuck off her, mother fucker,

before I blow a hole through your fuckin'

skull."

My eyes flew open. I knew that

voice.

Frankie appeared from behind

Deuce and moved to his side, pressing the

barrel of a gun into Deuce's temple. He

was a mess. Filthy. His hair was greasy,

his beard was long and unkempt, and his

clothing was full of holes and covered in

stains.

"Horseman!” Frankie bellowed. “I

said back the fuck up!"

Nostrils flaring, his expression

murderous, Deuce zipped up his jeans and

backed slowly away. I hurriedly pushed

myself into a sitting position and pulled

my dress up.

"Don't fuckin' move cunt," Frankie

hissed at me. Turning, he tossed a pair of

handcuffs at Deuce who caught them one

handed.

"Cuff yourself to the radiator," He

demanded.

Deuce stared at him. "No fuckin’

way," He growled.

“No?” Frankie grabbed a fistful of

my hair and yanked me across the bed.

The barrel of his gun felt cool against my

neck. “You want her to die?”

Shaking with fury, Deuce bent down

beside the radiator under our bedroom

window, clasped a cuff around one of the

steel bars and the other around his right

wrist.

Frankie turned back to me, grinning.

"Been watchin' you baby," He said.

"Been watchin' you a long fuckin' time

now." He leaned over the bed and got up

in my face.

"BEEN WATCHIN' YOU FUCK

THIS ASSHOLE!"

Trembling, I stared into Frankie's

dark eyes. "You killed Chase. You

butchered him."

"Yeah," He sneered, standing up

straight. He shook his head and laughed.

"Fucker screamed like a girl, too."

I felt the acidic burn of bile rise in

the back of my throat.

"You didn't think I knew, did ya?

But I did. Every time he'd come to fuckin'

talk to me I saw it in his eyes. Him

thinkin' he was pullin' one over on me.

Thinkin' he could get away with fuckin' my

wife."

"I did it for you," I whispered.

Still gripping my hair, Frankie

yanked me to my knees and slapped me

across the face. “You fuckin’ the

Horseman for me, too?”

Holding my cheek, I stared up at

him.

“Frankie,” I whispered. “Please

don’t do this.”

"Get on your fuckin' stomach bitch,"

Frankie snarled, releasing my hair and

shoving me down. "Gonna show you and

this fuckin' asshole who really fuckin'

owns ya."

Deuce made a strangled noise in the

back of his throat and my eyes shot to

him. He was six foot four inches and two

hundred and fifty pounds of murderous

rage. He was pulling on the handcuffs so

hard his hand was bleeding. His body

was strung bowstring tight, his veins were

bulging out of his arms and neck, his eyes

bugging out of skull. He was vibrating,

literally vibrating, with hate.

Trembling, trying to blink back the

tears burning in my eyes for Deuce’s sake,

I shifted onto my stomach and turned my

head to the side, keeping my gaze on

Deuce.

"Been gettin' sloppy fuckin' seconds

from this fuckin' asshole for too fuckin'

long," Frankie muttered as he shoved my

dress up and spread my legs apart.

"That's gonna fuckin' stop today."

I heard his belt buckle open, the

slide of his zipper, then I felt his weight

and he began pushing inside of me. I bit

my lip to keep from crying and kept my

eyes on Deuce.

His eyes never once left mine, he

kept me with him, held me tight inside his

eyes, where it was safe and warm and no

one could hurt me.

☼☼☼

He had been beaten within an inch

of his life.

He had been strangled, stabbed and

shot.

He had shot, stabbed, strangled,

beaten and killed.

He'd been hurt, scared, mad, angry

as fuck and homicidally inclined.

Fuck, he had been so fucking pissed

off he'd had his old man killed. His own

flesh and blood.

But never, NEVER, had he felt like

this.

There wasn’t a name powerful

enough to describe what he was feeling, to

convey what was happening inside of

him. It was beyond words, surpassed all

emotions.

It was living death.

He was living through mother

fucking death.

His eyes never left Eva's. As long

as he held her gaze she remained

impassive, a little lost even as if she had

detached from her body and was taking

shelter inside his. It was all he could

fucking give her and it wasn't even close

to enough. This should have never

happened. He'd gotten lax thinking

Frankie wasn't a threat anymore. This

was his fault and Eva was paying for it.

