My heart chugged like a jet engine in my chest. I stopped being scared for myself the minute those motherfuckers took me and started beating on me. My thoughts began and ended with her, sweet Christa, my old lady now and forever.

Flash forward. I had to make sure our forever didn't end here. The jackass in my headlock couldn't stop shaking like a fucking leaf every time I jabbed the gun into his brain stem.

For once, he had good reason to puss out. If the cartel was really waiting outside the clubhouse, they'd give us all the most agonizing deaths we could imagine, worse than the sick, fucked up shit I wanted to do to Rip and Red for putting my girl here.

“Rabid, Rabid, please don't do this shit. We can talk. We can figure this shit out. We're both on the same side now – I never wanted to work with those bastards anyway –“

Jesus Christ. It didn't matter how much I fed my fists – every word this piece of shit said just made them hungrier. I wanted to throw him to the ground and pistol whip him 'til his fucking skull broke.

Instead, I settled for constricting his throat, choking off his pathetic whimpers.

“I'm only gonna say it one more time – shut your fucking mouth. We're going out there. You should've thought about becoming a goddamned baby before you turned rat and started working with the cartel, asshole.”

Christa and I shared a look. Her eyes were huge, ready to pop out. It tugged at my heart, making the stone cold mask I was wearing that much harder to keep on. I felt like hell for putting her here, letting us get captured and dragged into this shit.

Something out there was seriously fucked. There were too many motorcycles, and the Mexicans never used them in those numbers. Not unless they'd decided to trade their humvees and pickups for Harleys.

I motioned to Christa with my head, told her to stay behind the wall. We were parallel with the gate now, and I took several steps toward it, stopping just short of putting myself in front of the bars.

“Who the fuck's out there!” I growled. “Show yourselves! I've got this fucking pussy Prez and I'll put a bullet right through his brain if you don't –“

“You'll do no such thing. Not yet.” A familiar voice. Blackjack stepped in front of the gate with Asphalt and Roman at his side.

Holy fucking shit.

My hand shook so hard I nearly put that bullet in Rip's head anyway. Blackjack kept coming 'til we were face to face. He looked me up and down. The boys next to him had their rifles trained at the fuckheads behind us, an extra sight for sore eyes.

“Glad to see you're still in one piece, son. Tell them to open the fucking gate, or we'll do it ourselves.” His eyes fell to the asshole bleeding and crying in my arms. “Jesus. Have some respect for yourself, Rip. I'll make it quicker and cleaner than the cartel.”

I shoved the gun into his temple 'til he squealed. Shit, if this kept up, I'd work my way through his skull long before a bullet reached there. “You heard the man,” I snarled. “Tell your fucks to open sesame.”

“Open the – ow! – open the goddamned gate!” Rip barked.

The men behind us hesitated. A large guy with a mustache nodded, and then walked back into the garage. About five seconds later, there was a whirring noise, and the gate started to slide open.

Fuck, my brothers were a sight for sore eyes. Brass flashed me a salute on his way in. I didn't dare let up the death grip I had on the Klamath Prez, but I looked at Christa, watching the relief flood her eyes.

We'd survived. We were gonna be all right. If any of these jackasses were gonna try anything, they'd do it right –

A gunshot rang out. I spun, my finger one little tap from pulling the trigger and putting the fuck in my grip outta his misery.

“Rabid!” Christa called my name.

I held up a palm. “Stay the fuck back, babe. Stay with the club while we sort this shit.”

Beam and Stryker nodded and motioned to her, letting me know she was in good hands. Wise decision. Those boys were gonna earn their patches sooner than they thought.

I dragged his fat ass back to where my brothers were grouped.

The nasty looking one-eyed wonder lay dead in the garage, a new and fatal hole in his chest next to the one my girl had given him. Amazing that Marrow tried to do something stupid with his guts torn up. Growling, Roman pointed the rifle at the small gaggle of Klamath boys, his lips peeled back.

“Anybody else wanna try to rush our Prez? You'll get some of this.”

There was a soft, feminine murmur. Red staggered through the doorway, her hand still over her busted mouth, looking at the dead man on the floor.

