“Look, Beth, after yesterday, I’m concerned,” Copper said without acknowledging Gator further. “These motherfuckers have already messed with you once. Until we know more, I’m not taking any chances.”
She sighed and looked at Saint, who stared at her with hot eyes. Hot eyes that dared her to deny protection again. “Fine.” Saint seemed to relax visibly. She wanted to reach over and squeeze his hand, but curled her fingers into her palm instead. “But they stay out of my way.”
Copper nodded. “Promise.”
Sure, he did. It was an easy promise to make but a much harder one to keep.
Her mom blew into the clubhouse wearing an apron and barking orders like a breakfast drill sergeant. Everyone, all these big, potentially violent bikers jumped into action following herevery command without question. The way they all loved and respected her mother made Beth’s heart happy, but she couldn’t help but laugh. Tiny Shell wielded a ton of influence around here.
Within five minutes, they’d set the table, delivered the food from the kitchen, and had everyone seated at various tables. Kids ran around causing the usual ruckus, teenagers sat together, staring at their phones with sullen expressions, and loud laughter rang out through the building.
Beth ended up sitting with her parents, Zach, Toni, Lindsey, Maverick, and Stephanie. A few regulars were notably absent, Screw being the one whose presence she missed the most. He never failed to have her cracking up with wild stories from his misspent youth. The only cloud on an otherwise sunny experience was Saint ending up on the opposite side of the room.
It had to be that way, of course. She couldn’t exactly demand he sit at her table without garnering a few unanswerable questions.
Well, she could answer them, but she wasn’t in the mood for a fireworks show right then. So she spent the meal chatting with her loved ones, embracing the mushy feelings of being home with family, enjoying delicious food, and trying not to glance over at Saint every two seconds.
One of those things didn’t happen as planned.
Once the group had consumed every ounce of food—these guys had some serious appetites—Beth stood to help start the cleanup. Before she had a chance to grab a platter, the door flew open, and Screw blew in like a hurricane.
“Beth!” he screamed, whipping his head around as he searched for her. His hair, longer than she’d ever seen it, was pulled back in a man bun, but whisps flew around his face as though he’d been messing with it. His eyes had a wild, panicked gleam. “Where the fuck is Beth?”
She stepped forward. “I’m right here. What’s wrong?”
“Oh my God, there you are.”
Screw darted toward her.
Saint shot up, gaze sharp, and muscles primed to dive between them if he found Screw a threat, which was absurd. She gave him a firm headshake.
When he reached her, Screw grabbed her shoulders—Saint must have loved that—and sighed as though a hundred-pound anvil sat on his chest. “You won’t believe what they did to her. It’s so bad. Beth, it’s horrible.”
She blinked at the insane man before her. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He huffed. “I’m talking about what they did to my baby. It’s goddamn criminal.”
“Jazz had a baby?” No, that couldn’t be right. The throuple of Screw, Gumby, and Jazz had decided to remain kid-free, last she heard.
“What? No. Fuck no. I’m talking about… you know what, fuck it.” He bent forward and gently drove his shoulder into Beth’s stomach as he wrapped a hand around the back of her thighs. She yelped as she folded in half and was hoisted off the ground in a fireman’s carry.
“Screw!” she shouted as laughter bubbled out of her. “What is wrong with you?”
“You just have to see it,” he said as he marched toward the door with her hanging down his back like a sack of potatoes.
Beth laughed until her stomach cramped, and tears dripped down her forehead. But then she caught a glimpse of Saint’s thunderous expression.
Yikes. That was one unhappy man. Screw’s days might be numbered, and he didn’t even know it.Could it be jealousy?A thrill ran through her at the idea, which was probably not what she should be feeling, but the thought of him, possessiveand feral, turned her on like nothing else. Jason’s jealousy had been a cage, suffocating, punishing, and designed to control, but Saint’s felt like a claim, like being wanted so fiercely it bordered on desperation. He’d never hurt her or take his frustration out on her, and that gave her the freedom and safety to enjoy the intensity with which he wanted her.
Screw ripped the door open and stormed outside. Hot air and sunshine chased away the air-conditioned chill within five seconds.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Gumby’s voice rang out from somewhere nearby.
“Screw! Put her down. Oh my God, you’re making way too big a deal of this.” Jazz had laughter in her voice.
“Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” A sharp yip had her trying to peer around the side of Screw. “Did you get another dog?”
“She’s a foster. We picked her up last night,” Jazz said as Screw finally set her down.
