MC Bear My Baby (Beartooth Brotherhood MC) (5 page)

W
hile Tate was strapping
Molly’s duffel bag to the back of his ride, Molly walked further down the private driveway to her Jeep. She needed to grab the pieces of ID she kept stowed in the glove compartment and one of her textbooks. She clicked the remote when she was halfway across the semi-circular paved driveway, but didn’t hear the usual sound of the door unlocking.

“Strange,” she muttered, certain that she had locked it before she went inside a few hours ago. That uneasiness hit another level when she noticed the driver’s side of her white Jeep Cherokee was slightly open. Molly paused mid-stride, nearly dropping her keys to the ground. Her head throbbed, vision blurry as the adrenaline made her tremble.

“Christ,” she swore under her breath, jogging the last few yards toward her car. She nudged the door open with her foot, not wanting to contaminate any possible evidence.

Swallowing past the tightness in her throat, Molly took a beat to close her eyes and wished she’d kept her cell phone in her pocket. She glanced into the lit-up interior of the car, her vision wavered into tiny streamers of black and white. The shock of it made her take an involuntary step backward, and she caught herself on her mother’s Mercedes coupe parked beside her Jeep. Thankfully Mom’s car alarm didn’t go off. She didn’t want to worry Tate, but as she took in the display on her driver’s seat, it was clear that she needed to have him take a look.

But first I need to see it all myself.

Numb tingling washed over her limbs. With her pulse in her throat, she leaned in closer to her car trembling at the rose petals dotting the seat, pristine carpets, and the dashboard. There was a black silk teddy-styled piece of lingerie laid out over the seat back, with an array of pictures fanned out. On a closer look at the photos, she recoiled. These were recent, of her in her bedroom. He’d been watching and waiting, lingering even more intimately over her life than she’d ever expected. She watched herself reach out for the envelope as if she was in some kind of warped nightmare. Her hands shook so much, it took her three tries to get the thick notecard out.

As she read the words through blurry eyes, she very much wished she had left it alone or handed it over to Tate. Something. Anything other than having the words trip through her brain as she digested the cold fear curling around all her organs. Now she was suffocating. What the hell was wrong with Jett, going to this extent?

His letter read:

For the day you accept my apology, I expect you to be wearing this little number. Until then I’ll be waiting for you, baby.

Always,

Jett

W
hen a hand landed
on her shoulder, she half-registered the weight before a frustrated scream ripped from her lips and she was attacking, blindly thrashing with her fists through hot tears. Every punch, jab, and kick was met with a block. Which only drove her higher into attack mode until she was panting, thick, hot sobs racking her body as she fought and fought for her freedom.

“Whoa there. Settle down, little hell cat. Hey, it’s me. Tate. Calm down!”

Tate’s voice barely registered as she lashed out. Every blow she threw met with a hard wall of male flesh until he grabbed her arm, pulling her toward him with her wrists pinned together in one hand. She wriggled in his iron grip, on autopilot, still driven by fear. Tate didn’t let her go. He didn’t budge despite her physical protests. Soon his voice broke through her haze, shushing against her ear as he rocked her back and forth in the driveway.
Rocking
her as if she were a small child.

More than anything, that strange sensation knocked some sense back into her brain. Mostly because this was not like him. Tate—the asshole, the rough, no-nonsense biker—was being kind and nurturing. She needed to wake up from this dream real fast. Molly quickly shoved her arms down until his hold was broken. She took two shaky steps away until her back was on the side of her Jeep. A few deep breaths later she felt more in control.

“You good now?” Tate asked.

She nodded and watched him get closer, and when he examined what was inside, she got a fresh wash of goosebumps across her whole body.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Molly.” He tugged her away from the vehicle to a safe distance while he looked more closely at what was inside. She could tell he was using is bear shifter senses, sniffing around the items, probably for danger or explosives or whatever. “He must have stopped by while we were inside, because I passed right by the Jeep and this wasn’t in here.”

She shook her head. There just weren’t any words.

“He’s fucking brazen, that’s for sure…and you still waited until now to tell me about this crazy sicko? What the hell is wrong with you, Moll? Your pride is going to get you killed one of these days.”

She spun around to face him, all the small hairs on the back of her neck up on end. “Okay, so maybe I waited a little longer than I should have, but I thought I could take care of it myself. I didn’t expect him to step up the crazy behavior this way. God, I really felt it was getting back under control—”

“This is
control
to you?” He swept his hand in a motion that encompassed the Jeep and the creepy contents. “Listen. Before we leave, we’re going back inside, and I want to you to give me everything you’ve got from this asshole. This isn’t the first time, is it?”

Molly rolled her eyes, shoved a lock of hair behind her ear, and blew out a deep breath, crossing her arms across her middle.

