He dropped his cigarette to the ground, stubbed out the butt, then grinned at me. “I’ll take anything you wanna give me, sweet thang.”
I tittered. Jesus Christ. I actually tittered. “You won’t tell on me?”
“Old Tuck would never let you get into trouble.”
I marched up to him, putting an extra swing into my hips. Halting a mere foot away, I pulled my hand out from behind my back.
“I swiped one of Boyd’s cold beers from the refrigerator in the garage,” I whispered. “Just for you.”
He snagged the chilled bottle from my hand. “It’ll be our little secret.” He twisted off the cap and took a long pull on the beer, then held out the bottle to me. “Partners in crime, whaddaya say.”
I hesitated. I hated beer, but even worse than the foul taste was the prospect of putting my mouth on a surface that had touched Tuck’s lips. There was no help for it; I had to keep up the charade. I parted my lips, inviting Tuck to tip the bottle into my mouth. With a sly smile, he upended the bottle. Beer spilled into my mouth. I swallowed, then coughed, wiping the back of my hand over my lips.
Tuck chuckled and pounded on my back. “Too much for you, honey?”
I nodded, my eyes watering, then cleared my throat. “I’ve never developed a taste for beer. The first time I tried it was at a party when I was seventeen. It made me sick as a dog and ever since then—” I shrugged.
“Bet you were one of those good girls,” he said, tugging me to his side. “I like good girls. Girls who know their place. Girls who do what they’re told.”
Tuck liked meek, deferential women. No surprise there. If only I could speak my mind or—better yet—plant my knee in his balls. I indulged in a mental image of him doubled over in pain after I nailed him in the crotch.
Sighing, I turned a tremulous gaze to the grizzled biker. “I try to be good. I really do, but sometimes it’s hard.”
“You mean it’s hard to share Ripper with another woman?”
“Yes. I don’t want to lose him, so I’ll go along with it, but I don’t like it.”
“I understand, honey.” He squeezed my shoulders sympathetically. “But you know what they say? What’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. Maybe you’d feel better if he weren’t the only one getting a little something extra.”
Bile rose in my throat. He seriously thought I’d be tempted to get a little something extra with him?
The back door rattled in its frame, the signal that Ripper was about to make an appearance. I turned in Tuck’s embrace and wrapped both arms around his waist, then slid my hands into his back pockets, cupping his ass.
My fingers closed around the keys. Thank God. “You’re a good friend, Tuck.” I whispered in his ear.
“Mac? You out here?” Ripper shouted.
I pulled away from Tuck, the keys hidden in my fist. “I’ll be right there,” I called.
Tuck winked and gestured for me to skedaddle. I blew him a kiss, whirled, and ran for the back of the house. Rounding the corner, I triumphantly held up the keys. Ripper took the keys from me and slipped them into his pocket.
“Good job,” he murmured, hauling me against him for a hard kiss. He pulled back. “You taste like beer.”
I made a face. “Tuck wanted to share.”
“Yeah?” Ripper clenched his jaw. “What else did Tuck want?”
I rolled my eyes. “He suggested a sort of tit for tat. I sleep with him as payback for you sleeping with Nyx.” Ripper scowled and narrowed his eyes, peering over my shoulder. If Tuck chose this moment to round the corner and stroll into the backyard, things might get ugly.
“Hey, it’s all good.” I touched Ripper's cheek, and he swung his gaze back to me. I grabbed his hand and pulled him through the open back door into the empty mudroom. “As long as Tuck thinks he has a shot, I can get close enough to put back the keys.”
“I fucking hate this,” he muttered.
“Me, too, but not as much as I hate knowing that Sahdev and Bear are prisoners.”
He nodded, then threaded his fingers through my hair and tugged, angling my face up toward his. “Tomorrow we take Valhalla. We’ll put all this shit behind us, and you will never get close to that man again.”
A tremor started deep in my chest. I trusted Ripper with my life. His skill, his determination, were second to none, but the past few months had taught me to take absolutely nothing for granted. Fate was fickle, and nothing could prevent it from targeting the people I loved best. Despite all his precautions, Miles had died. Ali and Jake, too. Any one of us could die during the battle for Valhalla.
“I’m scared.”
I regretted the words as soon as they passed my lips. I’d promised not to hide my feelings from Ripper—that had bitten me in the ass more than once—but what possible good could come from sharing my anxieties with him? He needed to be sharp tomorrow, not worried about me and my fears.
“I understand.” His lips curved in a rueful smile. “But you gotta know that we’re ready, and these bozos are no match for us.”
“I know.” I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him. “We need to get a couple of hours of sleep before everything goes down.”
“Yeah.” He shook his head. “Wish we could go get Sahdev now, but Tuck’s still up. Last thing we need would be to run into him in the hallway with Sahdev in tow.”
“It would be safer to wait,” I agreed. “And let Sahdev get some more sleep, too.”
Holding hands, we walked to our room, stepped over a sleeping Nyx, and stripped before climbing into bed. Ripper pulled my back against his chest. I stared silently at the wall, waiting in vain for sleep to claim me.
If Ripper had managed to fall asleep, I didn’t want to disturb him, so I forced my twitchy limbs to still and deliberately took slow, even breaths. It was an uncharacteristically warm July night in Central Oregon. Sweat pooled between our bodies as we spooned, contributing to my restlessness.
Tomorrow we take Valhalla.
We needed to be sharp in mind and body, but sleep eluded me. Shit. Sleep didn’t just elude me, it pranced defiantly out of reach, thumbs in its ears, mocking me with shouts of neener neener.
Nyx, curled up on the floor with a blanket and a pillow, had no such problems. I vaguely remembered some old saying, something to the effect that every person should have at least one flaw so that the jealous gods won’t smite them. Snoring had to be Nyx’s flaw. I’d never heard a woman snore so loudly. She brayed like a donkey. I swore the windows rattled. I laughed silently.
“I’m awake, too,” Ripper rumbled in my ear. “What’s so funny?”
I rolled over to face him. “Nyx,” I whispered. “She snores like a longshoreman.”
“Like a what?”
“Something Uncle Mel used to say. I wouldn’t expect such a drop-dead gorgeous woman to snore like that.”
“Hmmm.”
A smart, noncommittal answer.
“You know, not so long ago she would have pushed all my buttons,” I said.
A sliver of moonlight fell across his face, and his brows angled down. “What do you mean?”
“Come on. She’s tough. She’s a tattooed goddess. She looks like the perfect woman for a badass biker.”