Head Above Water (Nightshade MC Book 4) (28 page)

“If she thinks that you want her the way she wants you,” Drea replied. “Yeah, that's fucking perfect.”

“One way or another, this is going to end tomorrow.” Monroe didn't tell her that there was going to be a team of people sitting on Claire's house, waiting for the moment when Frankie showed up. They were going to try to take him alive, but if something happened, that would be okay with all of them.

“When are you going to her? Now?”

“That's the plan. You can stay here or with Ace and Jillian. They said that it's cool.”

“No. I want to go home. I'll be fine.”

“I don't want you alone. It's not negotiable.” Monroe shook his head. “Don't argue with me, baby. Please.”

She huffed out a sigh. “Fine. I'll stay here. Happy?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“I don't like this, Monroe.”

“Trust me, you're not the only one.” Monroe leaned in, pressed his lips to her temple. “I love you.”

“I love you,” she answered. “You should probably go. I'm going to see if Jillian still wants to watch the movie. Give me a kiss.”

Monroe kissed her, then watched her go back inside. Nothing about this felt right, but he knew that it was the only way to handle it. After a few minutes, once he was sure that Drea was inside and settled down, he walked around the front to his bike. Shawn was out front, cigarette in hand. “Hey, Monroe. All quiet out here.”

“Good to know. I'll be back in a couple of hours.” Monroe's plan was to get this over with as soon as possible.

He took the longer route to Claire's house, trying to think of what he was going to say to convince her that he'd had a change of heart. After earlier, would she even buy it, or would she buy it because of earlier? When he parked in her driveway, every light in the house seemed to be on. Her electric bill was going to be through the roof.

When he knocked on the door, there was no answer. He knocked again, harder and took out his phone to call her. Her phone rang until it went to voice mail. “It's me, Claire. At your door. Open up, we need to talk.” He sent the same message in a text, knocked again and then sat down to wait.

After an hour, and three more messages, it was clear that she was ignoring him. Maybe she wasn't even home, because he'd got pretty aggressive knocking at her door. Her car was in the garage, but she could have gone out with someone. Instead of wasting the trip, Monroe walked around to the back of the house.

It wasn't hard to get through the sliding glass door. No alarm sounded, though he knew that one came with the place. He wasn't more than three steps inside when a familiar scent reached his nose. Blood. Monroe turned back to the door, used his shirt to clean where he'd touched the glass and frame before taking out his gun and heading back inside.

The body was in the living room, male and face down in a pile of blood and brains that had already seeped into the cream colored wall-to-wall carpeting. A gun was just outside of the pool, neatly placed on the ground. The way that Ace had been set up flashed through his head so he reached for his phone. Buster answered on the first ring. “We've got a problem.”

“Why does that not surprise me? How bad?”

“Bad. Claire's not here, but I've got a body, and I've got a gun laid out like a present on Christmas morning. Could be one of ours that went missing during the robbery.”

“Can you see the guy's face?”

“He doesn't have much of one. There's a tattoo on his arm. I'll get some pictures.”

“Do that, and get the hell out of there.”

“You don't have to tell me twice. I'm out of here in two minutes.” Monroe ended the call, grabbed some paper towel from the kitchen and used it to avoid prints when he pulled out the man's wallet. He used his camera to take a picture of the license inside. The body now had a name: it was Matt Burns, the man who'd called Drea only hours before. Monroe returned to the kitchen, took a storage bag from the cabinet, and used the paper towel to pick up the gun carefully. Every bone in his body was screaming that this was another setup, just like with Ace.

It had to be Frankie who'd done this. Monroe would also bet his bottom dollar that Claire was with him now. Earlier, she'd told him that he'd be sorry. If he hadn't stumbled across the crime scene, he figured that he would have been. As it was, time was wasting and he needed to go.

Once outside the house, he was on high alert for anything out of the ordinary and almost certain he would get lit up by flashing lights and be caught with the murder weapon. Once he finally pulled into the lot, he felt a rush of relief.

Everyone was waiting inside; he figured that they'd heard his approach because Caesar opened the door for him. “Is it just us?”

“Just family,” he confirmed. “Einstein and Manuel have this watch. So far, all is quiet on this front.”

“Doubt it's going to stay that way,” Monroe said solemnly as he walked inside. Drea was the first person he saw, sitting on one of the couches with her hands folded in her lap. She popped up at the sight of him.