He was paying for it.

Frankie wasn't hurting her, not

physically. Emotionally, mentally, yeah,

but physically he was being gentle,

touching her with the sure knowledge of a

man who knew how to pleasure this

woman, knew what she liked, what would

make her come, kissing her bared skin,

stroking her relentlessly, making it nearly

impossible for her to control her body's

reaction to what he was doing.

Worse, this wasn’t new to her.

Frankie had raped her before, he was sure

of it. His Eva had become accustomed to

forced sex, had taught herself to make the

best of it, to fucking enjoy it even because

she’d known Frankie wasn’t ever going to

let her go.

It was killing him. Every dip of his

mattress, every one of Frankie’s grunts,

every harsh intake of breath and whimper

from Eva…was killing him.

Frankie had said he’d been

watching them. He’d known just how

much he loved Eva. And he’d known that

this would kill him. Slowly, day after

day, week after week, year after fucking

year.

Chase had gotten off easy.

In his peripheral vision, he saw

Frankie get up on his knees and lift Eva’s

hips. His hand snaked around her waist

and dipped between her thighs. Eva lost

her battle. Her breath caught, her eyes

rolled back, even as tears streamed down

her face. Her legs quaking, she went face

first into the pillow, crying out softly

through her orgasm. Frankie followed her

down, groaning loudly, his body jerking.

Then Frankie turned to him. And

grinned.

Living death.

He cried for the first time in forty

four years. He cried exactly three silent

tears. But for him it was a fucking

waterfall.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE:

Six thirty eight P.M.

Deuce blinked up at Cox.

"Prez?" Cox whispered hoarsely

staring at his cuffed hand.

"My girls?" He asked numbly. "Ivy, Danny?"

"With Kami," Cox whispered.

"Where's Foxy?"

"Gone," He said brokenly.

"Frankie."

Cox dropped to his knees and tested

the cuffs. As if he hadn't already. As if he

wasn't missing most of the skin on his

hand and hadn't broken all his fingers

trying to get out of it. But his hands were

too fucking big. So now, he was cuffed to

a radiator with a skinless broken hand.

"Gotta get Freebird," He said.

"He's the only one who can pick cuffs

quickly."

He nodded.

Cox paused at the door. "Deuce,"

He said quietly. "We're gonna get her

back."

He didn't look at him.

"He's a dead man, Prez."

No. Frankie wasn't a dead man.

Frankie was a dead man.

☼☼☼

Eleven eleven P.M

Frankie's entire body twitched

violently, something that always happened

before he went into a violent rage. I

stayed where I was, sitting on the motel

bed, watching him closely.

"Can't take much more, Eva. You

fuckin' Chase broke me and then you start

fuckin' the horsemen bastard AGAIN, you

have his fuckin' baby and I swear to you I

almost killed you a million times. Comin'

out of his fuckin' club, playin' with his

fuckin' kids in the yard, ridin' on the back

of his fuckin' bike. I stood in a line behind

you at the bank holding a knife to the base

of your fuckin' spine ready to kill you and

your bastard baby. But I couldn't fuckin'

do it! I couldn’t hurt you! AND IT

FUCKIN' BROKE ME EVA!"

"Baby," I whispered, trying hard not

to think about Frankie killing my

daughter. "The cops know you killed

Chase. They're looking for you."

He gave me a look that suggested I

was the crazy one in the room. "Babe.

Who the fuck cares 'bout the cops?"

Suddenly his eyes bugged out. "You

liked fuckin' him, didn't you bitch? You

liked rich boy cock!"

"No," I whispered, swallowing

hard. "It's what he wanted in return for

getting you out."

Frankie laughed. "Glad I made him

eat his own cock. Fuckin' deserved it."

Unable to get the imagery of what he

had done to Chase out of my head my

stomach lurched and I began to gag.

Frankie sat down beside me and rubbed

circles on my back.

"That's what he did baby," Frankie

whispered and I could hear the smile on

his face. "Gagged and screamed."

My stomach emptied.

