Heart Ties (Club Ties Book 2) (17 page)

Before he had time to process this information or feel the heat of anger, the new cell Jamison had left him vibrated. He rolled off the bed and fumbled in his jeans for it. When he brought it to his ear, he skipped his gaze over the extraordinary woman sprawled nude, thighs parted slightly to allow a glimpse of pink folds.

“Yeah?” he said into the phone.

Jamison’s voice projected into his ear. “Man, we’ve got trouble. Your bike’s just been dumped in front of the MC. In pieces.”

•●•

Jamison sent a car to pick them up. Drake hurried her out of the house and fist-bumped a guy named O’Dovey. He put Delta in the back seat and O’Dovey got behind the wheel.

Delta twisted to look at the house as they pulled away. She wanted more of that peaceful time—

Headlights shot around the corner, glaring into the car. Bearing down.

A big hand shot from the front and covered her head. “Get down!” Drake barked.

Shots splintered the glass behind her.

“Hold on,” O’Dovey said, tramping on the gas. He shot off, taking curves like a racecar driver while Delta made herself small on the floor behind Drake’s seat. He rolled down the window and sent a volley of shots back.

“Fucking Raiders. Gotta be.” Bullets whizzed through the car and made an exit through the front windshield. Delta bit off a cry and did what she was best at—making herself into less of a target.

The car rounded another corner at breakneck speed, a sheering noise as they sideswiped another vehicle.

Drake laughed.

He actually laughed.

Delta almost wished for Houlihan’s shin to hold her up.

More shots. A puff of seat stuffing fluttered down to her as one bullet obviously went through the passenger seat. Drake’s seat.

She jerked her head up. “Are you okay?”

“Get down.” His tone was hard and empty—not the dulcet rumblings she’d grown to like so well.

He reloaded and shot. O’Dovey held an arm out the window and sent a few bullets into the night too.

A screeching noise from behind and a loud
bang.

O’Dovey and Drake guffawed like hysterical donkeys, and Drake sank back into his seat. “That will tie them up for a while. I’ll alert the club. You can get up, Princess. Your pretty little neck is safe.”

She heard the “for now” without him saying it. If the Raiders had really been their pursuers, they were probably after her.

“Do you have a family, O’Dovey?” she asked, scooting to sit at the edge of the seat, prepared to drop in a heartbeat.

“Mom and sister.”

“No wife and kids?”

Drake pivoted to look at her.

“No. I’ve got a girl back at the club, though. Why?”

She shook her head, but he couldn’t see her. “Just wondered.”

All these necks on the line—for her. She wasn’t worth it.

The rest of the ride was uneventful, but once they pulled through the gates, the car was surrounded by men in black leather, come to inspect the damage. Thankfully, Drake tucked Delta against him. She didn’t want to see the bullet holes in the car and how close the three of them had come to losing their lives.

Jamison clapped Drake on the back. “All right, bro?”

“Not a scratch. I can’t say so much for the car.” She felt the tension run from his shoulder muscle to biceps. “Where’s my bike?”

Jamison pointed. The parking lot was inky black, but the few overhead lights allowed her to make out a bump on the asphalt.

“Fuck. Delta, get inside.” With that command, he released her and strode to the heap of handlebars and bike parts.

She turned away, but not before she saw him pick up a cylinder-shaped part and hurl it. It whipped through the night and struck the fence. She hurried to the steel door and slipped inside.

Ever and some other women looked up as something big and hairy rushed Delta. Squeaking, she flattened herself against the door, heart rocketing into her throat.

“Copilot!” Ace strode around the bar. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been on his knees, gun trained on the Raiders.

The animal sniffed her all over, golden eyes trained on her. Probably analyzing the position of her jugular. She squeaked.

“He won’t hurt you. Copilot, stand off!” Ace grabbed the black Lab’s collar and tugged. He pulled against his master and launched onto his back legs. Delta cried out as big paws came down on her chest and a wet nose glanced off her cheek.

Ever crowded close. “What’s gotten into this dog?”

“No idea. I’ve never seen him do this.” Ace grabbed his animal and got him off Delta. She resisted the urge to wipe the dog-snot off her face and opted for making her hammering heart behave instead.

“Where did he come from? He wasn’t here last time.” Delta eased away from the door, aware of the dog’s gaze on her, his tongue lolling to the side.

“He was at the vet for a few days while you were here,” Ace said. “Delta, meet Copilot.”

She eyed the fur-ball. “Pleasure.”

Ever crowded close. “What happened on the ride here? Drake called and said some shit went down.” She took Delta’s arm and steered her through the club to a table away from the few windows on the front wall.

Delta took a seat with her back against solid wood. Ace brought her a drink and tried to get Copilot to leave her alone, but he sat within reach, panting and smiling.

Ever patted the dog’s head. “Go lie down and leave Delta alone.”

He didn’t budge.

“If you pet him, he might go,” Ace said, setting coffee before Delta.

Shaken and hating to admit it, she wrapped her hands around the warm mug and sipped. Sweet brew filled her with enough courage to reach toward the attack dog.

In her life, she’d been around few animals, but she’d heard you should let them smell your hand before petting them. She uncurled her shaking fingers.

Copilot pushed his head into her hand without bothering to smell her. A laugh bubbled up, part relief that he hadn’t bitten off all four fingers and part hysteria from the ride here.

