"Where is everyone?" I ask, tossing my keys onto the counter.
"Cruel took your girl for a ride," Amsterdam says with a grin. "Said she was getting antsy cooped up in here."
My stomach drops. "A ride? Where?"
Amsterdam shrugs. "Dunno. Said they'd be back by four."
I check my watch—it's 3:15. Not long to wait, but still, the thought of Violet out there, potentially exposed to her ex, has me on edge.
"Relax, brother," Amsterdam says, noting my tension. "Cruel's got her. No safer place she could be than with that crazy motherfucker."
He's right. Cruel's the most capable fighter in the club, which is saying something. If Derek shows his face, he'll regret it.
"Fine," I murmur, loosening my tie. "I'm gonna shower and change. Let me know as soon as they're back."
Upstairs, I pause outside my door before entering, half expecting to find evidence of Violet having gone through my things. Instead, the room is just as I left it, except the bed is made and my t-shirt is folded neatly on top of the pillow she used.
I strip out of my suit and step into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the tension of the day. As I stand under the spray, my mind drifts back to last night—Violet's soft moans, the way she kept her hands above her head when I told her to, how wet she was for me...
My cock stirs at the memory, and I wrap a hand around it, giving in to the fantasy for a moment. I imagine her on her knees in front of me, looking up with those big dark eyes as she takes me in her mouth. Imagine her bent over my desk, ass red from my palm, begging me to fuck her...
A knock at my door interrupts the fantasy.
"Yeah?" I call, shutting off the water.
"They're back," Amsterdam's voice comes through the door.
"Be right down," I reply, grabbing a towel.
I dress quickly in jeans and a black t-shirt, not bothering with shoes. As I head down the stairs, I hear Violet's laughter—bright and genuine—and something in my chest loosens.
She's sitting at the bar with Cruel, both of them nursing beers, her with her back to me. Cruel sees me first, a knowing smirk crossing his face.
"Look who finally decided to show up," he announces.
Violet turns, and the smile that lights up her face when she sees me hits me right in the heart. She's wearing my t-shirt, knotted at the waist over her jeans from yesterday, and her hair is windblown from the ride.
She's never looked more beautiful.
"Hey," she says, suddenly shy, like she's remembering everything we did last night.
"Hey yourself." I move behind the bar, grabbing a beer of my own. "Cruel keeping you entertained?"
"He's been giving me the Dungeon MC crash course," she says, grinning at Cruel. "Though he refuses to tell me how any of you got your road names."
"Club secret," Cruel says solemnly. "You gotta earn that kind of information."
The way he says it makes her blush, and I wonder exactly what he's been telling her about the club—about me.
"How was court?" Violet asks, changing the subject.
"Kid got off," I say, taking a pull from my beer. "Best part of my job, telling a nineteen-year-old he's not going to prison for the next fifteen years."
Her eyes soften. "That's amazing. I forget sometimes that you do that—help people, I mean. Ashley's always talking about how good you are at your job."
There's admiration in her voice, and it makes me stand a little straighter. "Not all my clients are innocent," I admit. "But everyone deserves a fair shake."
"Even the guilty ones?" she challenges, but her tone is playful.