It surprised Monroe just how hard she wrapped her arms around him when she came over. Drea wasn't much for public affection. He wrapped his arms around her. “You okay?” she whispered.

“I'm good, hon. I am. What about you?”

“I was here, I'm fine.” Something in the way that she buried her face against his chest told him otherwise, but he let the moment pass. Drea held on a moment longer and then stepped back. “You've probably got things you need to do, right?”

“I do. I've got some pictures I want you to look at. When I got to Claire's house, there was a body.”

“Oh Christ.”

“Let's see what you found,” Buster spoke up as he stepped forward.

“I checked the body, found a wallet. The license inside says that it's Matt Burns.” Monroe took out his phone. “Drea, did Matt have any ink?”

“He had a shitty sleeve and this tribal thing on his lower arm,” she replied.

“Is this the tribal thing?” Monroe found the picture and held the phone out to her. She took the phone from him, studied the picture for a moment and nodded. “I grabbed the gun, too. There was something familiar about it, figured better safe than sorry.”

“Where is it?”

“In the compartment on my bike. I didn't want to take it out in case anyone was watching.”

“Shawn,” Buster called out. “Walk Monroe's bike around back to the repair bay. Get the gun out when no one can see and bring it in.”

“On it, boss.” The large man headed out the front door.

“I think it's a safe bet to assume this had something to do with the phone call that Drea got earlier,” Train said grimly.

“I think it's also a good chance that Claire is with Frankie. Her car is at the house.”

“Can we track her phone?”

“I'm monitoring her social media. She can't eat a meal without posting a fucking picture of it,” Bones volunteered. “I've got no clue why people post the things that they do. Once she does, she has the locator active on her accounts, so we'll get an idea of where she is.”

“I've got an idea about finding Frankie,” Drea said. “And to get Claire to come out of hiding.”

“How?” Buster demanded.

“We stage a breakup, a huge public fight between me and Monroe. It ends with him leaving, grabbing stuff from the house and coming back here. Trust me, some of the girls have to be in contact with Claire. If Monroe comes in here, no ring and cursing my name, she'll know about it.”

“How does that draw Frankie out, hon?”

“I'll make it seem like I'm liquidating GP, heading back home. He's not going to be able to resist thinking he can hit me for whatever I have.”

“And if he's not watching? We're just staging a soap opera,” Train observed.

“If we're convincing people that that two of you broke it off, Nightshade wouldn't be around to protect you, Drea. If you get into some shit, you're on your own,” Buster pointed out what Monroe was thinking.

“I know, and it's not ideal, but I was taking care of myself long before Nightshade came into my life. I'll manage, and if I really get in over my head, we'll consider the operation blown and I'll call for help. Unless anyone else has another idea.” No one spoke up. “Monroe?”

“Worth a shot,” he said shortly.

“Are you sure that you want to do this, Drea? It's risky, and none of us want anything to happen to you,” Buster spoke up. “We can find another way.”

“This is the only way. I know that it carries a risk. I'm good with that.” She stepped away from Monroe, faced the group. “Nightshade wouldn't have ever even been on Frankie's radar if it wasn't for me. Hell, none of you would be in this mess if it wasn't for me.”

“Hon, that's...”

“It's true, Monroe. Look around the room. Everyone knows it.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “And for the record, I am truly sorry for all the pain I caused and what you all have lost.” She cleared her throat. “Excuse me, please.”

Monroe followed her as she fled the room, up the stairs to the room they normally claimed as their own. She never even noticed him behind her until he stopped her from closing the door. “This isn't your fault, hon.”

“You're sweet to say so, but we both know that I'm right.” She spoke without looking over at him. Instead, she opened a dresser drawer and took out one of the giveaway tee shirts they used to promote Nightshade Construction. “I'm going to bed. I'm tired.”

“Seems more like you're feeling sorry for yourself,” Monroe observed as he moved over to sit down on the bed. “Maybe you'll feel better after some sleep. Hell, I'm pretty tired too.”

“I love you, Monroe. I love you so much.” She turned to him, a serious expression on her face.

“I know that you do.”

“You don't see my culpability in all of this because of how you love me.”

“Frankie made his choices, Drea. You're not to blame for them.”

“I am to blame for him being here, for not just handing GP over to him when he asked. If I'd have never cut him off...”

“Shut up,” Monroe rose to his feet. “I hear another word about this and that fight we're planning is going to end up being real.”

