Days pass, after the revelation of the bounty that now haunts us all. It lingers on, like a storm capable of dropping an F5 tornado on us at any time. The tension and mood around the club darkens as every day passes. Many of my brothers already operate with paper-thin hair triggers on a good day, but this was nothing like I had ever experienced before. This wasn’t even comparable on the fucked-up Richter scale to Maj’s Mexican holiday last year. It would be the storm of the century, and no weather report would be able to tell when, where, and how bad the devastation was going to be. The only thing we could do was plan, prepare, and pray that we were going to be able to do our jobs to the best of our ability at a moment’s notice.

I spent my days with my brothers in Church or chained to my computers trying to pinpoint the location of The Zezza’s stronghold. My pursuits were coming up empty, but I wasn’t going to give up. Not when it was Presley’s life on the line. If I had to outsource it to those little fuckers on the other side of the pond, I’d do it no matter the cost. I’m willing to do anything to keep her safe, including breaking every single cyber law in the country. Time was my enemy, and every second that ticked away with no information was putting her closer to danger. It wouldn’t take long for the bounty hunters to come knocking on our door. We were the largest club network in the entire state, and what better place to look than within our clubhouses.

My days were spent with my brothers, but the night belonged to her. Though the guilt of our first time together being under duress still bothers me, she’s keeping my head above water. Her presence centers me better than any hit of weed. Not that I was a user of the wacky tobaccy. I had just heard things or at least, that’s all I would say if anyone was to ever ask. My teen years weren’t exactly on the up and up, so we’ll just leave it at that. After another unsuccessful night of backdoor hacking, I gave up and sought comfort and solace with Presley. Her body entwined with mine was just what the hot head doc ordered.

“Good morning,” she whispers to me from my chest, where her head sits nuzzled against me.

“Morning, beautiful,” I respond back, placing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

Her arms slink around my stomach, and her fingers begin to dance along my side. I pretend to jump like she’s tickling me, which sends her into a quiet giggle.

“That’s one of my favorite sounds.”

She repeats the motion again, and I pull her face up to mine, giving her a proper good morning kiss. My cock stirs awake and practically yells at me to get him in on the action too. She notices and smiles back up at me with a come and get me grin.

Her hand slides down to my morning wood and grasps the base of it, twisting upward. Pre-cum glistens at the tip, and she uses it to lube her hand. I prop myself up against the pillows to watch the show my girl is giving me. If every morning started off like this, I would die a very happy man.

“Fuck, baby,” I growl, as she increases her motion. She kisses down my lower belly, shifting her position as she goes, but never releasing my aching cock from her hand. Presley looks up at me. “I want to taste you.” I have no words. I’m stunned fucking silent, but she already knew I wasn’t going to stop her anyway. She lowers her mouth to the tip, and pops my cock in her mouth. Her tongue traces every vein, as she explores. Her tongue twists in a figure eight around the tip.

My orgasm is going to hit hard, and she knows it.

“You’re going to kill me with that mouth of yours,” I groan. Her laugh vibrates around my cock, and it sends my head into a tailspin. She sucks and glides her mouth over my length, until I’m about to explode in her mouth.

“I’m going to come,” I warn her, but she doesn’t move away.

My balls tighten with my release impending, just as my phone rings.

“Fuck!” I exclaim, reaching over on the nightstand to grab it. Raze’s name and face is flashing on the screen. Boner… meet boner killer.

“It’s your brother.” Presley looks up at me, but doesn’t even move.

“Hello,” I hiss into the phone, as Presley licks another figure eight around my tip. I cover my phone with my hand and moan.

“Church in five.”

“Okay,” I grunt, as I bite on my knuckle to fight off trying to moan, with what Presley’s mouth keeps doing my cock.

“You alright, V?” he inquires. Fuck me sideways, he knows my voice is off. Presley chooses that exact moment to graze her teeth around me, and sends my orgasm spiraling over the edge. My come shoots in her mouth, and she takes every drop.

“Yup, fine. I’ll see you in a few,” I bark out, before hanging up and tossing my phone to the floor.

