“Yeah, Em, I am,” I agree with her, holding her for a brief moment more before reluctantly letting her go. It’s been years since I’ve held her in my arms, and I gotta admit, even if it’s just to myself, how good it felt to hold her close again.
Ember huffs and stalks away from me, goes behind the bar, fixes herself a mug of coffee, turns back to me, and glares at me while lifting the mug to her lips. She takes a sip and drops the mug onto the counter.
“God, who made this? It’s awful.”
“Think the new prospect did last night,” I answer her. I had to agree it wasn’t the best, what it is, though, is caffeine, and I’m gonna need it.
“Can we please leave early enough to get something decent?” she asks. “Don’t make me drink this horrible stuff.”
“Let me guess, since you went off, you’ve become a coffee nazi?”
“Yes,” she remarks far too quickly. “I am all for coffee that tastes good. Will even pay for the expensive stuff. But I prefer to get Black Rifle Coffee Company grind over Folgers or Maxwell. It’s way better. Plus, it’s veteran-founded. I much prefer tosupport veterans than some asshole who just wants to make a product that isn’t that great.”
“So, if we get some Black Rifle in the clubhouse, would you stop bitching about leaving early?”
“Maybe.” A small smile curls on her lips.
“I’ll make sure they switch the shit out with it then.” As cute as her ranting is, I don’t need to hear her bitching about which coffee is better.
“So . . .” she draws, “can we go?”
Fucking hell.
“Fine,” I growl, suck back the last of my coffee and hop off the stool. “Let’s fuckin’ go.”
Damn, sun ain’t even out yet and she’s got me taking her to work. I’m not against getting to work before the sun comes up, but the club, we make our own hours.
For the most part I worked over at the garage, but I also did other shit as well when needed for the business side of things.
Following Ember out to my bike, I take the time to appreciate the sight of her ass. My hands itch to be touching her ass. The memory of my hands on her ass while I fucked her comes to mind and my cock thickens behind my jeans. If I knew I could get away with it and she wouldn’t fight me on it, I’d throw her ass right over my shoulder, cart her off to my room. I’d get between those gorgeous legs of hers and slideinside her in a heartbeat, but there’s no way I can do that.
Not now, at least.
Yesterday, she hid in her room, I’m sure to avoid me after I witnessed her in the throes of her nightmare. She’d gone as far as having Ivy take stuff to her to keep from coming out, including a damn pizza.
The club met to go over what happened with Ember yesterday and what all we’d been able to learn. None of it had been good. This Samir character was not someone to play around with. He was out for blood. The very fact that he’d allowed Ember to go without so much as a mark on her is a damn miracle.
Scythe and Styxx, both working their asses off to do deep dives into what’s going down. Including the parts about the Scarlet Needles. From what we’ve found, they’ve all but disappeared. Same with the genetic group they worked with. Samir took them out of the game, it seems. Now, he was coming at us for some bullshit debt that belonged to Diablo’s stepdad.
During church, Diablo said he’d deal with the situation with them, pay them off if that’s what the club voted on, but no one fuckin’ agreed to that shit. We’re who we are, and no one fucks with us and dares get away with it. Reaper himself straight uptold Diablo that no one was going to pay a dime to the bastards especially after they took Ember as a threat.
Now, we just needed to send the message to the leader of the ‘Nameless Milita’. Tell them we weren’t kneeling to their demands. If we had, we might as well give up our territory. There’s no way any of us were going to do that.
Getting on my bike, I shove thoughts of what happened in church to the back and wait for Ember to climb on behind me.
The moment she’s settled in behind me, arms tight around my waist, I start my bike and pull out of the clubhouse lot. With it being so close to Christmas it’s still warmer outside than it typically gets, though there’s still a chill in the air. The other day, when I found Ember walking down the side of the road, it’d been in the high sixties. Not really tank top weather, but she hadn’t seemed affected by it. Then again, she spent some time living in Montana where I’m betting it snowed more than a dog shits.
Maybe by Christmas all this shit would be handled, and we won’t have the club on lock down. The last thing we need is for the club to be locked down when the women want to be in their own homes doing up their houses. This didn’t mean they didn’t decorate the clubhouse. There were lightseverywhere—even a damn tree set up by the sound system. Swear, if Ivy could get away with it, Christmas music would be playing all the time. Thank fuck Reaper put his foot down on that shit.
With everything we’ve learned in the past forty-eight hours, my gut tells me there’s more to it. Some things aren’t jiving here, not with any of it. We might need to have a talk with our guests who are set up at the cabin. I’m thinking there’s more to this shit that we’re not seeing yet. Hopefully, Scythe and Styxx will be able to find more details to go with what we already know.
For now, my focus needs to be on Ember and keeping her safe. Right now, she’s in just as much danger, if not more, after catching that Dead Eye bastard’s attention.
CHAPTER 7
EMBER
“I’ll see you later,” I call out, hopping off the back of Cerberus’s bike and fixing my hair. “I’ll be outside at seven. Or at least a few minutes afterward.”
