“Church,” Texas rumbles from the parking lot of the clubhouse right after we turn our engine’s off.
The prospect that was driving the truck hurries out of the warehouse, and we all file into the clubhouse toward the room where church is held. This will be my first church since coming back, and I can’t deny that I’m a little nervous. Probably because this is also my first sober church, ever.
MadDog slams down his gavel as soon as the door closes behind the last person in the room. I look around at my brothers, and I can see the uncertainty in all of their eyes. Prospects aren’t usually allowed in our meetings, but since it was a prospect who was pulled over, he’s allowed to stay for the moment.
“Why don’t you tell us what went down?” MadDog asks, looking directly at the prospect.
“I was doing the speed limit, driving in the slow lane, when I saw the bear come up behind me with his lights flashing. I pulled over, thinking he couldn’t be pulling me over, because I knew I was following all of the rules to a T,” he explains.
“What’d he say?” Torch asks.
“He said that he knew who I was, he knew what we were doing, and if we didn’t watch our backs we’d all find ourselves locked up just like Huntington,” he says. My back straightens.
“Thanks. You can go,” MadDog says. We all wait until the door is closed behind the prospect before we continue.
“Do you think he was a real cop? I mean, he could have just searched the truck to nail the prospect,” Mammoth mutters.
“He wants us all, not just one lowly prospect,” MadDog says as he runs his hand over his bearded chin.
“It doesn’t sit right with me. You said it was a marked CHP car?” Grease asks, turning to look at me.
“Marked, LED light bar; but I mean, fuck, it could have been a light bar he bought online, and it could have been a magnet on the car instead of the insignia painted on. I went by pretty quickly. Didn’t want to draw attention to myself,” I admit, feeling shitty for not paying close enough attention.
“I’ve tried to find out why they would target us, but there’s nothing out there that I’ve come across. Regardless of who this guy is, we need a different route for next time,” MadDog mutters.
We all agree and then we decide to meet up around noon to figure it out for the next run. Roach and Mammoth are going to take the truck to Denver early to drop the load off. They’re going to go home pack and then head out. The longer it sits in our warehouse, the more vulnerable we are, especially if the cop was legit and not an imposter.
“Soar,” MadDog grunts as the men leave. I turn to him. He motions for me to walk over, so I do. He then throws a large envelope on the table. “It’s your portion of everything that we made while you were locked up, plus your payment for the Garcia job.”
“You didn’t have to pay me for that. Did that for Torch and Cleo,” I mutter.
Garcia was locked up in the same facility as me. He was working for The Cartel, tried to kidnap Cleo and was planning on selling her to the Aryan’s. Back then, the Aryan’s were secretly buying club women through The Cartel, and using them for breeding purposes. Since then, they’ve gone to ground, and our club has been trying to get the women back one-by-one.
One of our own, our VP, Drifter, was in on the whole fucking twisted thing. When Garcia got locked up with me, I eliminated him for the club—for Torch—but also for Cleo. She didn’t deserve that shit. She’s one of the sweetest women I have ever met.
“It could have added to your sentence. You took a risk, brother, and that risk deserves payment. We all voted on it, and it’s yours,” MadDog grumbles.
“You know I don’t need it. Any of it,” I state.
“Know that. Doesn’t mean you didn’t earn it with your blood and sweat. You think I give a fuck, any of us give a fuck, what you have from your family? We don’t,” he says. “That why you didn’t tell us?”
“The world I grew up in, everything about your history, about your family’s history, it matters. What your great-great grandfather did matters. Every single move you make is recorded or handed down throughout the different families. It’s bullshit, and I hated every fucking second of it. I wanted as far away from that world as possible.”
“Yeah, you fuckin’ got it,” he chuckles. “This is where you belong. I see it in you, Soar. We’re your family. No matter the size of your bank account, we’ll stay that way.”
“Thanks,” I nod.
“I’ll see you in a few hours and we’ll figure out this whole fucking mess we have now,” he says, lifting his chin.
I nod and grab the envelope on the table before I turn and walk away. I walk into the bar of the clubhouse and am not surprised to see a small party in full swing.
Since we were all called down here in the middle of the night, it seems like the girls were roused, and it’s suck and fuck time. I don’t blame any of them. I’m about to head back to Imogen for the same thing.
“Hey, Soar baby. Come on, let’s have some fun,” Destini coos. I recognize her as the girl I fucked when I first arrived back from prison.
“Sorry, babe, got places to be,” I shrug as I walk away from her.
Straddling my bike, I can’t believe how easy that was. I thought the first time pussy was offered to me at the club would be harder to turn down. The thought of hurting Genny makes my chest ache. I aim to be better for her—to be the best. With a grin, I head toward her.
I hear the door close, and I sit up from my spot on the couch. My heart races inside of my chest, and I blink my eyes to see a figure looming above me. It takes a second for my eyesight to adjust, and when it does, I see Sloane standing right in front of me.
“C’mon, sunshine,” he rumbles. “We’ll take your car so you don’t have to drive home. I can pick up my bike tomorrow,” he mutters.