“No. Nope,” Tate shook his head and moved closer until her back was against the Jeep. He closed her in from every possible side, glancing down at her. More than anything she wanted to escape the penetration of his gaze. “You are not holding out on me, got it?”

“Why does it even matter so much, damn it! I can’t change what happened before or how I handled it up to now. Don’t you get that?” She shoved him backward, enjoying his small grunt of surprise. “I’ll give you whatever, but you need to leave it the hell alone and move forward.”

Tate was seething, and even in the waning evening light, she sensed his displeasure as he paced across the dark lot. A cool, insistent desert breeze whipped through her clothes. She ground her teeth together, almost snarling, willing to wait out their standoff until he was ready to take them both back to the MC.

He didn’t disappoint when he came to an abrupt halt.

“Fine,” he huffed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ll clean this shit up. You get inside and grab your stash of stalker memorabilia, and bring it out here with a trash bag. Once we’re done here, we can drop off your stuff at the clubhouse before I get you to work.”

She couldn’t argue with his instructions, mostly because it got them out of a lot of awkwardness in the process. Tate may not have realized it, but this protective thing he was doing only made her more on edge. Sure, the sex they had was always off the charts, but with Jett around doing the stalker bit, she didn’t want to get too close to anyone right now.

“Sure. I’ll go inside. See you in a sec. Give me a beat.”

“How long you working tonight?”

“A few hours.”

“Fine… and when I catch this motherfucking asshole—”

“Please don’t finish that sentence. I get the picture.”

She registered his nod, and the grim expression on his face. His gaze raked across her body. She’d never seen him this upset before, and that made her fidgety as she stood with her back against the Jeep. “Let me go, Tate.”

Finally, he stepped aside. “Just hurry your little ass up.”

He didn’t need to tell her twice.

“
Y
o
, we’re back!” Tate called out through the bizarrely empty clubhouse. “Whoever’s here come down for a little pow-wow session!”

It was weird not to see any of the executives around, but whatever. It was a weeknight. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he watched Molly shut the door behind them, looking tired as hell, and she still had a shift to work tonight. She dragged her duffel bag behind her, insistent on pulling her own weight. He’d tried to take the bag, but Molly wasn’t having it. She told him he never was much of gentleman. No need to start now.

Tate cleared his throat and eyed the three twisted claws hanging out around one of the bar tables playing a card game. They saw him glance their way, and two of them got their flirt on in a less than subtle way. It wasn’t until Molly came to stand at his side that he knew he had to get his shit straight.

Molly didn’t even react to them.

What he couldn’t figure out was why her lack of reaction bothered him.

He was one mental motherfucker, half expecting her to have some kind of response, as if chicks wanting his cock wasn’t an everyday occurrence. This was messing with his game for sure. Frowning, he swallowed and bolted pass the three groupies. He stepped around the bar and poured himself a nice size shot of whiskey, and one for Molly.

Silas, the Beartooth Brotherhood President, came down the hall and stepped in beside him at the bar. “Rough day at the office?”

Before Tate could answer, Axe and Cole, the rest of his MC brothers, entered as well, followed by Dean, their top potential candidate for Road Captain. Each of them nodded over at Molly, who was standing in the middle of the common room with her bag beside her, as if she was waiting for an invite. Which was all kinds of strange because on a normal day, she’d make herself at home. Tate shook his head. There wasn’t a goddamn thing that was normal about today.

“You with us, bro?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m here. Just getting our shit together. Molly’s gonna be staying with us. She’s got issues. Did Sabrina fill you in?”

“My woman’s got my back. I know the details.” Silas glanced at Molly, nodded again, and clapped a hand on Tate’s back with a brotherly look that made Tate want to snag another drink. “You be careful with that one. I think she’s breakable.”

“Noted.” Tate poured a drink for his president. “So, how’s business?”

“You’re really into this job you got, aren’t you buddy?”

“It’s a wild one…” Tate said through gritted teeth.

“Well, if you really want to know, business is going great. Word of mouth all the way. Specifically, Addison Riley’s mouth. The guy’s like an evangelist for the MC, doing badass things for us. But just know I don’t believe you give a fuck about how business is going, not the way you’re watching your new assignment like a hawk.”

Tate glared at Silas, fingers tightening around the shot glass as his president broke out into a wide grin.

“Seriously, dude. Not subtle.”

He cocked his head with a glare, and Silas put his fingers in between his lips and whistled loud enough to fuck up everyone’s eardrums. The men and a couple of the twisted claws looked over at him.

“Dramatic much, pres?” Tate nudged him with an elbow and winked, his stare locking on Molly. She finally took a seat at one of the tables close to the staircase leading to the private rooms where most of the MC laid their cuts for the night.