“Do you want that? Do you want the out? If you do, I get it. I don't even think I'll be mad.”

“You wouldn't be mad? Why? Are you looking for an out?” Monroe realized he was shouting. It took everything inside of him not to just grab her and shake her.

“Ever since I was a little girl, everything I touch turns to shit. Hell, coming in this world killed my mother, broke my grandmother's head. I don't know why I thought this would be different.”

“You are seriously pissing me off right now. You are not responsible for Frankie, not even one little bit. He's a grown man. He makes his own choices.”

“We all make choices, Monroe, and to say that one person's choices don't affect others is just bullshit. If I would have just turned GP over...” she trailed off and shook her head. “I didn't, and Frankie decided to fuck with me. By extension, he fucked with Nightshade. He's robbed you, set up Ace, and probably killed Jillian.”

“What happened to Jillian? Did I miss something?”

“She's not going to be okay without Ace. She'll try but she won't, we both know it. Ace knows it and she does too. They were arguing tonight, really going at it because she sneaks off to bed without him every night so that she can get used to sleeping alone.”

“Jillian's going to be okay,” Monroe said, even though he was pretty sure that was a lie.

“She's not. I should have killed Frankie a long time ago. I could have. I didn't and that's on me.”

“Maybe you should have killed him,” he agreed. “Maybe I should have put a bullet in his head myself, but we can't go back, hon. We can only go forward. Frankie will get what he deserves, I'm sure of that.”

“I wish that I was,” she said softly, almost too softly for him to hear.

“Trust me, hon. Just trust me, that's all that you've got to do. Come here,” he told her. She came to him and he wrapped her in his arms. “Just breathe, baby. Breathe.”

Chapter Twenty-One.

It was the middle of the night when Drea woke, her heart pounding and her body drenched in sweat. She'd been having a nightmare. She couldn't remember what it was about, but really, it didn't matter. All she knew was that she wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep. Next to her, Monroe continued to snore. Some nights it felt like she was sharing her bed with a hibernating bear. She gave him a shove with her shoulder; sometimes that worked but most of the time it didn't, just like now.

As quietly as she could, she swung her legs off of the bed. It wasn't their bed; they were still at the clubhouse, and it was likely the last time they'd share for a while. In the morning, they'd stage the fight that would hopefully bring Frankie out of hiding and bring all this to an end.

Everything was quiet; most people were probably asleep. Drea made her way down the stairs, maybe a midnight snack would ease her mind. She expected to find the kitchen empty, but instead she found Ace at the counter. He turned to her when the door shut. “Hey, couldn't sleep?”

“Not really. You?”

“Not at all,” he replied. “Jilly is out for the count, though. I didn't want to wake her. You want some coffee?”

“Not planning on sleeping at all?” Drea moved to the fridge, found a gallon of milk and took it out.

“I can go to sleep, if I can, even if I drink coffee.”

“I can't. I'll be up and jittery because then I'll have to have like four more cups. I think that I'll stick to milk.” She found a glass in the cupboard.

“Okay. I'm pretty sure that there's a whole mess of cookies somewhere. Careful though, some of them are oatmeal raisin, but the way that Caroline makes them, they look like chocolate chip.”

“I'll consider myself warned.” Drea poured the milk, found a cookie tin. “I apologized earlier to everyone. I feel like I specifically need to apologize to you.”

“Why? I don't get why you apologized at all. Only person who needs to apologize is Frankie, and truth be told, he's not going to get a chance if I have any sort of say in it. Don't go carrying other people's weight on your shoulders, Drea. It'll only drive you crazy.”

“But...”

“No but,” he said firmly. “Now, give me one of those cookies.”

Drea carried the tin over to the table and they sat together to enjoy the cookies. Ace left her the oatmeal raisin and she left him the chocolate chips. The silence between them was comfortable. Drea had feared that it wouldn't be, that despite his words he'd still have some lingering resentment. She wouldn't have blamed him for it.

“You know, Jillian really likes working with you.”

“She's great, I'm lucky to have her.” Drea meant every word of it. Jillian had fit right in with her and Casey. “Though, if Casey leaves, she might decide it's too much work.”

“Why would Casey leave?” Ace asked around a mouth full of cookies.

“I don't know, it's just the vibe that I'm getting from her lately.” Drea dunked another cookie in her milk.

“Have you talked to her?”

