Fuck me, be still my beating heart.
It’s always been her. Despite our separation, I know now it was a mistake to let her go.
Our relationship is complicated, but I have kept an eye on her since she moved to New Orleans for her new job. Two fucking years of watching her. Making sure she’s okay. I wouldn’t exactly call it stalking, we are married after all, but for a cop, you’d think she’d be quicker on her feet. I smirk when I think about saying something like that to her out loud. My little firecracker.
Nobody goes off like Willow does. I remember the hate sex very well, and at this point in time, I’ll take that over nothing at all. I’ve had blue balls for… well, let’s just say a very long time. Not that I’d admit that aloud to any of my MC brothers, let alone my real ones. They’d die laughing.
I watch her converse with her peers, and every so often, she steals a glance over at me.
“You know she’s just makin’ sure she doesn’t have to shoot you, right?” Sawyer says after he’s recovered from my elbow.
“She wouldn’t, too many witnesses,” I reply, feeling smug. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a wife to congratulate.”
“Jesus, fuck,” Brew mutters.
“Uh, not sure that’s a great idea, you’re in your cut.”
I wear my MC leather cut with pride, along with my patch. I may be a Nomad brother and run the security company with my brothers, but I’ll always be a Rebel before anything else.
I shrug. “So what? You think I give a fuck what people think?”
“No, but she might.”
He has a point, but I don’t give a shit. I’m proud of who I am, of the club I belong to, and I really don’t care how it looks. I don’t blow smoke up anybody’s asses. Even hers. “Well, that’s her problem.” I stand, straightening out myself. “Don’t wait up.”
“You wish,” Brew hollers after me.
Zoning in on Willow, I watch her watching me. Confusion crosses her face when she realizes I’m headed her way.
She’s never been ashamed of me, but I know how it looks in front of the entire police department. I also don’t give a fuck. Cops don’t like bikers, and the feeling’s mutual. Oh, they do make an exception when my Prez, Cash, orchestrates drug busts and blows apart human trafficking rings, then they wanna play nice to get all the praise. I’ve lost count how many times that’s happened, yet the MC is still frowned upon.
She’s still surrounded by people, and I almost reach her when a man approaches, then slides an arm around her waist. I stop in my tracks, focusing on his hand. He says something in her ear and she laughs.
So this fuckface — whoever he is — is allowed to touch her? When did this happen? Is this her date? I hope the fuck not. I didn’t plan on getting my hands dirty out in the bayou anytime soon, but I will if he doesn’t take his grubby paws off her.
I steel my jaw, and she knows I’m watching. This is what this little minx does to me, and she knows it, too.
I continue, my hands flexing into fists. Oh, I’ll be knocking that smile right off this weasel’s face gladly.
My eyes shift to his and he’s got no idea that I’m almost there, ready to rip his arm out of its socket when Willow shifts and his arm falls. Sucker.
“Willow,” I say, coming to a halt right in front of her. “How you doin’?” Her posture changes, she’s rigid as she shrugs off this dickhead’s advances. “Haze. What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you, of course.” I flick my eyes to the dude staring at me, his eyes lowering to my patch.
“Babe?” he says to her. “Who is this?”
Babe?
Is this guy her date?
I don’t fucking think so, he looks like he’s just stepped off Wall Street in his navy pants, collared shirt and silk tie.
She turns to answer him, but I beat him to it. “She’s my wife, fucker, now beat it.” My eyes land back on her. I swear I see steam about to billow out of her nostrils like a fire-breathing dragon.
“I’m sorry, Connor.” She actually smiles at this asshole. “I’ll be right back.”
She tugs me by the sleeve of my cut and I go willingly, hollering over my shoulder at Connor. “Don’t wait up, sunshine.”
