Hold Me Down (The Deacons of Bourbon Street #3) Page 13

  You’re a fool. You don’t want to start getting involved again.

  Stupid. She wasn’t getting involved. She knew this was only temporary. It wasn’t going to be a problem.

  Giving her dress a last, quick smooth, she reached for her leather jacket to wear over it, only to hear the doorbell ring.

  She frowned. Weird. She wasn’t expecting any visitors. Unless it was Blue, getting impatient and coming to pick her up. But then they’d agreed he wasn’t to visit her at the apartment since she sometimes got Ministry brothers dropping by.

  Going to the front door, she peered through the peephole. And her heart sank a little.

  It wasn’t Blue. It was Blade.

  He didn’t often come by for a visit, but when he did it was because he wanted to see if she was okay. Usually because something had prompted him to make him think she wasn’t.

  Shit, had she screwed something up somehow? Asked a few too many questions? Made someone suspicious enough to take it to him?

  There was, unfortunately, only one way to find out.

  Taking a deep, silent breath, she pulled open the door.

  Blade was a big guy, same kind of build as Blue, and projected an aura of danger as loud as a shout. A good guy, but you wouldn’t want to get on his wrong side or fuck with him in any way. When Colt had attacked her, Blade had given the guy the beating of his life.

  He smiled at her, the air of menace he carried around with him fading slightly. “Hey Red, I hoped I’d catch you.” Then his dark eyes widened. “Wow. Don’t see you in a dress very often. You going somewhere special or what?”

  Oh great. He would have to notice. “Uh, yeah, going out for drinks with Kendra,” she said, lying through her teeth. Kendra was DJ’s—the Ministry VP—old lady and one of Alice’s few female friends.

  Luckily, Blade only shrugged as if this was perfectly legit. “Okay, well, have you got a minute before you go?”

  Alice forced a smile. “Sure. Come in.”

  She stood aside to let Blade in the door, following him down the short hallway and into her little lounge area. “Can I get you a beer or something?”

  Blade shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Nah, I’m only really here to check up on you. See how you’re doing.”

  So, it didn’t look like she’d been discovered yet.

  She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “I’m fine. Doing pretty good, actually.”

  “That’s great.” But this time he didn’t smile and his dark eyes were sharp, assessing. “It’s just that a couple of people mentioned that you’ve been a bit distracted lately. And Nickel told me that the last job you did for him wasn’t…quite up to your usual standard.”

  Fuck.

  Tension crawled down her spine. This was crazy. She shouldn’t feel afraid of her own president. Her own club. The one place she should be safe. Not when she was actually trying to help them.

  What if they find out what you’re doing? What if they think you’re a traitor like the Deacons think you’re a traitor?

  If she was discovered passing intel on to the Deacons, they’d probably kill her. Or if they didn’t kill her, they’d certainly punish her heavily. She could say goodbye to her business. To the only family she’d known for the past ten years. To her whole way of life.

  The tension inside her began to congeal, turning cold and hard, like ice.

  She didn’t want to have to sneak around on them, and yet she didn’t have a choice. If she didn’t find that proof, Blade would have a war on his hands. Sure, it would be a war he’d win, no question, but Blade winning meant Blue losing. Possibly his life. Certainly his club. And she couldn’t do that to him, not after he’d waited so long and so patiently to come back.

  So? Why don’t you just ask Blade if he did it right now?

  It would be the quickest way to sort this all out. She was pretty certain Blade had had nothing to do with Priest’s death. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to ask. Blue would be pissed. Very, very pissed. And just when they’d put the anger of a few days ago behind them.

  Shit. She really didn’t want to screw that up.

  “Really?” she asked. “Nickel didn’t tell me he wasn’t happy with the work.”

  Blade lifted a shoulder. “He didn’t want to make an issue out of it. In fact, he told me he thought it was probably a one-off and wasn’t a big deal.”

  It was a big deal. She took pride in her work and hated not doing a good job, making sure to keep her private life out of the workshop—not that she’d had much of a private life to begin with. But if what was happening with Blue was now starting to affect what happened in the garage…

  She swallowed, pasting a slightly rueful look onto her face to cover her dread. “Well, come to think of it, I’m a little distracted at the moment. Probably hormonal.” Nothing like mentioning hormones to make a man want to end the conversation real quick.