“I've tried. I tried to text her earlier, but she didn't answer.” It was just another thing to worry about, like she needed that. “I'll try again tomorrow, maybe offer her a raise, but I'm thinking that maybe she liked working for Stuart and Claude because it was easier.” And safer, but she didn't say that to him.

“Maybe, or maybe she was just having a shit day. I'm starting to see why you and Jilly get along. You're both worst-case scenario lovers. Always see the bad before the good.”

“If you think about the bad, you can prepare for it. I'd rather not be blindsided.”

“But there are things that you can never prepare for,” he pointed out. “And sometimes, it's good things.”

“And you're an optimist, aren't you?”

“Why wouldn't I be?” He said with a wide smile. “I've got the love of my life, my club, a roof over my head, food in my stomach and money in the bank. Things could always be a lot worse. Now, quit worrying and finish your cookies. Then go upstairs and get some sleep, you look beat.”

“I might have to smother your friend with a pillow to sleep. He snores like a hibernating bear with a deviated septum,” Drea said dryly. She looked over as Ace spit out his sip of coffee, and she couldn't help but laugh until her sides hurt and tears were leaking from her eyes.

When she made her way up the stairs, back to the room, she found Monroe was still asleep. He was still snoring and had taken all of the covers and her pillow. It was a nightly war that they waged, though if asked, he'd say she was the one who hogged the covers. “Monroe, come on.” She tugged at her pillow. “That better not be drool,” she warned his sleeping figure, but he didn't budge. “Monroe,” she said louder, more forcefully, and he sat straight up and reached for the gun he kept on the nightstand.

“What?”

“I just wanted my pillow back and maybe like a small little corner of the bed.”

“Where did you go?” He shifted over, set her pillow down.

“Couldn't sleep, so I went downstairs and had some cookies with Ace.”

“Where's my cookie?”

“We ate them all,” she admitted.

“Did Caroline make them?”

“Who else would make cookies?” Drea got onto the bed, pulled some of the covers back to her side, but he held them tight. “Give me the covers.”

“You want me to share the covers with you, yet you didn't share the cookies with me?” He leaned back against his pillow. “Not likely.”

“You were sleeping!”

“Not the point. You could have saved me one.”

“Are you seriously not going to give me blankets? The air conditioner is on. It's cold in here.”

“I know. I can see your nipples.”

“Enjoy the view. No covers, no touching.” Drea lay down with a huff that quickly turned to a laugh when he flung the covers over both of them. “Oh, so now you change your tune?”

“Yup,” he replied without hesitation. “I'm not going to forget about the cookies, though. You owe me cookies. Hey, can you bake?”

“Not like Caroline can,” Drea answered. “I do know how, though.”

“You should make me some cookies tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow might be tricky since we're having a huge public blowout.” Drea felt a cramp in her stomach just thinking about it.

“We can think of another way, hon.” He turned to face her, hand splaying out over her stomach.

“No, this is the right way. Even if we're going to have to say horrible things to one another,” she sighed. Again, her stomach got tight just thinking about it.

“Hey, I love you. You love me. We both know that. We can play act and say whatever comes to mind and that doesn't change anything. We're together, it's always going to be the two of us.” He moved his fingers over her skin. “I want you carrying at all times. If Frankie comes at you, you need to be prepared.”

“I will be,” Drea assured him.

“I'm serious, Drea. If something happens to you, I don't know what I'd do.”

“Nothing is going to happen to me,” she said soothingly.

“You realize that's the biggest jinx in the world, right?” he sighed. “I don't know, Drea. I think that maybe this is the wrong play.”

“It's our only play, Monroe. Stop overthinking things. It's going to work out because it has to.”

“Since when are you an optimist?”

“Since I sat downstairs and listened to Ace talk about how good life is even though he's got so much up in the air. If he can see a bright side, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. This is the end of this shit, the end of Frankie.”

“I like the sound of that.” Monroe let his hand slide further down her stomach, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of her pants. “You went downstairs and ate cookies with Ace without any panties on?” His hand moved lower, fingertips brushing over her clit.

“I really wasn't thinking about it,” she admitted. Waves of pleasure rolled through her as he began to move his fingers in slow circles. “Oh!” She rocked her hips against him. “Enough talking.”

“You want more of this?” He slowed his fingers as he spoke, grinning wickedly when she let out a whimper. “Open up for me.”