Presley smiles at me from between my legs, and all I can do is shake my head at her.

“Jesus, you are going to kill me. You fucking got me off, while I was on the phone with your brother, woman. That’s not exactly something I can explain away.”

She crawls back up to my side and snuggles in.

“I was thinking about that. I think we should tell him.”

Oh shit. Red alert. Death imminent.

“Can we talk about that later?” I offer up as a distraction. She side eyes me knowing exactly what I’m trying to do. I really need to work on my deflect and redirect skills.

“Either you tell him,” she says rolling over into her pillow putting that perfect ass of hers on full display for me. “Or I will.”

I groan. Maybe I should check on that life insurance policy of mine and make sure it’s up to date.

“We’ll talk about it later,” I repeat, before slipping from the bed and smacking her ass as I stand. She jumps at the sting then laughs.

I take a look down at my phone and see the time. Fuck. I’m late for church already. No time for a shit and shower. That would have to come later. I grab my jeans from the floor, stuffing my half-hard cock inside, and zip them up. I would usually be good for a while after that kind of orgasm and the two from last night, but with her, I can’t get enough. I grab one of the shirts I stashed in her room for emergencies, such as this and my cut, throwing them both over my head.

I plant a quick kiss on her cheek, before I turn for the door.

“I’m not kidding, V. He needs to know,” she calls out from our bed.

“And I need to live.”

I close the door behind me, and start making my bucket list that I want to do, before he finds out.

Church is surprisingly uneventful, except with the news that Don Zezza, Gio’s dad, has died. While any other time that news would mean nothing, this time it did. Italian families are notoriously close knit. When a patriarch dies, they flock together. With Don’s death, we would have a momentary break in in our high alert status. With time being of the essence, it could be the break I needed to find my way in. Raze dismisses church shortly thereafter, and my brothers disburse from the room.

I bolt for my office knowing that I was going to have to deal with Presley’s ultimatum, sooner rather than later with a very uncomfortable conversation with Raze. Just as I make it to the door, I spy Ratchet coming down the hallway. `

“Dude. Office. Now,” I spew out in a quick, nearly unintelligible word vomit. Ratchet cocks an eyebrow at me, before I grab ahold of him. I pull Ratchet in my computer room, and quickly look around the hall, before quietly closing the door. Ratchet’s cold stare of concern is locked and loaded on my panicked face.

“Jesus, V. You look like someone is hunting down your ass for sport. What the fuck is going on?”

 

Ratchet arches his brow, probing me for answers.

 

“Because I’m being hunted, fucker.”

“You didn’t?” he gasps. “Please tell me you didn’t tell him yet because I want to watch him kick your ass.”

“No, but she wants to tell him.”

A smile cracks on Ratchet’s face followed by a chuckle rumbling from his chest, as the dam of laughter breaks free. He grasps his stomach as he laughs at my pain.

“Shut up, asshole,” I bark at him. “This shit isn’t fucking funny.”

“But it is,” he forces, while still gasping for air. “He’s going to kill you.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Tell me something I don’t know.”

I push off my heels, and pace the floor in front of him like a father expecting his first child. He’s right, and I know it. Sleeping with Presley was the point of no return, and I hurtled past that barrier with recklessness abandonment. Maybe Ratchet was right about the box of screws being loose in my head. I have to be one thousand French fries short of a happy meal to do what I just did.

 

“What the fuck do I do, Ratch? I’ve run this scenario in my head about a million fucking times, and every single one of the ends with me pushing up daisies in Darcy’s flower bed.”

“You’re on your own with this one, V. I tried to tell you to just leave it be. She didn’t even know who you were.”

I sigh and stop my pacing to face him again.

“That’s the problem, Ratch. When it comes to Presley, I have no restraint. I didn’t have any restraint, when I started the charade online watching her for you. I sure as fuck didn’t have any restraint, when I fingered on Raze’s fucking desk. And don’t get me started about what happened in her room last night,” I trail on, pacing again.

