Page 54 of Savage Heart

Ignoring her pussy and Trouble’s annoying, knowing expression, she stepped into the room, noticing her duffel bag on the bed.

“Hawk and Fae grabbed some stuff for you and Erika. I put her bag in the room across the hall. Come on, I’ll show you.” With that, he stepped out of the room, took two long strides, and walked into a room about the same size as hers. It also had a single bed, but this one was covered in a pink andpurple comforter that looked like a glitter wizard had thrown up unicorns all over it.

Erika was going to love it.

Liz couldn’t stop her grin even if she wanted to.

“Looks like Fae had fun shopping,” she said, then turned to look at Trouble…who was blushing. Liz’s mouth dropped open.

He raised a hand to rub at the back of his neck, Liz’s eyes tracking the unfamiliar movement. Was Trouble…sheepish? Was he…uncomfortable? Was he…nervous about what she would think? As she stared at him, her mouth hanging open, the blush deepened, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Holy shit, the big bad biker VP was…nervous?

Warmth filled her, spilling over and drowning the remnants of her anger and turmoil from that scene in the living room. However, the desire was still there…still potent. Still alive.

“Um, actually, that was me,” Trouble admitted, dropping his hand. A smile she’d never seen before curved his lips, and the blush on his cheeks shifted to a glow of humor. And, Lord, those dimples sure were deep and devastating, weren’t they? “It was either the unicorns or Taylor Swift—and there ain’t no way I’m havin’ that shit in my house.”

Oh. My. God.That did it.

Liz threw her head back and laughed.

The last two weeks with Trouble had been…surprisingly uneventful. He left in the morning for work at the custom garage or to do club business, but not before dropping Erika off at school. Because of the threat, Liz kept Erika from the daycare, and just have someone take her to and from school every day.

When Erika had first arrived at the house under the careful watch of Hawk and Toke, she’d been wary—like any child in a new situation would be. But once she saw her bed, she was over the moon. She’d settled in much faster than Liz had expected, and seeing Erika with Trouble…. The way that man looked at their little girl, like she was the most incredible and precious creature in the world, well, it made her heart squeeze, her eyes tear up…and her lady bits ache. What was it about a man and his kid that made women lose their minds? Seriously, she wanted to know, so she could rip it out of herself and burn it. There would never be a “her and Trouble” again, no matter what he said about them being a family. Families didn’t betray each other, and no matter how much Trouble had supposedly changed, he was still the man who cheated on her.

There was no coming back from that. Ever.

Before Erika had even gotten there, Liz and Trouble had agreed that they wouldn’t tell Erika that Trouble was her father until the shit with the Russians was over, and they could sit down and give her their full attention, because then they could also talk about how they were going to move forward. As things were, the future was too up in the air, what with the threat of death by Russki hanging over their heads.

Erika loved her time in the morning with Trouble. She was blossoming under his attention—and he gave it with a smile on his face and a light in his eyes. The man was gone for his little girl, and it showed in how gentle he was with her. He’d wake up early, get Erika ready for school, then he’d indulge her by making whatever she wanted for breakfast. The first few times Liz had woken up to get Erika ready for school—even though she could barely get herself ready—as she always had, and Trouble was already up doing what Liz was supposed to be doing…Liz snapped at him. How dare he step up now and try being a “good dad”? He had nine and a half years of beingnothingto Erika, and now he wanted to be a father? She realized what a bitch she was being when Erika asked her what Trouble was doing wrong. He wasn’t doing anythingwrong…not really. Hewasstepping up, and it wasn’t entirely his fault that he’d missed nine and a half years of Erika’s life. Yes, he’d been an asshole and run Liz off because he thought he knew better than Liz did about her own fucking life, but any time after that, Liz could have told him about Erika. Pride, pain, and fear of his possible rejection of Erika had kept her on her side of Las Vegas. The city was massive, and she hadn’t seen him in all those years, until Odin had contacted her, asking her to come work for the club.