☼☼☼

Nine oh three A.M.

Deuce stared at his fucked up hand.

The doctor's at the ER couldn’t give him a

cast because of the lack of skin. They’d

had to set each bone and individually

splint his fingers, then they treated and

wrapped his skinless hand and put the

whole fucking mess in a sling.

Now he was back at the club,

drinking a bottle of scotch, watching

Danny play peek-a-boo with Ivy. He and

his boys had searched for hours for any

sign of Frankie or Eva and had come up

empty. They'd had no choice but to

involve the cops. Who hadn't turned up

jack shit.

The FBI was going to show up any

minute now.

Deuce knew Frankie wasn't going to

go back to prison. Men like him would

rather die than be behind bars. And this

particular man was so fucked in the head

he was going to take Eva down with him.

So she could be with him forever.

Fucking hell.

He was going to lose her to

Frankie. Again. This time for good.

"Deuce," Kami said, sitting down

beside him. "You need anything for the

pain?"

He needed Eva. She was all he

fucking needed. She was all he had ever

needed.

"No," He croaked.

She wrapped her skinny arms

around him and he let her hold him

because he knew she was hurting just as

bad as he was. And truthfully he needed

the fucking comfort.

ZZ looked over from behind the bar

and the stacked security monitors there.

"Prez. Feds are here."

Ripper stepped out of the hallway.

"Prez, go ahead and let ‘em in. Boys got

shit locked up tight."

He lifted his chin in ZZ’s direction.

“Get the kids outta here and let the

assholes in.”

☼☼☼

Nine oh seven A.M.

I pulled on my restraints, wincing as

the rope chaffed painfully against my

skin. I was on my stomach, all four of my

limbs were tied together behind my back,

Frankie had even gone so far as to connect

my wrists to my ankles and stuff a

pillowcase in my mouth.

All of this just so he could feel safe

leaving me here while he went for food.

He didn't trust me and when Frankie

didn't trust someone it never ended well.

With a lot of maneuvering and an

incredible amount of pain, I was able to

roll onto my side to relieve the pressure

on my lungs and stomach.

I should have listened to Deuce a

long time ago. Frankie was beyond

saving. This was who he was, who he

had always been. Who he would always

be.

I had to end this once and for all.

☼☼☼

Nine fourteen A.M.

"So what you're trying to tell us, Mr.

West, is that despite your state of the art

security system, Franklin Deluva was still

able to enter your club entirely

unnoticed?"

Deuce scowled at Agent Ricardo

Quintanilla. He was a short, fat and bald

Mexican who wore clothing a size too

small for him. He'd had to deal with him

before, many, many times, serving

warrants and doing impromptu searches at

the club. He had a new partner. A sexy

little blonde bitch with a tight ass, big

perky tits and bad attitude. Half his boys

were eyeing her like she was a piece of

fucking cake. He wanted to stab her in the

eye with a screwdriver.

"He musta cased the place for

awhile," Ripper said, glaring down at the

Quintanilla. "Knew what camera's to

avoid."

Quintanilla surveyed Ripper's face

and grimaced. "Deluva's handiwork I

assume," He said gesturing his cell phone

towards Ripper's face. "Seen it before.

Only those unlucky bastards were all

dead."

"Fuckin' great," He growled. "Let's just keep sittin' round here chattin' about

the fucks Frankie buried while he starts

choppin' up my fuckin' woman."

"Mmmmmmmm," The blonde bitch

hummed, tapping her pen against her lips.

"Don't you mean Franklin Deluva's woman

or maybe Chase Henderson's woman? "

She turned in a circle, doing a

survey of the room and all the people in

it. "Have you all had Mrs. Fox-Deluva?

Is she everyone's woman?"

He shot up off the couch and then

Ripper and Jase were on him, pushing him

back down.

"Say something else bitch!" He

roared, struggling against his boys. "And

you won’t live to see another day!"

"Are you threatening a federal agent

Mr. West?" She said. "I'm simply

suggesting your woman may have gone

willingly with her husband!"

"Marie!" Quintanilla bellowed.

