Poet (19 page)

The nurses were shockingly polite and kind, even, as they led Poet to the shower, providing her with little bottles of shampoo and body wash, along with a towel. When she was finished and dressed in the clothes Cecili had provided her, she felt more human, though completely unlike herself. The soft, pink frilly shirt did nothing for her, and she felt naked without the comfort of her holster. At least she’d taken the time to rub her cut down, getting the blood off the leather. Without either of them, she would be downright exposed.

Titan’s sister stood as she entered the room again. It was easy to tell the girl wanted to talk, and not just about her brother – her hands were ringing the strap of her purse over and over. Poet had a sinking feeling she knew what the girl wanted, what she was going to ask for, and wasn’t sure she was up for it.

“Do you want to go grab a cup of coffee? I’ve already checked with the nurses and Titan’s sleeping for the moment … though he did yell at them for not allowing me in to see him yet,” Poet asked, chuckling. It was so like the Bishop to demand what he wanted, and get angry when he didn’t get it.

“That sounds great … and yeah, that doesn’t surprise me with my brother.”

The two made their way to the cafeteria in almost silence, the only sound their footsteps as they walked. She’d texted Cyrus and knew he was following close behind, though he didn’t come into the area, giving her the privacy he knew she’d want.

Once they were seated, Cecili fiddled with the mug, not touching the dark liquid or meeting Poet’s eyes. Her nerves were starting to grate on Poet’s and she spoke first.

“You want to join Hells Redemption.”

The girl looked up, her eyes wide, and nodded.

“You realize your brother almost died, I almost died, my prospect
did
die today. My Sergeant in Arms is still laying in a hospital bed from a slug to the gut, I got my ass kicked, and your nephew is in the morgue with my bullet in his forehead.” Poet could see the effect her words were having, the shock in the younger girl’s eyes growing as she spoke, but still nodded.

“I know. This isn’t something I just woke up and thought ‘hey, it’d be cool to ride a motorcycle.’ I’ve been asking Titan for over a year but he always tells me no. And Dirk was always a fucking prick – the shit he pulled on my brother as he was growing up,” she shook her head, “I’m surprised he didn’t get what was coming to him earlier.”

Poet had to hand it to the girl. She was sitting there, completely unafraid, despite having walked in and hugged her. A small smear of blood decorated her cheek and the cream-colored shirt she was wearing, yet she hadn’t even noticed.

“You have your brother’s blood on you.”

“Better on me than on the ground.”

“Good answer. I’ll have to talk to Titan about whether you can prospect for HR,” she told her, holding up a hand when Cecili started to protest. “Whatever he says won’t be the deciding factor.
I’m
President, and I make my own decisions, but your brother holds a piece of my heart and almost died for me. I owe him his two cents.”

Cecili thought about her words for a moment before nodding. “I understand. Thank you – and I have skills that can come in handy. I’m pretty good at computers and paperwork, I know my way around guns, and I’m not afraid to die. I won’t let you down.”

“I’m not in the business of recruiting targets – focus more on living, less on dying. And if I let you in – and this is a big
if
– there will be rules to follow, training to adhere to, and bitching isn’t tolerated, got it?”

The girl nodded and finally sipped her coffee. Poet did the same, eventually asking the girl questions about herself and about Titan, allowing the time to slip away from them. Hours passed, the night beginning to lighten into day, when she finally stood and stretched.

“Go get some sleep, Cecili. I’m gonna go see my man.”

Epilogue
 

“God damn it, Poet, just say yes. Christ, I’m not asking you to marry me.”

“You want me to ride on the back of your bike! It may as well be the same fucking thing!” she called back, smiling as Titan’s frustrated face peered into the bathroom behind her. His arms wrapped around her, distracting her from pulling up her hair, and she turned to face him.

“You’re not my bitch, I just want to go riding with you. I want to feel your breasts against my back and your arms wrapped around my waist,” he told her softly, his lips brushing her ear.

“You can feel that without us leaving the house,” she answered him, groaning as his hand dropped between her legs.

It had been two weeks since he’d gotten out of the hospital, where he’d stayed for over a month. She’d cried when she’d gone into his room after talking with his sister, his large body engulfed with wires and tubes, keeping his heart ticking. Yet, when he’d seen her, his own tears had fallen down his cheeks.

Poet had gone to him and held him as tightly as she dared, whispering words of thank you as he held her reverently. She found out later that none of the nurses or doctors could tell him whether or not she’d been shot, and fear had been churning in his stomach since then. When he’d heard the final gunshot, he hadn’t been aware enough to know if she’d lived or been critically hurt herself.

They’d talked a lot since that moment, her afraid he’d be angry with her for shooting his only son. When she’d told him the rest of the story, Dirk’s involvement that still made little sense to her, he’d only held her tightly and told her it was okay. He’d known his son had major women issues, but hadn’t known how deep it went.

Bishops Reign was still trying to adjust to the changes in their ranks; with Dirk being gone, they’d held Chapel in the hospital room and voted Train in to take his place as VP. It was a decision Poet had approved of, not that it was her business or was asked what she thought. She and Titan had agreed to keep the goings on of their clubs separate and private, unless something involved the other. But, still, it was a smart decision. Train wasn’t the only change in their clubs.

“Cecili gets her prospect patch next week,” Poet told him, laughing when his erotic touch changed and he slapped her ass.

“I hate that you are letting her in … but grateful at the same time. I know you’ll keep my baby sister safe, though now I’m going to be worrying about two women every fucking day.”

