Page 95 of Property of Tacoma
“I know.” I pull her hands away from her face, pressing kisses to her knuckles. “I know I did, and I hate myself for it.”
“How do I know?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper. “How do I know you won’t get scared again and push me away?”
“Because I’ve already lost you once,” I tell her, my voice rough with emotion. “And it nearly fucking killed me. These past few days without you have been the worst of my life. I can’t do it again. I won’t survive it.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, just staring down at me with tear-filled eyes.
“I couldn’t survive it again either,” she finally whispers. “If you did that to me again—it would break me.”
“I won’t.” I rise to my feet, cupping her face in my hands again. “I swear on everything I hold sacred—on my kids, on my club, on my life—I will never hurt you like that again.”
“Promise?” Her voice is so small, so vulnerable, it makes my chest ache.
“I promise, Angel.” I brush my thumbs across her cheeks, wiping away her tears. “I love you. And I’m going to spend every day for the rest of our lives showing you just how much.”
She searches my face for another moment, and I hold my breath, waiting for her verdict.
Then, finally, she nods.
“Okay.”
Relief floods through me so intensely that it nearly drops me back to my knees. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she says, a small smile tugging at her lips.
“THIS IS ALL VERY TOUCHING!” Bash yells. “But we really need to fucking MOVE!”
I pull back reluctantly, pressing a hard kiss to Cali’s lips. “We need to go.”
She nods, wiping her eyes. “I need to get my RV.”
“I’ll get it,” Bane volunteers immediately, holding out his hand.
Cali digs in her pocket and tosses her keys. “It’s at the warehouse on Fulton Street in Grand Bay. About thirty minutes south.”
“I’ll bring it back to the compound,” he promises, already heading for his bike.
I grab Cali’s hand and lead her to her Ninja. Lifting her onto the seat, I lean in close. “Follow me back to Odin. Don’t stop for anything.”
She nods, and I press another kiss to her lips, this one deeper, more desperate.
When I finally pull away, we’re both breathing hard.
“I love you,” I tell her again, needing her to hear it.
“I love you too,” she replies, her eyes soft.
I force myself to step back and mount my own bike.
As we peel out of the alley, the warehouse behind us fully engulfed in flames, I glance in my mirror to make sure Cali is right behind me.
She is.
I’m going to do right by her.
And this time, I’m never letting her go.
The clubhouse parkinglot is packed when we roll in a little over an hour later.
