Chasing Claire (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club) (20 page)

Well, almost. It was almost behind him.

He had one last stop and then it was over. He was going to go see Vincenzo Abiatti, the sonofabitch who had told him that between what he sent and what his sister made working, he could make it all good. He was going to see the guy who had lied to him and told him that his sister could make it good serving up drinks.
With her clothes fully on. He was going to go and see the so-called man who had made his sister strut naked before horny, fucking lowlife degenerates.

And he was going to kill him.

Then, finally, he could put the sins of his past behind him and go back to the brotherhood that he loved. He could go back to defending the country that he loved. His move to Special Operations had been the proudest moment of his life. And he planned to spend the rest of that life as a Marine.

He just had no idea how long the rest of his life would be.

CHAPTER 30

I
t had been a couple of weeks since that whole weird surfacing of Glory’s brother. Who named their kid
Hallelujah
anyway? The same person who named their daughter Glory, he supposed.

But it was all good.

As long as Claire was with him, it was all good. Claire was in his bed now more often than not, and she hadn’t done her disappearing act in a while. While he was grateful that they seemed to be making small steps forward, he knew Claire was still holding back. Sometimes he would catch her looking at him with a measure of wariness in her eyes that he understood all too well. Claire was doing what she always did when things got too good between them—she was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the bottom to fall out of the fragile happiness. Reno wished he could reassure her. He wished that he could tell her that she had nothing to fear from loving him. But he knew that his actions would show her more than his words ever could. He was determined to make her feel safe and secure in what he felt for her.

He knew that it would not be easy. Nothing between them ever was, he reminded himself. But he also knew that what they had was worth fighting for. Fighting for Claire wouldn’t be the hard part. Getting her to stick around long enough for her to see how good they were together . . . that was another story.

Yeah, he and Claire were going to have that talk soon, but for now Reno was giving her the one thing that he said he was done giving, and that was time. But he had tried it the other way and he had realized that with or without Claire, time moved the fuck on. He also realized how miserable he was without her.

Reno looked down at the soft cloud of dark hair as it lay over his shoulder. His woman’s hand rested small and trusting right there on his chest and over his heart.

“Reno?” Claire stirred next to him. She was stretched out like a new little kitten, all warm and soft and still groggy from sleep. Her breath blew out on his chest. His name slid from her mouth like warmed honey and exotic spices. Waking up to Claire was better than any wet dream that Reno had ever had.

“Right here, baby,” he rumbled.

“Hmmm.” Claire moved against him. Reno felt the tips of her nipples graze his own and almost shot his load like a horny thirteen-year-old.

When she slid her leg up and placed it high on his thigh, he felt her open, hot and warm to him. Her knee rubbed against his balls gently.

Claire in his bed. She reminded him of one of those colorful glass tubes his father had given his mother once. Dolly had kept it high on a shelf in the living room with her special things, but sometimes she would take it down and let Reno look through it. It was a long cylinder with a glass marble at the end. When the sun caught it, the light shining through the mirrors inside created bright colorful patterns. Pretty little thing.

Reno felt Claire press close against him. He shifted his weight and buried his hands in her hair.

Claire rained soft wet little kisses on his warm belly as her tongue dipped into the perfect circle of his belly button. He held
his breath as he felt her tongue trace the tattoo on his hip. The little pink piece of heaven moved slowly down and center.

Reno moved his hip slightly toward her.

“Yeah, baby,” he sighed softly.

When Claire’s tongue began to move its way back up his body, he let out a soft growl of frustration.

“Little coward,” he whispered.

Reno felt Claire tense and warm at his words. He pulled her up toward him and wrapped his arms around her tight.

“Jesus, baby,” he said, “I think that we’ve been together long enough for you to go there. You’re sure as hell not shy about anything else we do.”

Then he paused, considering. “Unless you don’t like that, honey. Then that’s cool.”

Claire buried her face in Reno’s shoulder and mumbled something.

“Say again, Babe?”

When Claire pulled away to look at Reno, he saw that her face had blushed a hot pink.

“Reno . . . I’ve never . . . um,” she stammered.

