LOCKE

LOCKE

Leaving Nash home alone nearly fuckin' broke me. He couldn't walk—could barely stand, and we left him less than ten minutes after we'd both grabbed a shower.

But as much as I hated it, I understood.

Nash and Rubi.

Rubi and Nash.

They needed this before anyone could heal.

"You want to see Cam?"

From the passenger seat, Orla tossed me a distracted glance, drumming her fingers on the leather interior of her car. "No, he's fine. I checked before we left."

"Not what I asked, queenie."

"It's my answer, sweetheart . What about you? We really can go and see the kids if you want."

I didn't, and that fuckin' hurt too. I could hardly look at Willow right now, all the while having to grit my teeth and tell her what had happened to Nash and Cam wasn't her fault. That she hadn't caused some pissed-up dumbfuck to get behind the wheel of his HGV and nearly kill the love of my life, even though it was her fuckin' fault that anyone I cared about had been on that road in the first place.

Orla raked her nails down my thigh.

I glanced at her again. She wasn't looking my way, but somehow she'd sensed the carnage in my brain, and my woman was an expert at shutting that shit down without saying a fuckin' word.

I love her .

As much as I loved him.

Nash.

Fuck, I missed him already. These few hours we had to spend away from him were going to shatter me, and bracing for it sent tension rippling through a body that was already tired and sore. Already fuckin' broken, by some cunt with dirty hands.

He's dead .

Priest.

God-fuckin'-damnit, I didn't want to think about that—about him, and how close he'd got to Orla for her to have the chance to kill him.

It wasn't chance. She chose to be there .

"Locke."

I blinked. The car had stopped— I'd stopped, in the compound car park I'd driven to with my eyes wide shut. "I need to call my brother."

Orla rubbed my leg. "Me too—River, I mean. Meet me upstairs?"

"Yeah."

It was all I had. She got out of the car as Mateo emerged from the clubhouse and escorted her across the yard. A shadow she didn't need, but one I appreciated as I dialled my twin with shaky hands.

Logan answered on the first ring. "What's up?"

I had nothing. Just a sharp inhale.

"Hang on."

Wherever he was, it was loud. A few doors opened and shut. Then dead silence filtered down the line and my chest constricted.

Don't go .

"I'm here."

My brother's voice was a shade deeper than mine, as if those snatched minutes he'd been alive before me had gifted him a decade more wisdom. Or maybe I heard what I needed to hear. Just like Lo only needed that snatched breath to sense the fuckin' chaos ripping through me. Pain that tore me up far worse than anything physical.

"Are you alone?"

I found my voice. "I'm in the car."

"Where?"

"At the club. Orla went inside."

"Nash is okay?"

"He's at home. We left him to spend some time with Rubi."

"The big one?"

"He's no bigger than you."

"He'd be no bigger than you if you weren't so fucking skinny."

"Yeah yeah." I didn't want to get into it with my brother about his opinions on my fluctuating physical condition. It wasn't why I'd called. Fuck, I couldn't actually remember what had driven me to pick up the phone when I was in no state to handle his scrutiny, but his voice…it soothed me, even if he was about to go off like a regular fuckin' pain in my arse.

"They're nice people."

Logan's comment felt like it came out of nowhere, but I knew that was all me. My brother never said shit for fun or to fill the silence. Not quite like Saint, but not a world away either. "You sound surprised."

"I'm not. I liked them. Even the one who wouldn't come inside."

That put Saint on my mind again, but honestly, it could've been any of the men who'd ridden up Firefly Hill and not made it into my brother's house.

"Did the police talk to you?"

Feds . At least, they were to me. My brother lived in a world where they were just humans doing their jobs. "They talked to Willow and Nicky. And they came to see Nash, but he was asleep."

"Locke, he has to talk to them."

"I know."

"He didn't do anything wrong. I saw the traffic camera footage last night."

That spiked band squeezed my heart again. Shit that needed to fuck the fuck off if I was going to live past fifty. "How was it?"

"Horrendous. It's crazy that Cam walked away, considering how hard he got thrown."

"He's tough."

"He's lucky ," Logan corrected. "If he'd landed different, he'd be dead."

I winced, questioning my sanity for calling my straight-talking twin for a fuckin' pep talk. "Thanks for that."

"You asked. And you're going to read it in the reports anyway."

Truth. Regardless, Lo was a blunt motherfucker and I'd known that my whole damn life. "Are you working tonight?"

"No."