Ratchet’s hands begin to jerk quickly, as I continue to pace, naming off all of the places that Presley and I had christened, while I was supposed to be guarding her. His movements become quicker, and that’s when I notice the stoic look on his face. My body freezes in place, when I hear heavy breathing coming from behind me.

“He’s behind me. Isn’t he?” I whisper to Ratchet.

“Yup.”

“And he heard everything. Didn’t he?” I whisper back.

“Yup.”

“Fuck.” I exclaim, before turning around and meeting the eyes of my very pissed off club president.

Sweet fucking zombie Jesus, I am a dead man.

“Office. Now,” he growls.

“Nice knowing you,” Ratchet taunts. “Can I have your bike when you die?”

“Fuck off,” I mutter under my breath, while shooting him the one finger salute. I’m not even dead yet, and Ratchet’s after my shit. Fucking typical. I consider bolting out the back door when I reach the hallway, but Raze would find me. And what would happen then would be so much fucking worse.

If I really wanted Presley in my life, I had to do this. For us. The only problem now is that she might be in a relationship with a ghost because of what Raze just heard in my office. Good thing I took notes, when Presley made me watch that stupid Patrick Swayze movie with Demi Moore. I might need those romantic otherworldly skills soon enough. I just wish I had learned to throw clay first.

I take a deep breath in and walk into my doom. Raze is pacing the floor and sharply turns, when I shut the door behind me.

“Is it true?” he screams, charging towards me. Raze stops just inches from my face. “Are you fucking my sister under my fucking roof?”

“Yes,” I freely admit.

His growl comes right before his haymaker comes at my face. It’s like watching Neo dodge bullets in The Matrix, except it was a fist coming straight for me. I had that split second to decide whether to dodge it or throw one of my own, but I waste it thinking about the fucking Matrix. His fist connects with my right eye and nose, sending me stumbling backwards into the door with a thud. I can feel the thick stream of blood beginning to flood from my probable broken nose.

“I deserve that,” I tell him, using the back of my hand to wipe the blood.

Raze’s chests heaves, as blind rage courses through him. All of this is my fault, the blame landing completely on my shoulders.

“How long has this been going on?”

“A few months.”

He looks at me processing my admission, likely doing the math in his head. It wasn’t adding up, and the part I really didn’t want to tell him was about to be put out on the table. I say an internal apology to my right side and possibly my balls, for what is about to come my way.

“Explain.”

One-word questions disguised as demands. Danger Will Robertson. Danger.

I take a deep breath, and tell him about the whole online relationship. Raze listens intently pacing around and growling, as I talk my life right into a six-foot grave. He growls and balls his fist, as I spill my secret. I finish my admission, and he stands there in a silent rage, likely imagining all the ways he can kill me.

“And Ratchet knew?” he finally asks.

“Yes, I did what I had to do in order to help Ricca adopt Asher, but I didn’t expect to fall for her.”

Silence again.

 

Just keep talking asshole. You’ve got a broken nose, and a black eye. Wonder what else will be broken when this is all over.

 

“I’m in love with her, Raze.”

“You should have fucking told me, Voodoo. From the very beginning. The moment you realized she was my sister, you should have come to me. But you didn’t. Now you’re standing here in my office telling me that you love her. Does she even fucking know that it was you on the other end of that conversation?”

“No. I have wanted to tell her so many fucking times. It’s eating away at me. But with all this shit going on, I just couldn’t do that to her.”

Raze charges again. His hot breath and glare burning me without even touching me.

“You’re gonna tell her, and after you do, I’ll let her decide what to do with you.”

“I’m not dead?” I stupidly ask.

I’m a fucking dumbass.

“The jury is still out. You fix this, V.”

“Believe me, I will,” I promise him. “But, I need a favor first.”

I tell Raze my plan to expose the truth, and while he doesn’t like it, he reluctantly agrees that Presley deserves privacy, when I deliver this blow. He throws in his own requirements to my plan, and I stalk back to my office in desperate need of a raw steak or a frozen bag of peas.

I survived this time, but that was going to come into serious question, after I started the spiral of no return. I sigh, look to the drawer in front of me, and slide it open.

Beauregard’s silence was about to break and with it, my heart.