Chapter Five

It took North a moment to figure out what had woken him up. His pocket vibrated with a text message causing him to sit up abruptly and pull his phone out. Two messages had come through from Draven. The first one asked if he was still at the hospital and the second was reminding him of church today.

Absently he wiped the drool from his chin and blinked as he looked at Allis. She lay there smiling at him then reached up to smooth down his hair. He’d slept with his head on the edge of the hospital bed, so Lord only knew what he looked like. His lower back was killing him from hunching over all night.

Givon was still sleeping and North winced at seeing his friend’s head tucked onto his chest. Giv was going to have one helluva of a neck kink. He rose and stretched, his back popping. Then he bent over and placed a tender kiss on Allis’s forehead. Her eyes widened and he had the insane urge to claim her lips next and kiss her until they were both breathless and squirming. He wondered if his thoughts reflected in his eyes because damned if it didn’t look like an answering passion flared to life in her dark gaze.

Instead of caving in to his base desire, he swiped a finger down her cheek, memorizing the softness of her skin, before reluctantly backing away from her and leaving. Outside her door, he found Jack asleep in the waiting room and Nimrod flipping through a magazine. He nodded a greeting at the prospect and strode to the elevator, knowing that Allis would be watched well today.

* * * *

North strode forcefully into the chapel at the clubhouse, his slamming of the door ringing through the room and causing the seated members to stop talking. Each man watched him, waiting until he got the meeting under way.

He sat in his seat at the head of the table. He’d slept poorly, so he wasn’t in the best of moods. “I’ve been told we don’t have enough to cover Nick’s portion of the medical bills. This isn’t the first time an issue tied to lack of funds has landed across this table, but now it’s crucial we come to a decision.”

“Bryman Jay,” Pistol Pete said loudly. “He’s the only way this club survives right now because dues, rent and shop money ain’t cutting it.”

“We’ve got bills to pay,” Skids said.

“We’ve all got bills to pay but we’re trying to go legit,” Draven reminded him. “Getting in bed with meth scum isn’t a smart move.”

“You got a better idea?” Pete asked. “Because I don’t. Maybe right now isn’t the time to think about being lawful with Nick fighting for his life. He’s not going to need the stress of trying to pay thousands of dollars in medical bills, plus physical therapy and God knows what else. And what happens when the next one of us drops? Most of us old timers have done our fair share of smoking and drinking, so don’t think none of us are immune from the Reaper.”

“Nick’s not dead,” North muttered.

“Exactly,” Pete retorted. “And his recuperation is going to be expensive. Tina’s counting on us to help with her husband.”

“As well as we should,” Skids said. “The Wolves take care of the pack.”

A round of agreement went across the table.

“So that leads us back to Bryman Jay,” Pete said. “Listen, if there is another way, I’m open to suggestions. But our affiliates, although numerous, are far and scattered. And thanks to Merrie Walden’s praise for Gray Dog, our protection details have become the same.”

North spared him a quick glance before addressing the rest of the table. “The vote to get into the laundering money business is on the table, as well as being a mule for Bryman Jay’s meth.”

“Muling it out of Destiny has one benefit,” Skids murmured. “We can make sure the drugs stay out of our town.”

“And it’s quick cash,” Pete added. “Cash that we need desperately right now.”

“So you know what’s on the table. All in favor vote with a yes, if not then a no,” North said. “I vote no.”

“No,” Draven said.

“Yes,” Pete answered predictably and with his yes came four more, which passed the measure.

North picked up his gavel.

“Measure passed,” he said grimly and slammed the hammer down. He wasn’t happy at all. “Draven, will you call Bryman?”

“Yep,” his VP answered, sounding equally unhappy.

As the members filed out, Draven stayed seated, a clear indication that he wanted to discuss something private with him. Skids was the last one out the door and he closed it behind him, giving North and Draven privacy.

“What’s going on at the hospital?” Draven asked, surprising North.

