Chapter 8

CHAPTER

EIGHT

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I can tell that Spencer is hesitating. I don’t really give much of a fuck, though. She’s coming with me, and I’m locking her ass up. Tonight, we’re not fucking around with the Southern Mafia. Granddaddy made promises, signed a treaty, and it’s already been violated, so it’s fucking on.

No more warnings.

We should have never let Loner live. He infiltrated our club, spied, and was a full-on fucking piece of shit. The only reason he survived our club was in an effort to keep war at bay, but that has already gone to hell in a handbasket, so war it is—and Loner is the first man on my list to be taken out.

I personally want to watch him bleed out… slowly. I may even enjoy a beer while he does, wearing a smile on my face the entire time. This fucker thought he could become a member of our club, stab us all in the back, and get away with it. He almost did, too, which pisses me off even more.

Spencer follows behind my bike in her stupid-as-fuck Tesla, but as much as I want to hate it, she looks damn good behind the wheel. It, without a doubt, fits her little hippie ass.

Riding up to the clubhouse entrance, I jerk my chin toward the gate controller. The prospect dips his chin and opens the gate for me, and I take off toward the main building, Spencer behind me.

Once we’re parked, I make my way over to her car and grab her bag from her hand. “C’mon, beautiful,” I murmur.

“Brew,” she calls out.

Stopping, I turn to face her. “Babe?”

“What happens after whatever this is is finished?”

Arching a brow, I watch her for a moment. It’s clear that she wants something from me, but I want to hear her say the words. Her gaze searches mine. Then she takes a step closer to me. Her tits almost press against my chest, and I want nothing more than to feel every part of her pressed against every part of me.

But not until this shit tonight is finished.

“I can’t just move here. I know you’re saying this is home, and I can’t deny that there are quite a few reasons why I want to stay here. But I can’t afford to just pick up and move,” she states. “And there’s no way I’m moving into this place.”

I almost burst out laughing. “No way in fuck would I let you stay here for any length of time that wasn’t lockdown.”

Her eyes narrow on me, and I know it’s because I used the word let . I’m sure that pissed her off. The progressive Austinite woman she is. My lips twitch into a smirk, and I can’t deny that she looks damn good when she’s annoyed, so I may fuck with her more often.

“I got a cabin. It was Atomic’s, but he has a house in town now. You can stay there as long as you want.”

She blinks a few times, then sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, scraping them across before she releases them. “I need Wi-Fi for my work,” she whispers.

“You got it, beautiful.”

“Why?” she asks. “Because I’m Clink’s sister?”

This seems like a tricky question to answer. Keeping my lips curved up into a smile, I hum before I answer her. “You already know that if you were just Clink’s sister, you’d have a room here,” I state.

Her breath hitches, and I want to kiss her. I want to taste her, but I don’t have the fucking time. I need to get her in the clubhouse and have her locked away safely so we can leave for Louisiana.

“Brew,” she exhales.

Lifting my hand, I slide my palm against her cheek as I look into her eyes. I need her to know just how serious I am. Although, I’m not completely sure what my seriousness looks like. I just know I have to have her.

I want to keep her.

“You can move into the cabin. You work from home, right?”

“I do,” she whispers. “But…” Her words trail off.

“There are no labels needed right now, Spencer. Whatever it is is what it is. Right now, you need to focus on yourself, on Clink, and on staying safe. I’m going to do my part to keep you safe tonight.”

She leans into my palm, her eyes closing for a moment before she straightens. “I’m going to ignore all of that and live in denial,” she announces.

“You are?”

She nods her head once. “I am. Because if I don’t, I’ll sit and think about what you said. I’ll create scenarios, and I’ll freak out.”

Chuckling, I slide my hand from her cheek to the side of her throat and curl my fingers against her flesh there. “What kind of scenarios?” I ask.

She lets out a heavy sigh. “All kinds,” she says. “Romantic ones, embarrassing ones, and with whatever you’re going to do to keep me safe … scary ones.”

Pressing my lips together, I clear my throat. “All valid, beautiful,” I murmur as I drop my hand from her throat. Taking a step backward, I reach for her bag and pick it up. Then, I jerk my head toward the door and begin to walk in that direction.

“Brew,” she calls out from behind me.

Turning my head, I look back over my shoulder at her. “Spencer?”

“I know that it was wrong all those years ago, but I’ve never regretted a single moment of it.”

Without letting me respond, she brushes past me and walks into the clubhouse. I watch her ass in her oversized flowy-type shorts and wonder just how in the fuck I’m supposed to feel.

I’m sure it shouldn’t make me happy, but it does. Maybe Spencer doesn’t hate all of us as much as she claims she does. Shaking my head, I follow behind her.

