Soul Ties (Club Ties #4) (11 page)

“You ready for another mission?” He emphasized the last word. It was a joke among the Sons that Paxton’s first mission was retrieving Ace’s estranged daughter and bringing her back to speak with him. Paxton and Santana had ended up in a tug of war of control—and in the end, they’d both won.

Paxton gave Ace a chin-nod. “I’m ready.”

“Congratulations—you’ve been promoted. Take over all of O’Dovey’s duties.”

Paxton raised a brow. “Until he comes back?”

“Can’t answer that yet, but for now, we need two more hands and yours look big enough.”

Spreading his huge hands, Paxton grinned. “Glad to help.”

Sarah breathed a sigh that the conversation had jumped from O’Dovey’s whereabouts to Paxton doing his job. The fewer questions Sarah got about the man who’d tied her up in so many knots nobody could pick apart, the better.

She kept her head down and continued to clean up last night’s garbage scattered around the big space.

Her heart thumped a little too irregularly. She wanted Connall, but he was miles away working a long shift at the hospital. Before leaving her, he’d kissed her lightly between the eyes, saying he’d text but not to panic if she didn’t hear from him. The Fourth of July was nearing, and rednecks were out in full force, blowing off their body parts with Roman candles and M80s.

Connall had already stitched some fingers back on and even an ear. As a general surgeon, he was pretty damn popular. She liked the thought of him helping people. The same amazing hands he laid on her healed and repaired.

After being in his bed another full night, she had to admit she was pretty attached to him. A third night would probably have her choosing wedding colors, and that was the last thing either of them needed. They weren’t a couple—circumstances had driven them together, and slaking their lust was a way of relieving stress.

She ran a wet cloth around a worn wooden tabletop. Lately being a lowly club girl wasn’t so bad. Her idea about gaining rank had flown the minute she’d felt O’Dovey’s blood pouring over her hand.

Someone made a noise, and she jerked her head up.

A skinny Hell’s Son stared down at the surface of the pool table.

“What’cha doing there,” another guy asked.

He looked up, the longer hair at the front of his head swinging forward. “Lookin’ at O’Dovey’s phone.”

Panic welled in Sarah, and a scream caught in the back of her throat. She gripped the cloth in her hand so hard water ran between her fingers. O’Dovey’s phone was here? That meant Connall must have removed it from his pocket before—

She clamped down on that thought.

“His GPS says he went on that alcohol run for the Fourth of July celebration.”

“Yeah, he came back to the club with it. I saw the crates in the garage.”

“And he was here a few nights ago. I saw him go off with Sweetheart Sarah.”

Ace and the others looked around at her. Heat climbed her face but inside she was shaking.
They know. They know. They’re looking for him, and I was the last to be seen with him.

“Jamison said to get someone on O’Dovey’s trail. But if we have his phone, it’s going to be more difficult to find him,” the skinny guy said.

“He definitely made the run for extra alcohol but what about the firearms Jamison wanted us to try to sell?”

God, yes. Please let them go far off course.

Fuck, she wasn’t ready for this. There hadn’t been time to work out an alibi. What if they asked her and Connall and they gave separate stories?

She started from the room, and Ace called her back. With her heart throbbing in her throat, he said, “What was the last thing O’Dovey said to you?”

“Ummm… It was something to do with body shots.” Her throat and face scorched as she answered honestly.

The guys howled with laughter.

“That’s O’Dovey, all right. What a pussy hound. He’s probably holed up with a sweet butt somewhere.”

All this was said without regard to Sarah’s feelings, if she’d possessed any for O’Dovey. The guys slept with who they wanted when they wanted, and many wives didn’t even fight it. Bikers had needs, right?

Ignoring their loud guffaws, she slipped from the room. Bile pressed up her throat, and she swallowed hard as she hurried to her bedroom. When she shut the door, she leaned against the wood, breathing hard.

She stared at the spot on the floor where O’Dovey’s last remnants of life had drained from him. Though Connall had removed all the blood, she still saw the uneven outline in her mind.

Grabbing her phone, she shot off a text to the one person in the world she wanted right now.

They’re looking.

For long minutes she waited for his reply, but none came. Why wasn’t he answering?

