Page 100 of Playboy’s Purgatory

Diesel pipes up from where he’s leaning against a wall, “Is it always this exciting so early in the morning? Man, I must miss a lot.”

Lara giggles and something settles in my chest. Clearly, we still have a massive problem named Lola, but it’s not something I have to solve right now. My brothers, my club, we’ll figure it out.

And they’ll all have my back in protecting my girls. It’s what we do and why our family is so strong.

Soon enough I’ll be able to claim my Cupcake at the table, and she’ll wear my property cut on her back. She’ll know she’s mine and wear my name with pride.

I choose her and I always will. Today, she saw the action behind it.

As she melts into me, I feel her walls crumble even more. Even as exhaustion washes over me, I find myself smiling. She’s in my arms, right where she belongs.

CHAPTER 25

LARA

When I step through the door of Ridge Tattoos, Jettson looks up at me. The way his eyes brighten and his lips curl into a smile is completely involuntary. It’s the kind of reaction you can’t fake. But it’s not a test.

He has already passed his test. Part of me was so disappointed in myself for even needing to see what he would do at that moment.

But I needed it. And now I know.

Then he said he loves me.

I haven’t said it back, even now, days later. I’m not ready. But I don’t feel like he’s putting any pressure on me. He’s not rushing me.

And it only makes me fall in love with him even more. I just can’t give voice to the feeling yet.

I push those thoughts aside because I came over here on a mission. These people have come into my life and they’re messing up all my plans and expectations.

It’s frustrating and I don’t know what to do with that feeling. I’ve found there’s only one person I can vent to who will still look at me like I’m adorable.

So, here I am.

Damn it.

“Hey, Cupcake,” Jettson calls out to me. He keeps sanitizing his tattoo chair, but his eyes are on me. “What’s up? I wasn’t expecting to see you until dinner.”

“Well,” I throw my hands up, “that’s why I’m here.”

“You’re here about dinner?”

I march right up to him and point at his chest, the motion incredibly accusatory. As it should be.

“No,” I snap, “I’m here about your father.”

“My father?” He looks a little taken aback as he asks the question. His eyebrows pull together and the befuddled look on his face takes some of the wind out of my sails. But not enough.

“Yes,” my head swivels slightly and I imitate his deep voice, “your father.”

“Okay,” he holds the word out before throwing out the last of his trash and closing the distance between us. “How about you tell me a little more information? What, exactly,” he arches an eyebrow as if I’m prone to hyperbole, “has Rumble done?”

I step back before he can touch me and slap at his arms. “Don’t touch me. I’ll get all melty and I don’t want that right now.”

Jettson holds his hands up in surrender, but the amusement in his eyes is clear to see. He doesn’t even try to hide it. Why is there not more throat punching in this world? It should be socially acceptable. And not illegal.

“Rumble just showed up at the bakery just now, out of the blue.” Jettson’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, but now that I’ve started, I’m on a roll and the words start to come fast. “I was just about to lock up and he knocked. Vanessa saw him and practically levitated over to him. He told her to grab her jacket and helmet out of his saddle bag because he was taking her for a ride.”

“Is that not okay?” His confusion makes me narrow my eyes at him.