Undeniable (Undeniable, #1)(34)

Furious, disgusted, feeling oddly betrayed and heartbroken—and a whole bunch of other emotions I couldn’t pinpoint because my mind was spinning wildly, trying to comprehend and deal with what I’d just walked in on and couldn’t—I ran for the door. Deuce’s hand shot out and hooked around my forearm, his grip as tight as a vice.

Tears burned in my eyes. “Let me go!”

“No.”

“This is sick,” I whispered.

“Yeah, babe,” he whispered back. “I just don’t give a f*ck.”

He yanked me sideways, and I tripped over the girl’s feet. Deuce pulled me forward, and I fell into his chest, right on top of the girl.

My stomach was pushed against the girl’s head, and I was straddling her back. Back and forth, I went with her as she continued sucking him off.

Our lips were nearly touching; Deuce was breathing hard, his hot breath smelling strongly of rum. Actually, his entire self smelled like rum, like he had taken a bath in it.

“I’ll scream,” I hissed.

“Go ahead,” he shot back. “I really don’t give a f*ck.”

God, he really didn’t. His beautiful eyes looked empty. But I wouldn’t resort to screaming. Screaming would result in Deuce’s death. And I loved him far too much to be the bearer of that blow.

“Just let me go,” I whispered. “You’re shitfaced!”

“Yeah. Your fault, babe. Want you so bad I f*ckin’ ache.”

Oh God. Pain and regret so violent gripped my insides, and my knees buckled under the onslaught. Deuce caught me under my arms and hauled me back up.

He pressed his mouth against mine and breathed into it. “One f*ckin’ kiss, baby,” he whispered.

I choked on a sob. “Deuce,” I whispered through my tears. “Please don’t do this. This is really, really f*cked-up.”

“That’s the thing, darlin’, I’ve always been really, really f*cked up. For some f*ckin’ reason, you weren’t seein’ it. But you get it now, so shut the f*ck up and lemme f*ckin’ kiss you and pretend that hot mouth around my cock is your sweet *.”

“Deuce, please…”

“Yeah,” he breathed into my mouth. “Keep beggin’.”

“Fuck you,” I whispered.

“No, babe,” he gritted out. He released me, and his hands shot into my hair, gripping handfuls. “Fuck you.”

He shoved his tongue in my mouth and tightened his grip on my hair to keep me in place. He came moments later, groaning, and I burst into tears.

“Please, please,” I begged. “Please let me go.”

His nostrils flared. “Let you go?” he hissed. “Let you f*ckin’ go?”

He pushed me backward, and I tripped over the girl’s legs and landed hard on my backside. Deuce shoved the girl away from him and hiked up his jeans. He glared down at me.

“Been tryin’ to let you go, been tryin’ for f*ckin’ years,” he said roughly. “Haven’t figured out how yet.”

Speechless, I watched him stalk out of the kitchen.

The girl, who I had just realized was Lynn—my uncle Joe’s favorite girl—wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and looked over at me. “Bikers, Eva,” she huffed. “Fuckin’ crazy.”

“Don’t say anything to Joe,” I whispered.

“No worries, baby.”

I heard the telltale sounds of Harley pipes growling loudly, and then fading off into the distance. I wondered if this was the last I would ever see of Deuce. For five years, I wondered.

Then one summer night I didn’t have to wonder anymore.





CHAPTER NINE


Deuce cut his engine, toed his kickstand down, and studied the farmhouse in front of him. Mick pulled up beside him. Five more of his boys followed suit.

“You sure ’bout this, Prez?” Ripper asked, leaning forward on his handlebars. Even in the dark, Deuce could see the ugly-looking slashes that marred the entire right side of Ripper’s face. Right eye gone, right side of his mouth slashed, frozen in an ugly-looking frown. His chest was worse. This was all courtesy of Crazy Frankie, who had done him over real good about two years back. Frankie was all about the torture before the killing. Luckily, Ripper had gotten away before the f*cker could do him in.

“How can you ask that?” Mick said. “After what he f*ckin’ did to you?”

Ripper shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, Mickey. I want the f*cker dead more than any of you.”

He wasn’t so sure about that.

“I’m just lookin’ out for the club. We do this, we do Frankie, and we’re at war with Preacher. Full-out war. Shit won’t be easy; it will be downright f*ckin’ ugly.”

He looked back at the house. Loud music was blaring; bikes and a few pickups covered the lawn. Through the lit windows, he could see people dancing with beers in their hands. It was a typical MC party.

But he wasn’t here to party; he was here to kill the Silver Demons’ VP.

He looked back at his brothers. “We all agree, or we all leave.”

Tag, ZZ, Cox, Mick, and Jase all gave him the thumbs-up. He looked at Ripper.

Ripper stared at the house. “We got the manpower to go up against Preacher. We got the connections, we got the money, we got the Russians, f*ck, we even got some of Preacher’s connections ready to go up against Preacher for the right price—so what the f*ck? Let’s do it. ’Bout time someone put that rabid dog down.”