The bar is full. There are people everywhere, but I find her blonde head instantly. She is standing at the bar, with Ryan and Kyle flanking her and Shawn two seats down. They’re a pretty picture, those old ladies of the club. And Spencer will be an old lady. I just have to claim her.

And I will be claiming her.

Soon and often.

SPENCER

My heart is slamming against my chest as I walk into the bar. I don’t know what possessed me to say what I did. I mean, I know I never regretted anything with him. I’m the one who threw myself at him when I knew he was completely and totally not only drunk but high.

If he had been just one or the other, nothing probably would have happened. I waited for the opportune moment—I knew exactly what I was doing. I wanted him, and that has never changed.

I still want him.

I’m not sure there will ever be a time when I won’t be head over heels for the man.

“Are you going to tell us why that man is looking at you like he could eat you for breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert, and a midnight snack?” Ryan asks.

I shrug a shoulder, lifting my hand for the bartender to make his way over here. He does, though it’s clear this isn’t a fully stocked bar, meaning they won’t have wine or anything that isn’t hard liquor or beer.

“I’ll have whatever doesn’t taste like piss water and isn’t hard liquor,” I state.

The prospect behind the bar blinks, then his lips curve up into a grin, and he lets out a laugh. He clears his throat and takes a step backward. “Babe, that’s all I got here.”

“Then water?”

He shakes his head, reaches down below the bar, and slides a bottle of water in my direction. Wrapping my fingers around the base, I twist the cap off and then lift it to my lips. The cool liquid slides down the back of my throat, and I close my eyes. I didn’t realize how thirsty I was until this moment.

“Are you not going to answer me?” Ryan asks again.

Setting the water down in front of me, I turn my head to look at her and realize that all eyes are on me. At least all of the old ladies’ eyes are on me. I hold my breath for a moment as I attempt to stall. I’m not sure what to say. I’m not sure how I should respond.

“I think he does,” I mutter, lifting the bottle of water to my lips again.

Shawn giggles, then shakes her head a couple of times. “Girl, that much is obvious. But the real question is, are you going to let him?”

A moment passes, then another as I let that question marinade. I let it process. This is something I could answer instantly, without even thinking. However, now that I’m truly here, sitting in this bar, the men around me, the whores circling, all of us together on lockdown?

Is this truly the life I would want? Or do I do this with him one more time and then walk out the door? Never to be seen again? I don’t know the right answer. He’s saying all of the right things, but how long does that last?

“I can see the wheels turning. Those wheels turned for me, too,” Ryan states. “Don’t overthink it, trust me. Let the process happen.”

I use my nail to scratch the paper label on the water bottle. I didn’t think they still did this—put paper on bottles. I thought they stopped using paper and went to more of that plastic wrap.

I prefer glass-bottled water when I can afford it, which has been less often lately because they raised the rent on my apartment. I’m drowning. With each month, I use more and more of my savings. It’s dwindling at a rapid pace, and even though I’ve added more clients, it’s not making up the difference.

It’s just not.

Brew’s offer to live at the cabin is actually a godsend, but what does that mean for us? Will there be an us ? Could there be? I know he’s saying that he wants this, but what happens when the excitement wears off?

The forbiddenness of it all?

When I’m no longer a chase?

Or is this all guilty pity because of Clink?

“You are really thinking about this whole thing. Don’t fight it, Spencer,” Kyle says. “Don’t fight any of it.”

I want to tell her that she doesn’t understand, but it would be a lie. She does understand. They likely all do. I know Ryan does, for sure. She ran a long time ago, but now she’s back. It must have really taken a leap of faith for her to come back.

“It wasn’t a leap of faith,” Ryan whispers. “I had his son. I needed his help. He tried to push me away. I deserved that, but then he had to rescue me, and we fell in love with one another. What we had in the past never went away.”

Nodding a few times, I exhale a heavy breath. Keeping my focus on hers, I give her a small smile. “I never had him, Ryan. We didn’t have anything at all.”

“Oh yeah, you did,” she contradicts me, her voice soft and sweet. “It just had to be denied because it was wrong. But it’s not wrong anymore, and he’s not going to deny a damn thing. I can feel him watching you from across the room. He’s ready, babe.”

Before I can gather my thoughts for a decent response, I feel a warm hand on my back. Turning, I look behind me at the man himself. He is smiling as he dips his chin and touches his lips to the shell of my ear.

“You look sexy over here, but I need to show you to your room before I leave,” he rasps.

That fact alone, that he’s whispering in my ear, sends a chill down my spine. Sliding off the barstool, I don’t bother saying anything to the others. They can see everything that’s happening.

Brew takes my hand in his, then guides me toward his room. I was only in here that one night, and I don’t really remember the space that much. I was more focused on him—on the things he was doing to me.

When Brew opens his bedroom door, I step inside the room and pause.

Gross.