She scratched the dog’s stiff ears for a long time, but he still didn’t move away. Ace grabbed his collar and he resisted the tug. Instead he collapsed at Delta’s feet and rolled onto his back, presenting a soft pink stomach with a red line where he’d obviously had stitches.

“What the hell’s the matter with you, Copilot?” Ever laughed.

Ace shook his head. “He’s gone soft for your sister, I’d say. Can’t blame him.” Ace’s eyes glittered as he looked at her, and she carefully avoided his gaze.

Ever reached across the table and placed a hand over Delta’s. Her blue eyes were faded with concern. “What happened on the way here?”

“Someone shot at us.”

Ever sucked in a breath and held Delta’s hand more tightly. “You’re not hurt, are you? No one got hit? Drake, O’Dovey?”

“No, we’re all okay. The car didn’t fare so well.” She drank more coffee to steady her nerves. Copilot cozied up to her leg.

Since his dog wasn’t moving, Ace spun a chair backward and straddled it to join the discussion. A few of the women sat talking quietly, and one kept throwing glares at Delta.

“Who is that?” she asked Ever, voice low.

Without turning around to look, Ever said, “Ace?”

He glanced over to the knot of women without a care as to whether or not they knew he was talking about them. “Trina.”

Ever pushed a breath through her nose. “Strother’s old lady. She’s fresh out of the psyche ward for trying to kill herself.”

Delta recalled talk of the situation when she’d last been in the MC. “Does she have a problem with me? She doesn’t have the friendliest expression.”

“Fuck her.” Ace’s words were a vehement oath. “The pair of them is going out as soon as Jamison manages the vote.”

“It’s true. Don’t worry about her, Delta.”

The door banged open, and men rushed in. Delta didn’t think—she dropped to the floor and shrank against the wall.

“Shit,” Ever shot up and rushed around the table. Ace did too, but Copilot threw his big body in front of Delta.

A flush of shame spread over her as she realized the Hell’s Sons were just coming in from examining the car. Now they were all staring at her as if she was going to the psyche ward next. Tears flooded her eyes though she didn’t let them fall.

She tried to uncurl herself from the floor, but her muscles were locked down tight—her body knew danger and wouldn’t allow her mind to intervene.

“What the fuck… Jesus, Princess.” Drake shoved past a snarling Copilot and yanked Delta up and into his arms. His muscled body shielded her from view, which she was grateful for as he walked her out of the room and down a hallway.

His room was dark when he pushed gently inside and tried to close the door. Copilot yelped.

“Damn dog. What’s he doing here?”

“Let him come in,” Delta said.

Drake switched on the light, and Copilot rushed into the space to sit at Delta’s feet. Drake closed the door and leaned against it. Avoiding his stare, she moved to the bed. Copilot followed, and she scratched his ears and under his jaw to keep busy.

“What the hell was that, Delta? Did someone hurt you?”

“No.” She sat.

“Then…” A question was in his voice, but that wasn’t what made her look up. It was his soft, confused tone.

She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Call it instinct.”

“I call it fucking combat stress.”

She ran a hand through her hair. Because she’d stopped petting him, Copilot pawed her knee. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fair enough.” He moved forward to sit beside her. “Just answer this. Do you trust me to keep you safe?”

“It’s not your fault, Drake. Don’t try to carry the blame.”

“Hell.” He got up and strode to the dresser. He yanked open a drawer and lifted out a bottle. The label was wrinkled as if it had gotten wet, and only a few swallows sloshed in the bottom.

Drake opened it, and the rich scent of alcohol reached her. His eyes darted, wilder than she’d ever seen the green depths. Muscles seeming to vibrate with tension, his gaze met hers. A heartbeat stretched between them.

“Fuck.” He strode into the adjoining bathroom and dumped the alcohol down the drain. When he returned, she tried not to reveal her newfound knowledge.

He depended on booze to get him through rough patches in life. He’d lost his limb because of it, but he’d probably been trying to drink away the memories of things he’d blown up.

They were both damaged.

She stood and walked to him. His spine was rigid, his mask in place. She saw through his armor, though, and put her arms around him.

When she rested her head on his chest, his arms came around her and he buried his face in her hair.

“I don’t like the anxiety. I’m not sure how to make it go away. Do you?” she asked.

“I know, but it’s a damn poor path.” He shifted his prosthetic leg.

She snaked a hand down his wrist to entwine their fingers. “Maybe we can find a new one.” She moved their joined hands up to her breast.

Drake moved slowly, exploring her nipple before leaning down and taking her mouth. Tenderness seeped from his lips into her body, infusing her with new power. He walked them to the bed. The springs creaked under their weight, and Copilot gave a disgusted snort.

“You know where the door is, buddy,” Drake said over his shoulder.

Laughter burst from Delta, pushing away her fear and replacing it with contentment. She cupped Drake’s handsome face and pulled him down.

His flavors infused her head, swirling like 100-proof alcohol and affecting her the same. She felt giddy as he explored her mouth, biting her lips and tongue.

She ran her hands over his tattooed biceps, up to his shoulders and down his spine. His big muscles rippled under her hands. She followed the lines down to his carved ass, aware of his fingers inching up her side. When he reached her breast, she anticipated his touch.

He circled the nipple slowly instead. Pleasure rolled over her in waves, but she wanted his roughness.

Raking his back to spur his wilder side, she kissed him with all the passion inside her. He ground his cock into the V of her legs.

“I fucking love this dress.” His words skated over her skin, hot lust that touched her pores.