Colt (Devil's Nightmare MC #10) - Lena Bourne Page 0,33
him in the eyes, grinning now too. “Is that what you want? For me to wait for you?”
He smiles and nods at the same time. “More than anything.”
“Wow, that’s a lot,” I say, my grin turning into a softer smile.
“Yeah, I want you a lot,” he says, with not even a thread of being offended in his voice or on his face. Most of the guys I’ve been with would sooner smack me than show even a hint of vulnerability, and they’d certainly smack me if I tried to make light of it when they talked about their feelings.
This guy is so different from anyone I’ve ever met. Can he be for real?
“But you already had me,” I say.
His grin turns very satisfied. “That’s how I know. So?”
I just look into his eyes without answering. They’re hazel-brown with swirls of deep, forest green, ever-changing, ever beautiful.
“Yes, I’ll wait for you,” I say, the words coming from somewhere very deep inside me.
“Good,” he says and kisses me deeply, wildly, kind of shattering the ethereal, magical, timeless moment we just shared, but kind of making it more real at the same time.
And I don’t quite recover from the kiss until the door has been closed behind him for at least five minutes. I really, truly hope that wasn’t just him fucking with my head. Some guys will say things like that, things they don’t mean, just for laughs.
11
Colt
I got a text to return to HQ while Brenda was still sleeping. Good thing I was just dozing and running my fingers along the soft skin of her back and ass and thighs. She has perfect skin, white as milk and soft like cream. Her hair is soft too, and lush, thick but not coarse. And her eyes. Damn, but one real look from her eyes, the real kind of look, the one that comes from the soul, the kind that’s both pure and honest, yet wicked and wild at the same, that just gets me completely lost like I’m floating amid the stars in space.
Leaving her this morning was hard. I was fifteen minutes out before the suction-like force yanking me back to that motel room finally abated.
I’m very afraid that whatever the fuck went wrong on the job last night will bring tighter rules and less of a chance to see her again soon.
The tension is palpable in the thick midday day heat over the dried field surrounding the compound. There are too many bikes to count outside under the tarp. They’re crowded together and I barely find enough room for mine in the shade.
I guess that’s a good sign. It means most of my brothers got out all right last night.
No one’s outside the bunker, but about twenty brothers are in the large cavernous room just inside the front door. Some are bandaged up.
They all look up as I enter, and I raise my hand in greeting, scanning the room for Blaze. He’ll know what’s going on, he always does.
I find him exiting the room that acts as our kitchen, carrying a bottle of water.
“What happened last night?” I ask.
He looks at me, then averts his eyes. “We lost Mitch.”
Such a simple sentence, but it lands like a ton of bricks on my shoulders. Mitch and his best friend Joe joined about a year ago. Both were younger than me and Blaze, they were so young they didn’t even have road names yet.
“What a fucking waste,” I say, exhaling sharply. “How’s Joe taking it?”
“He took some shrapnel in the arm and leg. Doc’s taking care of him,” Blaze says.
“Good. Doc knows his stuff,” I say, meaning more than just taking care of Joe’s physical injuries. Doc is known as being the MC’s shrink of sorts too. If you got any type of problem, you go see Doc.
Blaze nods and stands aside so I can enter the food room, but I’m not hungry anymore. Or thirsty. Or anything. Though I could use a stiff drink, or five.
“I’m going for a smoke,” Blaze tells me, and I follow him to the end of the hallway where we’ve set up a smoking room for the times of day when it’s just too hot outside. Though I prefer to smoke and in the heat and fresh air and not this airless, smoky cell.
Maverick and Eagle are already in there, each in his own corner, obscured by a sheet of purplish-grey smoke. Me and Blaze stay by the door.