Relief washed over me. Sometimes, it was the hardest thing in the world to know I had to wait twelve hours for him to not die in a fire before I could speak to him. Other things were hard too, but me and Lo…we'd bonded before we were born and I knew I was gonna need him again before this day was done.

We said goodbye.

He didn't ask if I was okay, and I didn't lie and tell him I was. But the comfort of his brevity stayed with me as I pocketed my phone and finally hauled myself out of the car.

The yard was quiet, only a few old timers milling around, and most of them were good ones, save one old cunt who still bitched at me about Crow bullshit whenever he got the chance.

Not tonight, though. I passed without him opening his fat mouth, and I was glad of it. Talking to Lo had eased my stress, but I still felt wired enough to fuckin' hurt someone if they crossed me wrong, and I didn't want to go home to Nash with blood on my hands.

Home . Six months ago that had been my bedroom in the residence. Now it was anywhere that smelled of guitars and black cherries. Anywhere with them , and I didn't much care if that was a mansion or a shack on the moon.

I found Orla in Nash's room, on the floor, sorting through the mess of clothes he kept there when she hadn't been around in a few days to nag him into picking them up. She'd ditched her jacket. Tied her hair back. And as I shut the door behind me and leant against it, everything about her tripped my brain. Her curvy body. Her tattooed throat as she tipped her head back to appraise me.

The glint in her dark eyes as she devoured me with her gaze. "Lock the door."

I obeyed without question, flicking the bolt, heart already pumping with something better than the crippling anxiety I'd dragged up the stairs. "What do you need, Orls?"

Orla rose and stepped to me, up in my face in a single breath as she cut the distance between us. "I need what you need, baby."

"And what's that?"

She palmed my dick, those nails coming out to play again. "This."

I took a breath, the last I was aware of before we collided in a rough and messy kiss that pushed me into madness, my hands and mouth taking on a life of their own. My brain checked out, pulse so off the scale I forgot I had one as raw emotion began a war with frantic desire, an unhealthy coping mechanism I couldn't bring myself to regret.

Orla grabbed my collar and yanked me towards the bed. I went so willingly I tripped over my own fuckin' feet before I got a hold of myself, snatching my balance a split second before my weight crushed her into Nash's grey sheets.

She looked disappointed.

I gripped her chin, bracing my forearm to the mattress, her legs already a vice around my waist. "Don't goad me too much right now. Not sure I can fuckin' stop."

"I don't want you to stop."

Orla was no liar. Her words were all I needed to hear for the switch in my brain to shift all the way, control and restraint abandoned in favour of wrenching her jeans down her legs as she tore at my belt buckle, foreplay a distant fuckin' memory before a crazed need to taste her had me sinking to my knees.

My palms ran the gauntlet of her curved hips and thick thighs, her hands in my hair, twisting hard enough to hurt with the sweetest pain.

"Locke."

The gritty arousal in her voice set me on fire. The carnage of the last few days put up a fight, but with Nash safe at home, even if he was with Rubi instead of us, it finally lost its bite.

I peeled Orla's underwear away and tossed her leg over my shoulder, making room for myself between those fuckin' thighs. I kissed her pussy, dick hard as stone as her back arched, her sinful lips parted in a silent cry. Cos that's what we had to be up here.

Silent.

A stealth fuck when all I wanted was to throw her down and take her apart—take myself apart.

A reset.

An epiphany.

I didn't care. I just needed her.

And she needed me.

I buried my face in her, arousal building in every fibre of my sore body, morphing the pain into an ache of a different kind. The kind that sheened my skin with sweat and gave my pulse another bump that I was sure would give me a fuckin' heart attack when I was done fucking her. Which wasn't happening until I made her come.

It didn't take long. Nash was the master at eating pussy—and dick now it no longer terrified him—but I'd learned Orla's sweet spots by watching him, by obsessing over it when I'd had nothing to do but wait to die on a frigid concrete floor. By mapping my own fuckin' path, cos I'd never be as good as Nash, in bed or otherwise.

Orla's leg slipped off my shoulder. Her thighs squeezed my head, and I drove my tongue harder, fucking her with my mouth, warming her up for the pulsing stone column my dick had become. " Fuck ?—"

I sealed her mouth shut with my palm, grateful for the long arms I'd been born with. The legs that somehow still held the strength of a man who'd spent eleven years pounding up and down ladders.

Orla came. I let her ride it out for a hot second. Then I was on her again, rising from my knees to cover her with my body, guiding my dick into her wet heat, clinging to the shred of common sense I had left. The one that reminded me to be careful with my big fuckin' dick, cos it would kill me to hurt her.

