Page 90 of The Trust We Broke
“It’s a truck,” she says. “They’ve parked to block the entrance to the trail. Looks like there are men getting out and—Oh, God!” She pulls off my cock, and I shudder all over again. “They’re bikers. And not Outlaws. They’re peering into my truck.”
I grab Lucy’s hips and hastily help her over me. My jeans and boxer briefs fight me, as I wriggle them up off my hips and launch myself forward to the glove box of the truck, pulling out the knife I keep in there, before grabbing my gun off the seat.
The last thing I need is to be caught out with Lucy in the crossfire. Not when we just found our path back to each other.
“Pull your jeans on. Fast,” I say.
“Shit. They’re walking this way. Will they hurt us?” she asks, and I wish I had tons of time to reassure her we’re fine. But I don’t, and we’re not.
I pull out my phone and call Wraith.
“Grudge. What’s up?”
“I’m on the trail to the river by Turner Creek. In the truck with Lucy.” I glance out of the truck window. “Four Rebels headed toward me. Gulch and some others.”
“Ten minutes. We’re on our way.”
I hang up without saying thanks. “Here, take this.” I unsheathe the knife. “Anyone comes near you, you stab them through the heart without a minute’s reservation.”
Her eyes go wide. “I don’t want to. But Gulch…he was one of the two who approached me that night outside the restaurant, and again the day you and your mom saved me. I think they want me to take over from whatever my father was doing for them.”
I cup her cheeks. “Then, if it’s you or them, you pick you every single time.”
“Is help coming?” she asks.
I nod. “Wraith is on his way with the club.” I don’t tell her he said it would be ten minutes. “This might be little more than coincidence and they’re just here for some smack talk.”
When I reach for the handle, Lucy throws herself at me, holding the knife blade away from the two of us. “Wait. You can’t go out there.”
“Better than them coming in here. Don’t worry, I’m not going to start anything.”
“Be safe.”
“Lock the doors,” I say.
Lucy’s curls bob as she violently shakes her head. “No. I want you to be able to get back in quickly if you have to.”
I toss her the keys. “Lock the fucking doors, Luce.”
When I step outside, I raise an eyebrow at her, and then, hear the locks pop. Then, she places her hand to the window and, just for a moment, I place my palm over hers with the frigid glass between us.
It’s cold without my jacket. Should have put it on, except it would have limited my range of motion, and I have a feeling I might need it.
“Well, lookie here, kids,” Gulch says. “It’s the new president of the Outlaws.”
“So, you know me, then,” I say cockily. “I’m glad. How’s your ass doing after I landed you on it?”
Gulch cracks his knuckles, and I know this isn’t going to be a fun visit. His head is shaved, likely more a function of balding than a style choice and must be freezing.
“Butcher got scared of the fight?” he asks, and some of the others chuckle. A guy called Skater is wearing the Enforcer patch, and he’s got that cocky walk of someone newly promoted.
It chaps my ass that I can’t congratulate him on his promotion, since it will prove what the Rebels likely only suspect. That we killed their last enforcer when he tried to get Greer and Ember.
“So, let’s get this over with,” I say, “because this whole posturing bullshit, as you try to make fun of my club while your cronies stand ten feet back pathetically laughing at your jokes, is childish as fuck. Where’s Granger?”
Skater’s brows furrow. “The fuck you’re talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Hooper’s in prison. So, what’s Granger, your ex-president, doing sniffing around and trying to buy land out by Idaho Springs?”
