Page 64 of Wild Ride

I clench my thighs together in order to attempt to relieve the ache, but it actually does nothing of the sort. And as each step brings him closer, I realize that I’ll stay here with him, no matter the cost.

Because when he is near, my brain does not function. He will always be able to bring me back if I run away. He will always be able to keep me because my body is his. I was born to be his and will be until I take my last breath, even if it means that I’m sacrificing my peace of mind—but at the same time, there won’t be peace without him.

I am well and truly screwed by the only man who well and truly fucks me the way I crave.

BULLET

Once I’m halfway to the truck, I hear a loud blast behind me. That is the clubhouse going up in flames. We collected what we could out of the office, which wasn’t much.

A computer and some files.

A bunch of bullshit other than that. I don’t know what the Bloodhounds were really doing, but it doesn’t matter because they won’t be doing it any longer. That thought makes my lips twitch. My cock also twitches at the thought of being near Dakota again. I need to make sure that she is okay, that she’s unharmed.

I don’t think they did anything to her. It sounds like the only reason she was naked was because her towel was ripped from her body as she attempted her getaway. The thought of this woman being smart enough to know when and how to play her cards makes my chest swell in pride.

Maybe she’s got more old-lady material in her than I originally thought. As much as I want to pretend that she doesn’t, I am proven wrong every goddamn step of the way. It’s time for me to fully succumb to the fact that this woman is meant to be mine.

Until my last fucking breath, and no matter how much I want to keep her at arm’s length, it’s proving to be fucking impossible.

Mainly because Shade sent her to me, and for whatever reason, it was not just to protect her or to keep her for myself but to keep her at my side, not in silence either. Dakota is supposed to be my partner, and that thought is fucking mind-blowing, but as I approach her, it becomes so goddamn clear.

This woman is meant to be my wife.

And I’m going to wife her up and claim her for the entire fucking world to see. She is mine. She might be Shade’s blood, but Dakota is, without a doubt, meant to be my woman. I’m done pretending that she isn’t meant to be the queen of the Vicious Reapers.

She is meant to be just that.

I’m done talking myself out of the fact that this isn’t exactly what Shade would have wanted and that he isn’t the one who made this happen. He did. He made it all happen, and I’m just going to go with it from this moment on.

Having her taken from right under my nose was enough to know that she needs extra protection, and I aim to give it to her. The only way to ensure that she is, without a fucking doubt, completely protected is if she has my name and wears my patch.

So that’s what I’m going to do as soon as she’ll let me—or sooner.

Probably sooner.

When I reach the truck, I find Viking’s gaze in the back seat. His lips twitch into a smirk, and he jerks his chin toward me before he swings the door open. I watch as he moves past me and toward his bike.

The other bikes rumble in the distance as they start their engines and get ready to fly the fuck out of here. I wish I had my bike, too, but maybe there is something to having a truck with a cab… and a bed in the back.

Viking reaches me before I get to the truck and Dakota. “She seems okay. A little shaken but otherwise good.”

Nodding, I clear my throat as I think about her being shaken. Just shaken. She’s not inconsolable. She’s not a fucking mess. She’s shaken. Which means my woman is strong as fuck. She has her father inside of her, and there is no taking that away or changing it. She has Shade’s blood.

“Good. Ralph isn’t dead, but he should be. I don’t know what we want to do with that, but he’s not getting back in this truck.”

Viking’s eyes widen at my words, and then I tell him some shit that is going to blow his mind. I tell him about the cartel and all that fucking drama. How he’s washing money for them and wants us to protect his sister from them. All while lying and acting like it was the Bloodhounds we were protecting her against.

The whole situation with him is messy as fuck, and I’m not sure I want to be any more involved than we already are, which, when it comes to the cartel, is more than enough. Personally, I would like the club to stay the fuck away from the cartel in general.

“I think, if you want my opinion at all, that Ralph doesn’t make it out of this situation. It’s the best plausible scenario. He can’t ever be done with the cartel, and I don’t want anything to do with them.”

Dipping my chin in a single nod, I agree with him wholeheartedly. However, now I’m wondering about the sister because I’ve already got a nomad on her.

What the fuck am I going to do?

That tie is there, and if anyone has been watching her, they no doubt noticed a patched goddamn member of the Vicious Reapers hanging around her apartment and following her to whatever the fuck she does.

Viking must read my mind because he doesn’t even bat an eyelash before he speaks. “You’re going to kill that motherfucker, and you’re going to have that nomad take her somewhere. You don’t want to know where. It doesn’t matter. But the minute they think the bitch is still alive, they’re going to hurt you. And we got bigger fish to fry. Plus, I don’t want to be in a scuffle, let alone a war, with the cartel.”

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