Reno arched his eyebrow.

“Never?”

If possible Claire colored even deeper. Then shook her head.

“Never ever?” Reno teased her.

“Reno, stop it.” Claire stuck her face into his neck. Mortified.

Reno moved his hand to the back of her head and felt the silken strands tickle his palm.

“Just like licking a lollipop, honey,” he whispered into her hair.

“You like
that
?” Claire muffled from the safety of the curve of his neck.

“
That
?
”
Reno’s chest was rumbling. Screw the kaleidoscope. This morning his woman was like pure Cracker Jack Surprise. And
the good kind. The kind where you got the spy ring instead of the stupid little plastic pony.

“Hmmm . . . if by
that
you mean
blow jobs
, honey, then, yeah, I like ’em.”

Claire squirmed and peered up at him with one eye.

“But if by
that,
you are asking if I would like you, Claire Winston, to wrap your beautiful pink lips around my dick?” Reno paused then and looked out into the distance. “Like it? Nah.”

“Oh.” Claire’s big blue eyes were on him. Her beautiful mouth frowned slightly.

Reno pulled Claire under him quickly, stretched his full length on her and grinned wickedly, “I would goddamn love it.”

Then Reno’s hands moved quickly to Claire’s waist, tickling her mercilessly until she screamed with laughter for him to stop. Still grinning, Reno pulled Claire in to his side. The warm feeling of contentment, which always filled him when he held her, was dangerously close to the point of flooding. He felt himself grow hard with the need for her. Claire felt that same need as she pressed against him. Her hands danced lightly against the velvet steel of his chest, the bunched muscles of his arms, and his hard, flat stomach.

Then just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, Claire whispered softly against his ear.

“Like a lollipop?”

“Yeah, baby, just like that.” Just when Reno thought things could not possibly get any better, his woman lost that last tiny bit of reserve. It was obvious to Reno that Claire really had never done
that
before and the thought of him being her first made him want to stand up and cheer.

What Claire lacked in technique she made up for in the sheer desire to please him. He forced himself to lie perfectly still while his woman took her time. He moaned his encouragement as he felt her press soft little kisses along his most sensitive areas. He moved
her gently, showing her what he liked, and when Reno felt Claire wrap her lips around him tight for the first time, it took all he had not to release hot and full into her mouth. Reno buried his hands in Claire’s hair as she fed on him. Her soft pink mouth opened over him and slowly, softly, devoured him. He murmured words of encouragement as he felt her smooth, moist tongue run up and down the length of him. He held his breath until she got to his base. Reno groaned when she sucked gently on the soft sack, cupping him. He felt her long hair brush teasingly against his thickly muscled thighs. Then she was moving back up, her mouth leaving tiny wet kisses until it reached the tip of his cock, where she took him greedily and completely into her warm, wet mouth. Reno arched his back and moaned loudly. Over and over again, he felt Claire tenderly move her mouth over him. When he felt her tongue circle his rim, he became undone. Reno couldn’t take any more. With one quick motion he twisted Claire until he was on top of her.

“Now, honey. Please, I want to feel you inside of me. Take me hard, baby,” she whispered to him. Claire wrapped her legs around her man and pulled him closer. She was hot and wet and achingly empty.

Reno gave it to her. Hard.

His hands slid up and down her thighs and pulled her even closer. Then he grabbed her tight, round ass in his hands and ground into her. Shifting his hips, he lay balls deep in her soft, silky wetness.

“Damn, Claire, you’re so wet, baby.” Reno felt her pulse hard at his words.

He groaned and pushed himself deeper and deeper until he felt his dick hit her cervix. Claire reached up and grasped the headboard behind her until she started to build again. Reno felt it and in one long pulsing thrust he spilt hot inside of her.

When he moved to pull out of her, Claire wrapped her arms around him.

“Not yet,” she whispered against his chest.

Reno shifted them so his weight would not crush her but he stayed inside of her. Then minutes later, he gently pulled away. Claire snuggled close to him.

“Damn, baby. What the hell was that?” Reno said to her once his heart stopped racing.

Claire just smiled.

