Love Ties (30 page)

The relief she’d felt to find her ex in such a position made it clear she was finished feeling anything for Stone.

Watery blue moonlight streamed in from a high window in the pit. Hopefully it was enough to search by. It was unlikely she’d find what she wanted in a document, but after prying gently at the corners of Barbosa’s memory, he’d told her the older club members had done things by the books. And those books were in the safe. The newer officers realized how dumb it was to keep anything on record, but no one had bothered to remove the old papers.

The safe stood against the wall. If information on her mother existed, it would be in there. Good thing she had the combination. The numbers ran through her head. 10-30-53. Seagraves, the Raiders prez, had given it to Stone so he could remove a stack of cash. Stone had repeated it twice in her presence to fix the numbers in his head. She was sure he no longer remembered it, but she did.

Holding her breath, she reached for the dial.

“What are you doing in here?”

She practically convulsed, jerking her hand back. She spun to face Crash. Heart pounding so hard it made her nauseated, she met his gaze. “Just looking around.”

“Yeah?” His gaze said he didn’t believe her.

“Yes, I haven’t been in here since Stone got his patch years ago. Thought I’d see if anything’s changed.”

His tone was gritty. “I think you should look around somewhere else. Like in the tool shed out back.”

That familiar fog clouded her brain. She heard his words, saw his lips move, and the sincerity in his eyes. If only she could make out the meaning.

Crash closed his finger around her arm, right over her tattoo. Over her microchip. “Check out the tool shed, Ever.”

She nodded, feeling numb. In a daze, she moved past him and walked out of the pit. The main room stank of sweat, beer, and sex, but no one stirred when she slipped out the front door. Crash didn’t follow her.

When the cooler night air blasted her face, she dragged in a deep breath and came back to herself.

Did he know what she was looking for? Was the file on her mom in the tool shed? She’d never been in the tool shed.

Her feet were noiseless on the pavement. She put her hand on her hip, where she’d stashed a knife. It was small but had a lethal point.

The tool shed was the size of a single stall garage. The side door hung open, beckoning to her.

As she stepped up to the door, a hand closed around her mouth. Panic rocketed in her system, and she tried to scream, but the fingers dug into her teeth. Her lip split.

Then she tasted it—tasted Jamison.

She fell still. His breathing was a harsh rasp in her ear. “I’ll get you out of here, baby.”

He whirled her, bringing her flush against his hard body. Muscles touched her in places she hadn’t remembered she had. She pressed herself to him, and he fed his fingers farther into her mouth.

Moaning, she licked his fingers. Salty man. Her pussy squeezed, her body awakening.

In the dark she couldn’t see his eyes, and it was a good thing. One look, and she’d run away with him. But that meant abandoning her mission.

He pulled his fingers free of her lips and slammed his mouth over hers. She gasped like a drowning woman and wrapped her arms around his neck. His silky hair was concealed under a black knit hat, and he wasn’t wearing his cut but a long-sleeved black shirt that clung to his sculpted chest.

She burned for him.

He ran his tongue over her lips and plunged it deep into her mouth. She squeaked, wanting more. When he rocked his erection into her lower belly, she struggled to surface from the whirlpool he’d sucked her down into.

“Jamie—”

“You’re right. Sorry. Let’s go. We don’t have a lot of time before that guard comes to.”

“Fuck.” He’d knocked someone out to get to her, but hopefully he could escape without getting his hands bloody. “You have to get out of here. Go!” she whispered.

He hovered over her, stealing her sense again. God, she loved this man. She wanted to put her hand in his and run like hell.

He started dragging her away from the tool shed.

“No! I can’t go!”

His brows drew down, his eyes completely shadowed. She had a feeling she wouldn’t like what she saw there anyway. “I know about this.” He pressed his thumb gently to the small rectangle under her skin. “I’m getting you clear of this shit.”

She shook her head and looked around, terrified of who might see them. She was too close to getting that info about her mother. “I can’t go. Not yet. I have something to do.”

“I know what you have to do.” His voice was hot with fury. “Mission aborted.”

“No, it’s not that. I have what Strother needs. There’s a building where all the drugs pass through, on the border between here and Heller’s Gap. If you search the border, you’ll find it.”

He squeezed her shoulder. Hard. “What the fuck are you doing, Ever? What else can you need here? In this place? Is it your ex?”

Her fingers numbed at his words. She shoved through the fog descending on her. She needed her wits badly right now in order to push Jamison away.

She threw a look at the clubhouse. A light came on inside. Time was running out. “I can’t go. I have to be here, Jamie.”

He clamped his hands on her face, reminding her of the rough passion they’d shared not so long ago. Tears weren’t far enough away, and she swallowed hard. Once. Twice.

“Go. Leave me here. Hurry before you’re caught.”

A short, low whistle sounded not far off, and her heart raced. She twisted Jamison’s shirt in terror.

“It’s Ace,” Jamison whispered. “I’m not going without you.”

The hair on her forearms stood up at the desperation in his voice.

“Ever! Evvvvverrrr!” Stone’s calls for her from inside the club carried on the night air.

“Oh my God. Jamie, you’ve gotta go!” She cupped his face and tried to make him see. “I can’t leave. I need to be here.”

The club door burst open, and Stone stumbled out, still drunk and wearing only a pair of boots.

Jamison followed her stare. When he looked back at her, her heart died a little at the hurt in his eyes.

