Something in me unclenched, and I felt such incredible relief I could hardly stand. I loved my club so much . . . it was just that I loved Em more.
“Are you sure?” I asked her. Em tugged away from me and turned in my arms, looking up as she cupped my face between her hands. Her eyes met mine and she held my gaze, her expression utterly serious.
“I’m sure,” she said. “There are things I don’t like about your club, but they also helped make you who you are. They’re your family, and now they’re my family, too. I’m not a civilian and I didn’t fall in love with a stockbroker. I fell in love with a Devil’s Jack. I know what it means to wear a cut.”
Then she gave me that same beautiful, goofy smile that’d made me fall in love with her in an instant so many months ago in that parking lot. Fuckin’ punch to the gut. Every. Time.
“Now do you want to move in with me?” she asked lightly. “Maybe create a little safe patch of peace here in Portland? The house has potential—I could be happy living here. But only with you. Skid and the boys can come visit, but they have to keep their own place. I don’t want to live in a frat house.”
“Easy call,” I said, wondering what the f**k I’d done to get this lucky. “He doesn’t smell nice like you.”
“Well, I guess if smell is the criteria, I probably do win,” she said, leaning forward, arms tightening around my waist. I could hold her like this forever. “I like the idea of keeping the peace. And we’re practically living together already. I guess if things get bad, I could always go back to Cookie’s house.”
I clenched up again.
“No,” I said firmly. “If things get bad, you’ll stay right here with me and we’ll work through it.”
“Okay,” she whispered, reaching up to tuck some hair behind my ear. Then she popped up on her toes and kissed me gently. “Want to get started right now?”
“Started on what?”
“Working through things. Because I think you need some clarification on the whole lying issue . . .”
I froze. What had I done now? I searched my memory, wondering if I’d lied without even noticing? Fuck.
“I know I said to only tell me the truth,” she whispered. “But for future reference, when a woman asks a man if something makes her look fat, the answer is always no. Always. Think you can remember that?”
Oh, thank Christ.
“You’re f**ked up.”
“But can you remember it?”
“Yeah,” I said, trying not to laugh.
“Then I guess I’ll move in with you. But I’m serious about Skid. He has to stay at the other house with the guys.”
“That’s fine, so long as your dad stays at the clubhouse when he comes to visit.”
“No problem,” she said, giggling. She squeezed me tighter. “Love you, babe.”
“I love you, too.”
It wasn’t a lie.
JANUARY
COEUR D’ALENE, IDAHO
PICNIC
“Pic, check this out.”
Picnic glanced up from his desk toward Gage. The club’s enforcer sat in front of four screens streaming security footage.
“What?”
“New cleaning bitch,” Gage said. “Marie’s out, says she can’t handle it and her homework. Nobody else is available, so Bolt hired a civilian. She runs a service or something, got a good rep.”
“And I should care because?”
“Look at her ass, then rethink the question.”
Picnic pushed up slowly and walked around his cluttered workspace in the pawn shop office. He’d spent the last hour trying to figure out what the hell he’d done with the ticket for the red and gold Harley out back in the yard. Some dumbass rich kid had pawned it, probably to buy pot or something equally stupid. He’d had his eye on it ever since. Spoiled little shit had defaulted that morning.
Gage leaned back in his chair, folding his hands across his stomach.
“Nice, hmm?”
Pic leaned forward and took her in, then gave a low whistle.
“She know there’s a camera on her?”
“Probably not,” Gage replied, smirking. “They’re not hidden, but they don’t jump out at you, either.”
The new cleaner was down on her hands and knees, ass pointing toward the camera mounted in the corner. And what an ass it was . . . Her faded jeans had ridden down, exposing the very top of her rear. No crack, but damned close. It was shaped like a heart, nice and bouncy and curved exactly how he liked ’em.
She leaned forward a little more, and he realized she was using a knife to scrape something up off the floor, under the overhanging lip of the display cabinet. She wiggled again and Pic shifted, reaching down to adjust his pants. Fuck that was hot.
“Her face as pretty as her ass?”
“Yeah,” Gage said, leaning forward to fiddle with the controls. The camera zoomed in on her crotch as she spread her legs slightly. Pic bit back a groan.
“This her first night?”
“Yup.”
“Anyone tap that yet?”
“Nope.”
“No f**kin’ the help allowed. Make sure it’s known.”
Gage glanced up at him and smirked.
“Since when is that a rule? You’ve slept with half the girls at The Line. Hell, you took one home last night.”
Pic grunted, eyes glued to the screen. “New dancers are easy to find. A good cleaner isn’t.”
Gage shook his head, then zoomed back out. The cleaner stood up, stretching her arms high over her head. She turned and said something to another woman working across the showroom. The reply made her smile and Picnic caught his breath. Damn, she was stunning, despite the fact that her dirty blonde hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and her jeans and sweatshirt had seen better days. Thick, dark eyelashes. Deep brown eyes that sparkled. Big, pouty lips.