Lauren
Michael paced outside his bedroom door, waiting for me to wake up. I was already awake, but I wasn’t ready to talk with him yet. I almost died. He could have been killed. Two men were already dead, maybe three. I didn’t know what he meant by Pierre was being taken care of, but it didn’t sound like he was being offered a job at the garage. And all of that happened because I took a job delivering packages.
I could blame Michael. Since it was him I was looking for when I met Tanner, I could say it was his fault. But that wouldn’t be the truth. I wasn’t just looking for Michael when I went into all those bars years ago. I was searching for myself. Who I was, who I could be.
Not an escape artist, that was for sure. I still couldn’t wrap my brain around Dean. Asya was okay, Michael promised me, and he even let me talk to her briefly on the phone after he cleaned up my lip and made me sit with an icepack on my cheek for a while.
We didn’t talk about my leaving the clubhouse. I tried to apologize, but he just brushed off the topic. The muscles in his neck tensed then he’d tell me to leave it for another time. He had to be mad at me, I knew it. Hell, I was mad at me.
I’d put myself right in the hands of those guys. They had every intention of killing me. My body still shook from the memory of Dean’s breath on me, his spit landing on my skin.
So much had happened in such a short amount of time. My body felt used and worn out; my mind felt the same way. I heard his phone ringing and him pick it up. He was talking to someone from the club. They were holding a vote I heard. I guess Mick actually let them take his seat.
When he ended the call, he opened the bedroom door, peeking his head in. I didn’t pretend to be asleep that time so he opened the door all the way and came in. “You’re up.” He scooted me over on the bed and sat next to me, checking my lip and my cheek.
Both burned a hell of a lot but I pushed his hand away. “I’m okay.” It wasn’t my first punch to the face.
“Uh-huh.” He rested his hand on my stomach. “Do you know how many years I aged this afternoon? Seeing you tied up in that chair and that asshole’s hands on you?” I know he meant to sound rough, but the emotion shook his voice.
“I’m sorry, Michael.” The tears came to my eyes again. “I made a really big mess. Two people are dead because of me.”
“No. Those guys are dead because of what they did, not you.” He wiped my cheeks, being extra careful of the sore one. “Johnny just called. He was voted in as president. Mick backed down no problem. Admitted to meeting with Dean and being threatened. The club didn’t vote him out, but he won’t be holding any sort of seat again.”
I wasn’t sure if the information was supposed to make me feel better or not. “What about you?”
“They voted me in as VP.”
I took a deep breath. “What does that mean?”
“It means Johnny and I put the club back in order. Stop all the illegal shit and stay legitimate. My garage stays separate, but I’ll be running the club garage, too. Tony will take over most of my duties at my garage, and I’ll oversee it.”
“Is that what you want? To be back in the club full-time?”
“I think it’s a good move. I’ll be on the payroll at the club garage, and with the income from my own, I’ll be doubling my earnings. With Mick’s illegal shit out of the way, the cops will stop harassing the club and we can get back to doing what we love to do. Ride our bikes and our women.” He grinned wide with his smart comment, and I tried to match him but my lip hurt too much and I ended up grimacing. “Fuck, sorry, babe.”
“It’s not your fault. If I had stayed at the clubhouse, I wouldn’t have gotten punched in the damn mouth.”
“That’s true.”
I closed my eyes, trying to build up the strength in myself to ask what I needed to ask, but fear gripped me. “What about me? What happens to me?”
“To you? You’ll finish school this summer, take on your internship, and get that job you want.”
“I mean…” I looked up at him, unshed tears blurring my vision.
“You mean with us? I told you already, I’m not going anywhere. You’re gonna move in here. I offered Asya a year’s rent to cover you, but she wouldn’t take it. Said she was moving to California with her mom. “
“Dean really hurt her,” I whispered.
“Dean hurt a lot of people.” He rested his hand on my shoulder until I looked at him. “I know you hate the term old lady, so how about you just be my wife instead?”
My heart nearly stopped at his question. “What?” I couldn’t have heard him right. “Michael, you don’t know what you’re saying.” I tried to shove his arm away but he only gripped me harder.
“I know exactly what I’m saying. I don’t want to take any chances losing you again. So you’ll just have to make an honest man outta me.”
“I tend to come with a lot trouble, Michael. I’ve gotten you sent to jail, sent three men to their deaths, and got my roommate attacked and tied up like some barn animal.”
He gave a little laugh. “You do bring excitement to the party, that’s for sure. But none of that matters, Lauren. All I want is to be with you, wake up to you, go to sleep with you, read the paper with you. I love you, Lauren Robertson, and if you don’t snag me up…well, I’ll just tie you up to my bed until you change your mind.”
As a threat, it was tempting.
“You just love being a hero.” I grinned.
“That’s true, too. But I also love fucking that body of yours. I love taking long showers with you. I love arguing with you. I love spanking you. I love seeing that face you make right before you come. But all in all, I just love you.”
“I love you, too, Michael. Are you sure you’re ready for something like this? Marriage?”
“Only with you, Lauren. Only with you.”