Tex (Hell's Ankhor #5) - Aiden Bates Page 0,87

his chest so I could see him. “I thought I was pretty lucky just to have you as my friend—as my family. And now I get to have you like this, as well.” I kissed his chest again. “It’s more than worth the wait.”

It was easy to fall asleep to the steady rhythm of Tex’s heart.

22

Tex

A week had passed in a blur. A weight had been lifted off the club’s shoulders with Crave’s death, and everyone was celebrating not just at club events, but in their own private ways, as well. Siren, for one, was sleeping twelve hours a day, finally relieved from the long enforcement shifts she’d picked up as we’d waited for Crave to show his face. Rebel had a lot of paperwork to do at the station regarding Crave’s death, but when he could make it to the clubhouse, he and Coop rarely left their room.

Gunnar had a lot of his own paperwork to do, as well, filing away the details of the conflict and its resolution for the club history. He and Raven worked side by side, nestled on the couch, as Raven methodically deconstructed the surveillance net he’d built around Elkin Lake, turning it off until we needed it again. Maverick and Jonah kept things running at the shop, but they’d spent a lot more time at the clubhouse than usual, keeping Heath company as he recovered from his injuries. Heath was still a little worn out from the healing process, but bright-eyed and with a badass scar across his palm.

As for Logan, it seemed like a weight he’d been carrying around was suddenly lifted from his shoulders. He’d never been gloomy, per se, but suddenly he was lighter, smiling wider, laughing louder. But Logan and Rebel had also spent a few quiet moments together, mourning for their dad the way only sons could—and the way no one would for Crave.

Blade was even lighter than Logan, if that was possible, prone to breaking into easy smiles in a way I wasn’t used to seeing from him. With Crave gone, and the Vipers finished for real, we could finally take a well-deserved break.

Well, we could take a break after we fixed up Ballast, at least. Honestly, a club’s work was never really done. All the members of the inner circle were present, sweeping the floors, repairing the furniture, changing the lights, touching up the painting. We were repairing some damage done during the bar fight with the ex-Liberty Crew guys, but also knocking out some long overdue sprucing-up. All the little projects we’d been delaying were getting done at once, and the place was going to look brand new when we were done.

Jazz and I had fallen into an easy rhythm. Being with him like this, romantically, honestly wasn’t too different from the relationship we had before—except now I could touch him whenever I wanted to, kiss him, learn every line of that tattoo on his gorgeous back.

When Crave had had his gun to my head, I’d had to push down the fear that threatened to paralyze me. All I could think of was that if Crave had shot me then, I’d never have a chance to tell Jazz how I felt. Pretty stupid that it took both of us getting guns held to our heads to get our feelings in order, but sometimes a brush with death is just what you need to cut through the bullshit.

And right now, I was distracted. Jazz was kneeling on the Ballast’s floor, carefully reattaching a repaired leg to one of the tables damaged in the fight with the Liberty Crew guys. He was focused on the task, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he worked, and the muscles his forearms shifted with each movement. I couldn’t help but think of the strength on those arms when he held himself up over me, kissing me deeply as he pushed inside me.

“Earth to Tex,” Jonah said at my side. “Might want to watch your work there.”

I jerked my attention back to the wall I was supposed to be repainting. My section was a little mismatched; I’d done one layer of blue paint in some sections, three in others, and it was all patchwork. Of course I had to be stuck working with Jonah, and his was pristine. I cringed at the difference.

Jonah laughed. “It gives it character,” he said.

“Take a break, Jazz,” Maverick said. He had Grace cradled in the crook of his arm, in