18
Knuckles shows up at my door later that night, just like he’d said he would. He steps inside, still looking tired, wearing gray sweatpants and a white V-neck T-shirt.
“Do you always wander around dressed so slutty?” I ask him, wide-eyed as I take in his attire. Not only can I see the outline of his cock in those pants, the T-shirt shows off all his muscles and tight body.
“I’m wearing sweatpants and a top. What’s wrong with this?”
Men don’t seem to understand this, but I know for a fact that all women do, because we talk. If there’s a man in sweatpants, that’s the equivalent of a woman walking around in ass-showing short shorts and a tight, cleavage-showing top.
I point to his penis. “I can see the outline of your cock. And if I can see it, it means all women can see it. Do you see where I’m going with this?”
And I don’t like that one bit, apparently.
He looks down and lifts his head with a knowing smirk. “I see exactly where you’re going with this, Kitty. You’re jealous. And fuck, I kind of like the way it looks on you.”
“Excuse me, I am not jealous,” I reply in a haughty tone, squaring my shoulders. “I’m simply letting you know my personal opinion.”
“Uh-huh,” he murmurs, pressing his body against mine. “How was your day? Did you get any backlash over what happened last night?”
“Well, someone leaked what happened to my boss, and he was all over that,” I admit, holding on to his shoulders as he lifts me up in his arms, bride-style, and carries me up the stairs. “I think it was the asshole cop who interviewed me.”
“What did your boss say?” he asks, voice laced with anger and regret. “If they’re giving you shit about being associated with us, tell me and I will personally take care of it. Trust me, no one will even breathe in your direction afterward.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I need to handle this on my own,” I say, burying my face into his neck, and smelling the slight scent of cologne on him. “They’re more curious about what I know, not actually the fact that I was arrested at your clubhouse.”
“I’m sorry you have to deal with this shit,” he says, laying me down on my bed, the only light coming in from the open door. “And I know you’re stubborn and independent and all that shit, but if it ever gets to a point where you can’t or don’t want to handle it, you come to me and I will. In fact, I’d probably enjoy it.”
“That’s what worries me,” I mutter, staring up at the ceiling. “This is my career we’re talking about, and people I have to work with every day, so I’m going to handle it. I’m sure you have a full plate right now anyway, with the whole Shovel and Katie thing.”
“I’m pretty sure she’s on a comedown,” he admits, sounding unimpressed. “She’s been struggling today, and if she has a drug problem, she really needs to handle that now, because she’s sure as fuck not going to do anything to hurt Shovel’s baby. Not while she’s under our care, anyway.”
“Have you been able to talk to Shovel? Has he even mentioned this girl before? The whole thing seems a little weird,” I say, trying to understand.
“We don’t tell one another all of our personal business,” he says, kissing my jawline. “If it has nothing to do with the club, then it doesn’t matter. We’re not a bunch of gossips, sitting around telling each other who we’re fucking. If we bring a woman back to the clubhouse, different story. If she’s important, we will introduce her, if we don’t care, then we won’t bother.”
“And he never brought Katie before,” I gather.
“Nope.”
“Who did Shovel pull a gun out on?” I ask him, because while I was given the short story, I haven’t heard the fine details.
“A Devils Gate member,” he explains, lifting up my top and running his fingers over my stomach.
Devils Gate are another known MC in the city, but while Cursed Ravens generally keep a low profile, Devils Gate are the opposite. They’re everywhere, and they have no problem starting shit. If there was good and evil in this MC world, Devils Gate stay true to their name.
“So you do have issues with them then. I’ve heard about fights breaking out, even ones in prison, but no one has ever mentioned why. What started the animosity?” I ask him, trying to piece the whole thing together.
He rolls on top of me and sighs. “Are you my woman right now, or journalist Celina Hutton?”
“Both?” I reply, giving him a kiss. “You know everything we talk about stays between us, right?”
“I know, or I wouldn’t be here right now,” he says, rubbing his nose against mine. “Trust and loyalty is everything, Celina. It’s one step higher on my list than a pretty face, and nice tits and ass.”
“At least you have your priorities right.”
“Those are a close second,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his tone. “And if I’m right about you, you have it all, the whole fuckin’ package.”
And then his lips are working against mine and everything else is forgotten.
Which is the exact problem I have when I’m around him—everything is forgotten, including my common sense.
They say love is blind, but no one mentions the loss of other senses too.
Erin and I have lunch together the next day, and I kind of feel bad at how upset she is over everything that happened.
“The first time the police come to the clubhouse and I don’t even get arrested, you do,” she says, eyes getting a little watery. “I’m so sorry, Celina, this is all my fault. I dragged you into this whole world, and now your job is at stake.”
