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I headed from the Black Hills; Amberlea remained firmly plastered against my back. The last few weeks had been chaos. When Amberlea moved back to her home, she’d been hounded by reporters, and I thanked the stars she had her gates installed. As each day ticked past, Amberlea and Faelea both became close to Gran, and they met up every day. The Wellsprings remained in jail and, according to Amberlea’s friend, Cordelia and her mother were having an awful time.
It pleased Amberlea. While enjoying their plight, she wasn’t revelling in it, showing herself to be the bigger person. Faelea was adjusting well to being around her mom and me, and the girl entertained me to no end. She’d even given me permission to stay overnight with Amberlea instead of sneaking off.
Amberlea and I had both been amused, and since that night, all my free time was spent there. I loved seeing both my girls bloom. It gave me a good feeling inside to know my attention was encouraging them to come out of their shells. Amberlea was settling into being part of the old ladies, too, and Faelea certainly added to the Hellions’ chaos.
The one thing eating me alive was the fact I had not told Amberlea about my past. I didn’t want to upset the life we were achieving, but at the same time, I had to tell her. We were building a life, and Tinsley had no part of it. But that part of me so badly hurt by her hadn’t healed. Amberlea was possibly the key to healing, but for her to weave her magic, she had to know the truth.
It would be a toss-up between disgust and outright rejection when Amberlea learned the truth. And either of those looks on her beautiful face held me back. Gran had urged me to tell her, but I couldn’t. That lost part of me, so fuckin’ terrified of being judged and rejected, kept my secret close. Amberlea knew there was something, but she didn’t push for it. No, Amberlea was content with the progress we were making.
Sure, we tore up the sheets, and I could not keep my hands off her smoking-hot body. The woman drove me wild with just one look. I’d be walking bow-legged if I spent all day inside her, and that was all I wanted to do. I’d never had more sex in my life, and yet my burning for her wasn’t lessening. It was growing. Amberlea was worming her way fast into my heart, as was her adorable daughter.
Which made me not telling her bullshit. I believed I could trust her, but I wouldn’t risk what we had. One day, everything would blow up in my face, and the truth would come out. Then I would lose her. Until then, I’d bury my head in the sand and keep going, living my perfect dream.
I revved the throttle, loving the sound of my bike, and headed towards home. Amberlea’s home.
???
I grunted and glowered at my mobile as it rang. Blearily eyeing it, I snatched it up.
“Get dressed; we’ve got a lead on the shooters,” Ace snapped down the phone.
“Be there in twenty minutes,” I replied, hauling ass and yanking on my jeans. I shoved my tee over my torso and kissed Amberlea as she blinked sleepily at me.
“What is it?” she murmured, stretching.
“Club business, babe, go back to bed. It’s only five in the morning,” I said to her.
“Fuck that,” Amberlea hissed and rolled over, burying herself amongst pillows.
I was smiling when I left the house minutes later.
???
Blood pooled at my feet. The two men in front of me were broken and on borrowed time. Drake was waiting for someone but wouldn’t tell us who. Both had confessed to being the snipers and being part of Venomous Fangs. They’d shot Axel, Nando, and Horton and killed Goldberg. For some reason, we were in our old wet room, but nobody had said why, apart from confirming it was on Drake’s orders.
There was a knock on the outer door, and Drake disappeared.
My jaw dropped open when Drake reappeared with Ramirez and Bobby Lucas behind him.
“Sure it’s them?” Ramirez asked.
“They’re the shooters, but they acted on Fury’s say so,” Drake confirmed calmly.
Ramirez nodded as he walked around the two beaten lumps of meat hanging from a hook.
Lucas stared at them with active hate.
“You are an officer. Please, man, I got a son,” one lisped through missing teeth.
“Justin Goldberg had a boy. Did you consider him when you put a bullet through his brain?” Ramirez demanded.
“You’re a cop; you uphold the law,” the guy gasped.
I stepped forward and slammed a bat into his ribs. He wheezed, and this time I knew his ribs had punctured a lung.
“Yeah, I’m police. One who upholds the law. But you fuckers? You shot my friends. My brothers. My fucking family,” Ramirez hissed.
Moments ticked past.
