He grabs me by the arms and yanks me against his hard body, his face inches from mine. “Don’t fuckin’ play with me. Renfrew’s gonna hunt you down and make you regret you ever laid eyes on Toper.”
We’re so close, I feel the heat from his body. He’s so hot, so male, I want to close the distance between us and kiss him. But before I do something that stupid, sanity kicks in and I yank out of his grip. “What I do is none of your business.”
This catches him off guard because I think he thinks it is his business. Then he pulls his trump card. “It’s not just about you, you had Oscar with you. You put him in danger and brought him to the attention of Renfrew. Somethin’ happens to him, it’s on you.”
My blood pressure skyrockets. “You fucking hypocrite, talking about my shit. You took Henri to a meeting with a goddamned Russian mobster.”
It’s like he hasn’t heard me. “Then you take him with you to chase down Sadie.”
“That was not planned,” I retort. “I saw Sadie and told Oscar to wait in the car.”
“And if you managed to take Sadie down, what would you have done? Put him the car like you did with Toper? My son in the front seat?”
“Holy hypocrite! Last week you were telling me to take Oscar with me while Sadie was in the backseat.”
“It’s not the same,” he snarls, then stops, and takes a breath. “Fuck,” he mutters as he pulls me into his arms and leans his forehead on mine. “We’re terrible parents.”
I want to deny it, but he’s right. And wrong because at least we care. But that’s all irrelevant. I pull away again. “Where are Henri and Oscar?” My heart starts to thump. “You didn’t leave them alone at your place, did you?”
He seems deflated, like our heated discussion took all his energy. “Of course not. They’re safe.”
“At the clubhouse?” I scoff because I truly don’t understand the concept of a truce.
“No!” The energy is back in his voice. “They’re with my brother, Red.” He stops. “Not brother. Red quit the Jury. He’s in the family way now. Respectable. Planning a future with his sister and girlfriend. Trust me.”
I realize I do trust him. Maybe that’s why I don’t fear him. “Okay. Good. Let’s go get them.”
“We can get them tomorrow. They’re not going anywhere. Red won’t let them out of his sight.”
I hesitate but then nod. He’s right. It might be good for Oscar and Henri to be plunked down with strangers. It might make them bond. “Fine. Take me home then. I have to track down my car.”
He shakes his head. “You’re not fuckin’ going anywhere alone. We’re stickin’ together until we sort out the shit with the 311 Boys. Gotta talk to Hangman about it.”
He’s right. I got myself into a mess that could affect our kids. I need Eight to have my back. “Fine.” I cross my arms. “Whatever.”
He stares at me, then shakes his head. “Jesus.”
“What?”
“Say thank you, Selkie.”
“Fuck you.”
“Good enough.” He takes the helmet from my hands and places it on my head, then does up the strap under my chin.
“What’s the point of wearing a helmet like this?” I say. “It’s a half-shell. Useless if we crash.”
He doesn’t reply. Instead, he straddles his bike. “Get on. And hang on.”
I get woozy looking at his hard thighs straining against his jeans, his legs wide open, his package pressing on the seat, smaller than a 5-pound bag of flour, bigger than a haggis.
My eyes move to his face, which is unshaven, then to his beautiful blue-brown eyes, which are scrutinizing me. “What?” he says.
I shake the fog from my brain. “Nothing,” I mutter as I slide behind him, pressing my body against his back. I can’t deny it. I’m a little wet.
This isn’t the first time I’ve ridden on a bike, but this is the first time I’ve had my arms wrapped around a man that I think I could love. I blink the tears from my eyes. I’m all bravado, a mouthpiece, but inside I’m afraid of rejection. With other guys, it hurt, with Eight, it might be devastating.
It takes an hour to reach the clubhouse and the first thing I do when I get off the bike is say, “Why’re we here? We didn’t discuss this.”
