Rush (Carolina Bad Boys, #5)(35)

Tried not to show it. Much.

One month, one hundred Gs. That was all Diablo was asking for.

Basically my start-up money for the brewery.

Weighed against Dumbfuck and the possibility he’d hurt Shy.

The day at work consisted of Brodie bitching at me for fucking up a custom order on a classic Harley. Boomer crawling up my ass about making shit right with Shy, which I’d already done. And Lucy, the bubbly receptionist, giving me the stiff middle finger when I failed to fill in my timecard.

Good times.

I headed back to Shy’s at quitting time, pretty fucking stoked she let me right up in the elevator.

I was so getting a key.

Then I could key Diablo’s Camaro.

The only reprieve from the disaster of a day was when Shy propelled me back into my chair after we’d eaten the take-out I’d brought. And she began where she’d left off late last night. Another hot succulent never-ending blowjob.

Fuuuuck.

No complaints from me.

Her lips clung. Her tongue had to be the eighth wonder of the goddamn world, I was sure of it as I started thrusting into the silky surrounds of her mouth. My neck craned back, my arms almost broke the chair in half, and I couldn’t make words work anymore.

Grunts? Groans?

Fuuuuuuuuck. Fucking FUCK.

I clasped a hand over her head, my feet stamping on the floor, my cock unleashing come inside her mouth.

The mouth that kept sucking.

The throat that kept swallowing.

The tongue that rasped down to my balls.

Being nothing less than a gentleman—seven years or so ago—I found my legs, and my feet were still attached to my body, regardless of the pants hobbling my ankles. I kicked them free, picked Shy up, and fucked her sideways on the sofa until she collapsed against the cushions after several wild orgasms.

I lay down beside her, catching my breath, stroking her back, kissing her neck.

Smiling against her soft skin.

Feeling her thundering heartbeat that echoed mine.

She turned her head to mine, kissing my chin. “Okay. That time you broke me.”

I punched up onto my elbow, glancing at her prosthetic halfway across the room. “Did I?”

She rolled toward me. “Please. I’m allowed to joke about it, right?”

I hugged her to me, so completely taken by her. “Shy? Baby?” Stroking a hand over her blonde curls, I lifted her face to mine. “I—”

My phone started blaring.

“You?” she asked, her mouth sending hot waves of wanting against my chest.

I frowned at my jeans, and I swear the cell was making them jump around on the floor. “I should get that.”

It was Hunter’s ringtone—“Enter the Sandman”.

At two a.m.

The cool dude did not get his call on in the middle of the night for nothing.

Shy arched against me like a kitten, all naked flesh rubbing against me. “I’d get it for you, but my other leg is all the way across the room.”

I didn’t even remember the phone when she moved like that.

And her gallows humor?

Went sailing right past me, too.

Then my goddamn phone started ringing again.

Pushing up, I foraged in my pocket the same time I slid my jeans along my legs. I answered the bleeping thing, and Hunter quickly filled me in on the details, which brought the worrisome day to a gut-wrenching end.





Chapter Eighteen


Shit. Fan. Hitting It.





DOC RONNIE—VERONICA HARTLEY—Bo’s babe, had been kidnapped. Something about her being a Federal witness against one of the most notorious one-percenter MCs in America.

All Retribution officers were needed ASAP at the club.

“Fuck.” I ended the call, grabbing my shirt.

“What is it? It’s not about that guy this morning, is it?” Shy sat up—naked.

I helped my unsteady state of mind by sliding the throw blanket from the back of the couch around her shoulders.

I found my keys, combed my hair back with my fingers, sat next to Shy. “No. Not about that dickweasel.” Unbelievably, Bo’s shitshow was worse than my own for a change. “But Shy, you have to call me if you so much as see that bastard again. Promise me.”

“I will.” She touched my jaw, and I wanted to kiss her goodnight, goodbye, but if I started on her again I’d never stop.

“Okay. Lock up after me. I might have to go out of town for a day or two.” I caressed her cheek, my fingers following the sensual curve of her lips. “You have to call me, Shy.”

“I will.” She grasped my wrist, kissing my fingertips. “Don’t get in trouble.”

“I think that’s my middle name right about now.”

****

Leaving Shy did not make me a happy fucking camper at all, but when a Retribution brother needed help I couldn’t say no. The three o’clock meeting at the MC compound was a grim affair with Bo quickly unraveling.

Hunter took him in hand, said a few quiet words to the distraught man, and packed him off on some kind of solo reconnaissance he returned from a few hours later.

By that time, Walker—Hunter’s ex-partner in the special ops field—had miraculously turned up. It was like the longhaired Lakota dude had a sixth sense for danger and bad situations and couldn’t wait to get his C-4 on. Of Tail, Hunter, Boomer, Brodie, Cole, Tuck, and me, Walker was the only one who looked sadistically gleeful about the prospect of the shit that was set to go down.