She pushed away from him. “I’m staying.”

Before he could stop her, she took off across the parking lot, headed straight for the naked man who welcomed her with open arms. She half-carried him into the club, too aware of Jamison’s gaze burning into her back.

She hoped Stone passed out so she could cry.

•●•

Jamison raised the bottle to his lips and took three long pulls. The whiskey burned a path straight to his stomach, but even after half a bottle, his memory hadn’t been wiped out.

She’d chosen Stone. Goddamn motherfucking Stone.

And Ace had witnessed Jamison’s rejection, which made it that much worse.

He lowered the bottle and stared at nothing. The clock with the motorcycle logo ticked away minutes that he didn’t have Ever.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry, man,” Ace said softly.

“No, you’re not.” Jamison filled his mouth with more whiskey. “She was baptized in dirty water, remember?”

Ace stared at him. “But you love her.”

“Means nothing when she’s made her choice.”

In the morning he’d provide Strother with the information Ever had shared, and then he’d get on his bike and ride out of here. He had to get away from this town.

The pain of her loss was so big he might as well be bleeding out. He traced a finger over a wildflower on his wrist. What the fuck was that bullshit about him being her anchor? It was just a cover to keep him from seeing the microchip. More betrayal.

His chest burned.

Pursing his lips, he raised the bottle again.

“Better slow down on the booze, Jamison.”

“Fuck off, Ace. Blake wouldn’t have ridden me about drinking over a woman.”

“No, because he’d never get drunk over a woman.”

Ace’s tone sank into Jamison’s head. “You knew about Blake?”

“Knew he liked men.”

“How?”

“I caught him in bed with a prospect.”

Jamison shifted. “Who?”

Ace waved a hand. “That Stephens guy. He didn’t stick around, remember?”

Shit, Jamison had never known Blake was tapping a prospect. Jamison didn’t know what was worse—Blake hiding his love for the same sex or Jamison having his love exposed to everyone in the club. Come morning, everyone would see his bleeding, throbbing heart because it was impossible to bury it.

He pushed away from the table. “I’ve gotta get out of here.”

“Not with that much alcohol in your system, brother.” Ace clamped his hand on Jamison’s shoulder. “Sleep it off, and we’ll talk in the morning.”

“No, I can’t sleep in that bed. Not with…” Pain lanced him, and he hung his head, battling emotion.

Ace clapped his shoulder. “Take one of the empty rooms. Of course, you might find a willing sweet butt in there.”

Jamison had been so fucking aroused when he’d caught Ever outside the Raiders’ clubhouse. “Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.” He stumbled away from Ace, taking the bottle with him.

Yeah, he should hit some prime pussy right now. He’d rut into a new body and wipe the slate clean. He’d stick with normal girls—no more girls who drove him as wild as Ever did. The heartache wasn’t worth it.

He opened the door of one of the spare rooms and found what he was looking for—Breezy lay on her side, an MC T-shirt riding high on her hips, the shadow between her legs ready for him.

He kicked her out of the room and slept alone.

Two weeks. Two freaking weeks Ever had been waiting to get into the pit. In this time she’d rekindled friendships, watched countless drunken sex-capades between club members and their women, and overheard a lot of talk about criminal activities.

All the while, the ache in her heart increased. Jamison had probably moved on. With looks and power like his, all the club girls would be draped on him. Did he think of her anymore?

She hoped not.

She curled into her favorite corner of the leather sofa in the lounge. Most of the guys were still hung over, and they kept the lights dim. The Hell’s Sons MC wasn’t exactly a field of sunshine and fresh green grass, but the darkness in here possessed tendrils that sank deep into a person’s soul.

Twisting her fingers into her hair, she brought it over one shoulder and began to smooth it into a ponytail. Paxton had somehow captured the exact color of her hair in Jamison’s wildflower tattoo, but Jamison had made a mistake. Now he was stuck with her on his body forever.

And she was anchored to him for eternity. She couldn’t look at her arm without nearly shivering with want for the man the tattoo represented.

He must hate her for what she’d done to him.

Somehow she’d managed to ward off Stone’s advances. Besides some kissing, he hadn’t pursued her for sex.

She couldn’t help but believe he had a motive in not touching her. She just hadn’t figured out what it was yet.

Wrapping her forearm with the anchor around her middle, she curled tighter into herself. The door to the pit was ten steps away, but several guys stood between her and the information she sought. Since the night Crash had tipped her off about Jamison, she recognized him as an ally. After all these years.

But she couldn’t ask him to keep everyone away from the pit while she ransacked the safe.

“We’re going to the corner market. You need anything, Ever?” Dawnelle, one of the old ladies, touched Ever’s shoulder.

She looked up. “No. Thanks, I’m good.”

“Okay. Keep the boys in line while I’m gone.”

Ever smiled. “Of course.”

Dawnelle left, taking several other ladies with her. Only two Raiders were in the room, and one of them was Blacky. She feigned interest in her fingernails while peeking at him from under her lashes.

Had Crash passed her information on to Blacky? Did the man know she was here for intel? That she was associated with the Hell’s Sons?

Well, she used to be. Surely Jamison had given Strother the information about the warehouse on the border. As far as she knew, they hadn’t yet raided it. The Hell’s Sons had what they needed—she was nothing to them now. They’d probably stopped tracking her.