“What’s that?”
His back is turned toward me. I sit up fast, hearing his intake of breath as I trace the large tattoo on his back.
His hand snakes out and grabs mine as I try to make sense of what I’m seeing. This isn’t like the small lightning tattoo I’ve noticed on his neck before, this is the real deal. I might not be an expert in tattoos, but isn’t it odd that he’s got the insignia of a motorcycle club inked on his back? It’s well done, but scary, showing the grim reaper holding a scythe hovering over three little demons, with the words, Satan’s Devils MC beneath.
The question seems pointless, but still I ask, “Are you in a motorcycle club?”
He drops my hand and leaves his back turned toward me. “Yes. And no.”
“You can’t have it both ways,” I snap.
He takes another deep breath. “I feel like I’m at a crossroads. I’m a member now, but I don’t know if I want to stay one. I could go back, or forward, and for the life of me, I don’t know which I fuckin’ want.”
“Can you leave the club, just like that?” My experience, okay, only gained from a television show, suggests he doesn’t have a choice. Isn’t it like a gang where you swear fidelity for life?
He huffs. “No. For a start, I’d need to get the tat blacked out.”
It’s so big, that would look awful, but I suppose it can’t be disguised. “What happens if you don’t?”
“If I don’t go back and I keep the tat? They’ll kill me, or someone would on their behalf.”
Gasping sharply, I cover my mouth. “This club is serious? How the hell did you get mixed up in something like that?”
When he speaks next, I think he’s ignoring me. “I should have another tat. Active SEALs don’t advertise who they are, that’s just inviting death. But a former SEAL gets a tat to show they’ve served. But I couldn’t do that. I’m not a former SEAL. The Navy would prefer I’d never served. I could never wear their insignia with pride.”
“So you joined an MC? An MC who’d kill you? Just to wear a tat?” That can’t be it, surely?
He turns now. “Cat, I want you to understand. I wanted to be a SEAL until I died, but I didn’t get that chance. I left, disgraced. No one wanted me, except the Satan’s Devils MC.” He puts his fingers on my lips. “Before you judge, listen to me?” His voice pleads in a way I’ve not heard from him before.
I nod, knowing I shouldn’t rush to make judgement.
“The Satan’s Devils MC has a number of chapters, but it was Utah who approached me. They, well, they call themselves bikers, live the lifestyle up to a point. But we do more than ride motorbikes. We’re technical experts, and I fit right in with my computer skills. We ride in to right wrongs. If someone’s been kidnapped, we extract them. If someone’s under threat, we protect them. We’ve stopped sex trafficking rings, ended gun running trades.”
My eyes widen. “You’re the good guys? But isn’t that like the FBI or something?”
He gives a quick grin. “Yeah, but sometimes our methods aren’t legal. We’re not bound by red tape.”
“Like a modern day Robin Hood?”
His lips curve further. “I’d never say never, but we haven’t robbed the rich to pay the poor as yet.”
I try to work out whether to believe it’s as good as it sounds. “So you’re still working for your country, just not on the side of the law?”
“Something like that. Trying to put the world to rights and to keep it that way. Or, they are. Me, not so much. Not since I betrayed them.”
“You…” I’m stunned. Jeremiah wouldn’t betray anyone, would he? “You, betrayed them? How? Why?”
He lets out a loud sigh. “My name’s not Jeremiah Briggs. I’m Finn Palmer.” Finn. That suits him much better. But he hasn’t finished his explanation. “And I go by the same handle I did in the SEALs. I’m known as Stormy. And babe, yes, before you try and figure it out, it’s because I’ve got a short fuse.”
But he’s been immeasurably patient with me. My brow furrows. “I haven’t seen that side of you.”
“No.” His lips press together. “Don’t ask me why that is, but when I said I felt at peace here, what I meant was that with you, the anger driving me has gone.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“It’s not me,” he says, his forehead creasing. “But I can’t deny I like it. I’ve never been able to relax before, but with you, I don’t look for ulterior motives. I trust you, Cat. And you have no fuckin’ idea how rare that is.” He pauses, closes his eyes for a second, then shakes his head. “I’ve never just seen a person and known instinctively they were trustworthy, not the way it was with you. I tried to fight it, tried to say you weren’t exactly as you seemed, but I could never make myself believe it.”
“You had proof,” I point out. “I couldn’t have chained myself in the cellar.”
“It wasn’t just the evidence of my eyes, babe.” He reaches out and brushes hair off my face. “That was all you, which means I’m in a conundrum.” I tilt my head until he explains. “I don’t want to walk away from you. How can I? How can I leave something I might never find again? This isn’t me. I don’t cuddle after sex, I get up and go. But I couldn’t leave you if a team of horses tried to drag me out of here.” He pauses and gives a self-deprecating grin. “Part of the reason I tried to resist was half of me knew how this would end. With me, wanting to keep you.”
Trying to lighten the moment, I wink. “I thought it was my body you couldn’t resist.”
He chuckles. “There’s that too. Didn’t even need the trial run, babe, to know you were going to be perfect.”
I reach out my hand and touch his. “It was perfect. You’re perfect. But what are you going to do?”
“That’s what I’m wondering,” he admits. “But for now, how about I prove it wasn’t a fluke? After that we’ll go cook those steaks.”
“And talk later?” I don’t want to be left hanging. Now he’s let me in, I want to know everything about him and what makes him tick.
“Yeah.” He pushes me back, his lean body pressing into mine, and his lips find my mouth. As his tongue pushes inside, I twist mine around it. He doesn’t pull back or make like this is just a prologue to something else. As my hands curl into his hair, I can’t remember enjoying a kiss quite so much.
I feel a hardness poking at my stomach, and his movements become more urgent as he rubs his cock against me. I can’t help my hips pressing back.
“Someone’s eager,” he murmurs, his face still close to mine.
I think we both are, but I keep that response to myself.
“On your knees, give me that ass.”
“My ass?”
That boyish grin appears once again. “Well, maybe not your ass right now, unless you’re offering. But one day, I’ll take you there.”
I’m obviously too slow, as he manoeuvres me to where he wants. I hear a crinkling of a packet behind me, and a tersely asked question, “Are you still wet?” He finds the positive answer out for himself, and before I have time to think, he slams inside me.