Page 24 of Lamb

I hated the whimper that slithered out. “Just one.Please.”

In a rare moment, the sharper, colder features of Lamb’s face softened. “Not yet.” He reached out, soothing a wet strand of hair back behind my ear. I barely felt the touch, my eyes staring holes into my empty glass. “That’s enough for now.”

“For now?” I frowned, pulling the empty glass back to my chest. I tilted it side to side, hoping for even a slither of whiskey to glaze over the bottom.

“Your dependency is dangerous. You’ll need to be weaned off it.”

Warmth turned to fire in my stomach, a feral defensiveness overwhelming my brain. “You do not get to decide that,” I hissed, clutching my glass and stepping far out of the man’s reach. “You have no right to tell me what to do.”

“You’re right.” Lamb smiled, and I disliked the satisfaction of finding a home in his expression. He closed the gap, and I could taste his woodsy scent through the tang of whiskey on my tongue. I fought the need to escape, determined to hold my ground. “That’s why you’ll choose to detox yourself.”

“What?” I almost laughed. This man was delusional. “That is not going to happen.”

With only a single smirk, turning his soft and gentle expression into one of devious devilry, he turned his back towards me and walked out of the room.

Fear travelled through my body in a way it never had. Standing, abandoned in the empty bathroom, the floor had long grown cold underfoot as an inkling of self-doubt skated down my spine. It was buried deep within my heart, as a cold truth I struggled to deny whispered in my mind. Lamb was rich. Intelligent. And capable. But more importantly …

If Lamb wanted something, he would have it.

By any means necessary.

Chapter Seven

LAMB

“You got what you wanted.”

I looked up from my phone and saw a disgruntled, curly-haired cowboy draped like a wet cloth over the front of his handlebars. The humid autumn air separated the curls on his head, the mass swaying in the breeze like seaweed on the ocean floor.

“And that is …?” I probed.

“My slow and painful death.”

I sighed, already regretting bringing him with me. “You’ve been away from your old lady for only a few hours.” I checked my phone screen to confirm the time.

14:05.

Notification: No new motion detected.

I slid the phone back into my pocket as the wind tousled my jacket. Sand rolling across the dirt road began to pile around my kickstand, and the glossy black paint had dulled to a matte. We’d been here too long.

I looked around the abandoned gas station.

What had once been a gas station was now filled with the sand and grit from the road. Spiders made their homes in the broken neon signs, and rats had lunch on their wiring. Plasteredposters peeled from the walls, leaving spots of colored paint, untouched by the bleaching sun.

“That’s a few hours of baby-making I could be doing.” Jax threw himself up, his hair settling in a wily bunch around his shoulders. “This new fertility treatment has made her like a bitch in heat. She can’t get enough ofthis.” He gestured his tattooed hand down the length of his equally tattooed body. Being clad in jeans, boots, and a leather cut did little to hide the myriad of ink covering his bare, sun-kissed skin. Jax and I were among the shortest active club members, but for what he lacked in height, he made up for in speed. Jax was a dirty fighter and could handle himself better than most in a fight, but that wasn’t why he was here with me.

“I’ll make sure to tell her that.” I made the mental note, watching Jax’s smug smile drop off his face. “Women love to hear their men calling them a bitch in heat.”

“Don’t you dare!” Jax flung his leg over his bike, his foot catching just enough to stagger him across the gap. “Or I’ll—” His finger wavered in the gap between us, the bolstered confidence waning in my presence.

I raised a brow. “You’ll what?”

I watched the bravado fall into the many crisp leaves scuttering on the floor. “Whatever,” Jax grumbled, showing his back, his Black Angels’ skull glaring as he sulked back to his seat. “Not worth it.”

“How about we strike a deal?” I proposed, toying with a leaf that chose my boot to settle. I pinned it beneath my heel, holding it back from the pull of the wind. “For my silence?”

“Nope,” Jax popped, sinking back into the wet rag position on his bike. “Ronnie is the lesser of two evils compared to you. I’m only here because I’m paying back a favor, anyway. Not going to dig my grave any deeper.”

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