“Big announcement, everybody.” Silas ran a hand through his hair and waited. Less than a minute later, the room was suddenly pretty damn full. Members came in from every doorway to listen. “The panther MC president and I had a chat today.” He was talking about Kitt Reese, president of the panther MC motherfuckers. “Kitt wants to talk about making a truce with us. Cole and I think it’s time, so that’s gonna happen in the next couple of days. It’s not something we were expecting this fast, but whatever. We’ll roll with it.”

Axe, the Sergeant at Arms, wolf-whistled and rolled his eyes as he clapped. He wasn’t convinced.

Cole, the grey-haired Vice President, nodded. “I think it sounds promising, even if it turns out too good to be true.” He took a drag of his cigar and used his other hand to smack his wife Jenny’s ass when she came to stand beside him.

Axe took a seat and kicked up his feet on a center table. “I’ll believe it when I see it. Kitt and Death Adder have a way of changing their minds.” He grimaced as he seemed to contemplate the wolf shifter MC president. “Somebody remind me of Death Adder’s real name again?”

“Dean Roman,” Silas offered.

“Wasn’t that the name of that dude who killed Caesar?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You know, back in the Roman Empire.”

Tate spoke up. “No, you dumb fuck. That was Brutus.”

“Whatever. I hate the name
Roman
, that’s all.”

“Fuck you too, asshole. Have you forgotten my last name is Roman too?”

“Shit. Oh yeah. What, are you related to the wolf pack president or what?”

“I’ll fucking cut you, dickface.”

“Half-breed motherfucker,” Axe mumbled just to get a rise out of Tate.

Tate vaulted across the counter and grabbed Axe by the neck. “Do you like your fucking life right now? I’ll fucking end you, brother.”

Even as he choked the man, Axe answered with, “I hit a nerve, didn’t I?”

Cole dragged Tate off and Silas pounded his hand on the counter to get everyone’s attention.

“The fuck? We’ve got business to get to. Now both of you calm the hell down.”

Tate shook off Cole and straightened his cut, returning to his seat at the table.

“Go ahead, Cole.”

Cole shook his head. “Anyway, I was about to ask, what about that little contingent of dragon shifters that showed up out of nowhere lately?”

Silas shrugged and knocked back the shot Tate had poured him. “No idea, bro. They haven’t messed with us so we have to assume they’re friendlies. Riley mentioned he’s tight with one of them now. We can do some intel through him down the road. For now, let’s prep for this truce with the panthers. Death Adder…Dean Roman, not to be confused with Brutus, and
not
Tate’s relative in any way, shape or form,” he added for Axe’s sake, coughing out a laugh. “Death Adder said he wanted to get into some talks later on too, so when he comes around, we’ll be ready. Getting back to the topic of the panthers, Kitt says he’ll be in touch again with a meeting place. No weapons, all talk, and hopefully some kind of resolution to our fucked up dealings. Until that meeting goes down, no one is to mess with any panthers.”

The old ladies whispered in the corner while the clubhouse erupted into loud chatter. Everyone had an opinion. Everyone including Tate still wanted a piece of their rivals. The only exceptions seemed to be Silas, Cole and Axe. After what he’d done to the club, blowing up half the place then setting a sniper on Silas’s mom, Cindy, blood was called for, or the man’s head on a spike.

“You know how I feel about the motherfucker,” Tate whispered under his breath. “But if this is what you want, I’ll toe the line. I just won’t like it.”

“I bet,” Silas dragged a hand through his hair and grinned, snagging the whiskey bottle.

Then it dawned on Tate. Shit, this new found peace treaty probably meant that he’d have to confess about the slash and dash he did at the bar earlier. Yeah, coming clean would probably be important, but wasn’t ready for Silas to dish out a lecture at a time like this. Axe would get it, but Cole and Silas would hand him his ass on a plate.

Still, waiting could make things worse. He decided he’d pull his brothers aside to the meeting room so they could hear it from him. Maybe Silas could smooth things over with both Kitt Reese and before it got out of hand. Death Adder would have to be for another day.

“So, uh, boss? Can we have a chat with the boys?” Tate ran a hand down his face and slapped on a grin. “We may have a little issue… nothing big.”

“Oh yeah?” Silas cocked an eyebrow and leaned back with both hands on the bar. “What the fuck did you do now, Tate?”

“Let’s go talk.”

His president’s face got stone cold and serious. Before he made for the meeting room to tell them what he’d done and to admit that he wasn’t in the least bit sorry, his eyes caught the ladies over at the staircase. Molly got one of Jenny’s hugs, and Sabrina was beside them. Jenny led her up the stairs as Molly muscled her large duffel bag with her.

Nope, she didn’t need him for a damn thing at all.