She turned to me, her eyes sparkled with mischief as she arched one brow. “Didn’t take you for someone who gave a damn.”
Dammit this woman couldn’t give one fucking inch. “Maybe I don’t give a damn. Maybe I just don’t like watching men bleed out in front of me.” That much was the truth. I’d seen too many men and women die in front of me, in my arms, hell all around me. I’d be damned if I let another one die on my watch.
Her blue eyes narrowed. “Then I guess that’s the one thing we both have in common.” She brushed past me, shoulder checking me as she did, wiping her bloody hands on her jeans like she was some kind of fucking serial killer.
Shit, now I think I might actually like my pain in the ass wife. She wasn’t just an outsider anymore, she couldn’t be after saving Falcon. She wasn’t a burden.
Fuck.
She was now just a complication I didn’t need.
“That look is… interesting,” Falcon observed with a laugh.
“Shut up or I’ll put another bullet in you.”
He groaned. “Then I’ll just have to get your wife to fix me up again. Fine by me, I like her.”
Yeah, that was the problem, I liked her too and I knew I shouldn’t.
Nothing good could come of feeling anything but protective for my wife. I admired her, that was it. She’d done what needed to be done and that was something I respected, period.
Nothing more.
“Okay,” Diesel called out. “Let’s see what we can find about those shooters. Vandal already got photos of the assholeSniper shot and sent them to Slate. We need to go over the scene again to see what we can find to identify them.” His gaze landed on Falcon. “Just in case it’s not the Dead Crows MC.”
Suddenly the clubhouse was a whirlwind of movement as everyone jumped into action. The women, both old ladies and whores, got busy grabbing towels and sheets, cleaning up the blood while the rest of us went outside to figure out who dared shoot one of us on our property.
I stayed busy enough that I didn’t think about my wife for the next few hours, until it became unavoidable because, after a quick shower I was faced with an important decision.
To sleep with my wife… or not.
Chapter Eleven
Katey
“I’m here now bitch and you’re mine!” Ethan stared at me, his eyes black with anger, his mouth practically snarling in my direction.
I took a step back and gasped. My heart pounded with fear. “How did you find me?”
The gleam in his eyes was predatory. “I told you Katey, you’re mine and I will always find you.” He lunged forward and wrapped his hands around my throat, squeezing until not even one breath could get through.
I scratched at his hands and arms, and poked my hands into his eyes, but nothing stopped him. This was it, the moment I knew I was going to die. “No! Stop!”
An arm wrapped around me, hard and warm and strong. It was oddly comforting, and I found myself burrowing into that hard warmth, seeking the comfort that it unconsciously offered. I whimpered, my body still shaking from that nightmare encounter with Ethan. My eyes opened and there was… nothing. It was still hard and still warm, but dark.
And fleshy.
Fleshy? My hands wandered up and down the warmth until the familiar touch of a man’s chest and torso became apparent. There were lots of muscles, hard and rippling. It was a damn fine chest.
Until it spoke.
“You done feelin’ me up?” Amusement rang in Sniper’s voice and humiliation burned beneath the layers of my skin.
I pushed away from his chest and scoffed. “You wish.”
His grin widened.
“If anyone was feelinganyoneup, it was you with your hand on my breast!”