Love Ties (14 page)

“Dare.”

He tilted her chin up with a finger. Her eyes were clear and bright. “I dare you to tell the truth.”

Oh, she’d be honest, all right. She’d march in there and tell the prez of the Hell’s Sons that she was an ex-old lady of a Dark Raider. She’d faked her death and resurrected herself to seek information on her mother’s death. Then she was going to kill the fucker who had destroyed her family.

After her father’s death, her mom would have taken them far away from the club and made a life for them—without the drugs, guns, blood, and guts. Ever wouldn’t be who she was today. She’d be fucking normal.

Was that true?

She shook herself and stepped from the shower. Jamison was waiting for her, towel in hand. He held it up, and she stepped into the terrycloth, letting him rub the water from her skin. Her hair dripped down her neck until he got another towel and rubbed her head gently.

Hell, she was in so much trouble. It was time to face the truth. She wanted Jamison unlike anything else in her existence. If she hadn’t started as a MC kid, then a VP’s wife, would she have fallen so hard for Jamison?

The answer was swift and powerful. Yes.

Maybe it was pheromones or past lives colliding. Whatever it was, she wanted him.

Eventually, when he found out the truth about her, he’d leave her, but she’d deal with that heartbreak later. Right now she didn’t want to leave his side, which meant she’d better concoct a damn good story for the Hell’s Sons prez.

As close to the truth as possible. But she couldn’t provide her real name. One Internet search of Ever Peerson would reveal everything, from ties to the Raiders to newspaper headlines to where her death certificate had been issued.

For some reason, using her first name in a search engine didn’t show much. There was too much dilution in results. And when her last name or Stone’s was added to the mix, well, there was a brand new shit-storm about to hit.

Jamison was looking at her too closely. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

She smiled and wrapped the towel more snugly around her chest and then took over drying her hair. “I was thinking about that food I offered to help Carol Ann with.”

He didn’t look as if he believed her, but he gave her a crooked grin showcasing the creases around his hard lips. “She’ll be in the kitchen.”

Ever cupped his stubbled cheek. “Where will you be?”

Leaning in, he pecked her lips, withdrawing too soon. She wanted a longer, softer kiss, one that went on all day and night. Man, she had it bad.

“I’ll be with the guys. If you need me, ask Ace. He’s in charge when I leave.”

Ace. He was the key to making the prez and Jamison believe her. She had to get him on her side.

Jamison kissed her again, more lingeringly this time, and he spent a few minutes kneading her ass. Then he left her alone.

Dressing in the clothes Sarah had stripped off her felt a little odd. The experience with the woman had been sexy as hell, but Jamison’s reaction to the situation had melted her world.

Melted her brain, more like. She was putty now, and she knew it.

In jeans and a black bustier tank top, she fit right in with the girls in the kitchen. Carol Ann introduced her to everyone. When she got to Sarah, they smiled at each other.

“And you know Sarah,” Carol Ann said with a private grin of her own.

“Why don’t you work on chopping vegetables for this salad, Ever?” Sarah waved her over. Ever grabbed a knife from a block and started cutting carrots and celery. It was impossible not to wonder what these knives had been used on. In a place like this, nothing would surprise her.

In the Raider’s clubhouse, there wasn’t camaraderie between women, though. They were catty, petty, and backstabbing. That’s how Ever knew what the knives in an MC were used for.

She listened to talk about some of the guys. Blake’s trouble with his mom and how he was working nights at The Gearhead and days in the garage in order to keep her in a good care facility. But he was struggling, and some of the club treasury was being used to supplement his obligations.

Tommy was having trouble with some numbness in his face, and the doc said it was due the amount of nerve damage sustained when he’d been cut.

Ever racked her brain to put a face with that name. When she whispered the question to Sarah, her lover leaned close and told her about the guy with a handsome and perfect baby face. But he’d been cut in a fight and had an X on each cheek.

Immediately Ever remembered him from the other night at The Tomfoolery. She’d almost forgotten the marks on his face. Almost all the guys she’d grown up around were scarred, missing digits or an eye.

When one lady brought up the topic of Jamison getting a new tattoo, the whole kitchen grew silent. Ever kept a steady chop-chop-chop on the cutting board and didn’t look up. They wanted verification she belonged to Jamison, but they wouldn’t get it from her.

Carol Ann reached past Ever and grabbed an onion from a basket. “Don’t you mind them. No one is challenging you.”

And what if they did? Surely Jamison had fucked some of the girls in this room. That’s what sweet butts were for. Still, she didn’t want to know about it, and hopefully Carol Ann was right. A jilted woman wouldn’t try to mark her territory and shove Ever out the door.

She had no time for childish games, though frankly, walking away would be much better for her.

She’d have to walk eventually.

She didn’t realize how furiously she was cutting until Sarah placed a cool hand on her forearm. Ever looked into her eyes, and Sarah nodded. “Why don’t you go grab a coffee from Ace?”

Ever’s heart leaped. This was her moment. “I’ll do that. Thanks.” She relinquished the knife, and Sarah took over cutting an avocado.

The main room was empty. Only Ace stood behind the bar, and the jukebox was the only noise. Ever settled on the barstool nearest Ace. He didn’t glance at her, just continued to tap at the keys of his laptop.

After a minute, she said, “Can I get some coffee?”

From the corner of his eye, he shot her a look. “Sure. It’s not too fresh, though. I’ll make a new pot.”

