CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

GIDEON

I invited Lindy to hang out at the gym with me a few days after our talk over mac and cheese, figuring we could both use the physical release of jumping rope or punching a bag. I hate that she struggles with triggers still, but I get it, and my chest warms at the trust she showed by allowing me to stay and discuss what happened.

Lindy arrives while I'm in the middle of sparring with Denver—a man on his way up the MMA chain. It won't be long before he hits it big. Hopefully, spotlighting the gym with him.

I wave Lindy over to a row of chairs along the wall as I finish up.

"Alright, that's enough," Alaska calls out. Denver and I walk to our corners and gulp long drinks of water before he joins me and gestures to Lindy with his bottle.

"Is she your girl?"

"Hell yeah, so don't get any ideas." I eye him in part warning, part joking. I don't think he'd try anything, but it's always good to let another man know where you stand when it comes to your woman.

"Point taken," he chuckles. "I just meant that she kind of stands out. Doesn't look like the usual club bunnies that hang out here and the clubhouse."

I glance at Lindy. One leg is crossed over the other as she hunches over a crossword puzzle in her lap. She started doing them a few weeks back after lamenting the state of her memory.

If she wasn't wearing tight yoga pants and a neon-colored tank, she would fit right in with the people at the senior center down the block. "That's because she's not, but for some reason, she's chosen me anyway."

"I guess that makes you a lucky son of a bitch," Denver jokes.

"Damn straight. See you later, man." We bump fists then I head Lindy's way. "Hey, baby."

She smiles up at me as she puts her puzzle away. Damn. I never want her to stop looking at me like that. Like I'm her favorite person in the world.

"Are you going to show me some moves now?" She playfully throws up her fists in a mock fighting stance, and I chuckle at her antics as I grab her bag.

"First, let's lock this up so no one messes with it, then I'll show you my moves." I lower my voice suggestively.

Lindy blushes but plays along. "Hmm, sounds interesting… But I warn you, my boyfriend's a behemoth, and I'm not sure he'd like you flirting with me."

Fuck, I like the sound of her calling me her boyfriend. It's a paltry word in comparison to my feelings for Lindy, but I'll take whatever she wants to call me. "No, ma'am. This is completely professional." I wink.

After we return to the main gym area, I tape her knuckles.

"Now, I really look badass."

What she looks like is fucking sexy. Like she plays rough before fucking the life out of you. Shit. Erase that image. I don't need the whole gym to see my damn hard-on. Hiding behind a punching bag, I steady it for Lindy.

"Let me see what you got."

She slams her fist into the bag, barely moving it. "Damn, that's hard!"

"Put more weight behind your punches. Try again."

We work our way through the gym with me showing her proper techniques and teaching some self-protective measures. God forbid Lindy is ever alone with Dean or some other abusive bastard, but I want her prepared in case I'm not around.

"Let's take a break," I say an hour later.

Lindy is breathing hard, unaccustomed to this kind of exertion. Shooting me a grateful look, she sits down on the edge of the empty boxing ring, gulps her water, and lays back with her arms splayed above her head.

"You know as much as Alaska and his staff try to keep this place clean, this thing's been covered with sweat, blood, and who knows what else."

"Don't care." Lindy doesn't bother to lift her head to respond.

I shake my head in amusement and join her on the mat. My girl is worn out.

She warned me when I first asked her to come that she's passed out from working out too hard in the past. Twice. So, I tried to keep things easy. I wanted to push her limits, not harm her.

"Are you okay? Do you feel like you're going to pass out?"

"I'm fine. If we'd kept going, something might have happened since I was beginning to feel dizzy, but I'm good now."

Frustration winds through my body. "You were 'beginning to feel dizzy'? Why didn't you tell me? If I push too hard, you need to let me know."

Lindy sighs, and I can practically hear the roll of her eyes behind her closed eyelids. "I'm fine, Gideon. We stopped. The dizziness is fading. Relax."

"Lindy, if your safety is compromised then I need to know. There's a fine line between brave and foolish." She ignores me, probably too tired to argue, so I let it go, but make a mental note to pay better attention in the future. Now that I'm aware of her baseline and limit, I can adjust.

"Why is it so quiet all of a sudden?" she asks.

"The gym closes for an hour around this time. Most guys go home to eat then come back later."

Alaska tries to accommodate every type of schedule, so the gym opens at five in the morning and closes at midnight.

"You're saying we're alone then." Lindy sits up with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Good, because I've wanted to do this since I walked in and saw you all sweaty and hot sparring with that guy." She moves to hover above my face then kisses me.

Instinctively, I tug her leg over, so she's straddling me, and run my free hand under her loose tank, enjoying the feel of her squishy belly before I move higher. A slight gasp escapes when my fingers feel under the sports bra for her nipple.

I wonder if she's going to stop me from going further, but Lindy presses harder into me as our kiss intensifies. The heat of her cunt a torturous temptation on my dick.

Little wisps of curls escape her ponytail, tickling my face and catching on my beard the longer we make out. They tease with their featherlight touches, and I imagine those caresses tickling over my entire body.

She rubs her entire front along mine as her hands curl into my shoulder and scalp. The small pain from her little fingernails digging into me is hot as fuck.

I want Lindy's marks.

I'm hers, and I don't care who knows it.

A throat clears in the background, and I whip Lindy underneath me so fast, her dazed look of confusion almost makes me grin.

My head lifts to see who the intruder is. No one deserves to see Lindy in a state of arousal. She's mine. For my eyes only.

Fucking Ranger.

"Sorry, guys. Alaska said Timber was here, and when you didn't answer your phone…" He shrugs and scratches the back of his neck. "We've got an issue at Reaper's Revamp. A client claims you fucked up his bike and won't calm down until he talks to you."

"Dammit," I mutter. Maneuvering to a standing position, I help Lindy up then face Ranger. "I'll be there in ten minutes. Make sure you have the paperwork for the job ready for me when I arrive, because the guy's lying. I didn't fuck up anyone's ride."

"You got it. Sorry again." Ranger waves farewell then exits the gym, leaving Lindy and I alone again.

Too bad we can't finish what we started.

"Sounds like you've got a fire to put out, which is for the best since I should stop playing hooky to work, too," Lindy says, patting my chest. "The macro I left running is probably done now, so I should get home anyway. But this," she gestures between us, her hardened nipples and my erect cock on display beneath our clothes, "To be continued."

***

This prick is out of his damn mind. The paperwork clearly states what he ordered and what we delivered. Pictures of before and after included.

Yet he has the nerve to argue I'm wrong.

"I'm going to sue this place for everything you've got," he threatens.

"Go ahead. It's your money you'll be wasting because the law is on our side." I cross my arms over my chest. Usually my size does the trick of intimidating people but this guy is so far gone, common sense and self-preservation have clearly deserted him.

A notification dings on my phone, interrupting the standoff. Swiping to open it, my brows furrow at the message. It's an alert from McCoy Security about a breach on the south side of the MC compound.

It's a forest of trees on that side of the property. Did a deer or bear trigger the alarm? Surely, McCoy accounts for forest creatures.

"We're done here," I say, a niggling worry creeping up my back. The man splutters, but he's soon forgotten once the roar of my Harley fills my ears.

I'm not the only club member who would have gotten that alert. Snow and Fox would have, too. In the MC's hierarchy, we're the top three men—Club President, VP, and Sergeant at Arms.

Texting Snow and Fox that I'm headed back to the clubhouse, I rev the engine and peel out of the Reaper's Revamp parking lot, uneasiness my companion.