Her logical mind realized he was with a patient—maybe even in surgery. But her inner self was breaking apart. Tears stung, and she battled them back.

She had to think of something else. Whirling around the already tidy room, she picked up dirty clothes and dropped them in the hamper. When she reached for the tank top Connall had stripped off her the previous night, she saw it.

A smear of blood on the strap where Connall had grabbed her shoulder.

Harris’s blood, not O’Dovey’s, yet she saw gobs of blood, felt it rushing hot over her fingers. She gagged and ran for the bathroom across the hall. Standing over the toilet, she retched several times, emptying her stomach.

Perspiration stood out on her forehead and throat, and a wave of dizziness struck. Panting, she looked up to see a sweet butt standing in the doorway, watching her.

“Do you have O’Dovey’s bun in your oven?”

“Get the fuck out!” Sarah rushed across the small space and slammed the door in the woman’s face. She moved to backhand her mouth but found she still held the tank top.

A sob rushed up at the sight of that blood smear. Blood everywhere. On her hands.

She thrust the top under the faucet and scrubbed. The icy water spread the stain but it didn’t go away. She scrubbed harder, cries bursting from her chest.

It was no good. The stain was set. The shirt was ruined.

And so was she.

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•
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Connall stuck his head into Sarah’s bedroom. Empty. He turned at the sound of running water—and a small, choked sound. A noise he recognized from holding her all night long.

He knocked on the bathroom door. No answer, so he knocked again. “Sarah?”

The water continued to run, and horrid visions flooded his head of bloody wrists.

Lorraine’s sweet face swam behind his eyes.

“Fuck. Sarah!” He shoved open the door and choked in relief to see her standing there scrubbing something. Her hands were raw and red, her eyes flat.

He switched off the water and grabbed her by the arm. Her eyes moved to his, but she didn’t seem to register what she was seeing. “Hell, Sweetheart. What happened? Come here.”

Without waiting for a reply, he dragged her into his embrace. She didn’t put her arms around him, but he didn’t expect her to. Her breathing was erratic, and once in a while she gave an all-over tremor.

As he held her, he glanced into the sink. The top she’d been washing had a small brown stain.

“They’re…looking,” she said, startling him. Just when he believed her totally sunk inside herself, she surfaced and began to function again. Her system was shocked, misfiring. Eventually it would work normally—and he was damn well going to make sure she had that recovery time. He’d protect her secret with his life if necessary.

He breathed in her fresh shampoo scent and ran his hand all the way down her spine to cup her ass. Her tension eased a little more, and she melted against his chest.

“You know that if this ends in fire, I won’t let you burn, Sweetheart. I’ll go down for you. Take the rap and the consequences. The club’ll believe I did it to get you.” Crimes of passion were common.

He couldn’t join the Falcons now. He had to see Sarah safe and clear first.

A little of the intensity returned to her eyes and she wrapped her arms around his middle, resting her head on his chest. “I’d never let you do that.”

“It won’t happen anyway. Let them look. There’s nothing to find,” he murmured against her ear.

When she tipped her head up and met his gaze, need punched him in the gut. His balls tightened and his cock stretched. Protecting her fucking kicked his libido into overtime as much as her tight curves.

Her gaze burned, and they moved at the same time. Their mouths clashed. She tasted of tears and her own underlying sweetness. Damn, he couldn’t get enough of her. With a growl, he picked her up. She hitched her legs around him, settling her pussy right where he wanted it.

Nails scored his shoulders through the thin cotton scrubs he wore. He hadn’t taken the time to change. After receiving her text, he’d gotten on his bike and ridden straight to her.

She groaned as she slid her hand between their bodies and wrapped her fingers around his length. Breathing hard, he pushed into her hand, aware of the chill of her fingers even through the layers of fabric.

“I want you,” she whispered a split second before he kissed her with all the pent-up need raging inside.

What was it about this woman? She was pure light, a candle flame that now danced in shadows. The outer edges were dark with bruising, but he could still see her inner glow. It was so hot and bright and he was lured closer. He’d burn up in her light, but he didn’t deserve to even look upon her.