Fuck. She was next on the list as soon as Blackjack gave the word about Rip's fate. No fucking way would that bitch walk outta here alive for what she'd done.

I never liked killing women – much less one I'd fucked – but I'd do it to protect my club and my old lady. The cunt's jealousy put us here, and soon it would put her into a shallow grave.

“Prez?” I looked at Blackjack.

Everybody was quiet. He stepped forward, marching right up to the big Klamath boy with the mustache. He flinched when the Prez was close, one hand poised over the weapon he had in his pocket.

“Keep that thing in your pants, and you're in charge now, boy.” Blackjack's cold eyes watched as the man's mustache twitched. Slowly, he lowered his hand away from his pocket. “What's your name?”

“Blow.”

Several guys snorted. Blackjack just shook his head.

“You fucks sure do know how to pick 'em. All right, Blow, let's play truth or dare. Tell me the truth, and I'll give your Prez a nice, clean shot to the head. You guys get to walk away alive if there's no evidence you followed your leader off the cliff, working with the Mexicans. You'll keep your patches long as you behave yourselves, and some help from the Portland crew will make sure you do.”

Blackjack reached by his belt and pulled out his switchblade, brandishing it in one hand. “You dare me by doing anything stupid – any of you – and I'll have Roman gun you all down when I give the signal for my boy Rabid to finish this shit.”

Blow shrugged. “You're the boss.”

“You fucking rat!” Rip spat. My signal to squeeze his throat for the hundredth time.

Christ. How many times was I gonna choke and pistol whip this fucker before the Prez let me shoot him? Red took the opportunity to scamper back inside, away from the pow-wow going on out here. Didn't fucking matter. I'd be coming for her skank ass soon enough.

“We heard it all behind the gate. Is it true? Your asshole Prez been working with the cartel? I already know, but I need to hear it from the horse's mouth.” Blackjack was judge, jury, and executioner right then.

“Yeah. None of us liked it.” Blow looked at his dead brother, Marrow, on the ground. “Uh, none of us who are still breathing, anyway. It was Rip's idea. He couldn't handle the way you started doing shit after Fang died. And when Ed didn't come home, it set him off. He told the Mexicans they could operate, kill, and deal in our territory as long as they left us alone.”

“Shit. You sure we can't waste all these fucking pricks, Prez?” Roman growled, pumping the gun in his hands.

“Not as long as these boys are cooperating. I'll be the judge of that.” Blackjack nodded, walked toward Blow, close enough to make him step back. Our Prez looked over all the whacked out looking Klamath men. “You've all got a chance to start over clean. This man here told me the truth without blowing smoke up my ass. I expect everybody standing here to do the same. We'll hang around long enough to do some background checks, some interviews, just to make sure everybody's story checks out. But as far as I'm concerned, I've heard all I need to today.”

My hand tightened on the gun. Blackjack looked at me. “Rabid. It's time.”

“No, no, fuck, no!” I kneed Rip in the ass and pushed him to the floor, my gun to the back of his head. “This is fucking crazy, Blackjack, a big mistake. Just let me –“

I pulled the trigger. No use in letting that fuck take up any more precious air breathing. Blow and several Klamath guys winced as the Prez fell, dead by his own gun.

Well, mine now. I'd be keeping it as a trophy, one more kill for the club, one more payment for laying down justice over chaos.

Blow looked relieved. Nobody wearing our patch would dare turn our backs on any of these fuckers, but maybe in time they could be trusted after all.

“Back against the wall. Everybody!” Roman barked, herding them into the corner.

Blackjack nodded at me, satisfied. “Make sure the body gets burned. Take his patches before you do. We'll pull off what's ours for the club. Hope to hell this is one of the last guys we'll be killing with the bear on his back.”

Nodding, I tucked the gun into my empty holster. I was ready to take off and hug my girl for the first time since they'd taken us. There was just one thing left.

“Prez, wait. What about the bitch inside?”

Blackjack turned. I let him see all the fury and death swirling in my eyes, everything I wanted to unleash on that cunt for what she'd done to Christa and the club.

“She's all yours.” He looked behind me. “Brass, help your brother make sure she gets out of the clubhouse, wrapped up tight. Last thing we need today are more crazy bitches running around. Don't let her out of your sights alive.”

