Chaos Bound (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #4)(28)
Christ. She had a sweet ass. And it had been a long time since he’d had a woman.
A woman who had knocked him out when he was about to take down a few Jacks.
“What the f*ck did you do?” His gaze dropped to the dish of pasta in her hands, and he reeled from the delicious aroma of melted cheese and tomato sauce. If he didn’t hurry up this conversation, his stomach would rule his head, and he would miss the opportunity to lay down the line.
“Saved you.” She placed the dish on the table. “There were six Jacks, fully armed, none of whom appeared to have been chained in a dungeon for months. I get that you want revenge. But that wasn’t the time or the place. A shoot-out would have landed you in jail, or worse, dead, and you have a Viper to kill. He’s who you want. Not them.”
She was right. Every fantasy of retribution he nurtured in that dungeon had Viper in the starring role. But damned if he would admit it to her. “You had no f*cking right. What you did … if we were in the club, a kick out would be the least of your punishments.”
“But you’re not in the club,” she said quietly. “And neither am I. Although I’m not sorry I got you out of there, I am sorry about how I did it. But I didn’t think you would listen and we didn’t have time to talk.”
“How long was I out?”
“Eight hours. Ally said the shot should only have lasted one or two, but your body needed to heal. She stayed until a few hours ago to make sure you were okay, but she and Doug had to get to work. She left stuff for me to treat your wounds.”
Holt grabbed the nearest chair and yanked it out from the table then sat heavily on the wooden seat, his harsh movements rattling the cutlery and plates. He wanted to be angry with her, should be angry, but she’d saved him from his own stubbornness, and now she was standing barefoot in the kitchen after cooking for him, singing his favorite song, looking so f*cking lost and beautiful he thought his heart would break.
“Don’t do it again,” he mumbled.
Her shoulders dropped, releasing a tension he hadn’t realized she’d been holding “Only if you promise not to try and get yourself killed too soon. I have a vested interest in seeing Viper dead, too.” Naiya placed a basket of garlic bread beside him and a bowl of tossed salad, the vegetables so brightly colored he almost wondered if they were real.
“Ally said to go slow and easy with the food. Drink lots of water. She didn’t think alcohol was a good idea but…”
“Whiskey. Neat.” He looked up when she startled, mentally kicking himself for his abrupt tone. “Please.”
“I didn’t know bikers said please.” She headed over to the counter, covered with bottles, cans, and shopping bags.
“It’s been known to happen when beautiful women drug them, take them to cabins in the mountains, save them from their own pig-headed stupidity, and then cook for them.”
Naiya laughed, a light bubbly sound that made him smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
She returned with the drinks and joined him at the table. “Cheers to revenge.” She held up her glass and Holt did the same. Then he shot back the whiskey in one gulp.
“Son of a bitch.” He wheezed out a breath as the bitter liquid burned its way down his throat and into his shriveled stomach. His head spun and he wondered if it was possible to get instantly drunk.
“Eat something.” Naiya handed him the bread basket, and he shoved a piece of warm garlic bread in his mouth. Oh f*ck. The taste, the tang of garlic, salted melted butter. Texture. Warmth. He’d never tasted anything so good in his life.
“More.” He reached for the basket, and Naiya pulled it away.
“Slow.”
Holt grunted his annoyance. “Pushy little thing, aren’t you?”
“Actually, no.” She picked up the spatula and served him a steaming slice of lasagna before filling her own plate. “I’ve never had anyone to boss around. When I was little, I lived with my grandmother and after she passed away I lived with my mom, which basically was like living with half the Jacks since they were in and out of the apartment all day, doing drugs, selling drugs, shooting up, and…” Her face tightened, and she toyed with her ring. “While my mom did what drug-addicted sweet butts do.”
“In front of her kid?”
“Unless she had a boyfriend. Some of them didn’t like to share. The sharing types wanted to share me, too, so I spent a lot of time at the library or staying late after school to help the teachers so I didn’t have to go home. I read a lot of books, found places to hide…”
Holt’s stomach clenched at the image. She talked about it so casually, yet he saw her tremble when she put down the spatula. And when she sat down, she put her hands on her lap instead of picking up her fork.
He recognized her pain. Understood it. Hell, she’d been abandoned just like him. And yet there was more she wasn’t telling him. The real reason she needed to plan and control every aspect of her life.
Naiya was full of secrets. Painful secrets. Beautiful secrets. If they’d met her in a bar, Tank would have been all over her, and Holt wouldn’t have stood in his way. Holt went for assertive women who would speak their minds—women who laughed loud and enjoyed being the center of attention. He liked a woman who knew where she wanted to be touched and how. Tank, on the other hand, liked the quiet women, deep, the ones with hidden passion. Tank liked to explore, seduce, unlock, and uncover. The more secrets a woman had, the better. Except, right now, the thought of Tank anywhere near Naiya made Holt’s stomach clench. If anyone was going to tease out Naiya’s secrets, it should be him.