Chapter 33

CHAPTER

THIRTY-THREE

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Looking behind me, I snort at the fact that we’re completely alone. I don’t know why, but I expected someone to follow us—watch us. Southern Mafia checking up on us or some shit.

They don’t.

Not that there is much to see. We’re going to load up this merch, mix it with the dope that’s already in the back of the truck, and then drive it to the drop-off point.

That’s that and nothing else.

Maybe there is something else at play, but it’s not this, and while I’m not disappointed, I am surprised. Merchandise and deliveries seem to be where we have the most issues, which include, but are not exclusive to, arrests and prison time.

Once we’ve loaded everything up, I survey the area again, and again, we’re alone. I feel almost as if I’m looking for trouble, maybe anticipating it. I’m not sure. But what I know is that absolutely nothing is easy. And I don’t trust the Southern Mafia agreement, contract treaty or not.

Climbing up into the truck, I adjust my mirrors and begin to drive. Guts is beside me, and I can’t help but wonder if I should have made him and Rim continue to stay with Spencer for protection.

“You good, bro?” Guts asks after a few moments of silence.

I flick my gaze to him, then shift it back to the front windshield, clearing my throat before I shift in my seat.

“Yeah,” I grunt.

“Liar.”

I let out a heavy sigh, my cheeks puffing out as it escapes. “Yeah,” I agree. “I don’t trust the Southern Mafia, and I was wondering if you and Rim should have stayed on Spencer, is all.”

“She’s probably safer at your cabin than she would be at Ophelia’s motel,” Guts murmurs.

Jerking my chin in a single nod, I clear my throat before I speak. “Yeah,” I rasp. “She is, but at the same time, I don’t want her alone. I’ve never worried about someone before. I’m a complete fucking pussy for this girl.”

Guts lets out a bark of laughter. “You’re no different from Atomic, King, or Gnaw. They’re all complete fucking pussies, and don’t let them tell you anything different. You and I both know they are.”

He’s not wrong, and now I’ve joined the ranks even though I swore that I wouldn’t. “What happens when they’re used because of how valuable they are to us? Not just because they’re our women, our property, but because they are without a doubt our weakness.”

“They are,” Guts agrees. “But I think they’re all your strength, too.”

I think about his words. He’s right. Those women are not only our weakness but also our strength. I’ve never felt so strong and so goddamn pathetic in my life. This woman owns me, but at the same time, she holds me up.

So, what the fuck do I do with that?

I have no idea.

The rest of the ride, we chat about things that aren’t as deep. I’m glad not to focus on relationship shit any longer. By the time we reach the drop-off point, I can see the sun beginning to rise on the horizon.

I’m ready to get home, slide into bed, and do all of the things I promised Spencer I would do to her. Shaking hands with the contact, I tell him we’ll see him soon, but he pauses, holding his hand up to stop me.

“Heard your guy got caught, thrown in the slammer,” he murmurs.

Nodding a couple of times, I clear my throat. I don’t know what the fuck to say. It happened, but it doesn’t mean it’s going to be an issue any longer… hopefully anyway. I tell him as much, and he clears his throat.

“Real sorry to hear about it, anyway. You took care of the rat who did it?” he asks.

I snort, unsure of how I want to answer that exactly. What I want to do is give him every single detail of how we took care of the rat bastards, but I don’t do that. I honestly don’t feel like I can trust anyone right now. Maybe it’s just because of what happened to Clink. But I think it’s generally out of a sense of desire to protect Spencer.

Spencer is here, and she’s mine. I know she loves me more than just a teenage girl’s infatuation the way it was a decade ago. I wouldn’t have even appreciated her infatuation back then. I appreciate her love and devotion now, though. Probably more than she’ll ever know.

“It’s handled,” I say to the contact, not willing to divulge anything more just in case he’s just as much of a rat bastard as Albert and his grandkids. His eyes widen, and he chuckles.

“Good. Hey, wanted to know if the next order, could we get that doubled?”

My eyes widen, and I know he sees the shocked expression on my face because his chuckle now is deeper. “We’re anticipating some extra partying.”

I don’t think I want to know. I also realize that it isn’t my place to know. So, instead of asking him for any details, I just dip my chin in confirmation. “I can do that. Same place, same time next month?”

“Sounds good,” he murmurs. “See you then.”

Before I can say anything else, he turns and walks away. Not that I had anything else to say to him anyway. Guts slaps his hand on my shoulder, and I turn to look at him, arching a brow in question.

“Double?” he asks.

“That’s what he said.”

Guts hums but doesn’t say anything else. His hand falls from my shoulder, and I watch him rock back on his heels. “Sounds like it’s either a good deal or a trap,” he states.

He’s right. That’s exactly what it sounds like. As much as I would love to tell our contact fuck no , I can’t do that. We need the steady deliveries and the money, even if that means putting our dicks on the line because that is exactly what this shit feels like.

