“Hi, sweetheart. How are you doing this week?”
“Eh, not too bad, Mom. How about you?”
“Oh, you know me, tearing up the city any time I can! Causing all that mayhem and all.” She giggles joyfully at the end because we both know the only mayhem my mother is stirring up is at her scrapbooking club.
“Oh, don’t I know it. I just left breakfast with Hawk. We had some good old-fashioned pancakes, almost like the way you make ‘em.” I don’t say just like the way she makes them because there’s no one who cooks like my mom. There’s no one who can do it better than her, in my opinion.
“Good, good. Any other news? A little birdy told me the woman who owns The Java Zone has been staying with you at the club. Is that true?”
Now, who in the hell would be telling my mother this? It has to be one of her friends, naturally. “Yeah, and I’m actually seeing her, sort of. We haven’t put a label on anything yet, but she is very important to me. I want you to know that.”
“It’s been a very long time that I’ve waited to hear such a thing. So many women have broken your heart, sweetie. I hope she is the one who cherishes it until the end of days. I go into her coffee shop a couple of times a week, you know. Hermoine is a lovely girl. She’s so personable too.”
“Yes, she is. She’s a very special woman,” I add.
“Yes, and you have to bring her over for dinner one day next week. I will not accept no for an answer! Do you hear me?”
“I wouldn’t dare tell you no, Mom. Next week sounds good. I’ll talk to her about it and let you know what day we can come over. Okay?”
“Sounds good. I love you.”
“Love you too, Mom,” I say and then hang up the phone.
As soon as I hang up the phone, I go into the clubhouse and clear my throat. “Who’s been out today?” I holler inside the clubhouse.
Everyone’s attention is suddenly on me, and I’m surprised that no one has said a thing. “Did you not hear me? I’ve asked who’s been out of the clubhouse today,” I state ever so clearly.
No one says a word.
“None of us have left, Prez. Can I ask why you’re asking?” Kinetic questions.
“Mrs. Hannigan said one of us flipped her off this morning, and I want to know who it was,” I tell the whole club.
“She makes our Christmas cookies for us every year. Whoever it was is threatening our cookie supply, and each of you knows how much I love those fuckin’ powdered cookies she makes.” Hawk gets in on it, sounding a bit pissed off by the whole thing.
“None of us have been out, I swear. I’ve been in here all day. The only people who were out were you two and Rajah and Horseman,” Vader speaks up.
“Is she sure it wasn’t someone else?” Kinetic questions.
Vader’s scrolling around on his phone and raises both of his brows then looks at me. “What is it? You look like you know something.”
“Kinsey Jackson just posted on Facebook, and her status reads, ‘if those bikers with the devil vests don’t stop speeding in my small neighborhood, I’m going to put nails out in the road just to pop one of their tires’.” Kinsey’s a local woman who’s lived here for a few years. She’s a single mom who lives a couple of blocks away.
Bikers with the devil cuts can only mean one thing—the Lucifer’s Heretics MC is back.
“We need to get to The Java Zone. Now!” I order, and everyone jumps to their feet. We’ll be lucky if they haven’t acted on anything yet.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Hermoine
“Fuck, baby,” he hisses as he moves, thrusting his cock into me before slowly dragging it back out just to torture me. But he may just be tormenting himself even more if the pained expression on his face is anything to go by. “I fucking love the look on your gorgeous face when I’m inside you.”
“Oh, God,” I moan, fighting the urge to close my eyes and revel in the sensation of my building orgasm. It’s a struggle every time we have sex because it feels so goddamn good, but he likes the eye contact, and over the last few days, I’ve come to crave it just as much. Not once in my thirty-one years have I had a connection like the one I have with Malcolm, and looking into his eyes as he makes love to me just strengthens that. Plus, it reminds me that I’m here, with him, and no one is ever going to put their hands on me again.
“Yo, earth to Hermoine.”
I blink, snapping out of the memory as I look over at Rajah. He meets my gaze and arches a brow, fighting back a grin.
“Huh?”
“Something on your mind?” he asks, holding up his empty coffee cup. I glance at the full pot of fresh coffee in my hand before taking a step forward and pouring some into his cup. As he sets the mug back down on the table, I scold him with a look. I’m pretty sure the whole damn clubhouse knows about Falcon and I at this point, but no one has said anything, and I doubt they will. One, because he would absolutely kick their asses for teasing me about it, and two, because I think, deep down, they’re all happy we’re together . . . or whatever we are.
I don’t know.
We haven’t really talked about it.
Lord knows we’ve been on each other like rabbits, going at it whenever we can because I can’t seem to get enough of the man, and he can’t seem to get enough of me, but we haven’t actually sat down and defined our relationship. He loves me, and I love him, and we’re fucking every single chance we get, but nothing is official. I’m surprised by how zen I am about it, though. I fully believe that once all of this shit with Geno is dealt with, Falcon and I will sort things out.
The rumble of bikes cuts through my thoughts, and I glance up at the newly replaced window as I fight back a smile. Falcon didn’t mention anything about coming to see me today, but he likes to pop in when he has time and just check up on me, so it’s not all that surprising. Eager to see my man, I turn and rush back behind the counter, setting the coffee pot back on the stand as I untie my apron. The engines cut off, and I can’t wipe the stupid grin off my face. After stowing my apron underneath the register, I go back to the dining room to wait for him.
But Falcon isn’t the man walking up to my shop right now . . .
“Geno,” I whisper, the fear and pain I’ve kept mostly locked away since the moment Falcon rescued me from that motel room filling my voice. Horseman looks up from the paper he’s been perusing and glances over at the door.
“Ah, fuck.” He kicks Rajah’s chair. “We’ve got company.”
I peek around the shop and breathe a sigh of relief. There is only one customer in here right now, a middle-aged man in a nice suit, and I snap my fingers to get his attention. He glances up from his laptop.
“You might want to take your coffee to go, sir.”
His brow knit together as he processes my words, and then he turns to the front door just as Geno, Coe, and Sandman walk in. With wide eyes, he snaps the laptop closed, but it’s too late. I clock the pistol in Geno’s hand just as Rajah shoves me behind him and Horseman pulls out his own piece.
“You don’t want to do this, asshole,” Horseman warns, and Geno glances from me to the two men guarding me before meeting my eyes again with that deranged grin on his face. Almost as if it’s happening in slow motion, Geno raises his gun and levels it in my direction. Somehow, Horseman gets his pistol up first and fires, taking out a chunk of brick just past Geno’s shoulder. Rajah grabs the table closest to him and flips it on its side, creating a shield for us, and he shoves me down to my knees behind it.