"Willingly?" He roared. "He made

me watch him rape her! Do you fuckin’

get that? I was chained to a fuckin’

radiator watchin’ my woman gettin’

slammed by a fuckin’ psychopath and I

couldn’t do shit about it!"

He heard a shriek that could have

been either Danny or Kami or both. The

rest of the club went silent.

Cox sucked in a breath. "Prez," He

whispered.

He ignored him. "Listen to me agent

cunt," He hissed. "I'm way past

threatenin’ you. I'm straight ready to

fuckin' bury you so you best hope my boys

don't let me go."

"Don't let him go," Quintanilla said

dryly. He turned to his partner. "Get the

fuck outside."

☼☼☼

Eleven fifty five A.M.

I wolfed down my cheeseburger and

fries. It had been forever since I'd last

eaten and I was starving. Frankie was

watching me from the corner of the room

near the door, a bottle of vodka between

his legs and a blank stare on his face.

"Can I have some?" I whispered,

pointing at the half empty bottle.

He glanced down at the bottle then

back to me, nodding.

I slid off the bed and slowly walked

towards him. Stopping a few inches from

his feet, I sat down and reached for the

bottle. I had just wrapped my fingers

around the neck when Frankie's hand

clamped down over mine.

I looked up.

A tear slid down Frankie's cheek.

"Eva," He whispered. "Can't sleep baby, can't fuckin' sleep. It's been weeks and

weeks and weeks…"

My heart skipped.

"Baby," I said, reaching for him.

"Come here."

Scrambling to his knees, he engulfed

me in his arms and buried his face in my

neck. Trembling, my heart breaking, I

stroked his hair, his back.

"Remember my prom?" I

whispered. "Remember dancing on the

roof afterwards? We danced and laughed

until the sun came up. It was one of the

best nights of my life baby."

His large body sagged against mine

and he started sobbing.

"Oh god baby, no." I pulled his head

up so I could see his face. "Frankie," I breathed, wiping his tears off his cheeks.

"You don't have to cry anymore. I'm here

now. I'm never leaving you, never again

baby."

"You can't," He rasped. "I can't

sleep without you and I can’t breathe

baby, I can’t fuckin’ breathe. I feel sick to

my stomach all the time."

"Shh," I soothed, stroking his

cheeks, battling my own tears. "Make

love to me baby. Let me show you how

much I love you."

The familiar taste of his tears mixed

with vodka flooded my mouth and I let

myself go for a little while, tasting Frankie

for the very last time. His hands traveled

my body, pushing my dress straps off my

shoulders and my dress down to my waist.

"Eva," He breathed, cupping my

breasts. "My Eva."

“Yes,” I whispered. “I’m yours.

Forever.”

I pushed his back up against the

wall and went for his belt buckle. He sat

down and lifted his hips so I could slide

his jeans down his legs. Holding me

close, he rocked me backwards and

covered me with his body.

"I love you," I cried softly, grabbing

his backside and taking him inside of me.

“I’ve loved you for as long as I can

remember.”

"Fuck baby," He groaned. "I love

you, I fuckin' love you, I love you so

fuckin' much."

With every thrust he proclaimed his

love for me, moving faster and harder

each time.

I reached beside me for Frankie's

jeans and the serrated blade he kept

sheathed on his belt.

"Harder baby," I whispered,

needing him distracted. "Give me all that

love."

Frankie buried his face in my neck,

his tears drenching my hair as his body

began slamming into mine.

Gripping the handle of the dagger, I

slid it out of its covering.

When I felt him stiffen, felt his

orgasm, I ran my hand through his hair and

gently tugged. "Look at me baby."

He blinked up at me.

"I'm never going to leave you again

baby, you’re with me always now," I

whispered, tears streaming down my

face. "No more nightmares."

He smiled at me, his lost little boy

smile. "You've always made them go

away."

I brushed my lips across his.

Then I sunk the blade into the side

of his neck and with all my strength,

wrenched it sideways and twisted.

☼☼☼

One thirty two P.M.

"We've got a hit," Quintanilla said,

holding his cell phone to his ear. "Local

uniforms spotted Deluva outside a motel a

few towns over."

Deuce didn’t ask any questions, he

just kept praying.

