“No, we don’t,” I said, smirking as I gestured toward the driveway where all the club bikes sat. Never to be ridden by their owners again.
“Can the girls—”
“Really?” I cut him off. “We were a club before this, remember? They all know how to ride.”
“Right. Okay. Let me talk to Slash, but I think he will agree that it’s smart to get them out of here.”
Sure enough, that was what everyone thought.
So Colter and I cleaned up as well as we could and trekked all the way back to the parked motorcycles with Syn to drive to the clubhouse and wait for the girls to get ready and join us.
Saint stayed behind.
With the bodies.
The mess.
And yes, the dogs I hated leaving, but knew I couldn’t bring them to the hotel.
“That had to suck,” I said when we climbed off the bikes at the hotel, watching the way Colter’s face was contorted in painfrom the bike’s vibrations and bumps in the road. His bruised ribs had been taking one hell of a beating.
“It wasn’t my most enjoyable ride,” he admitted. “Why don’t you get the girls in my room and settled? I’m gonna go grab some elastic bandages and a first aid kit.”
He was only telling half the truth.
I knew this man now.
He was going to be compiling gift baskets for the girls.
I wasn’t sure it was possible to love him more than I did right then.
Until he came into the hotel room and dropped the baskets full of soft, sweet, thoughtful goodies for the girls. And big care packages for the two new dogs… and Sugar. So she didn’t feel left out.
“Who’d’ve thought a bag of chicken jerky would get you all soft and sweet on me?” he said when I threw myself into his arms for what felt like the hundredth time that day.
“They’re going to know love for the first time in their whole lives,” I said, using the palms of my hands to wipe the tears from my eyes.
“Who is?” Emma asked, clutching her pink butterfly squishy stuffed animal to her chest as she stood in the doorway of the connecting room.
“The dogs,” I admitted, looking over.
She looked better.
Just a shower, some food, and a change into the clean clothes Colter had gotten her had made such a difference already.
“Mack and Molly?” she asked, her head tipped to the side.
“They do have names. At least he gave them that.”
“Not much else,” Emma admitted. “He wouldn’t even ‘waste good food’ on them. He put them out to hunt for their own food. It was cruel. We weren’t fed much either, but we tried to slip them some food whenever we could. Especially Molly.”
“Why especially Molly?” I asked.
Emma grimaced a little.
“She’s pregnant, isn’t she?” Colter asked.
“She is,” Emma said.
