Page 2 of The Trust We Broke
“Thanks for coming, brothers,” he says. His salt-and-pepper hair reflects the silver in the late-fall sunlight. While the hair might age him a little, the physique doesn’t. In his mid-forties, he’s got the build of a twenty-year-old. “A straightforward ride.”
Smoke shoves his dark brown hair back off his face. “With Butcher in the truck, Grudge, you ride up front, and I’ll take your left. You’ll have Wraith and Atom behind you. Catfish, you and Taco, followed by Jackal and Shade, will take the rear. Everyone good?”
Butcher looks to Greer. “You good?”
Greer looks around and makes eye contact with each of us, then turns to him. “Definitely.”
There’s nothing quite like riding with your club with a purpose, and as we pull off Butcher’s dirt road, I feel every ounce of it. There’s a deep honor when a brother trusts you with keeping him and his family safe. And Greer being pregnant means Butcher is close to exploding with fear for her.
I lead from the front, stepping up to replace Butcher, given he’s driving his truck with his woman inside.
When we reach the station, I start the line of parked bikes along the curb as Butcher pulls the truck into the lot.
The lot is quiet, except for a sports car sitting low to the ground. It’s dark green and far too impractical for the pending Colorado winter. But I’m guessing it’s a lot of fun to drive in the summer. Bet it handles like a dream too.
Smoke pulls in next to me, and we both remove our helmets. He tips his head in the direction of the station. “What do you think the cops are hoping Greer can tell ‘em?”
Smoke has a soft spot for Greer. Trusts her implicitly after he made the call to let her take Butcher home with her so she could fix him up after being shot, without leaving a trail of hospital records.
I shake my head. “Not sure. Butcher wasn’t for giving much away beyond that it was connected to a Rebel she operated on.”
Scanning the area, I take in the parked cars and the empty doorway to the police station. Butcher gets out of the truck and comes around to help Greer down.
His brow is furrowed with concern, and he says something to Greer that makes her smile softly.
“Lucy De Bose.”
My head swivels to the clipped footsteps of the speaker. Three words and one woman designed to make me lose my mind.
And, apparently, stop my heart.
Because, sure enough, there stands my ex-wife. The one I was married to for ninety-nine glorious fucking days when I felt like I’d won the lottery because she was by my side.
My former best friend, who became my everything, until she bailed on us.
Her hand is outstretched to my president’s old lady. And I can barely form a word as Greer takes it and shakes it while introducing herself.
Blonde curls are cut into a bob that hovers just by her jaw. That fucking cute nose I could never resist kissing, especially when she screwed it up over something down and dirty from my side of the tracks. The blue eyes that always reminded me of a Colorado sky in a cloudless summer, glance over at Butcher, and… shit…
There go the wrinkles over her nose.
Fuck my life.
“Ah, shit,” my president says with a hint of disdain in his voice. Because while I’m still struggling to find words, he isn’t. “Lucy. Didn’t even know you were back in Colorado.”
Lucy clutches her briefcase closer. “And I should have checked out the new client who needed help in more detail before I did an old friend a favor. I was only told it was a doctor.”
“That’s me,” Greer says.
“Steady,” Atom says to me in a hushed whisper.
But it’s too late. I finally find the capacity to walk and talk, and I’m off my bike, marching toward her without a clear plan of why I’m moving.
“No fucking way,” I shout, my heavy boots thudding against the pavement. “You need to get out of here, Luce.” The use of her nickname is a slip.Luce, saidloose. “Hell, the state, even. Maybe the whole northern part of the country.”
I step right into her space. Even in those prim black pumps with the tall heels that make her legs look like a million bucks, she barely clears my mid chest. It’s impossible to banish the memories of picking her up because she weighs next to nothing, pressing her back to the wall, and forcing her to take my entire cock.
She loved nothing more than when I was aggressive with her. When I made her feel like a slut for accepting my whole length and width in the tightest cunt I’ve ever been strangled by.
