Page 73 of Riot's Thorn
“You’ll be fine with Sugar?” I ask.
Her chin tips up, and she grins. “Yeah. She’s going to teach me how to make parmesan chicken and roasted broccoli.”
It’s been a week since I chased her down at the brothel, and we’ve been settling into a new normal. I still don’t trust her notto run off, so while I’m busy with club stuff, she either hangs out with Sugar, one of the ol’ ladies, or she stays in the locked cabin.
If she knows I still fear she’ll leave, she hasn’t said anything, but she also hasn’t asked for the code to be able to come and go as she pleases. It’s as if she finally understands my need to keep her safe.
“I’ll come find you when we’re done,” I say, walking away.
“Wait. You forgot something.”
I turn to her in confusion, certain I didn’t because I don’t need anything for church. Cell phones aren’t allowed inside the windowless room, so I don’t even have that with me. “What?”
She bites her lower lip, looking bashful in the sweet way she does. Though it’s all an act because this woman is down for anything I want to do to her. I’ve been trying to take things slow, enjoying each stage of her sexual awakening, but fuck, it’s hard.
“What did I forget?” I ask again.
She skips over to me—fucking skips—and throws her arms around my neck before planting a kiss on my lips. A series of hoots, hollers, and catcalls come from my brothers, but I don’t give a shit. I wrap my arms around her middle and lift her off her feet, deepening the kiss.
“Alright, alright. Enough hanky-panky. Get your asses in here,” Cy calls from the doorway to the room we hold church in.
I nuzzle her neck, breathing her in. Her scent, not her soap or lotion, but the way she smells underneath all that, has become just as vital to managing my anxiety as riding my bike or sitting quietly in my corner. The pressure on my chest that builds whenever I have to interact with people eases as I lower her to the ground.
“You forgot that,” she breathes out.
I grunt and swat her ass as I walk away, but even after her public display of affection, I still turn to make sure she goes intothe kitchen and doesn’t take the opportunity to run. Only after I hear Sugar greet her do I step inside, and Lucas turns into Riot.
The room is built for function, the only decor being framed pictures taken during each of the club’s most important times. There isn’t much furniture to speak of, just some black executive chairs tucked in around a large oval table that takes up the majority of the space. It has a copper top that’s seen better days, though it only makes it look more badass, our insignia fabricated from steel embedded in the center.
Seating isn’t assigned, but we usually all gravitate toward the same chairs. The one I like is nearest to the door, and with Parker not locked up in the cabin, it’s even more imperative for me to be as close as possible to her. Thankfully, no one decided to fuck with me today, and it hasn’t been taken.
“Hey, brother,” Dutch says, cupping my shoulder. “Saw the show out there. She put out for you yet?”
“Put out?”
“Yeah, you know. Did she let you put your banana in her fruit salad? Did you fill her donut with cream? Did you assault her with a friendly weapon? Did you jam her clam? Did?—”
“I know what ‘put out’ means, dumbass,” I mutter, trying to rein in my temper because none of those things begins to describe what Parker and I get up to.
“So?”
“None of your fuckin’ business.”
He grins and elbows me. “That’s not a denial, so you must’ve gotten it on. Congrats, man. She’s hot.”
I sigh and turn my back on him, spinning the chair to face Cy. Prez is older than most of us, with a long, graying beard and salt and pepper hair he keeps in some kind of swoopy style. It must be a cool look, because his ol’ lady is half his age and always fussing over him.
Cy bangs the gavel, and everyone quiets as the meeting begins with all the shit I don’t care about. Finances and updates on all our legit businesses bore me, making it easy for my mind to wander back to Parker. It makes me irrationally angry to be apart from her.
Why am I here anyway? Cy never asks me to attend unless something’s going on that involves me, but things are calm right now. Killer and I haven’t had any trouble, and nothing’s happened during any of my shifts at the brothel or Dope.
“Riot?” Cy says my name like a question, which means he’s been talking to me, and I wasn’t listening.
“Sorry, I missed what you said.”
He sighs. “We have a problem with the girl you’re hiding.”
My spine goes ramrod straight. “What about her?”
