After pulling into the parking lot of the hotel, Griffin and Natasha lingered around each other as though they were both waiting for something. Natasha decided to break the tension once again and leaned over to press her lips to his. His arms wrapped around her, and she melted once again, his tongue parting her lips and deepening the kiss further. She pressed against him, as though never wanting him to leave, their breath becoming short and heavy, their desire threatening to overtake them one more time.

 

“I need to go and get some things from my place. You stay here, okay?”

 

She didn’t want him to go, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of her fear about the people who wanted to kill her, or if it was because she simply did not want to see him leave. He kissed her again, trying to keep it short in order to get moving, and she watched him with a sinking feeling, as he walked towards his bike.

 

Once alone, she locked the door as many times as it could allow, glancing outside to see if anyone was there before closing the blinds and pretending that the room was empty.

 

She took a shower for a long time, rinsing the gravel and dirt from the overpass out of her hair and off of her body; however, she was surprised to find that she was sad to do so. She could see the beginnings of small bruises freckling her hips in the mirror and smiled a little bit. She loved her trophies, and these were particularly well earned.

 

Natasha couldn’t stop thinking about Griffin…but what did that really mean? Griffin absolutely wanted her to be all in when it came to the club, when it came to him, but was she ready for that?

 

She remembered when she was young, the arguments her parents would have over the danger of him working the game. She would hide on the stairs and watch her mother cry, asking him where he was going, asking him why they had to keep a gun in the house at all times. Her mother had left her father and taken Natasha along with her when Natasha was twelve, and she did not doubt for a single moment that it was because of the club.

 

Of course, her mother was dead for over two years now. The Disciples had destroyed her family, and now with her father gone, she didn’t even have the remnants to pick up.

 

And yet there was Griffin…or was there? She knew how things worked; she remembered seeing pictures as a little girl of a much younger version of her mother perched on the back of a motorcycle, her arms wrapped around her father’s waist and a big smile on her face. Before Natasha had been born, her mother had been her father’s “old lady”—completely and one hundred percent his in every single way. That was the way things worked in gangs such as this; wives and girlfriends were allowed to ride with them, but they would never be considered more than property.

 

If she was all in, what would this make her? Would she be giving herself over completely to Griffin in all forms, being nothing but his in the context of the club? Sure, that would provide her with the full protection of the Disciples, but it would also change her life completely.

 

She tilted her head back to wash the shampoo from her hair, but her mind stayed on the task at hand. College was nearly over for her, and yet she hadn’t fully considered exactly what she would do. She had considered social services for a time, marrying some accountant who would be nice, give her children, and the sense of family she had always wanted. That had been her plan.

 

Now, over the matter of two days, her entire life was gone. Now she might be killed. Now she had to decide whether or not she wanted to trust this incredibly sexy, incredibly dangerous, incredibly good in bed man with the rest of her life.

 

Yes, the sex was incredible, but was it life-changing?

 

What did the Los Diablos want with her anyway? What did they see? Natasha was—in fact—the only daughter of the old president of the Disciples, but that didn’t mean much of anything. Considering the fact that she had kept out of the club’s politics for her entire life, she couldn’t imagine being enough of a threat to require death.

 

Just what had her father been into, if death was even on the menu?

 

Turning the water off, she stepped out of the shower and dried herself off, wrapping the towel around her body and walking back into the bedroom. Griffin was sitting on her bed, and as he saw her towel clad body, he leaned back on his elbows and appreciated the view.

 

“Hello,” he said.

 

“How did you get in here?”

 

He held up a small plastic card. “I took the extra key.”

 

“Right.”

 

“So what do you say?” Griffin asked, his smoldering eyes burning a hole in her towel. She felt her entire body go hot and cold at the same time under his gaze.

 

“About what?” she tried to keep her voice cool.

 

“About everything. The Disciples. Being in one hundred percent. What do you say?”

 

She didn’t know what to say, but she also didn’t think that was going to be an acceptable answer. Instead she dropped the towel to the floor, standing before him completely naked. His eyes widened a fraction in aroused surprise, and she crawled onto the bed and made her way towards him.

 

“I think that I don’t want to talk right now…,” she purred.

 

Griffin smiled as the two of them kissed, and Natasha allowed herself to forget once again, lost in the tangle of his arms and the sound of his heartbeat.