Page 20 of War's Witch
“Any harm comes to her and you will have the Three Kings on your back, you got me?” he warns the driver.
Hiding my smile, I duck my head. That man will make a great patched member.
He closes my door, tapping the roof, then the car is moving. I stare at the building where I left a sleeping War, my stomach tightening and my heart believing that we left a part of us behind.
In all of my twenty-four years on this planet, no man has ever and I mean ever, had this effect on me. It is spinning me out because I am not sure how to deal with that.
The clubhouse fades into the night, the driver keeping his mouth shut as he drives toward the Strip where I am staying with the girls. They are going to grill me, so I need to sleep off this War-induced sex cloud, plaster on a smile, and lie through my freaking teeth so they will leave it be.
I need to leave War and this night behind me and move on.
Tomorrow is a new day and with that brings new clients who will keep me busy; plus, the Rugged Skulls MC keeps me plenty busy, and that makes me happy.
Chapter
Ten
WAR
When a woman does not want to be found, she is clever enough not to give many details away.
It has taken me eight months to find Cleo.
Eight fucking months that woman has had me chasing her.
When I woke up after our night together, she was gone. No trace of her in my room except for her scent—I could not shake the feeling that something had happened for her to bolt without a word.
Part of me expected as much, but that did nothing to dull the ache when I finally realized she was gone.
I spent days after thinking over what I could have done to make her run. There was something between us; she had to have felt it. There was no way it was one-sided.
The way she looked at me, the way she touched me—it hooked into me.
Eight months of chasing information and believe me, the women who belong to the Three Kings were no fucking help.
Girl club apparently, and all that fucking jazz.
It went against everything in me to stay in Nevada and at the club, but the pull to Cleo kept me there. Tote offered me a seat at the table in exchange for my nomad patch and it has been niggling in my mind since he asked.
The need to find Cleo first to see what will play out between us would sway my final decision, even though I knew deep in my bones I was never letting that woman go.
After a party at the club, and me plying the woman with some new fancy girlie cocktail, did Taya let slip that Cleo lived in Phoenix, Arizona and did in fact work for another MC.
At first, I was angry, thinking that maybe she came into our club to get information, but I quickly tossed that thought away because she showed nothing but respect to all the club members that night at the party.
Intel got me more information, and I found out that Cleo was only twenty-four to my forty-one. Fuck me, she is a baby compared to me, and if I was a better man, then I would leave her be, but damn, she is under my skin and a constant ache in my balls.
With the summer Arizona sun glaring down on me, sweat trickles down my back, my face, and neck. Fuck me, the heat is a killer, but I will deal with it because let’s face it, Cleo is mine and I need to see her.
She will get used to the idea of being mine, and I will show her every fucking day for the rest of our lives what she means to me. What being mine entails.
Coming to a stop at the address Intel gave me, I look at the one-story home. Three arches fill the front of the house: one of them is over the garage and the other two open up to the porch. The outside is painted a pale blue, and it makes me think of Cleo’s eyes.
There is a blue 1965 Mustang in the drive, and images of Cleo driving it make my dick thicken behind the zipper.
Dismounting my bike, I have a look around the surrounding houses, and they are all in good condition. The street seems quiet for late evening. Some kids are playing with chalk on the sidewalk, women watching over them from their porch.
Seems like a good neighborhood.
