Thunder (Hell's Handlers MC #10) - Lilly Atlas Page 0,132
energy.
He pushed off the wall, causing the last inch of his semi-soft cock to slip from her body. She didn’t even try to hide the groan of disappointment, which only made his eyes flare with renewed desire.
“Insatiable,” he said before pressing a hard kiss to her swollen lips. Anyone who saw her over the next few hours would know what they’d been up to. “Let’s clean up quick then head to the clubhouse. Okay?”
Her knee jerk reaction was still to reject the idea of involving his club, but she clamped down the urge. Blowing out a breath, Mak said, “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
“Good girl.” Thunder winked and pulled her toward her room.
Forty-five minutes and one very stress-relieving shower later, they found an unexpected surprise waiting for them at the clubhouse. Three police vehicles with lights flashing blocked the entrance.
“What the fuck?” Thunder said as he removed his helmet.
“T-thunder,” she said, completely failing at removing the quiver from her voice. Suddenly, she wished she hadn’t devoured a muffin while running out the door.
He turned and rested one hand on her shoulder where she still sat astride the bike. As he worked the strap of her helmet open, he said, “We don’t know anything yet, babe. Don’t panic.”
“My father—” What if they walked in there to find someone injured, or God forbid killed by her father or husband?
Oh, God. She pressed a hand to her stomach. If she were responsible for harm coming to Thunder’s club, she’d never be able to set foot on this property. Hell, she wouldn’t be able to look at her own face in the mirror ever again.
“We don’t know anything. Let’s get inside before you think the worst. Sometimes the cops have nothing better to do than swing by and harass us.” He flashed her his famous grin, but tension simmered beneath it in the stiff set of his shoulders. “Maybe they’re just arresting one of my brothers.”
That had a whole new spool of anxiety unraveling in her gut. “Seriously? Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
He winked.
Bless the man for working so hard to keep her from melting down while he had to be as worried as she was.
“Come on. We won’t know until we go in.”
He gripped her hand, helped her off the bike, then on stiff, wooden legs, she walked at his side into the clubhouse.
The place was a hundred times quieter than the few instances she’d been there in the past. Normally rowdy and full of activity, the place had the soundless and strained feel of a mausoleum. Copper, Zach, and some of the other Handlers sat scattered throughout the main room. A few of the ol’ ladies were present as well, seated together at one table as though they’d been hanging out before the cops showed up.
No one lay face down with their arms cuffed behind their back, so she’d consider that a win. And the place wasn’t riddled with bullet holes from her father, which counted as a victory. Mak blew out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
“Thunder,” a man in uniform said as he watched their entrance. He stood with his thumbs hooked in his standard-issue belt. The belt that boasted an enormous silver buckle. Mak had heard the town’s sheriff moved from Texas less than a year ago.
“Slow day, Sheriff?” Thunder asked as he guided Mak to the closest table.
The man snorted, making his bushy blonde mustache rise and fall. “Not exactly. Why don’t you and your lady friend have a seat. I was just about to tell your president why we’re here.”
“Sounds like a plan.” He pulled out a chair for Mak, and she sat, unable to take her eyes off the sheriff. Where she’d come from, the police were dirtier than shit. They’d lived in her father’s pocket as long as the money kept coming. Once, when she’d been ten, she’d snuck away from her family on an outing to town. She’d run straight to the police station and blabbed about a plot she’d overheard to terrorize a town council member’s family. This particular official happened to be an outspoken critic of the community. The cop had laughed, called her father, and she’d spent the next week alone in a shed with one meal a day and a host of bruises.
Once she situated herself, Thunder sat as well, then dragged her chair directly next to his. “Shoot,” he said, also focused on the