North had thought this talk was going to be church related.

“On the third floor,” Draven added.

North placed his elbows on the table to lean over and caught a whiff of himself. God, he needed a shower. “Protection detail.”

“For whom?”

So he told the story of how he and Givon found the girl, chased the bad guy. How the bad guy ended up almost smothering her with a pillow. He couldn’t blame his VP for the incredulous look on his face. Hell, he lived it and it still sounded like a fucking Hollywood movie.

“Who is this woman?” Draven demanded. “Is she, perchance, related to Merrie Walden?”

North snorted in amusement. “No. She’s running from a crazy stalker cop.”

“Or she’s running because she’s wanted by the law. Not that it matters,” Draven hastily added when North sent him a glacial glare. “So she runs from the cop only to be kidnapped by some pervert? Talk about bad luck.”

“I’m going back there as soon as I shower and change my clothes,” North told him. “I also want to check on Nick.”

“I’ll send one of the old ladies to stay with Tina,” Draven told him.

“Thanks,” North said as he stood. “By the way, can we keep Allison between us?”

“Sure,” Draven said. “But be careful, okay? You’re walking a tightrope by being so close to a cop. I mean, we all know you’re friends, but there’s only so much friendship the guys can take.”

“Yep.” North walked away since the last thing he wanted to do was analyze his personal friendships. No way would his club understand his relationship with Givon. Patch had, of course. He’d known how deep their scars ran—how twisted his were. Only two people had known what he’d done to survive and one was now dead. If it hadn’t been for Givon Halloran and Old Patch, he’d have ended up in jail long ago—or worse, dead.

Yes, there were rules to running an outlaw motorcycle gang and North upheld them, even when it broke the law or forced him to do shit that he hated. His pack might not understand how he could be friends with a cop, but his pack didn’t know half the shit that had happened twenty-four years ago either.

Without saying another word to anyone, he headed back to his room to shower. Allis suddenly filled his head and he hoped she was doing okay, hoped the two nimrods hadn’t fucked up. He had a sudden, urgent need to see her and he tried not to think about what that could possibly mean because the last thing he wanted was to get involved with a woman. His type of life didn’t really lend itself to a relationship and Allis had been on the run from a man, which didn’t bode too well for trust. Once again, it made him humbly appreciate the trust she’d placed in him.

Still, it wasn’t as though he could offer a woman anything. He lived at the clubhouse, for God’s sake, which had paper thin walls. Shit, most of his jerking off over the years had been while listening to his fellow Wolf brothers getting it on with some loud chick screaming out her pleasure. He’d never really given much thought to a future—to growing old—and whenever he did think about it, he was always focused on what he could do for the club to make it better.

As he undressed and adjusted the temperature of the water, Allis flashed through his mind again. This time, he didn’t have the ability to push the thoughts away. He let them grow and take root because he’d never felt such a strong pull toward a woman before. Sure, he’d lusted after certain females, had bedded quite a few over the years. But none had ever given him that flash of heat that made his heart pound and his palms sweat. It left him breathless and terrified and yet he wanted to explore it further.

As he stepped into the shower, the hot water beat down on him and he turned his back toward the spray, grabbing the soap to slick his hands before reaching down to grab his hard cock. Thoughts of Allis swirled through his brain—her luscious lips, her sultry eyes. Perhaps it was wrong of him to jerk off when she was lying in a hospital bed, put there after almost being murdered, but he was fast learning he was weak when it came to her.

He pumped faster, squeezing from the base of his cock to the tip and back down again. He could practically hear her moans. He’d go down and push her thighs open to lick her slit and lap at her juices, make her scream with pleasure until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He’d sink into her heat, her wetness, riding her until he came, pouring himself endlessly inside her tight channel.

The image was so real, so potent, that he cried out as his jizz shot out of his cock to splash against the tile. Euphoria glazed over his brain and he let go of the shower curtain as he fell to his knees.