Page 51 of Pike

Feather

My stomach is in knots, my knee bounces up and down as I sit back and watch the guys getting ready. The girls have tried to talk me down off the ledge I’m sitting on, but it’s done no good. I’m a nervous wreck.

The guys are suited up in jeans and black shirts with holsters under their cuts. Guns. So many damn guns. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many in my entire life, and that includes on TV. It’s insane.

“Worried about your man?” I look up to see Van smiling down at me.

“Wouldn’t you be? Look at this!”

“It’s what we do, darlin’. No need to worry.”

“He could be hurt or worse.”

“I won’t let your man die, Feather.” I look up and see the sincere look in his eyes, and I know he’d do anything for Pike.

“I know.”

“Try not to worry too much,” he says before walking off. Pike walks over and drops onto the couch next to me, grabbing my still-bouncing knee in his hand.

“Calm down.”

“I am calm.”

“You’re bouncin’ the whole couch,” he tells me.

“I can’t help it. This is insane,” I reply. He chuckles and leans into me, pressing his lips to my cheek before pulling me against his side.

“It’s all gonna be fine.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. Have a little faith in your man,” he tells me.

“I do have faith in you, Pike, but look at all the guns.”

“Protection, darlin’. That’s all it is.”

“Bullets, Pike. It’s bullets.”

“That aren’t gonna hit me this time.”

“You’re so calm. Like you’ve done this before.” He doesn’t say anything after that. He sits silently, giving me my answer. He has done this before. “You have done this before,” I state.

“Not my first time, darlin’. Won’t be my last.”

“I don’t know about all this,” I tell him.

“It is what it is,” he says. There’s no getting him to stop or call this off, so why bother?

“You’ll come back, right?” Now he shifts and turns to face me, taking my face in his hands.

“I just got you, Jailbait. I’m not givin’ that up easily. You’re stuck with me now.” His words hit me in the chest, and I sigh softly. I’m glad he said it. I’m glad he feels that way. I don’t know about letting Pike go now. Not after what we’ve been through. I grab his hand in mine and pull it into my lap, holding it there.

“Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” he says.

“Bullets, Pike. I’m scared.”

“You don’t need to be.”

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