1
Swift…
“If you two are getting down to fuck, will you get a fuckin’ room?” Bolt sneers good humouredly as he walks into the clubroom, his eyes rolling as he catches my eye.
Lying relaxed on my man’s lap, my cheek resting against his chest, I’m too lazy to do much more than give Bolt a two-fingered salute.
“Are you claiming victory or giving him the equivalent of a finger,” Honor asks, his brow furrowed. “I can never tell.”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes. Yeah, I’m bilingual when it comes to non-verbal swearing, as they well know. Being from the UK, I’m more used to the British version, honed to a fine art during my military days.
The altercation has attracted attention. Duty, passing a beer to Honor, stares and shakes his head. “Never thought I’d see the day when you went soft, Swift.”
There’s nothing about me that’s soft, as well he knows. His comment causes me to growl. “Want to find out just how fuckin’ soft I am?”
“I’m not soft.” Road’s chest vibrates beneath me. “And definitely won’t be unless you stop wriggling.”
“Jeez, they are going to start going at it in a moment.”
Now Piston gets a V sign with my palm facing inward directed toward him. Just in case he doesn’t understand it, I jerk my middle finger toward him as well.
Road chuckles. Lazily, I remind him, “If we hadn’t had patched you in, I was going to ask Prez to make you a sweet butt.”
“Ah, but you’d have been the only one to use me, so I doubt I’d have had a problem with that.” His lips curve at the corners. “Fact is, I’d probably enjoy it. Nothing to do but lie around waiting on your command.”
“Don’t be too certain,” Preacher, the sergeant-at-arms, drawls lazily. “Any port in a storm and all that. Sweet butts can’t refuse a patched member.”
“You want my ass?” Road snorts.
Preacher grins widely. “Nah. Not me, Brother, but last week at the party, I saw the way Grinch was looking at you. He did seem quite focused on your backside.”
Unfortunately, I’d just taken a mouthful of beer and now it spits out of my mouth, all over me and the body I’m lying on. Bolt chucks over a box of tissues and we take a few moments wiping the mess up. I take the opportunity of rolling my arse over my man’s cock as I do.
He winces and grabs me tighter. “Vixen,” he says into my ear. “You’re going to pay for that.”
I hope I do. One thing my old man’s certainly got going for him is how he can use his cock. Mmm mmm. I think it’s almost time we call it a night and go back to our room. He’s definitely hard and my knickers are definitely on the damp side. Glancing over my shoulder, I see him grinning at me and smirking. It’s hard to know why I held out for so long, kidding myself I wasn’t attracted to him. I’d been so wrong. Road’s my soulmate, the other half of me. We’ve now been together for two months, and our relationship is only growing stronger.
A paw at my leg tries to get my attention. “Someone’s feeling neglected.” Grinning, I stretch out my hand, stroking the head of App, my hearing dog, gently pulling at his silky ears. Road and App. They’ve both brought something into my life. I realise I’ve become more relaxed since they’ve been around. They’ve brought out a side of me that’s human. It’s not gone unnoticed. Glancing around at my brothers, I know that I’m really accepted and no longer feel the need to prove myself. They’re happy to take me as I am. Maybe they always did, but I hadn’t allowed myself to see it. I can be a woman in love and still be a badass.
“Will you get me another drink, babe?” Road asks. “I’d get it myself, but you’re weighing me down.” He winks.
I’m too comfortable where I am, and there’s an easier way to get the job done without me moving. “Prospect,” I yell. “Two beers.”
“Coming right up,” Gears calls back.
He’ll be quick about it too, if he wants to patch in. I watch as he hurriedly snaps the tops off two bottles, and comes across the room at a run with one in each hand. It won’t be long until he’s joining us around the table, but as a good prospect, he’s showing no impatience or signs he’s getting fed up with being at our beck and call while he’s waiting.
I’m stretching out the three remaining fingers of my right hand ready to receive mine, the beer tantalisingly within reach when there’s a loud roar of an engine, then a crash which shakes the clubroom. Instead of landing in my grasp, the bottle slips from Gears’ hand.
“What the fuck?” Thor, the VP roars, already on his feet.
I’ve gone from prone to upright in one second flat. Road, just as fast, is on his feet behind me, his gun already in his hand. Thor waves us on ahead to the stairwell as we’re closest to the door and already in motion. I slide my own weapon out. Behind us there’s a thundering of feet, as well as the whirr of the elevator moving. Before I exit the door, a glance shows Thor’s got everything in order as he makes quick hand signals choosing Gears, Piston and Rascal to stay back. Immediately they take up positions ready to take out any visitors who shouldn’t be here, while the rest follow Road and me down the stairs.
Flying down them two at a time, I’m in the lead as we enter the reception area. Immediately I note Brute, who should be manning the desk, is nowhere to be seen. Holding my weapon in the ready-to-fire position, I scan the area, but see nothing or anybody.
“What you got?” Thor hisses with one hand on the bannister as he jumps the final few steps.
“Here!” Brute calls from outside the building. “Need help!”
Suspicious, expecting a trap, I call back, “Stat report?”
“You need to fuckin’ see this,” he replies fast in a tense voice.
I glance at Road, who raises his chin back. Like me, he’s assessed Brute’s not acting as if he is in any danger, instead his tone sounds incredulous.
Still prepared to be wrong, I signal my instruction to Road, and Thor, who’s now beside him, to cover me as I go to the door. I ease my way through the turnstile-like affair, turning sideways to make myself less of a target.
Once outside, my eyes scan right and left, then to the front again as I check the perimeter until I assess there’s no visible threat. I let my gaze fall on the prospect crouched next to something on the ground.
What the fuck?
Brute is kneeling next to a motorcycle that’s obviously crashed into the building, lying on its side with the front wheel still turning. There, prone on the ground beside it is the person who must have been riding it. Brute glances up, relief flooding over his face as he sees help has arrived.
Still holding my pistol at the ready, I sink into a crouch. When I feel a tap on my shoulder, I look up to find Thor giving me a sharp nod. Jerking my head, I see the brothers are piling out of the building and taking defensive positions. Knowing they’re surrounding me, I holster my gun.
“What you got?” I ask the prospect.
“I don’t know if he’s fuckin’ breathing.” Brute’s hands are hovering over the body as if he doesn’t know what to touch.