Heart Ties (Club Ties Book 2) (19 page)

“No.” Drake tried to keep the hard edge from his tone, but it was impossible when every cell in his body wanted violence.

“Sis, would you leave us for a minute?” Delta’s throaty voice roused him from his anger a bit.

“Sure. C’mon, Copilot.” Ever tried to lure the dog away, but he wasn’t leaving Delta’s side.

“It’s okay. He’s no trouble.” Delta took Drake’s hand in hers. Blood streaked down the back and ran off his fingertips. He focused on her smooth, peachy skin and the gray flecks in her blue eyes.

“I’m fine.”

Her gaze flashed to his. “Three split knuckles. This one’s pretty deep.” She touched the middle finger.

“Totally fucking worth it.”

Her lips parted on a low laugh. “Do I even want to know what the other guy looks like?”

Cries came from the other room. If Drake had his guess, the others had just seen Strother.

“He did this because you fucked that woman, didn’t you?” The high-pitched shriek jarred Delta, and she turned toward the door.

“Don’t go out there.” Drake stilled her. The screaming banshee was Trina.

“You said she was beautiful, that you’d hit that twice a night. You fucked her, didn’t you, and he beat your face in for it.” Her voice elevated twice.

“Shut up, woman. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I heard you tell Rocket you wanted her. You haven’t touched me in months. I know you’ve been fucking the sweet butts, but if you think you’re laying another hand on that Raiders cunt, you’re a dead man.”

Drake clamped a hand on Delta’s shoulder. “Let’s go.” He got her out the back door and into a small plot of grass between building and garage. Trina’s words sickened him. That Strother had been talking about Delta made Drake want to rip off his balls and stuff them down his goddamn throat.

Delta pressed a shaky hand to her mouth, her eyes wide above it.

His heart tripped at seeing her fear. “It’s okay, Princess.”

She let him pull her into his arms but shook her head. “I can’t stay here. If your prez really said those things about me—”

“I have no doubt he did. I’ll shut him up.”

“No. Not for me. Don’t fight for me, Drake. I’m not worth it.”

He stared down at her, aware that she really believed this to be true. He slid his good hand under her veil of hair, up to massage her warm nape. “Princess, you’re worth more than a few bloody knuckles.”

The back door opened, and Copilot growled as if protecting them from anyone who would intrude on their moment. Jamison looked out. “We’re riding out for the Knuckle soon. You done bleeding?”

Drake needed to sit down with Jamison and a few other brothers and discuss how to get Strother out of that chair faster. Jamison had to manage that vote sooner. He had enough evidence to call for the vote now. Strother put women in danger, failed to live up to the MC creed. That alone would get another member stripped of his patch and his tattoo melted off.

First he needed a set of wheels. Before Delta had come along, he’d lived and breathed for the road—and Scotch.

“I’m good to ride,” Drake said. “But I won’t go until Delta’s under heavy guard.”

“It’s covered, man. Strother left with his old lady, and Ace has Ever on lockdown. Delta’s safe with her.”

Delta stirred against him, raising white-hot need in him. It’d been hours since he’d sank into her tight body, and the urge to show her that he’d fight ten more men for her made his pulse pound all over again.

“Be there in a minute,” he said to Jamison.

The door closed and Copilot sat at her feet again. Drake couldn’t blame the dog. He couldn’t stay away from Delta either.

“Where are you going?” she asked. Then fear shivered over her face. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“Don’t you dare cringe from me.” He cupped her jaw and tilted her head to look at him. “Jamison and I are going after a new bike. You and I’ve gotta get out of here soon—today. And we can’t get far without wheels.”

“Okay.” The trust in her eyes was a pull—magnet to steel. He leaned in and kissed her.

The meeting of mouths was wildfire to kindling. She parted her lips and met his tongue thrust for thrust. His cock bulged against his zipper, begging for release. She dug the blunt points of her nails into his spine, making him remember the claw marks he bore from their previous session.

Reluctantly, he withdrew. “Get inside and find Ever. Ace and the others will keep you safe.”

As soon as he had some horsepower between his legs again, he’d get her out of here. Not only was she targeted by the Raiders but by Strother and his old lady. Goddamn drama that could easily be rectified if Jamison would just get off his ass and call the vote.

Drake planned to get a lot more answers from his vice prez as soon as they were alone.

•●•

“What’s the cake for?” Delta leaned against the counter and watched Ever putting the finishing touches on the frosting.

“For Jamie.” Her sister’s soft smile spoke of how she felt for her man.

Delta smiled for Ever’s happiness. “Is it his birthday?”

“No. He just likes being made to feel special.”

Her words struck Delta. A man needed to feel special. For Houlihan, he’d needed Girl kneeling at his feet and his knuckle ring on her cheek. What did Drake need?

He seemed to like her blowjobs fine.

She giggled, and Ever turned her attention to her. “It’s good to hear you laugh. I wish we could have giggled together as kids.”

Delta nodded. She wished for a hell of a lot of things she’d never had—and never would.

Ever abandoned the cake and grabbed two bottled waters from the fridge. “Let’s go find a comfy couch and have girl talk.”

“Let me get Copilot some water first.” She found a bowl and filled it for the dog, who stood lapping for what felt like ten minutes. He drank all but a few drops of water in the bottom. Laughing, Delta picked up the bowl and dumped the rest into the sink. “You couldn’t have finished the whole bowl?”

“It’s odd how attached he is to you.”

Delta lifted a shoulder. Everyone had told her this. The dog was Ace’s sidekick—he never left the man. What was it about Delta that had bent the dog’s tail?

