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Slade found Nelle freshly showered, looking more beautiful than ever. The urge to walk up to her, grab her and kiss her…
“How’s your ass?” Slade asked.
“You tell me,” Nelle whispered in a flirty voice.
She turned and pushed her pants down, showing off her bandaged ass cheek.
“Looks good from here,” Slade said.
“The ink is for protection and comes with a promise of that,” Slade said. “As far as everything else, cards are on the table, sweetheart. There’s a lot you haven’t said yet.”
Nelle nodded. “I know, Slade. People look at me and just assume things. I’ve been told I’mbeautifulmy entire life. My sisters too. And that means what? That life is easy? That life is fair? That there are no worries? I’m sure you can paint some of the picture yourself here, Slade. You’ve seen the way I am. How I react.”
“I don’t need a guessing game right now, Nelle,” he growled.
Nelle sucked in a breath and her cheeks turned red. She wasn’t sure how many times she heard Slade say her name but it had a good sound to it…
Her inner thighs trembled. Slade could see this happening from a mile away. It made no sense to him. Someone this beautiful and this intense… like she hadn’t been touched ever.
He stood to reap the benefits of that though. Even if a voice in his head told him not to just keep fucking her. That was damn impossible. Slade touched her hips.
“Maybe I should just fuck it out of you, sweetheart,” Slade growled. “Fuck you until you can’t stop talking.”
“You can do whatever you want to me, Slade. That’s why I’m here, right?”
Slade’s cock pulsed. He lowered his mouth down toward Nelle’s. Just as his lips brushed against hers, his mind racing with all the ideas and plans he had for her wet, hot cunt, a loud thud slammed against his door.
“Slade!” Darrow’s voice bellowed. “Visitors! Hot! Fucking level thirty. Code ninety-nine. Fucking war!”
Slade swung his right hand as gently as he could, throwing Nelle toward the bed.
“Stay here,” he yelled, then turned and ran toward the door.
Someone was at the clubhouse… looking to start a war.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
A New Friend
Handcuffed to a fucking tree. No fucking choice either. This was what the detective ordered for him. Hugging a fucking tree, handcuffs tightened too tight around his wrists.
Part of him wondered if the detective was just going to leave him here. He wondered how long he would survive. What would kill him first? Hunger? Thirst? Or some animals…? A bear or a mountain lion finding him, wanting a meal. Or maybe something just as bad, like ants or other bugs, crawling on his skin, little teeth and fangs digging at his flesh. Eating him fucking alive for hour after hour, day after day…
When he heard an engine and tires spitting rocks on the narrow, gravel road, he swallowed hard. He wished it were someone else. Some random person who could hit the chains of the cuffs with an axe and free him. Then he could just take off. Fucking leave. Get out of this situation. It was becoming more and more evident there was no good ending to this.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. All he wanted from his club was a little fucking respect. A chance to prove himself. To have his name tossed into the hat when it came to bigger and better things. The leather cut and the life meant a lot to him…
“Fuck,” he whispered.
Guilt and regret settled in hard. Because now with this insane detective…
“Fuck,” he whispered for a second when he realized the approaching vehicle was the detective.
The detective hung his left arm out the driver’s side window, holding the long, skinny neck on an expensive bottle of scotch. The good stuff. The top-shelf stuff. Couple hundred dollars for that bottle.
“How’s it going out here?” the detective asked as he stopped the car. “Just hanging around? Humping a tree?”
The detective laughed. The handcuffs felt even tighter on his wrists as the anger made them swell. After the detective put the bottle of scotch on the roof of the car, the detective walked over to him and took off the handcuffs.
