“No, it’s men we lost in Iraq. My group was a forwards echelon, and we took all the chances. The Taliban couldn’t beat us, but it was a war of attrition. Every week we’d get a new guy. My role was to try and keep everyone alive.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t save everyone, but I fucking tried.”
Denis leaned closer, lips trailing across Cherry’s skin. “If it could have been done, you’d have done it.” He kissed the tattoo again, then pulled back slightly. “And your role in the IMC is similar, right? You keep everyone safe?”
“Kinda.” Cherry bent to capture Denis’ lips. “I do what I can.”
“Oh, I think you do just fine.” Denis pushed Cherry flat on the mattress and climbed up to straddle his hips. “I think I should verify you do just fine. If you’re up for it?”
Cherry arched his neck, asking for kisses without verbalizing the need. Denis bent down, teeth and lips cutting a path down his throat. Cherry strained up, cock already at half-mast. “I’m up for it, Denis. Oh, yeah.”
?Chapter Eleven
Cherry
Morning light stabbed through the blinds, too bright, too sharp, and Cherry squinted against it, Denis’ arm slung heavy across his chest. The bed smelled like them, lots of sex and a little sleep, and for a moment, he let it hold him, the steady rise of Denis’ breathing syncing with his own. He turned his head, catching the lawyer’s profile. Plush lips were barely parted, dark lashes in stark relief against his skin—seeing him like that made something soft twist in Cherry’s gut, a warmth he hadn’t earned yet.
He stretched out and grabbed the plug for his phone that had come disconnected. It took a couple of seconds to boot up, then his phone buzzed, a relentless rattle on the floor next to where his jeans lay crumpled. Once, twice, a dozen times, the damn thing wouldn’t quit, and reality crashed in like a fist through glass. The club. Diesel. Busk. Ruger. The impound.Fuck. He’d ghosted them, his brothers, his family, lost in Denis’ sheets while they’d likely been scrambling. Guilt clawed up his throat, bitter and cold, and he eased completely out from under Denis’ arm, snatching the phone.
Forty-seven missed calls. Texts stacked like a rap sheet. Busk’s all caps *WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU*, Rook’s *Diesel’s stable, you good?*, even a prospect’s shaky *VP’s pissed, man*. Cherry’s stomach dropped, thumbs hovering over the screen, no reply big enough to fix it.
“Cherry?” Denis’ voice, sleep-rough, cut through the spiral. He propped up on one elbow, hair a mess, eyes narrowing. “You look like someone died. What’s up?”
Cherry blew out a breath, tossing the phone onto the bed between them. “Forgot to boot the phone. And the club, man. They’ve been blowing me up all night. My brother went down, that was the bike wreck. Man, I was supposed to...” He trailed off, jaw tight. “I fucked up.”
Denis sat up fully, sheets pooling at his waist, and the concern in his eyes hit Cherry harder than the guilt. “Hey, slow down. They’re pissed ‘cause they care, right? Tell me about them.”
Cherry hesitated, then leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. “Incoherent MC. My crew. After I left the Marines, after twenty-two years in, you know? I was just done with the military. They had failed not only me, but every one of my brothers in the Corp. That bullshit left me drifting. Circling the drain, you know? Then I met Busk, he’s our VP now, way back when he was just a patched grunt. Pulled me in slow, but it stuck. They’re my family. Chosen, not blood, but tighter than anything I ever had. Richer for it, every damn day.” He glanced at Denis, half-expecting a smirk, but found quiet instead, a nod that said he understood, and Cherry took him at his word.
“Sounds like something worth keeping,” Denis said, voice low. “Wish I had that kinda anchor sometimes.” He stopped, shaking his head with a rueful grin. “That’s a story for date number two. Or three.”
Cherry blinked, then laughed, the sound coming out rough, but real. “Date, huh? That what this is?”
Denis leaned in, brushing a kiss along Cherry’s jaw, slow and deliberate. “Damn right it is. You in?”
“Yeah,” Cherry murmured, turning into it, catching Denis’ lips for a soft, lingering press. “I’m in.”
