Blacklisted (Loveless, Texas #3) - Jay Crownover Page 0,82

and completion was drained from my body, I collapsed in a nearly boneless heap on top of her. She turned her head so I could drop a kiss on her lips, but the angle was awkward and I didn’t have full control of my limbs back yet.

It took a second to gather the strength required to roll off of her and onto my back. I blinked up at the dark ceiling and wondered if this was really it for me. If she was the one I would never get tired of. If she was the woman who I would never be able to get enough of.

The more time I spent with her, the more it felt like she might be.

I got up and made my way into her small bathroom so I could clean up. I gathered our discarded clothes from all over the floor and went back to her bedroom. I had things to do tonight that hadn’t included fighting and making up with Presley, but I was glad for the interruption. When I got back to her bedroom, she was already under the covers and appeared to be fast asleep. She did look tired when she came out of the shower, and I didn’t doubt going back to her stressful job was adding more stress to her already tension-filled days. I got dressed as quietly as I could and put a hand on the mattress so I could lean over her and press a kiss to her forehead. She made a soft sound and her rust-colored eyelashes fluttered, but her eyes didn’t open and she didn’t wake up.

I closed the door behind me when I left her room. I also found a Sharpie in her junk drawer and a crinkled envelope, so I could leave her a quick note. I apologized for having to leave and told her I didn’t want to wake her up. It wasn’t the first time I’d had to bail in the middle of the night, and it wouldn’t be the last. Luckily, she seemed to be understanding of the situation and understood I didn’t keep banker’s hours.

When I hit the parking lot, Digger, the young prospect who had just gotten out of the Army and moved to Texas, gave me a nod and sat up straighter on the vintage bike he was lounging on. So far most of the brothers had been cool enough about keeping an eye on Presley when I was unable to. I’d managed to give the task to prospective members and newer guys so I didn’t ruffle too many feathers. I wouldn’t entrust Presley’s safety to anyone I didn’t believe fully capable.

“I have to head back to the clubhouse.” Top had taken a call concerning a businessman missing in Colombia, and whether or not we were making a trip into cocaine country, which was crawling with guerrilla soldiers. His family was desperate to get him back, his business rival was ready to counteroffer to make sure he stayed gone. Taking either job was up for a vote. I needed to be there to moderate the discussion and to weigh the pros and cons of accepting either offer. “I’ll make sure you have a replacement here by the time she has to leave for work in the morning. If anything seems even slightly off, I don’t care what it is, you check it out. The locks on her apartment are garbage. If you need to get inside, do what you have to do.”

I’d offered to change them out for her, but Presley kept telling me she would take care of it herself when she had time. I would’ve done it without her permission and for my own peace of mind, but I did my best to observe those boundaries she was so fond of when it came to something simple.

The kid nodded and assured me he knew the drill. I patted him on the shoulder and climbed on my bike. The clubhouse was a solid hour outside of Loveless, so the sun was going to be coming up by the time I finally made it to bed. Not a situation I was unused to, but I was getting older, and pulling an all-nighter didn’t hold the same kind of appeal it used to.

I was just getting into the backcountry where the hills started rolling and dipping, requiring more concentration and effort as I rode when I came across a stranded motorist. At first, I didn’t think anything of it. This