Page 78 of Taming Raptor

“Like I said….”

“You let me worry about Memphis. You get that sexy ass in the room. I have some things to discuss with you in private and I need to be inside you. Not in that order.”

His words had my immediate attention. Phoenix walking off with Memphis barely registered. My panties were instantly wet as my pussy clenched and I wet my lips. Heat burned my insides, and it had nothing to do with the temperature outside. A startled yelp escaped my throat when he swatted my ass—hard.

“Move.” His demand was quiet and controlled. “Unless you want me to bend you over my bike right here. You have to the count of three.”

A shuddering breath shook my chest leaving my painfully peaked nipples in its wake. I took a sidelong glance at his bike.

“One… Two….” The countdown quietly rumbled, but I stood my ground, because I’d never shied away from a little exhibitionism. At least until I thought about Sam and Seth popping in—or someone else from his family.

Before he got to three, I broke loose and darted for the clubhouse. Raptor didn’t run after me.

He didn’t need to.

Because he knew I’d be there waiting.

Like a good girl.

After over three weeks of Blade’s special brand of torture, the asshole in the shed finally spilled. Well, what he knew, that is. I had to hand it to the guy—he lasted a helluva a lot longer than I thought he would.

What he had to say left me stunned—and that took a lot. Granted, we still didn’t know exactly who had hired him, but we knew whoever paid him to kill Sage, had required him to send a picture of her dead body to the phone number that hired him and then to me.

Which was why I had no qualms about the bullet I sent between his nonexistent eyes.

It didn’t make sense that it would be George Horacio, the guy Sage and the other girls were having issues with—I hadn’t been up there when he moved in and started his shit. Not to mention, I had no specific beef with the asshole. Or so I thought.

“Raptor, I hate to tell you, but the phone is a burner—like we expected. Purchased in Denver Colorado at a small chain store. The trail pretty much ended there. Wish I had more for you, but I have some other ideas I’m going to try to see if I get anything more. No promises,” Facet explained.

“Brother, I appreciate your help more than you know,” I assured him. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” He ended the call, and I sighed in relief. I hated the fucking things.

“Raptor, I have no problem staying down here until you figure out who’s trying to fuck with you. It would be for you and Sage both—and I already cleared it with Venom,” Blade told me as he washed the blood from his hands with the old-fashioned water pump back by the rundown cabin.

“I’d actually really appreciate that,” I admitted. It was tough dealing with a shitstorm when it was a new group of brothers that I knew, but not like I did my brothers in Iowa.

Once his hands were mostly cleaned, he dried them on the disposable coveralls he wore when he was “working.” He peeled the soiled garment off and wadded it up before shoving it and the shoe covers in the trash bag that he’d brought out when he finished.

“Fucking hell,” I grumbled at the putrid smell that rolled out of the bag in the short period of time he’d had it open.

“Hey, getting answers can be messy business. Now don’t you have an ol’ lady to tend to?” He chuckled as he double bagged his trash, then tossed it in the back of the UTV Phoenix waited in.

“Already wore her ass out. She’s zonked at the moment,” I replied with a smirk. “Probably wear her out again later tonight too.”

Blade’s face scrunched up and he shook his head like he was the one who’d smelled something vile. “No. Just no.”

Phoenix laughed. “Hurry up, fucker. Let’s get that crap torched so I can get the hell out of here. Sloane should be home from her shop, and I have my own work to do when I get there.”

“Fuck you both,” Blade muttered.

They took off in the UTV, headed for the pit we’d dug, and I hopped on the utility quad and made my way back to the clubhouse. When I parked under the carport we’d erected in back, I saw Memphis sitting on the ground, back against the building, smoking. He faced the setting sun.

Not asking if he cared, I sat next to him and held out my hand for the blunt he was presently taking an insanely large hit from. Without fuss, he handed it over and blew smoke out to the side away from me.

“You decide if you’re staying?” I asked him before I took a drag and handed it back.

“Possibly,” was his vague reply.

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