Page 15 of Welker

Moira almost snorted. What would her best, male bud have to say about her current situation?

Maybe she’d text him tomorrow and get his take on…at least being displaced from her home. If she knew him at all, he’d beg her to come stay with them. But just like with Mase and Everlee, Moira wasn’t going to barge in when their first child was imminent.

Would she…? Could she…? Maybe she’d spill that she was going to stay with her boss, who was crush-worthy. Jory would freaking love that, and maybe he’d have some sage advice she could follow. Or maybe he’d just tell her to get over herself and fuck the man, already; something he’d clearly been urging her to do with any available male, for years.

A sigh caught in Moira’s throat. Nothing like that would ever happen. She’d built her own monster, now she had to live with it.

Welker finished up with Mason and waltzed toward Moira where she waited, stuck in her own brain.

“You ready to go?” He gave her one of his big-ass, handsome as shit smiles, and she grunted.

“Do I have a choice?” She hadn’t looked at the upstairs of her house yet, but couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. Tomorrow would be soon enough.

“Play nice, Moira,” Mason called over, having heard the exchange. “I prefer you stay in one piece, and Welk will help make that happen.”

Moira wanted to flip her boss the bird, but that would be showing too much emotion. She gave him a shoulder shrug, instead.

Welker was grinning. “To answer your question, nope,” he told her, the cheerful look never leaving his face, even as she grumbled at both of them. “You’re coming with me because you know it’s the safest thing to do. Now, do you want to ride in my truck, or bring your own vehicle? We have a little walk to get to mine.”

Moira needed her own truck. It was an extension of herself, and held all the go-bag stuff she needed for SWAT deployment. Plus, it gave her an autonomy she didn’t want to lose. Depending on Welker for transportation? Not if she could help it.

“I’ll bring you to yours, then follow you,” she told him, not letting on she knew exactly where he lived. “I need my truck.”

Welker scowled. “Which makes me wonder…” He paused and looked around, clearly not seeing her vehicle. “…if the MC had the smarts to slap a tracker on your baby.”

“Unlikely,” Moira responded. “I parked it in my barn where it couldn’t be spotted.”

Welk shook his head, and began moving in the direction she’d indicated. “If it’s okay, I’ll take a look, anyway.”

Moira doubted that the brain-bucket-brigade had the wherewithal to find, let alone tag her ride, but she appreciated Welk thinking of it. She watched avidly as he disappeared around back while pulling a flashlight off the MOLLE system that held all the goodies on his vest.

It didn’t take him long to return.

“It’s all good,” he told her, approaching. “So you can feel free to drive it to my place, But before we meet the team back here to do a clean-up tomorrow, I’ll take you into town in my incognito car to get whatever you need for an extended stay.”

“Take me? Extended stay?” she questioned both assertions. “Not happening, Vestore. I can ferry myself to town, and as soon as this place is habitable again, I’m coming back.”

“Oh, no, you’re not,” he rebutted, as if he were discussing the weather. “You don’t really believe the MC will stop now, do you? They didn’t get you, Bliss, which is clearly what they wanted. So they’ll be staking out town, looking for your truck, and they’ll be back here at every opportunity. Being as far out in the boonies as you are, there’s no way the Sheriff’s Department will do frequent drive-bys to make sure you’re not in jeopardy.”

Welker had a point, but…

“Fine. I’ll give it a few days. Then I’ll install a security system,” she told him. “Cameras, a perimeter alarm, and better locks on my doors.”

“Why are you being so stubborn, Moira?” he chastised, blinking over at her. “Until the group is caught, they can do a lot of damage. They can throw a Molotov cocktail through your window and burn your ass. They can pepper the place with AK-fire, hoping to hit you while you’re drinking coffee in your kitchen. There are all kinds of ways they can kill you without triggering your alarms since you’re so close to the road. Examine what I’m saying and tell me I’m wrong.”

Moira wanted to, in the worst way, because becoming beholden to Welker over what could be the course of weeks, or even months, was a thought that was scarier than Tormentor’s minions. But she couldn’t tell him he was delusional.

She knew what the 227 MC was capable of.

It was just… How was she—faced with Welker every freaking day—going to keep her attraction to the man from growing?

“I’m not conceding entirely,” she told him succinctly. “But I’ll stay with you until I find another solution. And argue if you want,” she told him, crossing her arms under her ample breasts, “I’ll still be trying to think of a different living situation.”

She started toward the rear of her property, and Welker fell into step beside her. When they reached her ride, inside of her now open barn, he watched as she reached into the wheel-well, and extracted the magnetic holder which housed her spare key.

“I didn’t say you wouldn’t.” He snorted as she gave a quick peek under her truck.

“Don’t believe me,” he questioned, not put off at all by her second-guessing him. “I get it, but once your truck hits my place, it stays put until you’re safe.”

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