“You didn’t drag me into anything, Erin,” I tell her gently. “I’m the one who decided to get involved with Knuckles, and apparently this is just what comes with the package. There’s danger attached to dating a bad boy.”
Physical danger, and of the heartbroken variety.
“I tried to resist him, trust me, but fucking hell . . .” I trail off, puffing out a long breath. “It’s hard to say no to him, I don’t even know what it is about him. He makes me crazy, but in a good way. He’s unlike any other man I’ve ever met.”
“Yeah, they pretty much ruin you for any other men,” Erin agrees, nodding with a resigned expression. “Trust me, I get it, Celina. And Knuckles is the true definition of a man. He can handle anything, and I trust him with my life. He’s always got everything under control, and you can rely on him. He will never let you down.”
“Well, I know all this, because after everything, I’m still here. I still can’t walk away, and it’s only the start of this whirlwind romance with him. Imagine how it’s going to be the further we delve into this.”
“You’re scared,” she states, brow furrowing. “I get it, Celina.”
“I’d be stupid not to be scared,” I reply, laughing without humor. “I don’t want to get so attached and fall so in love with a man only for him to what . . . screw me over, betray me, cheat on me, or decide he doesn’t want to be with me anymore? They say it takes five years to truly know someone, so, what? Are we meant to hold out our feelings until we know that person’s true colors?”
“No, you’re meant to take a chance, and love wholeheartedly. You can’t live like that, so closed off and disconnected from the world just so you don’t get hurt in the end. It’s almost a self-sabotage technique, or a self-fulfilling prophecy, because if you don’t show who you really are and give your all, how can someone truly love you?” she explains, being annoyingly wise. “I know you, Celina, you have one of the biggest hearts. You’re generous, kind, loving, and I get that you want to protect yourself because you feel everything so deeply, but Knuckles isn’t your enemy.”
When she puts it like that, am I treating him like an enemy?
She makes it sound so easy, to simply take a chance and put my faith in someone, and maybe for some people it is. If I take this leap of faith, I need to know that he’s worth it, that he’s the one.
I’m still here, though, so maybe I’ve already unconsciously made the decision.
Determination filling me, I take a deep breath. “You’re right, I need to stop being so closed off. I need to let him in, because I’m not walking away, so it has to be one or the other. I need to be all in or all out.”
“Exactly,” she returns, blue eyes filled with excitement.
“How’s Katie doing?” I ask, unable to get the vision of the crying girl out of my head. I didn’t think I had any motherly instincts in me, but for some reason I want to protect her.
“She’s getting a little better every day, the withdrawal is hard for her but she’s pregnant now, so it’s not just about her. We took her to the doctor and she’s about ten weeks pregnant, so it’s early,” Erin says, taking a sip of her soda. “She’s really worried that there’s going to be something wrong with the baby because of her drug use. She kept asking the doctor questions, but I guess there’s always a chance something can go wrong, so there’s no way to offer a hundred percent assurance, you know? I just don’t know what the hell Shovel was thinking. I’m not as close to him as I am to the others, but I know he’s Rogue’s best friend, and he’s not taking it well that he’s looking at some prison time.”
“Do they call him Shovel because he rides a shovelhead?” I ask, thinking it must be the obvious choice.
Erin bursts out laughing, almost spitting the soda out of her mouth. “How the hell did you guess that? I thought it was because he kills people by hitting them over the head with a shovel and then buries them.”
“You always did have a big imagination,” I snicker. “And, yeah, I don’t know Shovel either, but I’m silently judging him for getting himself into this situation. She’s so young.”
“I know,” Erin groans, shaking her head. “It’s too late now though, all we can do is damage control. Trust me, I wanted to give Shovel a piece of my mind, but Dad and Ace gave me that look. The Don’t you dare say something, now is not the time look.”
“Yeah, I guess nothing anyone says is going to change the situation. There’s a Raven baby coming, and everyone has to get ready.”
“It’s just so sad, I hope they let Shovel out soon so he won’t miss much time with the baby.”
“Me too,” I agree, glancing at my watch. “Shit, I better get back to work. Although with the way Tim and Robert have ignored me this morning, I should probably start looking for a new job.”
“Assholes,” she grumbles, trying to take some money out but I stop her.
“You always pay.”
“I’m older than you, which means I get to pay,” I say with a smile, placing some money and a tip on the table.
“You’re ridiculous,” she says on a sigh, as we both stand and hug each other. “Thank you for being so cool with the whole clubhouse-raid, police-interrogation thing. Anyone else would have probably run to the other side of the country.”
“Because they’d be smart,” I joke, but squeeze her tighter. “Family never bails on family, Erin.”
“See, you already have the same values as the bikers,” she replies, giggling. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
We both leave the café, and I rush back to work.
No point in giving them another reason to be angry with me.