Page 133 of Dozer

He covered his mouth and nose with a bandana, and then poured the can of gasoline over the beaten man and mattress.

I soaked the walls, and Blade doused the furniture and kitchen. Fumes burned my eyes, and my head lightened from the fumes. It only took a minute to saturate the place in gasoline. “Let’s go.”

We exited the cabin as Bullet came around the corner with another empty can. We tossed them onto the back of the hearse.

Blade, Vance, Bullet, and I stood several yards away from the house. I inhaled on a cigarette, drawing the hot smoke into my lungs.

“Is he going to be okay?” Bullet asked of Romeo.

“Yeah, he’s not doing this for Pippa,” Blade said. “He’s here because Dozer isn’t.”

As I blew out a thick gust of smoke upward, Romeo bent his head and lit a cigarette. The flame highlighted his profile, the hard line of his mouth, the tense angle of his jaw, and the narrowed glare of his eyes. He inhaled long and deep, the red ember glowing in the early morning light.

As he exhaled, he flicked his fingers. The ember tip twisted and turned in a high arc toward the house. The cigarette bounced, hot sparks dancing across the porch.

The fumes ignited. Romeo ducked as the house burst into flames. Black smoke billowed into the air. A gust of heat rolled off the house. Silhouetted in the blaze, Romeo watched the fire lick the porch, climb the rotted wood and streak along the roof.

Then he turned on his heels and strode toward us.

Bullet climbed into the hearse. Vance straddle Dozer’s bike.

“Let’s meet back at the MC,” Blade said.

Sounded like a good plan to me. Now that this situation was resolved, we could get back to club business.

Romeo put on his helmet. “I’ll catch you later. I need to be with Pip.”

We rolled out of the area, the flames still spiraling into the sky. It wouldn’t take long for the fire to be reported, but by the time help arrived, that tinder-dry cabin would be nothing but ash. No evidence that Pippa was ever here…and neither were the Hellers.

Chapter Eighteen

Pippa

It had been two weeks. That day still lived in my mind with a crippling ferociousness. My bruises had healed, but I ached. My heart still hurt.

Willow stitched my body back together, told me I was a survivor, that nothing that happened was my fault. I wouldn’t say I was taking the blame, but I couldn’t shed the filth that seemed to linger in my thoughts.

I didn’t want to think about Quinn, about the horrible things he’d done. But he’d changed me, and he’d changed the two men I cared most about.

At least I didn’t have to worry about pregnancy or an STD. I’d had my period, and Gabi’s boss had acquired Quinn’s medical records as part of the deep dive they’d done into his life. His physical and blood work showed he was healthy. Too bad they hadn’t checked his fucking mental health. I still finished the prescriptions Willow had gotten for me.

I stared into Dozer’s face as he slept next to me on our new bed. Our bed, in our house. We agreed to pay Gabi rent. Dozer moved in, but I was pretty sure Romeo had, too. Not technically. He still had his room at the MC, but he hadn’t slept there since we came back to the house.

He slept in the spare room, but he didn’t come to my bed. I didn’t have to tell him that part of our relationship was over. I couldn’t stand anyone’s touch except Dozer’s. But even he wasn’t touching me. Not the way I needed. He could hold me, kiss me, but I hungered for him.

I wanted his to be the last hands that had caressed my skin, the only man touching me intimately and claiming me. I wanted his whiskey and cigarette breath on my lips and the dark and dangerous way he spread my thighs and fucked me.

I wanted him to chase the demons from my mind.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” he whispered into the darkness.

I curled into his chest. His skin was warm with his scent. “I can’t sleep.”

His arms banded around me. “I’m sorry, baby. Do you want to catch a ride and see if it will help you sleep?”

“No.” I ran my hand over his hip. I wanted him to cover me, to feel the weight of him against me, to cradle his hips between my thighs. I wanted him to surround me the way he always had, a seductive shadow to blanket me.

He covered my hand, slipped it off his body, and wedged it intimately between us.

---