“Ace seems a little lost without him. I wish he’d go back to Ace.” She scratched Copilot’s head, and he gave a sloppy grin.

Ever wore a thoughtful expression, her head tipped to the side. “Maybe Copilot senses something we don’t.”

A sliver of ice zigzagged down Delta’s spine. A few times she’d wondered if the dog was attaching itself to a new master for a reason. The Hell’s Sons led dangerous lives.

“I hope that’s not the case. Though I admit Copilot’s growing on me. And he’s stopped growling at Drake when he gets near me.”

Ever laughed, and they went into the other room. The club had four main spaces. The room where all congregated at all hours was the heart of the MC. The kitchen was the women’s domain. In there, they sorted out feelings and club troubles their own ways. And they loved taking care of their men. The other highly used space was a large room with several sofas and a big screen TV, and of course the bedrooms played an important role in all their lives.

Delta sank into the leather couch next to her sister, and Ever surprised her by lying with her head in Delta’s lap. Her sister propped her booted feet on the opposite couch arm.

“Love your boots,” Delta said.

She wiggled the black motorcycle chick boots. “Thanks. Jamison likes to see me in them—and nothing else.”

They laughed together, but it was hard not to think of how Drake’s eyes hooded when she had on the fuck-me boots.

Delta began to toy with her sister’s hair, smoothing a section then braiding it to keep her hands busy. “Your hair feels like mine. Same weight and texture.”

“From our mom.”

“Do you remember much about her?”

“Yes, but I wish there was more.”

They fell silent and Delta began on a second braid. “I wish I’d gotten a chance to know her.” A love child wasn’t welcomed in the club, and Ever’s father had forced their mom to give Delta up for adoption.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t looked outside the Raiders and placed Delta with Micky and Lucky.

“Do you know who named you?” Ever’s question surprised her.

“I’m not sure. How did you get your name?”

Ever’s eyes danced. “I’ve always thought it was because Mom never,
ever
wanted to have another baby. But she obviously did.” She reached up and tugged Delta’s hair like a bratty big sister.

“I love your name,” Ever said, her fingers separating Delta’s long hair into sections to braid. “And your voice. You have a delicious voice. It sends shivers through me sometimes.”

Delta stopped braiding. “Really?”

“Yes. I’d call it a whiskey voice. All the guys are affected by it too.”

She knew well how men loved her voice—it was the reason Micky had made her sing for them. “I sing sometimes.”

Ever’s features grew animated. “Do you?”

“Yes, sometimes.”

“Have you sung for Drake?”

“No. We haven’t had much time.”

Ever waggled her red eyebrows. “I’ll bet.”

They braided more until Ever had several sticking out of her head and Delta wore some on each side.

“Oh, I’m interrupting.”

They twisted to look at the skinny blonde who’d entered.

“Not interrupting,” Ever said. “Want your hair braided?”

The girl laughed. “I’ll pass. I don’t have your long, beautiful hair.” She touched her bleach-blonde tresses. They were thin and wispy, barely skimming her breasts. Delta had a suspicion her hair lacked luster for more reasons than over-bleaching. The girl had to be ninety pounds.

Ever sat up and pulled all the braids Delta had finished back into an elastic band she produced from her jeans pocket. She examined the girl for a long minute. “Oh. Do you know Breezy?” she asked Delta.

Breezy was a sweet butt name if Delta had ever heard one. “Nice to meet you.”

She smiled, looking shy. She couldn’t be very old and definitely wasn’t comfortable in her own skin. Sweet butts usually came from hard shit, which was why they didn’t mind latching onto rough men. Trouble was, they weren’t respected and no one loved them.

Ever tipped her head in the way Delta was coming to know as her thinking pose. “What’s your real name, Breezy?”

She pressed her perfectly bowed lips into a line before saying, “Adele. My mom called me Addy.” Pain spasmed her fine features. Another woman traumatized by the loss of a mother, if Delta guessed correctly.

Ever got up and stepped behind Breezy. She gently ran her fingers through the girl’s hair. “Is this your natural color at the roots?”

She bobbed her head.

“Come look at this, Delta.”

She crossed to examine the warm brown hue of Breezy’s hair. She fingered a strand. “It’s lovely. Unusual color. Why did you go blonde?”

She shrugged. “Guys like blondes. They like ’em skinny too.”

Over her head, Delta and Ever exchanged a look. Ever took Breezy’s hand and settled it on her rounded hip. “Do you think Jamison doesn’t like my hips?”

Breezy’s eyes widened, and she looked up at Ever. “Of course he does. I see the way he looks at you.”

She moved her hand up to cup her breast. “What about these?”

Breezy tested by squeezing lightly. Delta watched her sister’s face, and she seemed totally comfortable being touched by a woman. “I know he likes
them
.”

Ever laughed. “Let me tell you a secret, Addy. Guys won’t like you less if you allow yourself to pig out on hamburgers and French fries for a few months. You could use a little meat on your bones.”

She nodded, eyes downcast.

Ever placed a soft finger under the girl’s chin and raised it to meet her gaze. “How do you feel about a makeover?”

Delta was sent to the bathroom cabinet, which was stocked with everything from condoms and spermicide to big bottles of sleeping pills. The bottom shelf had women’s items—the day-after pill, hand cream, and several boxes of hair dye. Delta examined them all, but none were the color of Breezy’s hair. So she brought them all out into the kitchen.

Ever had Breezy settled on a stool with her head tipped under the kitchen faucet.