The silence between us stretches, thick but not empty. It’s loaded with grief, danger, history, and whatever the hell we’re becoming in the middle of all this.
“I keep thinking about what happens next,” I say. “About my family… their bodies.” The words hurt coming out. “I’ve decided on cremation. No graves for the cartel to find. No stones to vandalize to draw me out. Just their ashes, safe with me, where I can keep them close. It’s the only way I can protect them now.”
And then it really hits… my family is gone. How do I keep going? What does life look like now? So many questions, none of them with answers.
“Whatever it takes to keep you safe, I’m not going anywhere,” he says sitting beside me.
I lean into him…into his strength, because right now I need something solid to hold onto. I’m used to being the strong one, the one who doesn’t crack, but this? This has me feeling exposed in a way I hate. If I had to handle this alone, I’m not sure I’d survive.
It never even crossed my mind to look at the people closest to me at the precinct. I never thought I’d have to. And yet here I am, relying on a motorcycle club that doesn’t owe me a damn thing. The Royal Bastards don’t gain shit by helping me. But they sure as hell have a lot to lose if the Mendaro Syndicate gets the upper hand.
And then there’s this man sitting next to me, risking his life for me.
My voice comes out softer than I expect. “Why me, Malcolm? Why did you choose me, knowing what it could cost you?”
He exhales, long and rough, like the question drags something out of him he’s been holding back. “Because I couldn’t walk away. Not from you. Not after Ty. Not after what happened to your family. If I didn’t stand with you, I’d never forgive myself.”
I lift my head, searching his face. “But Maverick… the club. You went against him bringing me here.”
His jaw tightens. “Yeah. And that’s no small thing. Standing against Mav costs me. Costs me trust, maybe even my place in the Bastards if this goes sideways. He doesn’t tolerate sloppiness, doesn’t tolerate anyone dragging heat into the clubhouse. And I just did both.”
I feel the weight of his words settle in my chest. “So why risk it?”
His eyes meet mine, steady, unflinching. “Because you matter more than the fallout. I don’t know what that means yet, but I know it’s true. And if Mav decides I crossed a line, then I’ll bleed for it. But I’d rather bleed than watch you fight this alone.”
“Thank you,” I say, pressing my forehead against his shoulder, tears threatening again.
He wraps his arms around me tighter, like he’s bracing himself against my storm. “Don’t thank me yet. If Turbo finds something, this gets ugly real fast. That’s when we’ll see what it really costs.”
Fear fills my chest. I’m not scared of the fight. I’m scared of what Malcolm will lose because of me. This is more than the Royal Bastards helping me, it’s a line in the sand. And once it’s crossed, there’s no going back for any of us.
It’s too much to think about right now. Another wave of grief is waiting to knock me flat. But I owe it to my family to find out who did this and make them pay. They don’t deserve the luxury of the justice system. As corrupt as it is, it’s still too good for these fuckers.
No… they deserve my wrath, my grief, my pain… every ounce of adrenaline-laced anger pounding through me. But, in this moment? I need to release some of this before it eats me alive.
Lifting my head from his shoulder, my lips brush his cheek, my eyes locking on his. “I promise I’m thinking clearly, Malcolm,” I murmur, voice low, trembling. “I know exactly what I’m asking. This isn’t grief… I need you to drag me out of this hell in my head before it burns me alive.”
His jaw flexes, eyes darkening. “Lolo, we shouldn’t…”
Sliding my hand down his chest, I feel the heat of him through his shirt, feel his breath hitch, feel his heart hammering under my palm. “Please,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “Don’t make me sit in this pain alone… not tonight.”
He swallows hard, and for a second, I think he’ll pull away.
“Help me forget…just for a minute,” I plead, dragging my lips along his jaw, letting my need spill into every kiss.
Something inside him snaps. Sharp, sudden, and hungry.
Dragging me onto his lap, I straddle him, his hands gripping my ass. When his mouth crashes against mine… hungry, reckless, desperate… a sound breaks out of me before I can stop it. His fingers dig into my tender flesh, rough and possessive, like he’s been starving for this.
The kiss deepens, turns rougher, his tongue sliding against mine with a need that hits low in my belly. I feel the tension pouring off him, feel how tight he’s holding himself together… like he’s one breath away from losing every shred of control he has.
“Lolo…” he murmurs against my mouth, voice wrecked. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me… what you’re asking of me.”
“Oh, I do.” My fingers twist in his shirt as I press closer, grinding my pussy against him. “I need this. I need you.”
His forehead drops to mine, breath harsh, chest rising against me.
Then his hands slide up my back, and under my shirt… warm, rough, claiming. My breath shudders out, my body arching into his touch like it’s the only thing keeping me alive.