I slid home, inch by inch, resisting her silent plea for me to go faster, harder. To be as rough with her as I was with Nash.

Not fuckin' happening—not yet. We were hot for each other. Blazing. But goddamn, we were still human.

All the way in, I gave her a moment to acclimatise, trusting her to be quiet as I seized her thighs and hiked her closer, aligning our bodies better.

Deeper.

Her eyes rolled, face flushed, and we shared a heady gasp, lost together in a realm I wouldn't ever want to leave if Nash was here with us.

Thinking about him wrenched my heart. Then I pictured what we'd do to him if he was naked on this bed too, what he'd do to us, and my hips flexed of their own accord.

" Locke ." Orla's voice was a throaty whisper this time, the demand still there, the plea, but it was softer, and we shared another breath, pent-up energy and emotion thrumming between us.

"You want me to fuck you, queenie? You need it?"

"Yes."

Her one word answer barrelled into me, a ricocheting bullet that throttled my nerves. I ground into her, slow and deep for a throbbing beat before that frantic need stole over me again, and deep wasn't deep enough.

Nothing was enough. Not without him.

Except, it was. Cos I loved Orla just as much. Wanted her. Needed her. And my body knew better than my razed brain, setting a pace that purged the air from my lungs and the thoughts from my head, leaving me nothing but her sharp breaths and the clench of her muscles around my dick.

Orla wrapped every fuckin' limb around me, caging me with her silken skin and curves as I rooted my knees to the bed and drove inside her, barely holding on to the caution I'd aways shown her, each pounding thrust an I love you , as if there was any fuckin' chance she didn't know.

The pressure—the pleasure —was brain-melting. I hid my face in her neck again and groaned, harsh and low, like she was ripping it from my gut. Like my hand tangling in her messy ponytail was searching for absolution.

These fuckers. Every time I thought I'd come as hard as I could come without combusting, one of them did something to me that blew my soul apart.

This time was no different. I fucked Orla through another orgasm, wringing her out, honest to god believing I was ready for the release bearing down on me. But I was a stupid motherfucker. A na?ve one. I came like I was dying and it took everything I had not to crumple on top of her.

My damaged arm saved me. Panting, I eased down beside Orla, rolling her with me, searching out her hands, my vision still hazy, my pulse as feral as Ranger when he didn't get his own way.

I was still inside her. Still rock hard and pressed tight against a sensitive spot that made this regal woman tremble.

This isn't over.

But I gave her a second to breathe. Gave myself a minute to dial back into the world.

Nash's bed was wrecked, my perspective of what we'd just done underestimating the rampant mess of sheets and pillows, and the jeans still hooked to my feet.

I kicked them off, tossing Orla's for good measure, the underwear too. Unless we got word Rubi was heading out, or someone called on us, she wouldn't be needing any of it anytime soon.

"Thank you."

I skimmed a hand over her stomach. "For what?"

"For always knowing. For being here. For existing—I don't fucking know." Orla sat up a little, propping her head on her hand. "I've needed that so many times from Nash, but it took years for him to feel able to give it to me."

No resentment clouded her tone, just regret for the years they'd lost, and I felt that. I was forty years old and only just sliding into my own epic love story. How different would my life have been if I'd met them twenty years ago?

You wouldn't have Willow and Nicky.

Or maybe I would and Willow's hair would've been brown instead of blond.

It wasn't in me to wish Kara away. We'd shared a lot, love and loss. We'd buried our baby together. But grief for what should've been , for all of us, still clawed at my heart.

Orla hooked her leg over my hip. "Sex is terrible therapy, but I'm ignoring that today if you're okay with fucking my brains out until we can go home."

Her tight heat wrenched me from the past, from the future, grounding me in the present. "I'm all right with anything that gets me out of my head."

"I know you're not okay."

"None of us are." I nuzzled her neck, my blood already rising in anticipation of the sweet oblivion she offered, cum dripping from her and coating my dick. "But we will be."

"You believe that?"

Not entirely, cos I'd spent way too long waiting for time to heal my deepest wounds, but that was before , and as broken as I felt right now, I had faith that hell was done with me for a while. I had to, or I'd have carked it a thousand times this week alone. "I believe it, queenie. I love you."

Her face brightened, lines of soul-deep fatigue fading. "I love you too. Now will you please make me come again? Before I die from missing him so much?"

Course I fuckin' could.

So I did.