Heart Ties (Club Ties Book 2) (9 page)

He didn’t wait for her consent—he ducked his head and clamped on her bud. She cried out, and he pressed his gloved fingers between her lips to quiet her as he stroked her nipple with his tongue. Around and around the perimeter then drawing on it hard. When he bit into it, she came off the roof.

He sucked for long minutes until she couldn’t hold still. Her nails sank into his scalp, and she tugged his hair, drawing her down, down.

A low clinking noise sliced through his consciousness. He jerked away and sat up, grabbing his hat in one motion. He pulled it over his head and looked down at the woman he’d easily lose his mind for.

“Tomorrow night. You’re leaving with me.”

She was fucking beautiful, sprawled under him, lips bitten and eyes glassy with want. “I can’t.”

“You
are.
Same as tonight, I’ll come to you. Don’t bring anything but the clothes on your back and anything small you can fit in your pockets. I’ll get you everything you need.”

She shook her head. “You can’t. The Raiders—”

“I’ll handle it. I’ll have it all in place, and we’ll disappear for a while.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she pressed her palm over her mouth. Her hand shook, and he caught it.

“Baby, you can’t argue with me. Now that clinking noise is one of the guards rousing, so I need to go.”

“What if they won’t let me out?”

“Then I’ll come in after you.” It took a helluva lot for him to climb off her and crawl to the edge of the roof. Before he swung his leg over to reach the ladder, he met her gaze. “We’ll finish what we started.”

He dropped down as fast and soundlessly as he could. One guard was stumbling around, just as Drake had thought, while the other two were still out cold along with the mutts. Drake stepped around them and squeezed out of the fence hole.

As he took off walking through the darkness toward his bike several blocks away, his old craving for alcohol struck.

Yet no amount of Scotch would make him forget that woman’s kisses.

•●•

“Girl!”

The barked word knifed through Delta and she whirled, her heart tripping.

“Are you daydreaming?” Micky strode forward and slapped her. Delta’s head rocked, but she took it without a noise. Even the second—harder—blow.

When Micky shoved her against the counter and the edge dug into her ribs, she issued a gasp, though.

She covered the aching spot with her hand and straightened, ready for more.

Micky already sported a black eye, and Delta longed to give her a matching set. She folded her fingers into her fist to keep striking out.

“Houlihan is asking for you.”

Her stomach heaved, but she kept her face expressionless. To show her disgust and fear would only incense Micky more.

“I need to finish cleaning the kitchen.”

She looked around at the tidy space. “Looks fine.”

“But the floors—”

She lashed out again, catching Delta across the cheekbone. She felt the hot blood collecting under the skin but didn’t raise a hand to touch it. She wouldn’t give Micky the satisfaction of seeing how much she’d hurt her.

As a child, it had been impossible, but in her teens she’d found that if she didn’t react outwardly, Micky left her alone. Lucky left the hitting up to Micky most of the time. Though Delta had been on the receiving end of his fists a few times, Lucky liked to use his mind to hurt her.

Her mother’s blue eyes narrowed. “Houlihan,” she said slowly.

Delta turned and walked out of the kitchen and right up to the only person who ever offered protection, and he could be just as brutal. Houlihan.

“There’s Girl. Thanks, Micky.” He looked past Delta to her mother. He never really
looked
at Delta—she was property to him.

He didn’t want a girlfriend or even a lover. He wanted Girl to kneel at his feet. Once in a while he’d smack her across the face. The small scar near her left eye had been left by his chunky gold ring, but usually he didn’t hurt her too bad. Having a submissive gave him some sort of head-gasm. He’d only ever made her suck his dick a few times in all the years she’d knelt at his feet.

She suppressed a shudder at the memory and sank into her spot on her knees. At least here, no one bothered her. She could think—and dream too.

Yes, she’d been daydreaming of Drake’s hot mouth drawing on her nipples. After he’d left the roof, she’d peeked to ensure he made it safely out of the gates. Hearing no more trouble, she laid back and plunged her fingers into her pussy. The folds had been slippery and ready for him.

He’d had time to take her but he’d refrained. Why? He could have satisfied his evident lust and given her something to daydream about for a year.

Houlihan sat and scooted his chair close. His jeans smelled of motor oil, and he liked her touching them. She shifted closer on her knees and let her mind wander.

Drake’s demand to leave with him tonight was like a brand on her soul. No one else could see it, but she was writhing around the pain his words caused. She couldn’t just flee with him. Sure, she could disappear for a while, but the Raiders wouldn’t let her go so easily. They’d ride straight for Heller’s Gap and hurt the Sons.

