Page 17 of Blade's Return
I can tell my girl is not used to compliments, so I bend down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “That’s the only kiss I trust myself to give you right now, sweetheart.”
We walk to the door together and I hate like hell that I have to leave her. I’d give anything to stay the night. Fuck, part of me wants to move her into my apartment.
“Drive safe, Blade,” she orders quietly.
“I will,” I promise as I pull her body to me one last time. I look down into her beautiful eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Livy,” I say, not trusting myself to kiss her again.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“So am I,” I admit.
“Will you text me when you get home so that I know you’re okay?”
“I can do that,” I say with a wink, before walking outside. “Lock your door, woman,” I mock growl, making her giggle as I go outside. The night air bites cold as I head for my car, the container of cookies in my hand. I slide behind the wheel, still painfully aroused and hard.
Olivia Davis has no idea of the hold she has on me. She’s as good as claimed me—even if she doesn’t understand that. All I can think about now is claiming her right back—sinking deep inside her and painting her womb with my cum—making that barefoot-and-pregnant threat I gave her earlier a damn reality.
I want her and I’m not going to wait much longer. Whatever secrets her past holds, I will take them and find a way to show her that she can trust me. I’ll never hurt her. It’s just not possible. This woman has me wrapped around her finger.
9 BLADE
Two Weeks Later
Gatlinburg’s got that tourist hum—families dragging kids, smell of smoked meat, sweets, and fine dining all combined and hanging thick in the air. I barely notice. My focus is on the main entrance to the restaurant I’m in—Smokey’s Cantina. It’s a locally owned joint and one I’ve gravitated toward since being here. I’ve been sitting at a corner table for a good thirty minutes. My brother is running late. That doesn’t surprise me. I’m always early, but Bear never gets in a damn hurry. Eventually, I see him stroll in like he owns the world. I’ve always loved his ability to do that. It doesn’t matter where he’s at or who is around. Your eyes just gravitate toward him. You know he’s someone who can make your life hell if you fuck with him. I stand up, but then I see the man behind Bear. Holy Shit. It’s Hangman—our club’s Enforcer. I’ve had to be away from the club for too damn long and I don’t get to see my brothers enough.
My eyes scan him, before smiling. The bastard hasn’t changed.
Broad shoulders that stretch his cut, a scar down his jaw like a battle stripe. His eyes, ice-blue and sharp enough to cut glass, lock on mine. The man looks like he could kill with a glance and still laugh about it over a beer. Tattoos crawl up his neck and vanish into his beard. Saint’s patch gleaming. He’s every bit an enforcer. One of our enemies called him death walking and that’s precisely what he is to them. I take the few steps to him, not waiting for them to reach me. “No fuckin’ way,” I practically growl.
Hangman grins, that wicked grin that always shows up when he’s up to no good. “Damn good to see you, Blade.” We pull each other in, pounding backs hard enough to bruise. Brotherhood runs deep, and damn, it feels good. I’ve missed this the last few years.
“Hell, yeah. Fuck, man, it’s good to see your ugly face again.”
“Women love my face,” he counters.
“That’s because it’s usually buried between their thighs,” I add and all three of us laugh. I pull Bear into a hug too. My brother is solid as ever. The smell of leather and motor oil grounds me in a way that the corporate crap I’m forced to live in never can.
When we sit, Hangman leans back, eyes raking over me from my short, expensively styled hair, pressed shirt and slacks, and pauses to take in my clean-shaven jaw. “Well, shit, Blade. Look at you. You look like you belong in a corner office with glass walls, not the shit-hole we call a clubhouse.”
“Don’t remind me,” I mutter. “I’m hating every second of this crap.”
He laughs. “I don’t know, man. Big bucks, clean record, life in the straight-but-fast lane—sounds like you have it made. Bear tells me you even found yourself a picket-fence woman.”
I shoot Bear a look. He just shrugs with a knowing look on his face. “Like it or not, brother,” Bear rumbles out, “that’s exactly what Olivia is. Sweet, strong, yet so soft she’s afraid of her own shadow—and no matter what the world does, she keeps holding out for a happily ever after in the suburbs.”
Anger hits me like a match strike. “She’s not scared of her shadow. She’s a good woman. Strong. Faithful. Loyal.”
“You make her sound like a damn dog. I’ve seen Olivia. That’s not how I’d describe her at all,” Hangman argues.
Bear raises his hands. “Blade, I didn’t say she wasn’t all of those things and more. Olivia’s one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. But Jesus, man. You can’t be blind enough not to see she’s also been through hell and that’s left its mark on her. I love her to pieces, but she’s not cut out for our world, and there’s no shame in that. In fact, she’s earned her right to be happy in a different world from ours. A world you could create for her. Hell, you could give her peace, Blade. A good life. You should think about it. Hard. Because if you stay on our road, there’s every chance in the world that you will lose her.”
My jaw tightens. “Fuck, is that what this meeting’s about? Are you kicking my ass out of the club?” I ask, my insides instantly feeling raw.
Bear straightens in his seat, instantly shaking his head. “Calm down, little brother. That’s not what this is about.”
“Then what the fuck is going on here?” I snarl.
Hangman chuckles low. “Told you he wouldn’t take this well,” he says, shaking his head. “Hardheaded motherfucker—he always has been.”