I nodded, looking past him to Christa. She was hanging with the prospects and sipping a bottle of water. Fuck, it was good to see her safe. Prez made the right call. He always did, and so did I.

* * *

“How the fuck did you find us?” I asked Brass, heading into their clubhouse.

He grinned. “Had a couple prospects add your hotel to their patrol. I know it's easy to overlook shit when you're drunk on love. I did the same when I was claiming Missy. You're damned lucky they caught those fuckers leaving the lot, right after we got off the phone. Not so lucky they were too outnumbered to stop 'em.”

“Yeah, well, luck's shaping up on our side after all. Maybe this shit's for the best. Close fucking call, though. I thought we were fucked before you guys pulled up.”

“Later than I liked, yeah.” He ripped open a cabinet behind the bar. Empty. “Fuck, where is that bitch? Never expected one of our own sluts would turn rat.”

“Me neither.” I tore through someone's room, ripping open the closet and coughing when a bunch of stale weed came tumbling out.

Shit. I was getting pissed, desperate to drag that bitch outta her nest.

Brass hung back, going through shit in the main living area while I hit the back. I walked past the room where they'd been holding us. Little drops of our blood stained the floor beneath the dull light.

If it wasn't for the half-open door, I would've missed her. When I caught the small flash of red, too high off the ground to be blood, I wheeled around and kicked the door open.

She was on the ground like a dog. Red looked at me with wide eyes and a torn lip. Jesus. Putting her outta her misery was doing her a favor. She'd never kiss a man in any way he'd enjoy with the way my girl shredded her lips.

“Rabid, please –“

I ripped her up by the hair, jerking her on her feet and shoving her out the door. “Don't you ever fucking 'Rabid' me again. You know what's coming.”

She started to cry, harder when I marched her down the hall and she ran into Brass. The VP gave her the same death stare I did, only his was all business. Mine was seriously personal.

The girl was too fucked up to sob. Goddamn, it was hard to hear that shit, but what she'd done was burned into my brain. I'd destroy her not-so-pretty face with my bare hands before I let her pathetic sobs get under my skin.

“How do you wanna do this?” Brass asked, walking next to me as I nudged her toward the door.

“Let's take the bitch to some abandoned ranch. There's plenty just past the Oregon border.”

“No, brother, I mean –“

I looked at him, and his eyes widened when he saw the rage in my face. “Slow. Clean across the throat. I've already wasted enough time dealing with this fucking cunt. I can't believe I ever saw anything except pure evil.”

I stopped, shook my head, listening to her whimper. “We'll throw her in a ditch and toss dirt over it before she quits breathing. Better than what she really deserves. Come on, I just want to get this shit over with.”

He nodded. We were outside now, heading past Roman, Asphalt, and the rest. Blackjack hung back, a smoke hanging out of his mouth. He looked at the weeping whore, then saw us, and gave a cold nod.

Death sentence. Quick and easy – too fucking easy after what she'd done.

Whatever – at least the cunt would feel a shred of my old lady's fear and pain before we finished her off.

We headed for the van parked next to the bikes, just inside the clubhouse gates. I motioned to the prospects to get the door open. I was about to hurl the bitch inside when Christa came running up.

Fuck, what bad timing. Not that I could blame her for wanting to look into the eyes of the woman who'd tried to kill us one last time.

“Hold up!” she yelled, running toward. “Rabid, wait. You don't have to do it this way.”

God damn. Maybe she wasn't here to look at the defeated slut one last time before she headed off to slaughter. I gritted my teeth, ready to let her down as gently as I could.

I had to remember she wasn't totally in my world. Not yet. And even when she was, the old ladies weren't killers who took care of business like us. They had good hearts, and sometimes they went soft.

I held up my free hand, feeling the bitch wriggling in my other one.

“Yeah, baby, actually we do. You can't talk me outta this. Don't tell me you want this treacherous bitch to walk. You know damned well what she did!”

Christa looked at me, her eyes big and pleading. “Yeah, I do.”

Brass stood behind her. He shot me an understanding look. My brother understood how it was with these women, and he was ready to help me separate her if he had to so we could finish this dirty business.