“No need to worry about me, babe. I can keep myself safe,” she told him, her arm snaking around his neck and drawing his lips to hers.

She’d meant the kiss to be soft and sweet, a gentle thing, but it morphed quickly. His tongue explored her mouth as he pressed against her, his hand moving between them to unbutton her jeans. A moan escaped her when his fingers found her folds.

“I thought you were taking me somewhere,” she breathed, grinding into his hand.

“It can wait,” he growled and her heart stuttered. He stepped back far enough to tug her pants down, taking her panties with them, before he grasped the back of her thighs and lifted her onto the counter. Titan quickly unfastened his own jeans and let them fall the floor, his cock hard as he positioned.

He shot a questioning look toward her and she nodded, knowing he was looking to make it fast. Whatever he had planned needed them there in the not-so-distant future – Titan didn’t like not being able to take his time.

With a hard thrust he was inside her, stealing her breath. Her arms wrapped around him, her fingers looking for purchase but finding none. He was still wearing his cut and shirt, just as she was wearing hers. Instead she settled for pulling his mouth back down, their kiss mirroring his movements inside her.

Knowing they were doing something they shouldn’t, when they shouldn’t be, had her ramped up and her body began quivering long before she wanted it to. Her Bishop felt it and hesitated a moment.

“Say yes,” he murmured, his breath fast and matching hers.

“Yes,” she answered. A yes to them, a yes to riding bitch on his bike, anything to keep him moving. She didn’t even care that he’d used his body to make her agree.

He thrust back into her hard, once, twice, and the third time had her coming, yelling his name. Titan followed shortly after, her name a revelation on his lips.

“I knew you’d see it my way,” he said softly as he wet a washcloth to clean her up.

“You’re such an arrogant ass,” she shot back, smiling and kissing him once more.

Riding with Titan felt weird. Good, but weird. The last time she’d been on the back of someone’s bike was Shakespeare’s, though she barely remembered it. Before that was Roman’s. Even the thought of him, the bastard who almost took the man she could love away, made a shiver run through her.

“We’re almost there, babe,” Titan called from over his shoulder and she nodded, resting her head on his back and breathing him in. He rode the way he lived life, hard and fast, yet strong and sure. It felt nice to give up control to him for just a moment – and she trusted him, which made it easier.

The ride wasn’t long from her house in the hills, and he shortly pulled into the parking lot of Mrs. Norma’s restaurant. Poet smiled.

Both HR and BR had pooled together, gathering the men they could, and fixed the door and windows. They’d even remodeled parts of the inside, though she had yet to see it. What surprised her, though, was the canvas draped over something on the awning of the building.

For as long as she could remember, there had been no name on the place. It was simply a place for the locals who knew it, a place to eat and enjoy the quietness without having to deal with the hustle of the busy world around them. Now, it seemed that had all changed.

Mrs. Norma and Eugene appeared from the doorway and walked out to greet them, hugging both of them in turn. It made Poet’s heart warm, the way they’d taken to the Bishop.
So different from the first night, when Norma didn’t want him around
, she thought, silently chuckling.

“Hey, Pretty Girl,” Genie whispered in her ear as he held her. “All’s well?”

Poet nodded and glanced at Titan, who smiled broadly at her. She returned it and turned back to her surrogate grandparents.

They’d been busy during the remodel too, bringing food to the clubhouse and making sure she had what she needed. She couldn’t thank them enough for their kindnesses, for them taking care of her the way they had her whole life.

“We have a surprise for you,” Mrs. Norma said, as her brothers filed out of the building and into the parking lot. Bishops intermingled with them, making the parking lot seem to shrink in size. But it was a good feeling, being surrounded by those they cared about.

“Go ahead,” Eugene called up to Fallen, who shot them a gleeful smile before his gaze grew heated, looking down at the tiny nurse Sarah. The two had become inseparable since he’d gotten out of the hospital.

He released the string on the canvas, and there, in large letters were the words “Redemption Reigns.” Confused, she turned toward the elderly couple.

“Our gift to you. This is a safe haven for the two clubs – you need food, a place to hide, whatever. The doors are always open for both of you – for Hells Redemption and Bishops Reign,” Eugene stated, accepting something from Shakespeare behind him. The older man turned and shrugged on his cut, the one Poet had never known about. Cheers sounded and she laughed, happy to see him wearing it again. “And now, we eat!”

As the others filed inside, Poet hung back, her eyes trained on the sign. It warmed her heart and made her want to cry to see something so generous. The two were taking a big risk, especially after what happened two weeks ago, but they loved her enough to do it. They could say it was for both clubs, but she knew it was really for her.

“You’re my redemption,” Titan murmured quietly, wrapping his arms around her once more.

“Don’t you dare start thinking you’re going to Reign over me. You ain’t my king,” she retorted, relishing the deep laugh that vibrated his chest.

“Don’t want to rule you, darlin.’ I could love you.”

“I could love you too,” she told him, meaning it.

And as he kissed the top of her head and let go, making his way inside, she knew she meant it. She wasn’t sure how they’d make it work, how things would turn out going forward. After all, they were Presidents of rival clubs, with different business and problems, but they were both willing to make it work. They were both willing to take the shots as they came, pair up when they could, and go with the punches.

It wasn’t the typical ending of a love story, but then again, they weren’t typical. It also wasn’t the ending of a story at all, but the beginning.