"Tell them to hold off," Quintanilla

said. "Deluva is undoubtedly armed,

extremely dangerous, unstable as all hell

and he's got a hostage. I'm going to call a

team in right now."

Quintanilla’s eyes went wide and

locked on him. He felt his stomach lurch.

She was not dead. She could not be

dead. No. God, please god, don’t let her

be dead.

“When?” Quintanilla demanded.

Fuck. Fuck him. Fucking Christ.

He couldn’t deal. He couldn’t. His kids

couldn’t deal. Kami and Devin couldn’t

deal. His boys couldn’t deal. This could

not happen.

Quintanilla hung up. "Deluva's

dead."

He shot to his feet. "Eva?"

"Hysterical, but unharmed."

A violent shudder of relief tore

through him.

"How'd they take him down?" Tap

asked.

Quintanilla pressed his lips together

and made a smacking sound. He looked

around the club as if debating on whether

to share what he knew.

He sighed noisily. "They didn't.

The woman did. Nearly severed his head

clean off with a dagger. She came

walking out of the room holding it, half

naked and covered in blood."

Kami fell to her knees screaming at

the top of her lungs. Cox dropped down

beside her and pulled her into his arms.

“Fuck…” Cox looked up at him, his

boy’s horrified expression mirroring how

he felt. “Prez…” He whispered.

“Foxy…”

He sat back down and buried his

face in his good hand. Mick's arm came

around his shoulders and squeezed.

"She's okay, Prez. She's alive."

"She's alive," He said hoarsely,

"But I can tell you right fuckin' now she

sure as shit ain’t okay."

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO:

The Demons buried Frankie on a

cloudy Tuesday, wearing his cut; my

engagement ring and wedding ring on his

pinkie finger. Deuce stayed by my side

holding me up when I would have

collapsed. I was overwhelmed with grief

and regret, swamped with guilt and at the

same time, relief so great I felt dizzy from

it.

I hoped in death Frankie found the

peace he never could find in life.

I stayed a long time after the service

disbanded. I talked to Frankie for a

while, cried for a while.

Before I left I traced his name on his

tombstone, "Sweet dreams baby," I

whispered. "Always."

Before we headed home, Kami and I

visited Chase's grave. Hand in hand, we

sat down in the grass and leaned back

against his tombstone. Sharing a seventy

five thousand dollar bottle of whiskey, we

held each other and cried. We cried for

very different reasons, but for Chase all

the same. As fucked up as both our

relationships with him were, he had been

loved. He’d just been too fucked up to

realize it.

Then Kami, Cox, Deuce and I went

home to our kids and our club and the

healing began.

Deuce was in a bad way. Worse off

than anyone else. For a long time he

wouldn’t touch me, couldn’t touch me. He

blamed himself for everything. It was his

fault Frankie hadn’t been found; it was his

fault Frankie had been able to break inside

the club; his fault that Frankie had forced

himself on me and his fault that I’d been

the one to kill him.

But it wasn’t. None of it was. It

was Frankie’s fault, all of it. This, I’d had

a hard time accepting as well. At first, I’d

placed blame on myself, for letting my

relationship with Frankie get to the point it

had.

But I got there…alongside my

family and my friends and my club…I got

there.

Getting Deuce there was another

matter altogether.

But we got through it. Together. It

didn’t happen overnight and it wasn’t

easy.

Nothing worth doing ever is.

And love is worth everything.

EPILOGUE:

Deuce scowled at his father in law.

"You're older than me," He grumbled.

Preacher snorted. "Both in our

fifties. Only difference is you got yourself

a beautiful, younger woman to keep you

young and all I got is a club full of stupid

shitheads who think bathing is optional

and farting is an art form."

They both looked to where Eva was

standing, talking with Kami, a very

pregnant Dorothy, Mick and his wife

Adriana, Danny and… ZZ, whose fucking

arm was slung over his daughter's

shoulders. His fists clenched but he kept

it reeled in. He had promised Eva he

wouldn't kick the shit out of him again.

Danny was twenty one years old, Eva had

said, and ZZ was head over heels for her.

