Page 21 of Trigger's Temptation

My grip tightens as I pump, the fantasy consuming me. Her taste, her heat, the way her body would feel beneath mine, it’s all I can think about. It doesn’t take long before I tremble, my release crashing over me like a wave. My head thuds against the cool tiles, my breaths coming in sharp, uneven bursts.

What the hell is this woman doing to me? I don’t even know her, not really, but she’s already got me so twisted up I don’t know which way is up. Does she feel the same pull? Is she as consumed by this as I am? Or am I just another mark, another distraction in her tangled world?

I shut off the water and step out, grabbing a towel to dry off. The air in the bedroom feels cool against my skin as I walk naked to the dresser. I pull on a clean pair of boxers, the exhaustion finally catching up with me. Collapsing onto the bed, I can’t stop my mind from circling back to Aerianna. The way she looked at me, kissed me, consumed me. Sleep comes slowly, and when it does, she’s still there, haunting my thoughts.

I’m good and fucked when it comes to this woman.

A fist pounding on my door drags me from sleep. I was dreaming about Aerianna. The woman has my head in knots, and I don’t know what I’m going to do. The raging hard-on I’m sporting is going to hurt like a son of a bitch today.

The pounding continues, more insistent this time. I yank the door open, coming face to face with Torch.

"Shit, bro." Torch chuckles, eyes dropping to my tented boxers. "Put that beast away. You’re late for Church."

"Yeah, give me ten." I slam the door in Torch’s face before he can say anything else. The fucker loves torturing us with his jokes. Since he and Daisy got together and had the twins, he’s mellowed out some, but not by much. Especially when his twin, Jax, is around with his Ol’ Lady, Rose. Those two are goddamn terrible together, always pulling pranks on everyone, even the Ol’ Ladies.

They got Red and Nadia one day, and you would have sworn Red’s face was going to burst into flames from embarrassment. Let’s just say Red and Nadia have learned not to have sex in his communications room without locking the door first.

Shaking off the thoughts, I head to the bathroom and take a much needed piss before washing my hands and brushing my teeth. I need coffee, too. I throw on a pair of jeans hanging in my closet, then slide a white T-shirt over my head. Once my socks and boots are on, I grab my cut and put it on. The leather fits like a second skin. I pocket my wallet, keys, and phone before heading out.

I walk down the hallway toward Elise’s bedroom to check on her when I hear a soft giggle and a male voice coming from across the hall in Pretty Playboy’s room. Instead of checking on Elise, my mind jumps to the assumption that she’s in his room. Rage consumes me, and I pound on his door hard enough to rattle the walls. I don’t give a fuck if he’s my brother by the patch that’s my sister he’s fucking with.

The door flings open to a pissed-off Pretty Playboy, standing there naked, chest heaving. "What the fuck do you want?"

I shove him aside and step into his room. On his bed, naked, are Pearl and Sadie, two of the Club Bunnies making out. Neither of them covers themselves when they see me. If anything, they get more into it, licking and sucking on each other’s nipples while playing with their clits. Normally, I’d throwcaution to the wind and join them, but ever since I met Aerianna, they don’t do it for me.

"You’re late for Church," I grunt, stepping out of his room before he can say anything.

Yeah, I thought it was my sister in there. Was it a dick move to barge in like that? Yeah. Do I give a fuck? Not really. But I am improving. I knocked instead of breaking down his door like I wanted to. Progress, I guess.

I grab a cup of coffee from the kitchen and head into Church. Pretty Playboy slides in behind me, scowling. I don’t say a word, just take my seat and blow on my coffee before taking a sip. When I glance at him, he huffs like a spoiled child. I grin. Yeah, I’m an asshole. But at least I’m a consistent one.

Capone slams the gavel on the table, signaling it’s time for Church. Normally we meet three times a week, but with the shit going down with my sister, we have it when it’s necessary to update everyone.

“What’s the update?” Capone asks, diving right into business.

“The guy I fought last night sang like a canary when he came to. Said Lattimer has been hiding out underground, and the only way we can bring him up is with a shipment of girls. He said Lattimer has been peeking his head out of his hiding spot every few months but dives right back in like a weasel when we get too close. He has tabs on us somehow, but the guy didn’t know. That tells me we have a snitch.”

Fury erupts in the room.

Capone slams his gavel down, “Now wait a fucking minute!” He shouts. “Before we go accusing someone of being a snitch, we need to figure some other shit out. I know each and every one of you sitting here or prospecting for us. None of us would put this club in jeopardy, and every single one of us would put our life on the line for the patch.” He slams his fist on the table in frustration. “Red.” Capone barks. “What do you have?”

Red pushes his glasses up onto his face and clears his throat. “I’ve checked out what I could find on Elise’s boyfriend.” His sympathetic gaze lands on me. “He’s a piece of work, Trigger. I don’t know how we keep finding these fuckers but we do.”

Red tosses a stack of photos on the table, and we each grab one. He looks familiar, but I can’t place where or how. Standing around six foot one, he has thick, broad shoulders that isn’t muscle. It’s the kind of bulk that comes from too many beers and late-night fast food runs. His once athletic frame had gone soft, but his arms still packed enough power to leave marks when he lost his temper.

His dark brown hair is long and greasy, as if he couldn’t be bothered to run a comb through it. From this photo he is sporting a five o’clock shadow, not the kind that made a man look rugged, but the kind that made him look like he never gave a damn. His hazel eyes are bloodshot from whiskey and too many sleepless nights, carrying the restless energy of a man always looking for his next bet, his next excuse, his next fight, and he reeks of desperation.

A tattoo snakes up his forearm, some ink he probably got in a drunken haze, though it had long since lost its meaning. His stance is of a man who thinks he owns the room, but underneath it is an undercurrent of agitation, like a wolf pacing in a cage. He’s wearing wrinkled jeans and a faded T-shirt. Everything about him screams recklessness, a man who has never learned his lesson and never wants to.

“How the fuck did my sister get mixed up with this asshole?” I question aloud, not expecting an answer.

Red speaks up, “It appears they met at a bar, and he laid on the charm. He was on the prowl for a woman like Elise, and when he sunk his claws into her, that’s when things turned bad.”

I look at Red. He won’t meet my eyes, so there is something more he isn’t saying. “Spit it out, Red. Just rip the fucking band-aid off.”

“His name is Jonas Mercer.” Torch snorts. I know he has a smart-ass comment but refrains from speaking. “After I got his name, I dug deeper and, Trigger, you’re not going to like what I found. He is the brother to Josiah Mercer.” Red’s face turns a deep shade of red out of anger and controlled rage.

A cold, suffocating silence falls over the room at Red's words. My heart drops into my stomach.Jonas Mercer.The name slams into me like a freight train, and for a moment, I can't breathe. The brother of Josiah Mercer, the monster who did unspeakable things to Syvannah, Exleigh, and Nadia. The same guy who almost killed Kensi. The one who’s responsible for the bloodshed and the wreckage left in his wake.

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