CHAPTER 31

W
hen I heard Reno on the phone with his mother, I blushed guiltily. He was going to be late and it was all my fault. After that marathon lovemaking session, Reno and I decided we both needed to shower.

So we took one together.

We took turns gliding the hot, soapy water over each other, and when I felt Reno slip that warm, wet washcloth between the folds of the most intimate part of me, that crazy need for him began to build again.

He took me once more under the hot pulsing spray of the shower.

It was going to be a great day. The best day. It was going to be an absolutely fantastic, totally awesome, wonderful day.

Almost as soon as that thought crossed my mind, I felt a cold breeze blow in through the open window. I leaned out to breathe in the cool fresh air. The sky was storybook blue and filled with white fluffy clouds. Suddenly the wind picked up and I watched as a lone, dark storm cloud appeared. For a fleeting moment the room was cast in shadow and the sudden change of temperature sent a shiver down my spine.

Then, just as quickly as it came on, the cloud disappeared, and the blazing sun broke through with its thick, warm rays. The breath I did not know that I was holding escaped from me in a long sigh.
I moved to the window again, and was relieved to see that the sky was back to the same storybook blue color. The white fluffy clouds winked at me from high in the heavens.

The air was light and breezy again.

But still, I couldn’t shake that lingering feeling of darkness. The unexpected gloom that the storm cloud had brought threatened to rob the day of some of its promise. I told myself I was being silly and determinedly shook it off. I had a busy day full of classes ahead of me and I needed to keep my head in the game.

Today Reno had made plans to drop me off at school a little early because he was going to spend the day with his mother. We made arrangements for him to pick me up at the corner café later on. I thought I would treat myself to a sandwich while I waited, and I had plenty of schoolwork to keep myself busy.

Today was a special day for the McCabe family. Today was Reno’s father’s birthday.

At Dolly’s insistence, once a year, Reno put aside that day to spend with his mother. It was the only real demand that Dolly had ever placed on her son.

In what may seem like a macabre tradition to some, but made perfect sense to me, Dolly and Reno spent the day graveside.

Along with the pots of lush green shamrocks and containers full of bright red geraniums that she would bring along to plant, Dolly also included a lunch of Petey’s favorite foods. Reno told me that Dolly traditionally packed a picnic basket full of thick corned beef sandwiches, bowls of tangy beet salad, slices of salted, crisp pickles, and squares of rich chocolate brownies. Today, dark brown bottles of Guinness Stout would be raised in Petey McCabe’s honor. Dolly and her son would spend a couple of hours together in the shadow of a large Celtic cross headstone. They would eat, plant, reminisce, raise a glass, and pay homage to the man that they both had loved.

Reno told me that his mother always did her best to make it a special day for the two of them. Because of that and a lot of other reasons, it was a day that, despite the circumstances, the two of them enjoyed. I knew that Dolly had had a lifetime of turning the bad into something good, and this day was no exception.

Good for her.

I had some small memories of Dolly from the time that Raine and I had spent that summer at the lake house in our childhood. Petey had still been alive then, but I don’t recall ever meeting him, I had been so very young. Mostly my recollections from those days consisted of vague impressions of comfort, like warm soapy bubble baths, big soft beds, delicious homemade cookies, and a general feeling of well-being.

Along with those vague memories came a feeling of immense gratitude. I knew that even when she didn’t have to be, Dolly had always been kind to Raine and me.

As I finished getting ready for the day ahead, I thought some more about Dolly.

She was a complicated woman. Although she spent most of her time surrounded by rough outlaw men, she had a natural refinement that always seemed to shine right through. She was tall and trim and moved with the poise of a ballet dancer.

Mrs. McCabe had the natural elegance of Grace Kelly.

But she had the soul of Grace Slick.

It was a well-known fact that Dolly could party with the best of them. She could drink most of the boys under the table, cook up a mean barbecue, hustle a pool game, and no one could beat her at cards. The small Rolling Stones tattoo that could sometimes be seen sitting jauntily on her left breast, and the small diamond stud on the side of her perfectly formed nose made her, in my eyes, the epitome of biker chic.