“Come on, baby girl. It'll be all right.” I tried to soothe her over one last time. “Just let us do our thing. We'll take a little trip and be back here to go home real –“

I stopped talking when I saw her become a blur. She hurled herself forward with a guttural, earsplitting scream like nothing I'd ever heard. She shocked the shit outta me so much the whore went tumbling out of my hands. By the time my fucking ears stopped ringing, they were both on the ground, and my girl was stabbing her in the chest, over and over.

“Piece of shit! You'll never touch my man again in this lifetime!”

My eyes went to Brass. His mouth was hanging open, same as mine.

Red squawked a couple times, making that gurgling sound I'd heard plenty of fuckers make before the reaper drags them down to hell. I put a hand on my girl's shoulder, instinctively ready to pull her away.

Then again, why the fuck should I?

I let her work the switchblade 'til the whore went silent. Her blood streamed out around us, a murderous river, one last stain to bleach away in this miserable place.

When Red wasn't moving anymore, I put both hands on my girl's shoulders. Pulling her up, I reached into her hands, grabbed the bloody knife, and threw it on the ground.

She was shaking in my arms, covered in the dead whore's blood. I gave her a squeeze so tight she felt it in her bones.

“I'm sorry, Rabid, I'm so sorry. I couldn't let you kill her. I had to do her myself. I had to feel her blood and watch her go white after what she did...”

“You did good, baby. There's nothing left to explain. Shit, you even saved us some time.” I paused, planting a slow, full kiss on her forehead. “We're done here. Let's go home.”

* * *

We all cleaned up. Once with the Klamath boys, best as we could, and later that evening at our clubhouse. Soon as we got to Redding, we hit the shower. I undressed her and washed the blood off, taking my time in the shower.

She was tired. I expected her to clean up and crash in my old bed before we went back to her place later. I didn't expect to feel her hand wrapped around my cock.

“Baby, what the fuck you doing?”

“Shhh.” She hissed it long and low, drawing her lips up to mine. This kiss went right to my guts and exploded, hot like a shot of warm whiskey after riding in the cold. “Just fuck me, Rabid. I need you inside me.”

Her hold on my cock tightened. Strange and totally unexpected. Killing does strange things to a man's head, and apparently to a woman's too. Fuck if I was gonna deny her.

Hot blood throbbed in my veins, circling down to the hard, ready flesh pumping in her hand. I rolled my hips one time, fucking her fist, groaning against her neck.

The animal inside me ripped right through his cage. I was either amped up from watching our tormentors die, or maybe I was desperate to fuck her 'til I forgot all about that shit. She squealed with surprise and delight as I grabbed her, pushed her against the wall, and forced her hands above her head.

Christ, I'd never get tired of that ass. I watched it bob as the water rolled down it, rubbing my dick in the snug crevice where her cheeks met. One hand fisted her wet red hair, and the other I reached around her thigh, plunging two fingers into the hotter wetness between her legs.

She jerked against me and moaned.

So fucking wet. So fucking ready. So fucking wild.

“I love you, babe. You know that?” I hooked my head around, raking my stubble against her soft cheek, locking my tongue with hers.

Oh, fuck. My fingers slipped out, ordered away by my cock.

I had to have her right now, or I was gonna go off like a bomb right there in the shower. My body pushed against hers, flattening her to the wall, and I pushed into that hot, sweet heat. She gasped pure pleasure when I slid deep, tapping her womb, holding myself in the fiery silk I was about to own.

“I love you too,” she whispered when I finally let up on her mouth.

“I know you do, baby. Now, fuck me like a lover.” I drew back and thrust in, loving the way her soft curves rocked against my hard muscles. “Fuck me like this is the first fuck of the rest of your life. Fuck me like you're dying to get my come inside you. Fuck me like you know we just came back from the brink of death – because we did.”

She pursed her lips, showing her teeth, and hissed as I drove inside her harder. I kept it good and slow, making her do the work, growling when her hips began to move against mine. This was a slow build like a pot starting to boil.

We'd both come our brains out – exactly what we needed to forget the shit that happened in Klamath. I growled, thrust harder, every time I thought about those fuckers we'd killed tarnishing her brain. I wanted every part of this girl to belong to me. Me – nothing and nobody else – even the thoughts in her own rosy red head.