His need stacked high, and he tore into her clothes. She pulled his cock into her cold, still damp fingers, and he groaned. When he cupped her soft breasts, her eyes glazed and her lips fell open.

“Give me your tongue.” He swooped in and she gave it, kissing him with a wild abandon that would kill him in the end.

Skating his tongue over hers, he kneaded her breasts and slid his cock over her palm. After only five strokes he couldn’t hold back another instant. He had to be inside her.

He broke the kiss and whirled her. Popping her button and unzipping her fly took two seconds. Getting a condom on took ten seconds too many.

“I’m not kidding about getting that birth control.”

She gripped his hip and bent over the sink, offering her ripe ass like a fucking pie on a windowsill. He fought the need to drive home, to draw her onto tiptoe with each thrust. The lines of her phoenix tattoo seemed to sear him as he stroked them.

Burrowing his face against her fragrant neck, he settled his finger over her slippery folds. She hissed and juices soaked his digit. As he parted her, readied her, his cock leaked with his own need.

He rubbed her hard pearl, and she shuddered. Goosebumps lifted under his lips, and he licked them with a long swipe. “I need your tight pussy around my cock.” Using a come-hither motion, he teased her clit until it was hard and swollen. His mind blanked and he didn’t give a damn about his club family in the other room or the reason he and Sarah had come together in the first place. All he saw was soft, desirable woman.

She pressed back against him. Not a breath could make its way between their bodies. “Come for me.” Swirl, swirl. “Your pussy’s so wet. Come on, Sweetheart.”

Her pussy flexed under his fingers. She panted, her rasps loud in the quiet space.

He toggled her clit back and forth. Found her core and spent long minutes learning its perfection before her first orgasm rocked her.

When she stiffened, he lashed an arm around her waist and supported her. Her pussy pulsated, and his cock throbbed in answer. Hell, she was drenched, and it was too damn late for him. He couldn’t walk away if he tried.

A noise left him as he drank in her throaty cries. She hung in his arms. Gripping his cock, he found his place between her thighs. With one hard shove, he was buried balls-deep. Hot warmth engulfed him. She threw her head back with a throaty moan that spiked his own need.

His invasion made her cry out, her pussy clamping around him.

“Fuck,” he grated out. With one hand squeezing her tits together and his hips like pistons, he ran his finger over her pucker. He rounded the rim once and slid his finger home.

She issued a harsh noise. His cock bottomed out in her delectable body, and that strange euphoric feeling overtook him again. He wanted closer, closer, closer. There was no getting enough.

When he rocked hard into her pussy at the same time he pulled his finger free of her ass, she dipped her head and fell still. Then it struck—another orgasm.

He took her hard, pounding her against the sink. She reached back to yank his head down. He teased the corner of her lips with his tongue. She opened immediately, and he fully filled her mouth—and body.

Twisting into his kiss, she sank over his cock with slow, precise movements. She burned. He ached.

Her inner walls tightened, and he lost his goddamn mind.

Coming hard, he threw his head back and brayed. Wildfire raging through his system, eating up any resistance he had.

He’d let her go tomorrow.

∙
•
∙

Sarah’s throat was tight from restraining her cries, but her body was totally boneless in Connall’s tight hold. Out in the club, laughter sounded, along with the thump of the jukebox. Still, Connall didn’t release her or move to put his clothes on.

He skimmed his lips down her throat and lingered on her shoulder. “I have some things to do for the club.” His voice sounded as though he’d swallowed gears.

She wiggled closer to his heat. “I’ll go with you.”

He didn’t argue but pulled free of her. Her body clamped on the emptiness, but he didn’t let her go as she expected. That warmth in her heart resurfaced.

It scared the hell out of her. Whatever she was feeling wasn’t real. It couldn’t last, either. This passion flared hot when they were together, but they were tied by the sin she’d committed.

He pressed his lips to the side of her neck, right over her pulse. The tenderness in his caress flooded her with more emotion. “Yeah, come with me, Sweetheart.” Only then did he turn and deal with the condom.

When she glanced up into the mirror, she blinked at her appearance. Red-cheeked, red-eyed. But she wore a satisfied tilt at the corners of her lips. Connall’s reflection moved behind hers as he strutted across the small space.