“That sounds good.” She gestured toward the pack of smokes he had lying nearby. “Mind if I bum a cig?”

“Help yourself.”

She did, lighting it with the cheap lighter stuffed into the cardboard case. She blew the smoke away from him. “How long have you had your dog?”

When he directed his attention at her, he wore a skeptical expression. Then he smiled. “Since he was a pup. Nine years.” He went about making coffee.

“And he’s always been your sidecar rider?”

“Always.”

“He’s beautiful. Well-trained.”

Ace’s eyes were dark as he sized her up. “What do you want from me?”

She opened her eyes wide. “Just making conversation here.”

“I don’t believe that for a minute. You know I’m looking for you.”

She leveled her gaze at him and exhaled more smoke. “You won’t find me.”

His lips tightened, and he slammed the lid of the coffeemaker. “Then it was nice knowing you. Prez won’t let that shit linger in our club.”

Ever dropped her gaze, staring at the pitted wood of the bar top. The coffeemaker sizzled to life, and Ace stood waiting for her response. What to say?

When she looked up, their gazes locked. “Look for Emma Palen.” She tapped the bar with her open palm. “I’m not feeling much like coffee anymore. Thanks for the smoke.”

She climbed off the stool and started walking away. Behind her, the tapping of keys seemed amplified. Before she reached the kitchen door, Ace’s voice rang out.

“Ever.”

She stopped but didn’t turn around.

“This’ll do.”

His tone said he didn’t believe for a minute she was Emma Palen. But what she’d given him was something to hand to his boss—and keep his friend Jamison happy.

When she entered the kitchen again, the women were taking a break, leaning against counters and sitting in chairs, smoking and talking.

“This is going to be a hell of a week for parties,” Carol Ann said. “First Prez’s homecoming then Jamison’s birthday.”

Ever looked at the ladies. They knew more about the man she was fucking than she did. She could name five positions he’d made her come in but had no idea what his birthday was.

“When is Jamison’s party?”

One of the girls smirked. Her bleach-blonde hair hung lank around her too-thin face. She was one of those girls who believed the skinnier you were, the hotter you were. But most of the guys Ever knew weren’t into banging bones.

“His birthday is on the ninth.”

“Ah, thanks.” There was no use in Ever pretending she knew this information. The most helpful friends were usually enemies.

She pulled out the chair next to the blonde. “I’m Ever.”

The woman’s eyes tilted as she smiled, and Ever saw that she wasn’t as old as she originally looked. “Violet.”

If she put on a little weight and let her hair return to its natural golden brown, Violet would be pretty. But this was a rough life, and Violet probably wasn’t well cared for.

Ever dropped a little of her hard-ass attitude. “What are we doing for Jamison’s party? A keg and a bonfire?”

Carol Ann tilted her head and exhaled cigarette smoke. “Not a bad idea. When was the last time we had a party outside?”

“Since it got too damn humid,” a woman named Morgan said. Ever couldn’t trace Morgan’s history, but she thought she was someone’s old lady.

“A bonfire will be just what Jamison wants.” Carol Ann’s eyes shone as she nodded at Ever.

Ever’s heart contracted. She might not know much about Jamison, but her instincts were obviously spot-on.

“We could roast a hog,” Morgan offered.

Several words of agreement sounded throughout the kitchen.

“And potato salad.”

“Corn on the grill.”

“I can get the corn from my uncle. He drives a produce truck,” an exotic-looking woman with warm brown skin and gorgeous raven hair said.

“Ellie, you get on that,” Carol Ann said.

As they discussed particulars of the party, Ever felt herself sinking more into the Life. This was the best part of the club—they took life as it came. When it was time to bury one of their own, they pulled together and supported each other like the best family one could ask for. And when they celebrated, they let it rip.

“What about a cake?” Ever asked.

Carol Ann shrugged. “We could order one from the market.”

“No, I want to make Jamison a cake,” Ever said.

Several of the women smiled.

“What’s his favorite?”

“We’ve never asked,” Morgan said, crossing her legs and bouncing a high heel.

“He eats a lot of peanut butter cups,” Violet said.

Carol Ann nodded. “That’s true.”

“Does he?” Ever sat up straight. She’d never seen him eat peanut butter cups. Hell, she’d never seen him eat except the cinnamon roll at the bakery.

At the memory of him licking off his fingers, her skin prickled.

“I’ll make the cake,” she said. “Leave it to me.”

Carol Ann moved forward to squeeze Ever’s shoulder. “Then it’s settled. Now we’d best get a move on. There’s chicken to barbecue and potatoes to season. The prez and his old lady will be home in a few hours.”

When Ever moved to find a chore, Violet, Ellie, and Sarah all asked her to help them. So she bounced between mixing barbecue sauce, cutting potatoes into wedges, and trimming fat off chickens.

If she was going to be part of Jamison’s life, she needed friends.

•●•

“This is the last time I’ll hold this chair, brothers. Tonight Strother will be back. I don’t need to remind you that he might be a little changed after his son’s death.” Jamison looked from one face to the next, until he’d met the stares of every Hell’s Son at the big table.

“You’ve done a wicked job, boss.” Blake saluted.

“Hear, hear,” Ace added.

Ten fists pounded the table in agreement.

Jamison grinned. He’d actually miss being in charge, but Strother did an excellent job leading the Sons, and Jamison was content with his VP patch.

“We have one thing to take care of, and it has to be today.”