Page 39 of Wild Ride

Before I realize what I’m doing, my body moves without my brain even computing. I jump out of bed and charge toward her. Dakota scrambles backward until she slams against the wall and can’t go anywhere else.

I place my palms against the wall on either side of her head. I lean forward until my mouth almost touches hers and speak just loud enough for her to hear, but there’s no need to shout. It’s just her and me, and I want to make sure she’s listening to me, that she realizes how fucking serious I am right now.

“You’re mine, baby. You’re not taking this away from me,” I growl as I shift my hand away from the wall and cup her pussy. “You’re not walking away from me.”

Before she can say a single fucking thing, I slam my mouth against hers and kiss her—hard. She may not want to admit it yet, but I own her. She’ll learn about club life and about being an old lady soon enough, but right now, she just needs to realize that she’s fucking mine.

Only mine.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

DAKOTA

Avoidance iskey when you are living in a world that is completely and totally out of your control, which is my current situation. Taking my computer out of my bag, I set it up on my table in the corner of the bar.

I need to get some work done, check some emails, and try not to get behind with my clients. It’s easy to do, especially since I’m not home and sitting inside the apartment all day long with nothing better to do than get my work done.

It’s a good day for it, though, here, seeing as Bullet… Bishop has taken off to places unknown. Meaning he didn’t offer me any information, and since his speech last night, I know not to ask anything, either.

Which I’m not really sure what to think about.

Instead of stressing about it—because I know I can’t control it and I have no way of arguing with him about something that I don’t understand—I decide I am going to call Briana and ask her. She’s the only person I know who will give me the truth, whatever that looks like—good or bad.

And I know it’s not the best way for me to grow as an adult, calling my friend and asking her to tell me what is going on in my own life and asking her not just for her advice but also to tell me exactly what I need to do. I know I’m thirty, but I don’t feel like it. I feel like I am just a naive kid trying to figure life out.

I don’t know how long I sit at the pub table and work in silence, alone in the bar. But when I hear someone clear their throat from beside me, I shift my gaze to the time on my computer and wince at the fact that it’s already five in the evening, and I haven’t eaten all day.

My stomach growls as if right on cue, then the throat clears again, and I realize that someone is standing beside me, clearly wishing for my attention. Lifting my gaze to meet theirs, I narrow my eyes on the woman standing next to me.

I may not know a lot about the world, but I watched this woman with her eyes on me guide Bullet’s hand to her crotch. Willamette Haven had free love and all that, but there was also a ton of jealousy and women playing petty games.

So, while I’m out of my element when it comes to Bullet himself, I am not where this woman is concerned. She wants Bullet for herself. She wants me gone because she thinks she can have him if I’m no longer a concern.

The problem with that is that if it were about me being gone, she would have already had him. Clearly, she knows him, which means if he wanted her for himself, he’d have had her.

He doesn’t. Therefore, she’s standing above me, pissed off and defensive, while I couldn’t give a shit less about her. “Can I help you?” I ask.

I don’t look her up and down. I don’t have to. I already know what she’s wearing. A different version of the short skirt and barely there top from last night. She also appears to have just woken. Her eyes are pretty bright even if a little glassy.

She doesn’t speak immediately, so I ask her again. “Can I help you?”

Only then does she let out a low growl. If she’s attempting to intimidate me, it doesn’t work. But thankfully, she speaks instead of continuing to stare me down.

That is essentially pointless.

Sure, I like Bullet, but I don’t love him, and I’m not even sure what this is between us. Even though he’s saying I’m his and all that jazz, I’m not quite sold on what I should be doing. The simple fact of it all is that I don’t live here. So I’m not going to fight her over him. I wouldn’t anyway, but I’m really not vested in this situation, so I find her almost comical.

“Bullet ain’t yours. This club ain’t yours. Coming in here and acting like you’re queen fucking bee when you ain’t shit.”

Blinking, I look up at her, wondering how in the actual fuck this woman thinks she’s going to talk to me this way. My eyes search hers for a moment. Then I burst out laughing. There is a commotion behind the bar, but I ignore it.

The bitch slams her hands down on the tabletop, far too close to my computer. I almost tell her to back up but decide against it. I don’t care that much. Unless she actually hurts my computer, then I would have a serious problem with her shit.

Lifting my chin, I clear my throat and look up at her. “Are you finished?” I ask.

“No,” she snaps. “He’s mine.”

I almost laugh, but I tilt my head to the side and smirk. Laughing would be pointless right now, mainly because she’s so ridiculous that it is stupid to say anything else. Instead, my lips curve up into a grin.

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