No, she couldn’t go through with it. Thinking about them bursting into the club and shooting people who’d made her laugh and feel loved made her stomach hurt. She leaned harder against Houlihan’s leg, and he petted her head.

An inner war took place. Her head warned of death and pain to innocent people. Maybe even Ever. Guilt would kill Delta if her sister was hurt because of her.

No, she wouldn’t go up to that roof tonight.

Houlihan’s fingers were thick and stained with nicotine while Drake’s had been rough and mind-blowingly thorough. If only he’d touched her pussy.

God, she was getting wet again.

The fire that had burned in Drake had threatened to burn her to ash. She would have gladly let it. His big muscles moving over her, power barely harnessed beneath the skin.

She wanted to see more of the burning look that made her feel like the most gorgeous and desirable creature he’d ever seen. Even if he stared at other women this way—she wanted it just once.

What would it be like to leave with him? Just steal off into the night, get on his bike, and never look back? Leaving all she knew behind scared the hell out of her. Yet for the short time she’d been with her sister, she’d belonged.

Not once had she been called Girl. A new life could be hers. If Drake and the Sons didn’t want to keep her, maybe they’d help her set up a new identity in a new place.

Thoughts of being on her own froze her fingertips with terror. This was all she knew.

Houlihan caressed her cheek, and she knew what was coming. She braced herself for the blow. His hand across her face, splitting her inner cheek against her teeth. His eyes were frantic with power, and she let her gaze slide away as her stomach churned.

“You’re a good Girl.” He pulled her head to rest against his shin, and she gulped in slow, even breaths until the stinging pain subsided.

Drake wouldn’t treat her this way. He’d been shaking with need on the roof, yet he hadn’t forced her legs apart and taken her. He’d stroked and kissed and made her feel more alive than the stars she usually watched.

She had to get out of this club. Drake said he’d take care of everything. Could he keep the Raiders from retaliating?

No.

She gingerly touched her tongue to the cut inside her cheek, tasting blood. Suddenly tears weren’t far away.

Dammit, no.
She wouldn’t cry while on her knees. Houlihan would get too excited and try for more tears. She steeled herself and fought the pinpricks in her eyes until she could see clearly again.

The afternoon light slanted through the front windows, over the dark wood floor. Only a few more hours until the sun began to sink, and she to contemplate the things she could fit in her pockets.

The Raiders voices rose and fell as they discussed the break-in last night. Someone had cut the fence, drugged the guards and dogs, and disabled the security cameras. Tonight the Raiders would be prepared.

How would Delta ever warn Drake to stay away?

•●•

“You should have taken her out last night,” Jamison said.

“No shit.” Drake pressed his lips together. He was a fucking idiot to believe he’d just be able to slip in again and get Delta out. He’d needed some framework in place first, and she’d be safe with the Raiders for one more night. “I said I’d come for her tonight. I keep my word.”

Jamison eyed him over his beer. “What’s your plan?”

He wished like hell he had one—and some Scotch. He’d vowed not to drink tonight so he had a clear head. “I might need backup.”

Jamison nodded. “Whatever you need.”

“You’re good with long-range shooting. I put you on the roof of the auto body shop and you take out the cams.”

“We can make a deal for some stolen parts in exchange for access to the roof.”

“Good.” That left the fence, dogs, and firepower of the Raiders.

“You could cook up a bomb and use that threat again.” Paxton looked up from the inked lines he was creating on Bunky’s side—one of the only clear spots of skin the older guy had. He was covered in everything from the Hell’s Sons logo to scripted words like “brave” to portraits of his old lady.

Bunky grunted. “They’ll think he’s bluffing a second time.”

“He
was
bluffing.” Everyone stared at Paxton. “Wait—you weren’t?”

“Nope.” Fuck, he needed some Scotch. He’d blow the Raiders into the cloud cover if necessary to get Delta out, but every other charter would bear down on the Hell’s Sons.

Jamison seemed to know what he was thinking. “Don’t worry about us. I’ve got it covered.”

“You’re short men here. They’re all patrolling the bars and watching Raiders scum.” Drake inhaled deeply through his nose. Since kissing Delta he hadn’t been able to get her scent out of his head. And his cock had been hard and throbbing half the day.

“We can handle it.” Jamison set down his empty beer bottle.

Strother was across the room, deep in discussion with Ace, whose fingers flew over his laptop keys.

“Can you trust him?” Drake asked Jamison.