We climb back into the truck and head back to Pineville. I can’t stop thinking about Spencer, about this delivery and order. All of this feels wrong, but I can’t quite put the pieces together. Mainly because I’m missing too many of them.

Choosing to ignore the motive behind the order, I decide to focus on the fact that there is going to be a double order. That is good for business. I just hope it doesn’t mean the end of business. I decide to err on the side of caution and schedule myself as the delivery driver again.

I must be talking out loud because Guts offers himself to join me as well. Jerking my chin, I clear my throat, smirking because, if nothing else, Guts is a good man to have at your back. And he’s thinking the same way I am, that this could be a trap, and he’s still willing to offer to join me.

Hopefully, it’s just a bad feeling and nothing more. The last thing any of us needs is to be led into a fucking trap.

SPENCER

The bed dips, and I feel a body climb in behind me. I know who it is before I even flutter my eyes open. His body is warm and hard against my back. So much muscle, and I have it memorized. It hasn’t been long enough since we’ve been together again for me to have done that, but I have because I’m practically obsessed with him.

I feel his hand slide across my belly. Then his lips touch the side of my neck. Closing my eyes again, I let out a trembling breath. I want him to touch me everywhere, lick me everywhere, be everywhere.

His hand gently glides up the center of my chest. I feel his fingers curl around my breast, gripping me there, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from whimpering.

Turning my head, I touch my lips to the underside of his jaw. “Good morning,” I murmur against his skin.

Slowly, I turn in his arms. I don’t ask him where he was or what he was doing. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know. Because I do. I want to know everything. Every single detail.

Trying to shake that need off because even though I want it, I won’t be getting it, I let out a heavy sigh. It isn’t my information to know. I might be his old lady, claimed, announced, and living in his home, but I am and will never be a Dark Horse. Therefore, I’ll never know what he’s been up to, what he’ll be up to, or anything else that has to do with the club or its business.

“Morning, beautiful.”

Shifting my face away from his slightly, I look into his eyes. I stare at him, searching for a sign. I could lie and say that I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I do. I’m trying to gauge the trustworthiness, the lies, the hidden truths, whatever it could be that he was possibly out doing, but there is nothing there.

Evan’s conscience is clear, or he’s figured out how to hide it really freaking well. But I decide I’m going to go with what is best for my mental health. I’m going to go with what makes me happy. And it’s believing in him, in us, and trusting him.

“I’m going out with the girls on Thursday night,” I finally murmur, deciding to stop thinking about what he could have been doing.

He hums, his gaze never leaving mine. His arms pull me a little closer to him. My breasts press against his hard chest. He smirks down at me.

“Girls’ night. That sounds dangerous,” he hums.

Evan slides his hand up the center of my back, curling his fingers around the back of my neck and applying pressure there, but not enough to hurt me in any way. He lets out a low growl, then dips his head slightly, sliding his nose alongside my own before he nips my bottom lip with his teeth. “Is there going to be trouble?” he asks.

Letting out a trembling sigh, I hitch my knee over his thigh so I can get a little closer to him. Any centimeter closer is better than none. Dancing my fingers up his arm, I sink my teeth into my bottom lip as his bicep flexes beneath my touch. Once I reach the top of his arm, I slide my hand across his shoulders, pressing my breasts even harder against his chest.

“No trouble, just three married old ladies, one girl who is very much in love with a bartender, and me,” I whisper.

“And you?” he asks.

“An old lady who is in love with her man.”

I feel really stupid as soon as those words escape my lips, but I also feel… at peace. They’re out now. It’s not like it’s any kind of surprise that I love him. That I’ve probably always loved him. Even if it was puppy love all those years ago, it’s not that now. It’s deeper, and I know that it will just get deeper and greater as the years pass.

I can’t wait for it.

As terrified as I am, I am also equally excited about it all.

“Oh,” I call out softly. “And Ophelia.”

Evan lets out a soft and sweet chuckle. He cares for Ophelia as much as I do, as much as Kyle does. That warms my heart. I can’t contain myself. I shift forward, touching my lips to his bottom one, then roll my hips against his thigh.

I went to bed last night wearing a comfortable cotton nightgown with no panties in hopes he would have come home and taken me when he got here.

“You haven’t kept up on your promise,” I breathe against his lips.

He groans, feeling my heat against his thigh. I don’t care if I seem like a wild animal. I feel like one whenever he’s near.

Completely and totally feral.

There is no other way I can feel about him. It’s almost too much. The way he makes me feel inside, like I’m out of control, like whenever he’s near, I can’t stop thinking about the way he fills me.

“It’s been more than eight hours since you’ve been inside of me.”

And that is all I needed to say. In a flash, I’m on my back, and he fills me with one swift thrust.

Perfection .