Her hips were bucking back against mine more feverishly, feeding the tempo in my blood. I let out a growl, reached for her nipple, and squeezed.

I could never do the slow and sensual shit very long. The only love I'd ever know was raw, real, and deep as fuck. Didn't take a damned thing away from the pounding in my heart, that thick fiery feel of lust mixed with nothing else I'd ever felt for a girl 'til Christa.

Love. Sticky, wet, and burning.

My hips sped up. I rocked her right into the wall, gliding through her wetness, filling her completely. We fucked so hard my balls swung up and smacked her clit. She groaned, edging closer, begging me to bring her to that blazing white place where there was nothing to worry about but twitching muscles and brains licked in flames.

“Oh...oh...oh my God.” I grinned, watching her fingers curl on the hand she had planted against the wall. She'd come soon, and I wanted it to be hard as fuck. “Rabid!”

Hearing my name, I thrust like a fucking maniac, pounding her into the tile, trying to hold in my load for just a few seconds longer. Wasn't easy – not with the way my woman's ass rippled each time I drove balls deep.

Her pussy constricted around me a second later. Rhythmic waves of pure, tempting velvet surrounded my dick. Calling me home, calling me to let go, hounding me to shoot my seed where it belonged.

“Fuck! Hold on, baby, I'm coming with you.”

She arched her back and screamed as my load tore loose. I plowed through her convulsing pussy and held my dick deep, spitting hot fire into her, branding her from the inside-out. I swear to fuck my toes tried to curl like hers I came so hard, twitching head to toe.

Every muscle flexed, bathed in heat, pooling their energy to hurl my come into her body.

This was the alpha and the omega of fucking right here. Only thing better would be breeding her. We'd get there one day. I'd flush her pills down the toilet and fuck every drop of white I could into her womb the day she said she was ready for a kid.

For now, we fucked to heal instead, riding a wave of white lightning. My nuts were down to dry spasms when it was over, and they still didn't want to stop. I wanted to empty everything I had in this woman 'til she didn't have a single molecule that wasn't owned by me.

I drew outta her and watched my come slide down her thigh. My jealous brain forced me to cup her pussy. I thumbed her clit, pushing what was left back inside her, burying a piece of me in that perfect cunt.

“You feel better, baby?” I asked, nipping at her earlobe.

She squirmed and moaned, turning to face me. “You know I do. I was worried about you. I thought they really hurt you back there...”

I shook my head. “Fuck no. I got off light. A few sick bruises tomorrow and maybe a hairline fracture or two somewhere. I've had worse like those busted ribs I told you about in the past. I played dumb and weak so they wouldn't kill either one of us before we killed them.”

She laid her head on my chest. Wasn't hard to tell the girl wasn't real interested in the fine logistics of war, and I didn't blame her one bit.

Soon, we'd step outta the shower and lay down 'til we could hold our eyes open without that exhausted burn surrounding them. Sleep sounded good.

Then I'd make sure her shit was sorted out forever, starting with a proper brand going on her.

* * *

We crashed at her place for the next three days. We slept and fucked and ordered all kinds of takeout.

I only left for a few hours, headed for the clubhouse to debrief with my brothers. The Prez was confident the boys he'd left living in Klamath would be able to give the club a clean start. Underneath the very careful eye of our own charter and Portland, of course. We'd keep those sorry fucks in line so they never defied us again.

We all sat around the table, Blackjack at the head, one hand on the bear paw serving as his gavel. “It's been a long, tough road, brothers. And we're only halfway home. We can't say we've got a clean slate 'til the cartel's been pushed back over the border where they belong, and we've got good, solid charters all the way from Redding to San Diego. This state's Grizzlies territory, dammit. Never forget it. Don't let it outta your sight 'til it's a reality again.”

Everybody nodded solemnly, myself included. There were more battles to be fought. We were finally beating the Mexicans, but they had a lot of tricks up their sleeves, a lot of blood to spill before they went home quietly.

“All right. Now's the time to lay down less important business if you've got it,” Blackjack growled, looking us over one-by-one.

