“Here you go, ma’am,” he says, averting his eyes from looking directly at her. Maybe this one will make it through the vote after all.
“Thanks,” I say as I take it from him, not wanting to let Bristol carry it herself, even though she clearly can. “You’ve never been on a bike before, have you?” I ask her as she wipes her damp face with the sleeves of her hoodie.
“No . . .” she replies hesitantly. I move further into her space, a mere inch between us. Bristol shivers, her eyes darting back and forth between mine.
“You still trust me?”
“I trust you, Rhys.” And fuck me if those aren’t the best words I’ve ever heard. Only three other ones could top it, and hell, those would be pretty damn close. Because trust? Without it, you don’t have shit. You can love someone all day long, but if you don’t trust them, that love will wither away. And nothing about what’s between Bristol and I will wither away. Not now that I’ve found her and she’s run right into my arms.
“I mean it, I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll get on first, and then throw your leg over and sit behind me. Just watch your leg from touching here,” I say and motion to the exhaust pipe.
Taking a step away from her, I toss her bag to the prospect waiting next to my bike. “Get this up to the house for us, will you?”
“No problem, Sin.”
Gripping my handlebars, I get situated on my bike, holding it upright and steady so Bristol can climb on behind me. With delicate fingers, she grips my shoulder, bracing herself on me as she swings her leg over the back of my bike and straddles it. There are inches between us as she sits timidly, and that won’t do at all.
Reaching behind me, I grip her thigh, giving her a good yank forward so she’s flush against me, her warm thighs on the outside of mine, and it’s not until this moment that I realize it’s just not fucking close enough. This has to be why Rogue likes to keep Kinsey on the front in his goddamn lap.
An image of Bristol straddling me instead of my bike flashes through my mind, her round, perky ass sitting right in my lap, her thighs wrapped around my waist while we ride down empty roads. Fuck, that’s an image that needs to come to fruition.
But first, I need to make sure she’s safe and get to the bottom of what happened to make her run to me. Rage boils just under the surface, hot and molten, ready to erupt. There’s a side of me that I never want Bristol to see, the side that is willing to go to any lengths to protect those I love.
“That’s better. Don’t be scared to get close, baby. Makes it easier if we’re one with the bike instead of three separate beings. We’re only a few minutes up the road. I’ll go slow. Wrap your arms around me and just relax. I’ve got you.”
I start my bike up, the engine rumbling and vibrating under us. Bristol grips me tighter, her fingers digging into the thick leather of my cut. I walk us forward and then twist the throttle. Once we’re moving, I release my right handlebar, reachingback and gripping Bristol’s calf, letting her know I’m right here.
She rests her cheek on my back, and although the tension is high and tumultuous, my heart fucking roars with rightness, having her on the back of my bike. That seat is reserved for my old lady, the one I’ll spend the rest of my life dedicated to. So, to finally have her right here with me? It’s hard not to feel some sort of way about it. Even if I wish the situation were different.
I navigate us down the long gravel road by muscle memory, my thoughts fully on Bristol and getting her alone in my room to sort everything out. The floodlights are on outside the clubhouse, lighting the entire front porch and driveway up like a beacon.
Everyone seemed to have moved to the porch for our arrival, and I make a mental note to kick all their asses later. Except for maybe Morgan. Wrath leans casually against one of the thick wood beams, a patch bunny under his arm as she strokes his chest. Jesus, what the fuck is Bristol going to think the first time she sees him out in the open? Wrath brings a joint up to his lips, inhaling before passing it to Noose. The rich, earthy scent hits our noses before we’ve even gotten off the bike.
I’m suddenly insecure as fuck, and I hate that feeling. This is my home. My family. Bristol hates that stuffy bullshit of where she came from. She’ll thrive here. She will. I don’t know if I’m trying to convince myself or not, but I need something to hold on to. Especially as I grip her hand, pulling her impossibly close to me as I usher her up the stairs toward the group of people, when Malice steps in front of us, blocking our path. He cocks his head to the side as he regards Bristol, dark eyes taking her in.
“So, you’re the queen who made him extra soft.”
Bristol sputters, her mouth gaping open as she looks from Malice back to me, her eyebrows pinched as confusion washes over her features. He’s wearing a pair of low-rise denim jeans, so low he’s two seconds from flashing everyone his damn dick. He’s got on his leather cut with no T-shirt, per usual, and I’m wondering what the hell Bristol is thinking of him. Malice’s torso is a work of art, covered in patchwork-style tattoos. His fresh blond hair is sticking up wildly, his tongue sticking out as he rolls the piercing between his teeth. She isn’t the judgmental type, but Malice can be a bit much when you’re just meeting him.
“Mal, shut the fuck up. Bristol, this is our sergeant at arms, Malice. Mal, this is Bristol. We’ll do the rest of the introductions tomorrow. I want to get her inside.”
“You can call me Crew; I don’t get to hear that name too often. I told Saige to call me it, but she doesn’t ’cause she’s kind of part of the club now. So you’ll call me Crew, then?”
“Ye-yeah, of course, Crew. It’s good to meet you.”
“Oh! Almost forgot. Prez wants to see you. He’s not happy.”
My heart sinks into my stomach. Chaos and I have known each other since we were young teenagers and have had our fair share of arguments and fights, but this one is going to be different. I know how he feels about Bristol being engaged to another man and me pursuing that. Apparently, there are lines that our fearless leader won’t cross or support us crossing. But they don’t call me Sin for no reason. He should know better by now.
I give Malice a curt nod, satisfied that he’ll handle it for me. Bristol is my priority right now, and she needs time to decompress from whatever the fuck is happening. I drop a chaste, comforting kiss to her temple as I guide us inside the clubhouse. The two double doors are already propped wide open, so we step over the threshold and into the large common room that holds our TVs, pool tables, dart boards, couches, and bar.
Chaos is rounding the corner from the kitchen before we’ve even taken two steps. I can feel Malice and a few others hot on our asses, and I can’t help but feel like a wolf backed into a corner. Bristol trembles against me, and as I look around at each of my brothers, at the clubhouse that’s always been home to me, I suddenly feel like the young boy whose father—the club VP—was beating his mom, and I didn’t know who I could trust or where to turn for help. But I’m not that young, scared boy anymore. I’m a man who would burn this place to the ground with everyone in it if they don’t stand behind me to protect her.
Chaos’ eyes squint dangerously at me as he takes us in, Bristol’s hand dwarfed in mine, her body tucked in close. “We need to talk. Now.”
“Not tonight,” I snap, Chaos’ eyes squinting. I clock his fists balling at his sides, and I instinctively slide Bristol slightly behind me. A little gasp comes from her lips, which pisses me the fuck off. I promised her she’d be safe here, and here my president is flexing because he doesn’t agree with what I’m doing. Fuck that. Camden takes a step forward just as Saige puts a hand on his chest, stepping between us.
“We need to talk. I want you in church.Now.”
