Despite the possible consequences when her father found out what I had done, I knew it was the right thing to do.
“What was all that?”
I looked up at Grace and my heart broke at how fucking beautiful she was.
“What?” I asked innocently.
Grace sat down next to me, and I looked around the room to see if anyone had noticed us sitting together. The guys gave me shit about Grace constantly, but they didn’t understand the repercussions I would face by making her mine.
“You would think you gave that little girl the world with the way she just smiled at you.”
“She’s a sweet little girl that was happy to get a gift.” I shrugged, refusing to look in her direction.
“What are you up to?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I turned to face her and immediately knew it was a mistake. I fisted my hands, hoping to prevent myself from reaching out and hauling her onto my lap.
“Are you coming over later?” she asked quietly, her gaze pinned to the tree. I heard the hope in her voice combined with the fear I would say no.
“It’s not a good idea.”
“That’s never stopped you before.”
“It’s becoming impossible to keep my hands off you.”
“Then don’t,” she pleaded.
Her words cut through me, and I closed my eyes. It didn’t help. I could go blind tomorrow and I would still see the vision of Grace in my mind. She haunted my dreams as well as every fucking waking thought I had.
“Why do you do this every fucking time?” I growled low, trying to keep myself in check. Everyone in the clubhouse had seen us fight with each other. They did not know that the sexual tension fueled the anger between us.
Hell, maybe they did.
Grace stood.
She looked down at me, her eyes glassy.
“If you knock on my door tonight, I won’t answer.” She turned and walked away. Grabbing her purse from the bar, she walked out the front door and I knew just as much as she did that what she said was a fucking lie.
She knew I would knock on her door, just like I knew she would answer. We would argue like we did every time. Then, I would hold her like I never wanted to let her go.
When I first started showing up at Grace’s in the middle of the night, I slept on her couch. I just needed to be near her. Needed to know she was safe. Now I slept in her bed, holding her through the night.
It tortured us both. And I knew it made me an asshole, but I didn’t fucking care. The tenuous hold I had on my control was fading and if I didn’t do something about it soon, I would say fuck it and take what I wanted.
Consequences be damned.
Montana
Golden Skulls’ clubhouse, Purgatory, California.
The sun was setting on the horizon, casting long shadows that seemed to mirror the turmoil in my head and heart. Each step seemed heavier than the last, as I felt weighed down, burdened by the heaviness of unspoken words and unresolved conflicts. Reaper’s silence was a sharp contrast to the cacophony of thoughts racing through my mind. I longed for answers, for a sense of direction in the maze of uncertainty that lay ahead. But for now, all I could do was follow and hope that wherever he was taking me, however convoluted, it would lead to some semblance of clarity.
“Where the fuck are we going?” I groaned, following him as he stormed out the back door of the clubhouse. I had to admit that I wasn’t good company either. Meeting my granddaughter and learning that she knew every fucked-up detail about our involvement in this life left a very sour taste in my mouth. She was only a teenager and thanks to me and my fucked-up brilliance, I inadvertently put her in the enemy’s path and that bitch used every opportunity to fuck with the mind of a child. For that alone, I wanted to kill the bitch all over again.
This life wasn’t easy and there were rules in the biker world and one of those rules was that kids were off-fucking-limits. While most of the clubs within the Federation upheld that rule, a few didn’t, and the fucking underground sure as hell didn’t, which caused a lot of problems when the Biker Federation had a dispute with another organization. God, the fucking politics of it all was enough to give me a fucking migraine. I still didn’t know why I cared what the table said. I never did what they wanted, anyway.
Maybe that was it.