Drea spread her legs, gave him the access that he desired, and fisted her hands into the rumpled sheets as his fingers began to work their magic. Pleasure cascaded through her as warm heat settled low in her stomach. He knew how to touch her, how to drive her insane, and he seemed to revel in the sounds that came spilling from her lips. She moved her body against him, desperate for more even as she felt release just around the corner.

Each time she was at the brink, sure that she was going to go over, he changed his pace or pressure and the moment eluded her, only to build up once more. Over and over, he repeated the same cycle until she was only capable of the most animalistic grunts. Her body moved of its own accord, greedily needing the release that he teased.

Finally, he teased no more and the resulting orgasm made her feel like sparks were going to come shooting out of her fingers and toes.

Drea was still half-dazed, her body still singing with pleasure, when she felt his weight shift on the bed. It took her a minute to put together the fact that he'd moved in order to take off the shorts he'd worn to bed. She sat up, stripped off her shirt and realized that through all of what had just happened, she'd still been wearing her pants. It took some maneuvering, but she managed to get the stretchy material off without falling off the bed or hurting herself in any way. She looked up to see him watching her. “What?”

“I'd have helped you with that.”

“I've got something else that you can help me with,” she said with a lewd smile as she reached for him. “Get over here and get in me.”

He laughed. “Christ, I love you.” He pulled her over to him. “You on top. I want to watch you. And before you make a face at me, you're beautiful and I love watching you, watching myself slide in and out of you, seeing the look on your face when you hit that sweet spot, and let's not forget the way that your tits move. Fuck, I love your tits.”

Unable to resist him, she shifted so that she was straddling him. Deliberately she kept several inches between the tip of his rock hard cock and the part of her body that wanted him more than anything. He wasn't the only one who could tease. “Feel free to touch 'em.”

Monroe's hands came up, cupping both breasts in his hands. She never knew what to expect when it came to how he was going to touch her. Something inside of her told her that tonight it was going to be sweet. After all, who knew when the next time they'd be like this was. The chance that their plan would turn into a long con hadn't been missed by either of them.

“Stay with me here,” he said, almost at a snarl. “Look at me.”

“I'm right here,” she said, embarrassed to the core that she'd let her mind wander at such a moment. Drea met his eyes as she slid her hand between them. He let out a growl as her hand circled the base of his cock, holding him steady as she lowered herself down slowly. The tip of his length slid into her easily; she was definitely wet and more than ready for him.

Even though it felt amazing, and she knew that it would only get better the more she filled herself with him, she pulled her body back up. “Oh, you want to play?” Monroe squeezed her breasts, hard. The feeling of his fingers in the tender flesh hardened her nipples against his palms. His fingers found her nipples, pinched down. The pressure was exquisite. Drea cried out, lowered herself back down and then up again. “Oh yeah, you like that. I know what else you like.” He lowered his hands. “Lean forward. Put those pretty titties right in my face.”

Drea felt heat flood between her legs. She shifted, braced her arms on either side of his head so that her breasts were in his face. It was impossible to look away as he pushed them together and began to feast. He wasn't sweet, as she'd expected he would be. Instead he latched onto her with teeth and tongue.

She lowered herself back down onto his cock, rocking up and down, and with each roll of her hips she took him in deeper. The deeper he was, the harder he suckled at her. “Oh! Fuck, yes,” she purred as he took a nipple between his teeth. He bit down and her body jerked. Drea slammed her hips down, taking him to the hilt.

Monroe released his grip on her breasts, brought his hands to her hip and in one swift motion, sat up. Drea grabbed his shoulders and dug her nails into his skin. “You like that?” His voice was a low growl against her ear.

“Yes.” Drea held onto his shoulders tight and began to ride him hard and fast. His fingers dug deep into her hips, she might be bruised the next day. If she was, it would be completely fucking worth it. She lost the ability of speech, and possibly breathing, when he released one of her hips to slide his hand between them.

Drea felt her body flood again as his fingers started the slow circles on her clit once more. “Do you want to come?”

“Fuck yes,” she pleaded.

“I'm going to make you come harder than you ever have,” he informed her. Drea's hips faltered as his fingers left her clit. “Keep fucking me, hon. Keep looking at me.”

She met his eyes, his beautiful eyes, and kept moving against him. Moments like this took her breath away, but not because of the sex. It was because of the realization that he was all hers. She was his. They were together, truly one in the moment. Monroe leaned in, kissed her softly, tongue winding around hers. Drea moaned against his mouth and returned the kiss.