Bridget

Waking up the second morning after Mac took me wasn’t nearly as pleasurable as the first. Cat had kept me busy all day, and I’d been exhausted when she’d finally released me from being her slave-laborer after dinner clean-up. I’d tried to stay awake so I could talk to him, in the hope that I’d be able to convince him to let me spend my time with someone—anyone—other than Cat. Preferably him. But I must have passed out before he’d turned in for the night, and slept through him leaving since the bed was now empty. I would have thought I’d spent the entire night alone if it wasn’t for the indentation on the pillow next to me and the slight hint of his scent on the sheets.

“I better see that man more today than I did yesterday,” I mumbled to myself. “Or else I’ll have to kick my own butt for cooperating in my own kidnapping.”

My muscles ached when I crawled out of bed and headed into the bathroom to get ready for my day. Not that I needed to do a lot since I was just going to be a hot and sweaty mess soon because Cat clearly had it out for me. A fact that was proven to me yet again when I walked into the kitchen and she turned from the stove to glare at me.

“Did the spoiled princess get enough sleep? Would she like a cup of coffee? Maybe a gourmet breakfast?”

I didn’t bother saying anything. I’d learned that lesson yesterday. Cat couldn’t care less what I had to say or if she hurt my feelings. She’d made her mind up about me, and nothing was going to change it.

“Now that you’re finally up, get over here and stir these eggs.”

I did as she asked—or ordered, really, since it wasn’t a request—and took her place at the stove. There were at least two dozen eggs in the pan, and Cat hurried over to the toaster to pull out four slices of toast. She popped another four slices in, buttered the ones that were done, and set them on top of an already tall pile on a plate. It seemed like she was making enough to feed a small army.

Scout strolled in and gave Cat a quick pat on her butt. “How’s breakfast coming along, Kitty Cat?”

“Better now that the princess is finally up,” she grumbled.

“Well then, I’m glad Blue’s around to lend a hand in the kitchen.”

“Blue?” Cat echoed softly.

“Yeah, she needed a nickname and Blue seemed like the obvious choice with those gorgeous eyes of hers,” Scout explained.

If looks could kill, I’d have dropped dead on the spot after the venomous scowl Cat shot my way. She smiled up at Scout when he looked down at her, so he didn’t catch the look she gave me. While he snagged a piece of toast before heading out the door, she pulled a couple of baking sheets of bacon out of the oven.

“You make your bacon in the oven?”

My question earned me another glare and an eye-roll. “Yeah, ‘cause it’s less messy and easier to cook it in big batches that way than in a pan.” She gave me a considering look, and then her lips tilted up in a smug grin. “Although I guess that for the short time you’re around, I don’t have to worry about making a mess since I’ve got you to clean it up for me.”

Ignoring her effort to push my buttons yet again, I asked a question that had been bugging me instead. “The old ladies in my dad’s club don’t take care of even half the stuff that you do. They hand most of it off to the girls who hang around for the guys. Couldn’t you do the same and have them help you more often?”

“It isn’t your job to question the way we do things around here,” she spat at me. Then she slammed one of the empty baking sheets into the sink and stalked towards me. When she got close enough to reach me, she grabbed my upper arm and her nails dug into my skin. “The Silver Saints aren’t anything like the Hounds of Hellfire, and we never will be. Why in the hell would we want to be when one of those motherfuckers put one of our guys in a coma for standing up for a woman?”

“I didn’t—” My sentence broke off when she shook me.

“Of course you didn’t! How could you when sheltered princesses don’t know what goes on in the real world?” She swept her free hand in the air, waving around the kitchen. “Look around. Your daddy isn’t here to protect you. Nobody is. Not even Mac. You might be wearing his cut, but that’s only because he doesn’t want the guys to take things too far with you. You’re a commodity to him, nothing more. The lever he needed to pull to get your dad to come to the bargaining table. Nothing less, and sure as fuck nothing more. Not like it’ll be when he finds the woman he wants to be his old lady and has her wear it. Assuming she’ll even want the same one he put on your boney ass.”

I’d held firm through her whole rant—right up until the point when she mentioned some other woman wearing Mac’s cut. My mind filled with thoughts of someone else where I wanted to be. In his bed. Making a life with him. I yanked my arm out of Cat’s hold. Once I was free, I ran out of the kitchen, through the bar area in front, and out the door.

If I hadn’t been so upset, I would have heard the familiar rumble of engines as a group of motorcycles pulled in front of the clubhouse. But instead, I stumbled down the steps and onto the driveway with tears clouding my vision.

I heard Mac yell my name, and I stopped to rub at my eyes. He sounded weird. Pissed...and scared, maybe? My head popped up, and my heart raced in my chest when I saw two motorcycles barreling towards me. Before I had the chance to move, strong arms wrapped around my waist and lifted me out of harm’s way.

“Shit,” Mac grunted in my ear, squeezing me tight against his chest before setting me back on my feet. “That was too fucking close. What the hell were you thinking?” He shook me a little and scowled fiercely when he let go and saw red fingerprints and scratches on the arm Cat had grabbed in the kitchen. “Fuck, did I do that?”

His pale green eyes filled with remorse. I reached up and patted his chest softly. “No,” I reassured him. “My skin is sensitive and marks easily, but this isn’t from you.”

The guilt bled out of his gaze and was replaced with fury. “Someone dared to touch you? Who was it?”

I stared up at him and shook my head. “It’s nothing. Just the way my skin is. Don’t worry about it.”

His fingers gripped the edges of his cut and pulled me into his chest. “I’m the Prez. You’re wearing my patch. That means you’re untouchable. But you’ve got marks on your arm, tears in your eyes, and you almost got run down by one of my men. That sure as fuck is something.”

I shook my head again. If I ever wanted any hope of a relationship with Mac in the future, I’d have to find a way to coexist with Cat. Things with her were bad enough, I didn’t want to make them worse.

A frustrated growl rumbled up his chest, and I patted him gently again. His gaze dropped to my hand and filled with determination. Then he grabbed me around the waist, hoisted me over his shoulder, and stalked into the clubhouse.