I hear another set of boots walking around the house and turn my head to see Camo disappearing down the hall toward his bedroom.
“What time is it?” I ask, my voice groggy from sleep as I stand.
“Four in the morning,” he yawns.
I slip my feet into the sandals I brought, and watch as Sloane picks up my overnight bag as he opens the front door. He takes my keys from my hand and loads up my bag before he opens my door. He then waits until I’m inside before he closes it behind me. Once he’s settled into the driver’s seat, I turn to look at him.
“I didn’t expect you back so late,” I murmur, my mind going over a million different scenarios of where he’s been.
“The job didn’t go off as planned. We had to have an emergency meeting,” he mutters as he focuses on the road ahead of us.
“Where’d you have to meet?”
“Went to the clubhouse, baby. Just a meeting with all of the brothers, then I came here to get you,” he offers with a shrug. I feel my hackles rise at the mention of that fucking clubhouse.
“Just a meeting?” I ask, a little louder than I intended.
“Yeah, Imogen, just a meeting.”
I stay silent, twisting my fingers together in my lap and biting the inside of my cheek. I want to ask a million questions. I want to accuse him of a million things. I can’t. I need to try and not jump to conclusions, but dammit, it’s so easy to do.
“I was approached, offered a good time, but I declined and kept walking,” he admits when he pulls into our garage.
“Seriously?” I ask in surprise.
“Seriously,” he grunts as he opens the door and steps out of the car.
I do the same and hurry after him, ignoring the painful memories of the house. I’m too focused on Sloane’s back as he walks toward our bedroom in front of me. I call out to him to stop, but he completely ignores me.
Only once we’re in our bedroom does he turn around to face me. When he does, I see pure fire in his green eyes, making my step falter. I back up until I hit the wall behind me.
Sloane stalks toward me and presses his chest down to his hips against me. I can feel his hard length against my stomach, and I bite the inside of my cheek while my eyes stay pinned to his.
“Ask me,” he grinds out as his head dips. His lips are so close to mine they’re almost touching.
I shake my head, but his angry gaze doesn’t dissipate at all. He growls, demanding that I ask him again. “Did you want her?” I finally ask.
“Fuck no,” he grunts. “Not even for a goddamn second. Not when I have you waiting for me,” he murmurs as his lips touch mine with each word he speaks.
“Sloane,” I breathe.
“Only woman I want is you, sunshine,” he rasps.
Sloane doesn’t give me a chance to say another word. His tongue fills my mouth while his hands tug my sweats down until they are past my hips and fall to the ground, my panties joining them. I step out of them when one of his hands slips between my center.
Two fingers quickly slip inside of me, curling and causing my head to fall against the wall with a thud. His lips travel down the column of my neck as I widen my legs, a moan escaping my lips.
“Fuck, baby, you’re so wet,” he murmurs against the hollow of my neck.
“Sloane,” I rasp as my hips roll and I search for more from him, feeling wanton as my body heats from the inside out.
“What do you want, Imogen?” he asks, his voice rough as he fucks me with his fingers.
“You,” I murmur.
“Yeah? Who am I?”
I whimper when he presses his thumb against my clit, “Sloane.”
“Who am I, sunshine?”
“You’re my husband,” I whisper, lifting my head to look into his green eyes.
“Fucking right, I am. Your husband, your old man, fucking yours,” he hisses.
He wraps his hands around the backs of my knees and picks me up, his jeans rustling before he slides inside of me to the hilt. I hold onto his shoulders for stability as he presses my back against the wall with just his hips, his cock seated deep inside of me.
“Sloane,” I gasp.
“Yours, Imogen. I’m yours,” he grinds out as he pulls back slightly and thrusts against me, hard.
“For now.”
Sloane pauses and his eyes alight with anger again, causing my breath to hitch. His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t say anything. He takes a step back, keeping me close so that we’re still connected, and he walks us over to the bed.
I watch as he completely divests himself of his clothes before he climbs onto the bed, our bodies still connected as he lays me down in the middle, while he looms over me. Then he starts to glide in and out of me, slowly and with purpose. His eyes stay fiercely connected to mine with each pump of his hips.
“For fucking ever, sunshine,” he breathes.
He doesn’t fuck me, he makes slow love to me, and my eyes water as tears leak down the sides of my temples with each and every move he makes. It’s the most beautiful moment I think I’ve ever shared with him. I wrap one of my hands around the side of his neck as my body climbs closer toward my release.
“For fucking ever, Imogen. Just you,” he rasps as he starts moving faster, his breathing pattern changing as he edges closer toward his climax.
“Sloane,” I choke before my release completely takes over me, causing my entire body to shake.
“Fucking hell,” he groans as he starts moving faster, more erratic.
Then he bites his lip, his eyes on mine, and groans as he fills me with warm spurts of his cum.
“Only you,” he whispers, lowering his head and pressing his lips to mine as his hips continue to move in long lazy strokes.
“Just you, sunshine,” he repeats.