My turn to raise my hand. Brass nodded. He knew what was coming because I'd talked to him about it before church. Blackjack looked at me and motioned with his hand.

“Let's hear it.”

“Prez, you talk a lot about clean slates, and we're all behind you. You know the only long-term path for this club is building more legit shit and letting the black market shit slide. I know we can do it too. The Devils did – and friends or not, we're ten times the men those fucks are.”

Brothers laughed. The MC a few states over might be our allies now, but we still got our friendly jabs in. Talking shit outlasted slinging bullets.

“That place we bought off Bear Mountain road's been in limbo for more than a month. I think it's time we put it to good use – how 'bout a full service bar with girls? We can make it our kinda bar, something everybody riding a hog up Highway Five will wanna hit to wet their whistles.”

“You had me at the chicks,” Asphalt growled. “I'm always up for another place to get my dick wet. Fucking in the clubhouse all the time gets old.”

“Shut the fuck up, brother,” Brass chimed in. “We keep our whores and tramps here. The city will yank our shit in a second if we think about letting our strippers fuck around for money. Rabid's right – it's all about making money legit. We gotta keep our noses clean to do that. They'll flash their tits and serve drinks, but nothing else.”

Roman looked at me. “I like it. We'll have the manpower to keep shit in line as soon as the cartel's broken.”

Blackjack shook his head. “It's a good idea, son. We'll revisit it in a few months. Right now, we need every man we can spare making sure our neighbor charters stay in line. We've got everybody else pulling double duty to keep the cartel fuckers off our backs. Managing a place like that's a full time job. Shit, we don't even have time for interviews with outsiders right now.”

“What if I've already got the perfect gal in mind?”

“Gal?” Asphalt's eyes shot up and he snorted. “Oh, fuck. I see where this shit's going. You wanna put your new old lady in charge after she almost got you killed.”

I gave him the evil eye, but I didn't deny it. “That's the plan. Christa's come a long way. She's done this gig once with the nasty fucks up in Klamath, and it only failed because they drove the other customers away with their shit. Think about it. If we can build some good cred with other clubs passing through for a drink, maybe we won't have to keep eyes in the back of our fucking heads all the time. We'll be able to fight anything south one hundred percent.”

“It'll give us a chance to scope out anybody who wants to fuck with us before they get the drop too,” Roman said.

Blackjack looked torn. Holding the bear claw, he turned it over in his hand, as if he could feel how many lives and fates had been decided by that thing.

“Fuck it. I'm going to allow this. A club gets nowhere without taking some risks. As long as everybody here around this table's in one piece, we can afford a few.” The gavel came down hard. “We'll get the renovations started next week and see about the licensing shit. If all goes well, we can have it up and running by fall. Don't tell me anybody's gonna insist on a vote, because the yays clearly have it.”

I looked around the room, trying to hide my shitty grin. Brass and Roman were pleased. Asphalt and old Southpaw looked ambivalent. Stryker and Beam were neutral – the smart choice for prospects still trying to earn their patch.

“Congratulations, son.” The gavel hit the table again. “Tell your girl she's the proud new manager of our latest, greatest titty bar. I'll talk to her more about it in person at the party next week.”

“You got it, Prez.” I sat back down and Brass slapped my back, grinning ear to ear.

He was trying to reel me into the life of a settled man with an old lady like him, stable and sticky sweet. Fuck if I didn't find myself liking it. Couldn't tell if I was getting old or just too deep in this lovestruck shit.

I never thought going out for rides and drinks with our girls on the weekends would sound better than soaking myself in whiskey while railing two whores. It did.

* * *

Later that evening, we were at the tattoo parlor. The place was friendly to the club, just a few short blocks from the empty building I was dying to show her.

The needle gun hummed in the corner. I sat a few feet away, listening to that sound, trying to think about nasty and ugly shit so my dick wouldn't bust right through my pants. I knew there was no holding back the wood when I saw the final product.

It took the skinny freak inked from head to toe another half hour to finish. When it was done, he stepped aside, and Christa sat up. Her face was bright red, scared and proud all at once to show me the thing I'd been waiting for.

The dark ink hugged the spot on her low back, just above her ass, right where I'd always imagined it.

PROPERTY OF RABID, GRIZZLES MC CALIFORNIA.