She kept reminding him that ZZ had never

fallen into the same patterns the rest of his

boys had. He didn’t drink excessively, he

didn’t have a quick temper, he’d never

disrespected a woman, and he didn’t do

whores.

Still…he really fucking hated it.

Really. Fucking really.

He gritted his teeth and looked back

at his wife.

She was thirty five and fucking

gorgeous. Her body was sleek and toned,

thanks to yoga four times a week, but she

still had her curves so he was happy and

didn't give a shit if she felt the need to

twist her body into a pretzel and look

damn ridiculous doing it.

Her dark hair was newly cut and

hung halfway down her back in soft

waves; she had bangs now, long and

swept to the side, Danny’s doing. She

was wearing a pair of jeans he was sure

were older than he was and looked it, and

her old Led Zepplin tee that showed her

star covered belly. No bra.

God, he loved her.

His tag around her neck was

gleaming in the sunlight. Her IPod was

shoved in her back pocket, her earbuds

hanging halfway down her jeans. On her

feet, pink chucks. And even though he

couldn’t see it from this distance, on her

left ring finger, was the ring he’d put on

her finger the day he’d married her; a thin

platinum band inscribed with their names.

Deuce & Foxy.

He watched her turn around and

bend over to pick up Cox's and Kami's

one year old son, Diesel, and saw his

name, Deuce, tattooed right above her ass in large scrolling script. It had been his

birthday present last year and he’d been

fucking her on her knees ever since.

"Fuck," He muttered.

Preacher glanced at him.

"Just thankin' god," He said, shaking

his head. "For that fuckin' woman."

Preacher grinned.

"Never forget the day she came

bouncin' into my fucked up life, shakin'

pigtails, singin' Janis, wearin’ chucks and

sharin' peanuts and straight up stole any

decency I had left which wasn't a whole

lot but she fuckin' took it and I've been

hers ever since."

Preacher's eyes glossed over.

"Good thing I went up river same time as

your old man," He said, his voice

breaking. “If you hadn’t…if Frankie

woulda-

He clapped Preacher on the back.

"Fuckin' yeah,” He said roughly. “Don’t I

know it.”

"Hi daddy!" Ivy yelled, running

past them. "Hi grandpa!"

“Hiya beautiful girl,” Preacher said

smiling.

"Get back here you crazy little shit!"

Cage bellowed, streaking across the lawn

after her. "And give me my keys!"

Her blonde pigtails bouncing, her

pink chucks kicking up dirt, Ivy laughed

her evil little laugh and kept running.

Cage shot past her, circling around her.

Ivy skidded to a stop, Cage faked right,

Ivy whipped to her left and Cage grabbed

her. Swung her right off her feet and up

through the air.

"Gotcha!" He said, tossing her up in

the air and catching her. She shrieked and

giggled and screamed until he set her

down.

"Ivy Olivia West!" Eva yelled.

"Give your brother his keys!"

Bending down in front of her, Cage

rocked back on his heels and held out his

hand.

"Here," She muttered, slapping the

keys into his outstretched hand. Cage's

hand closed around hers and he pulled her

forward into a bear hug.

"Love you, you crazy little shit," He

growled. “Couldn’t have asked for a

better sister. Cuz, ya know, Danny’s

kinda bitchy.”

Danny flipped Cage off.

Ivy grinned. Cage grinned.

He closed his eyes.

He stuck out his hand.

"Name's Deuce sweetheart. My

old man here is Reaper. It was nice

talkin' with ya."

She put her tiny hand in his and he

squeezed.

"Eva," She whispered. "That's my name and it was so, so great to meet you

too."

He smiled.

She smiled.

The rest is fuckin’ history.

The End.

More titles by Madeline Sheehan:

The Holy Trinity Trilogy

Holy Trinity: The Soul Mate

Holy Trinity: My Soul to Take

Holy Trinity: My Heart and Soul

(Coming in the spring of 2013)

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE:

CHAPTER TWO:

CHAPTER THREE:

CHAPTER FOUR:

CHAPTER FIVE:

CHAPTER SIX:

CHAPTER SEVEN:

CHAPTER NINE:

CHAPTER TEN:

CHAPTER ELEVEN:

CHAPTER TWELVE:

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE:

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: