***
Sasha
Forty-two minutes had passed since the rest of the guys made it back to the fire station. I knew, because Link had called Emily, and I’d been counting every minute since. I’d never had an ulcer, but the past forty-two minutes of waiting and wondering where Tap was had sure torn the hell out of my stomach.
I didn’t want him going after Breaker. I wanted him here, safe, in my arms.
If he dies, Hailey will be an orphan.
The thought was just one of many that kept assaulting me. Tap had too much to lose, too much to live for, to go after Breaker. It was crazy, and I wanted to kick his ass for doing it. How many times had the man gotten on me for endangering myself?
Hello, Pot, meet Kettle.
“Do you hear that?” Naomi asked, turning around on the sofa to peek through the curtains.
“Hear what?”
But then it registered—the roar of a motorcycle. I knew nothing about bikes, but it sounded powerful as hell as it drew closer. I sprinted across the room and joined Naomi to stare out the window. Seconds ticked by, and then the most beautiful bike I’d ever seen came into view. It was matte black and sleek, looking like something a dark knight would ride.
“What is that?” I asked.
“That is your man, riding his Fat Boy that’s been customized all to hell. Talk about one beautiful machine.”
Yes, it was, but I couldn’t get past the first part of her sentence. Tap was okay. And he was here. I didn’t give a single fuck that there was a warrant for my arrest. I tore out of the house like my ass was on fire, desperate to wrap my arms around him and make sure he was one hundred percent unharmed.
The garage door opened, and I changed my trajectory, running right in behind him. He parked, stomped the kickstand down and the garage door closed behind us. The second he got off the bike, I jumped into his arms, crushing my sore ribs between us. But I was far too relieved to feel pain.
I tugged at his helmet, but he stopped me and took it off, grinning from ear to ear.
“Happy to see me, are ya?” he asked.
I kissed his cheek, and the other side of his cheek, and his lips, and his nose. “Yes. I was so damn worried. Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”
He laughed. “Babe, I’m fine. Everyone’s fine. It’s all gonna be okay.”
“Where were you? They said you went after Breaker. What happened?”
“Remember how you said you wanted someone to care about you enough to possibly do jail time to protect your honor?”
My eyes widened. “Shit. I take it back. I didn’t mean—”
“Relax.” He laughed. “I’m too wily to end up in jail, but I’d do some pretty sketchy shit for you.”
“What did you do?” I asked, barely resisting the urge to shake him.
Still laughing, he wrapped my legs around him and carried me into the house like a front pack. “Come on. I’ll tell you all about it.”
Sasha
Two Weeks Later
“BIGGER,” LINK SAID, leaning across the desk to study Tap’s arm.
“What the fuck do you mean, ‘bigger’? It’s takin’ up half of my goddamn arm,” Tap replied.
We were in the tattoo parlor all the Dead Presidents used when they got their logo inked. Apparently, prospects were traditionally inked the day they became patched members. Tap had gone a year without going under the needle, and Link was now making him pay for it.
I was perched on the chair opposite of Tap, watching their battle of wills unfold. Normally, I’d bet on Tap, but today’s battle seemed to be swaying Link’s direction.