A wreath of dark, tangled thorns surrounded it like an evil looking halo. They were locked together, twisted tight, same fucking thing we were gonna be tonight when this was done.

“Here it is,” she whispered, sliding off the bench and walking toward me. “Hope you like –“

Didn't give her a chance to finish. I ripped her off the floor and held her high in my arms before the words were even outta her mouth. “Baby, it's fucking beautiful. It's gonna look even better when your jacket comes in next week. I want you wearing that shit all the time and nothing else.”

The freak in the corner laughed. I shot him a dirty look, but I was too damned happy to think about throat punching anybody for eavesdropping. Much less the man who'd branded her for me.

My lips crashed on hers like an avalanche. I pulled her close, kissed her so fucking hard she moaned into my mouth. I considered grinding her clit through her pants right there – but not with the dude still watching us, pretending he wasn't while he cleaned up.

Fuck. Even my kinda kink had limits. Some of these tattoo artists were real Freaks with a capital F.

“Come on, baby. Let's take a walk while the ink dries. I got something I need to show you.”

I took her by the hand and we headed out. The sun shined high and hot like a motherfucker, but it was the prettiest motherfucker I'd ever seen hanging in the sky. We covered the two blocks fast.

Didn't realize how fast I was going 'til she begged me to slow down. The hell with that. I grabbed her and threw her over my shoulder, carrying her the rest of the way while she beat on my back and laughed.

The girl's confusion only added to the sweet mischief seething in my blood when we got to the empty place. I plucked the key outta my pocket and undid the lock on the door, then walked her inside.

“Rabid? Why are we standing in an abandoned building?”

“It's gonna be your kingdom in a few months,” I said, taking a wide walk around the place. “Prez gave the go ahead for renovations today. Congratulations, babe. You're about to be the manager of the club's brand new bar – the one you should've had up in Oregon.”

Her jaw dropped. She clenched her hands instead of running toward me like I expected.

What the fuck?

I stepped closer, sliding a rough hand up her shoulder. “What's up? Don't you like it?”

“I do, Rabid. I really do. It's just that...I hadn't ever thought much about giving it a second shot. It's like a blow to the face. Management's a full time job too. I know that from the first time around, and this place looks a lot bigger than my little hole in the wall.”

“Damned right,” I growled, eyeing the high ceilings. “You're gonna make it work like a stripper doing overtime. You'll have a good budget to start too. Obviously, this place needs to be profitable someday, but the club's got plenty of money to get you off the ground. No debts and no liabilities neither without an ownership stake. Not right away, anyway.”

She sniffed, fighting tears. Finally, her soft hands went around me, hugged me tight.

There went my cock again. That unruly fucker just wouldn't lay down when she was wrapped around me, even when it was supposed to be all tender and sweet. I'd fuck my dick stupid later for its shit.

“I want to do this,” she said, beaming her bright green eyes into mine. “But I also want to keep tutoring.”

Shit. I hadn't thought about that.

“Oh. Fuck. I thought you were just doing that shit to make quick coin with Ed breathing down your neck.”

Christa shook her pretty head. “No. I really like the kids I'm working with. I'm giving something back, helping them make sure they avoid the mistakes I made when I was young.”

I slapped her ass. “You still are. Young enough to do whatever the fuck you want. Listen, we can work something out. I'll make sure the Prez gets somebody in as backup too for the times you want to take off and teach.”

Her face softened. Then she laughed, and I was in high heaven.

“Really? It's that easy?”

“Yeah, it is. Whatever I say goes. You ought to know by now I always get my way. Doesn't matter how deep I gotta dive to get there. Long as you're my old lady, you're getting your way too. Whatever the fuck you want.” The last sentence was pure thunder, shaking my bones because I damned well meant it.

“God, I love you!” she jumped right into my arms for the second time that day.

We kissed and kissed for the next ten minutes, long as I could take without throwing her down on the gutted floor and fucking her right there. I didn't even give a shit about the pedestrians gawking at us through the windows as they walked by.

They understood the Grizzlies MC owned this town. The club didn't keep a secret, and neither did I. When my lips were on hers, the whole world realized who owned this woman 'til he drew his last breath.