Page 21 of Savage Guardian

Heaving a sigh, he said, “Yeah. Wednesday nights are pretty chill, with the brothers having other shit to do other than hang out.”

“You guys don’t have parties?” She sounded disappointed…with a smidge of relief. Ah, so the MC romance loving Fae didn’t know if she could stomach a full-on MC clubhouse party.

Few could, really. It was an acquired taste, so he didn’t blame her.

He snickered, picturing the shy, stuttering, fair-skinned Fae coming face to bare ass with one of his brothers fucking a club bitch on a pool table. Fae’s creamy flesh would glow red, and she’d probably turn tail and run.

Or you can take her to your room and find out where that red blush stops, and if her warm, creamy flesh tastes as good as it smells.

“Not on Wednesday nights,” he blurted, swallowing down the lump of unwanted need lodged there. At her confused look, he explained, “We used to have club parties nearly every night, but once our prez, Odin, got himself an old lady, we’ve tapered the number of parties down to one or two a week, usually on a Friday or Saturday night. Actually, that might change pretty soon, since he and his old lady just bought a place a few miles away. They used to stay in the president’s apartment.”

When did you turn into a blabbering old woman, fool?!Fuck! Why was it so easy to talk to her?

“Why would she have a problem with the parties? Is his old lady a stick in the mud?”

Hawk snorted, picturing Skathi wagging a finger at Odin. That shit would be hilarious.

Chuckling, he answered, “No, nothing like that. Actually, Skathi is pretty bad ass. She’s former Danish special forces, so she doesn’t shy away from anything our MC can throw at her. Odin is just settling in to domestic bliss, and since Skathi is belly full, he rarely lets her out of his sight. He spends most nights at the clubhouse trying to get shit done so he can take some time off once the baby is here. With Skathi always being there, and Odin being as protective as a papa bear, we’ve learned to keep the raucous fun and fuckery to a minimum during the week. Once Odin heads out for the weekend, though, it’s fucking on.”

“I’d love to see your clubhouse.”

Those words were the signature on his death certificate, because the feeling of excitement and pleasure that hit him when she spoke them only proved tonight was going to kill him.

Was she really doing this? Was she really leaving the comfort of the shadow behind to take a walk on the wild side, right into a freaking motorcycle club clubhouse?

Without a doubt, yes. Especially since it was Hawk that had invited her—which had been a surprise. They’d been sitting there, eating pie—well,she’dbeen eating pie. She didn’t know why he had gotten nothing to eat since hehadcome to a diner. Anyway, they’d been chatting, sharing about their families, him teasing her about her reading materials, and then he’d asked her about the Gaelic…. It really shouldn’t have taken a man as obviously intelligent as Hawk all that long to figure out that Carrie didn’t know a single word of Gaelic. He’d spent the last two days with her, while I’d been working on the album at Junkbox, and in that time, Carrie had to have shown her lack of interest in anything other than clothes, social media, and herself. Sure, there were times she could put on the act of caring about someone else, like at Christmas, but usually, she was pretty good about only being good to Carrie. On top of that, Carrie wasn’t what one would call book smart. Ask her about who was wearing what at the Met Gala, she’d be all over that. Ask her who J.R.R. Tolkien was, she’d look at your cross-eyed and curl her lips in annoyance. Bottom line: Carrie wouldn’t know Gaelic if it sat on her face and introduced itself.

So, when he’d asked about Fae translating Carrie’s lyrics into Gaelic, she’d almost screamed. She wanted to bang her head against the table, then banghishead against the table in her frustration. Yeah, so he figured out the Carrie didn’t know Gaelic, but he hadn’t jumped to the obvious conclusion that it meant she hadn’t written the lyrics at all. But Fae was stuck. Legally bound to keep Jimmy and Carrie’s secrets.

Tears burned the backs of her eyes, begging to spill down her cheeks and cleanse the stink of negative emotions. But she’d held them back, prepared to continue lying…to a man she couldn’t help but admire. God, she hated that. She hated all of it. If only she hadn’t agreed. If only she’d sacked the hell up and revealed herself as Aoibheal from the beginning.

Hindsight was 20/20.

And then Hawk had asked her to come to the clubhouse. He’d even seemed shocked at his own words, like he hadn’t meant to speak them at all. Certainly, she was a self-proclaimed invisible girl, but she wasn’t an idiot. When an MC brother invited you to his clubhouse, you freaking went.

“You just want to see if it’s anything like the books.”

Truth.

“You want to see Hawk in his element, badass biker swaggering through a room full of other badass bikers—all wearing kuttes and sexy smirks…so you can add it to your cooch cache for later.”

Double truth.

She snorted, thankful that she was following behind his bike in her rental car. If he could see and hear her now, he’d rescind his invitation and probably ban her from being around Carrie—his precious Aoibheal, for fear her crazy was catching. Fae wasn’t blind. She saw how Hawk looked at Carrie, like she walked on water, made wool into gold, and pooped rainbows. And Carrie…she was eating it up. She loved the attention, especially since it came in such a sexy package. The men back in Olsen weren’t built like Hawk and the men from Savage Protection, and Carrie was taking full advantage of all the sexy man mountain eye candy.

Pulling up to a steel gate topped with wicked looking razor wire and security cameras, Fae took a deep breath and held it.

“Here I go,” she rasped nervously. “I’m actually following a biker into an MC compound.”

It wasn’t fear that made her heart rate spike; it was excitement. For the first time in her life, she was taking steps into an unknown outcome, voluntarily. And she was going to enjoy herself, dammit.

The man at the gate motioned Hawk and Fae through, his gaze watching her as she slowly drove past. At first sight, the clubhouse looked like a massive firehouse, complete with two giant metal bay doors. The main building was several stories high and was made with red bricks. The windows and main door were framed in black, which added a menacing flavor. Off the central building were two wings, and she could only guess what was in those.

Nope, no need to guess, because you’re going inside.

Climbing from her dark blue four-door sedan, she turned to find Hawk making his way toward her from across the gravel parking lot from where there seemed to be designated bike parking. They probably kept the bikes set apart to keep them from being dinged or pushed over when drunk hangers-on stumbled from the clubhouse.

He lifted his chin at her, indicating she should follow. “Come on.”

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