Page 30 of Psycho

“What’s not fair, baby?”

“Now I really, really want to fuck your brains out, and I can’t because you’re such a damn gentleman about it.”

Arrow laughed—that beautiful laugh from deep in his belly, with his head thrown back and his whole body shaking with amusement.

He was right. Whether we were married or not, our hearts belonged to each other.

Chapter nine

Psycho

Bobbie was a little more rational after she let me convince her to eat something. She sat cross-legged on the bed, carving into the flapjacks.

“Are you taking any meds?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“Not anymore. I used to have a prescription for my anxiety, and that seemed to keep me on the level for longer periods of time. But the pills ran out two years ago. And it’s tough to get meds when you’re…” She cleared her throat and fiddled with a piece of toast. “You know, homeless.”

I sat on the bed beside her and placed my palm on the nape of her neck for comfort.

“You have a home now. We’ll work on getting you that medication, okay?”

A faint smile flickered across Bobbie’s lips. Her skin was splotchy and her eyes were still red from crying. She scratched at the towel on her head and gestured toward the bathroom with her thumb.

“I should go dry my hair and assess the damage I did with this dye job.”

I plucked a piece of bacon from the breakfast tray and held it out to her.

“Take some bacon for the road.”

She rolled her eyes and accepted it without protest anyway.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to fatten me up like a goose before the slaughter?”

I scoffed and tugged on her wrist, pulling her to stand between my knees.

“I’m not fattening you up like a goose. I’m taking care of my girl. You are never going hungry on my watch.”

A pleased blush colored Bobbie’s cheeks. Then a firm knock echoed at the door.

“Psycho, you have a visitor,” came Trooper’s voice. “She didn’t give a name, but she seemed to know all about you.”

Bobbie raised her eyebrows.

“Do I have competition for your affection? Has an old flame returned in the hopes of winning your heart back?”

I swatted her ass lightly. She yelped with a laugh and danced out of reach, ducking into the bathroom.

Trooper led me out to the parking lot where a woman waited, leaning back against a rusty sedan. I didn’t recognize her—probably somewhere in her early twenties, with peroxide blonde hair, hot pink heels, and a tight black mini skirt.

Since the clubhouse was on lockdown until further notice, we weren’t allowing visitors inside. The only people who could cross that threshold right now were members of the club and their loved ones.

“You wanted to see me?” I said as I approached.

The woman extended her hand, gold bangles clattering on her wrist.

“Hi, it’s great to finally put a face to the name. I’ve heard so much about you.”