Now, Trouble was trying to make amends by being the father Erika needed, even though Liz hadn’t told Erika the truth yet. Each day, the guilt of keeping it a secret weighed on her. Troubleloved Erika, it was as plain as the indulgent, adoring smile on his face whenever he looked at her. And he wanted to spend time with her, coming home early from the club to eat dinner with them, play board games with Erika, and help with her nighttime routine. It was a serious mindfuck to listen to Trouble to all the voices in Erika’sFrozenbook as he read her a bedtime story. Standing at the door watching over them like a hawk, Liz…melted just a little bit. He was trying. Erika was blooming, and Liz…well, she had trouble remembering why she hated him so much.

But then, the reminder came strolling through the door of the medical clinic on Liz’s very first day back on duty at the clubhouse. Sick of being stuck at Trouble’s house, and pretty much healed, she demanded to work at the clubhouse clinic, at least. She still had the cast, but that didn’t stop her from using her fingers or her other arm and hand. Odin and Trouble agreed it would be a bad idea for Liz to go back to work at VIP until they dealt with the Russians, so Liz had called each of the employees and patients to tell them the clinic was closed for the time being due to “budget constraints.”

Yeah, because one of the partners stole five million dollars from Russian psychos, so finances were askooshtight.

Liz smelled her first—like if Paris and Italy had anal sex, then took a shit on Amelia’s neck, that’s what it would smell like—then Liz heard those ridiculous healsclick-clackingacross the concrete floor.

Straightening from where she was leaning over the metal corner desk, checking over the list of supplies the brothers had used in her absence, Liz turned to face the bane of her existence. It took a moment to adjust the sling she was forced to wear until her next appointment with Dr. Faison, but once the sling was right, she pulled her shoulders back, and met the bitch head on.

Amelia came to a stop on the other side of the exam table nearest the door and crossed her arms. Today, she was wearing skin-tight black jeans, a belly-bearing top that barely covered her tits and revealed a new tattoo inked onto the top of her right boob. From where Liz was standing, it looked like a clown sucking a dick. Liz mentally shrugged. There was no accounting for taste. Amelia’s hair was new, too—she’d dyed it black, but one could tell she hadn’t had a professional do it, because her roots were showing. Her make up was as thick as usual, which did nothing to hide the ugliness that seeped from her soul.

Amelia smirked at Liz, and Liz fought the urge to sneer.

Instead, she offered her best “doctor smile,” and greeted, “Good morning, Amelia, how can I help you?” She’d dealt with wealthy problem patients with entitlement issues, an angry toddler hopped up on sugar and no sleep, and immature grown ass men before, so she could handle one ignorant slut. Easy peasy.

Amelia’s smirk dropped as she snarled, “You can stay away from my man, bitch, that’s how you can help me.”

I will not slap her face, I will not slap her face….All doctors swore to do no harm, but there were limits on how much whore fuckery she should have to deal with before she whooped a bitch’s ass.

“Your man?” Liz replied, her tone all confused innocence. “Who—”

Amelia growled. “Don’t play stupid with me, bitch. You know I’m talkin’ about Trouble. He is my man, he claimed me two years ago, and there is no way I am letting some fat, ugly, dumpy nobody try to take him from me.”

Fat. Ugly.Dumpy. What the fuck? She couldn’t help it, a snort escaped, followed by the most delirious cackle she’d ever cackled. Bending over, clutching her belly as she laughed, Liz could barely see Amelia’s face through the tears in her eyes. Thewoman looked all red-faced and incredulous, like she couldn’t believe Liz was laughing at her.

Liz couldn’t believe it, either. But it was either laugh…or let the pain of what Amelia said chip away at the hard-fought emotional wall Liz had built years before. The same wall that was crumbling more and more, the longer she lived with Trouble. Liz wasn’t an idealistic idiot; she knew Trouble was a manwhore who’d spent the last ten years dipping his dick into easy club pussy. And she also knew that since she’d started working for the club, Trouble had singled out Amelia—it was always Amelia he was kissing on, and touching, and basically fucking in the common room whenever Liz came through for work or to visit with the old ladies. Amelia was Trouble’s woman, that was clear, so what was with all the gentle touches, the talk of Liz being his only, and how he was going to build a future with her? Was he playing with Liz?

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