  Blade raised a brow. “You sure that’s all it is?”

  “Pretty sure, yeah.”

  There was concern in his dark eyes. “You know you can talk to me, Red. About anything. I promised Pete I’d take care of you when he died and I meant it.” He paused. “I nearly fucked it up, letting Colt get to you, and then that bad pregnancy…”

  Her heart tightened in her chest. Blade had sat beside her while she’d been in that hospital bed, had held her hand when the doctors told her she’d never have kids. Had put an awkward arm around her as she’d cried afterward.

  He’d been nothing but decent.

  And now you’re deceiving him.

  Yeah, she kind of was. It sucked, and made her feel like shit. Yet she couldn’t tell him about Blue or the Deacons’ suspicions. Jesus, what the hell was she going to do?

  “I know,” she said aloud, meeting his gaze, hoping he saw that she truly meant it. “And you have to know that if I was in any serious trouble, I’d come to you. I promise.”

  “You’d better. I’ve got your back, Red. The whole fucking Graveyard Ministry do, get me?”

  There was a lump in her throat that made it difficult to speak and she had to force out the words. “I get you.”

  And for a minute she hated herself for what she was doing. Hated feeling like she was being pulled between two men. Between her loyalty to Blade and her need for Blue. A need that all the years without him hadn’t seemed to extinguish.

  It left her feeling angry, the anger staying with her after Blade left, making her not want to go to The Priory. She couldn’t face seeing Blue, mainly because he’d want to know what the problem was and she wouldn’t be able to hide it from him. He’d want explanations. Explanations he wouldn’t understand, because he’d never had to betray people he cared about in order to stop them from killing each other.

  Alice stalked back into her bedroom and pulled the blue dress off, stuffing it back in her closet. A weird grief clogged her throat, but she ignored it as she pulled her jeans and a tee on. Swallowed it down as she went into the bathroom to wipe off all the makeup she’d carefully applied.

  A night off, that’s what she needed. Where she didn’t have to think about Blue or the Deacons. Or the Ministry. Or Blade. Where she could forget about her conflicting loyalties for just a few hours. Pretend they didn’t exist.

  And if Blue didn’t like it, he could fucking suck it.

  She was on her way to the fridge to drown her damn emotions in a tub of ice cream when her phone buzzed, Blue’s number popping up on the screen. Ignoring it was not a good idea, not if she didn’t want incessant calls, but she waited to respond until she was sitting on the couch in front of the TV, the ice cream in her lap and big spoon in her hand.

  Only then did she quickly flick him a text: Sorry. Feel like shit. Can’t make it tonight.

  Then she turned off the phone, threw it down on the couch beside her, and dug her spoon into the ice cream.

  —

  The loud, insistent beat of the music that filled the strip club was annoy
ing and somehow got even more annoying as Blue read the text that had just come through on his phone.

  “Fuck,” he said, scowling at the screen.

  “What’s up?” Rigger was lounging in his wheelchair, a beer cradled in one gnarled fist as he watched with a critical eye a girl in sparkling purple pasties and a G-string contort herself around a pole.

  Rigger ran Daddy’s, the strip club owned by the Deacons, and Blue had been meeting with him to go over the club’s accounts. It wasn’t something Blue had particularly wanted to do, but Cash, who normally dealt with the money side of things, was out doing something else for Ajax, so Ajax had asked Blue to go instead.

  It had put him in a foul mood, because Alice would be arriving at The Priory soon and he wanted to get back there to meet her.

  He’d decided to cook her something fancy tonight, get out some nice wine, even put a fucking tablecloth down, the whole works. Look after her the way a brother should look after his old lady.

  The past few days since the Ministry party had been great. She’d come back to his apartment every night the way she’d promised, and they’d had some good conversations where he thought they’d reconnected. He’d told her about life on the bayou, while she’d talked a little about how her garage was doing. They hadn’t talked over anything personal, but still, it had felt almost like the good old days back in Pete’s workshop.

  He wanted to build on that, show her what they had together. Because it didn’t matter what went down with the Ministry—she sure as shit wasn’t going back to them. One way or another, she was his and she was staying with him.

  And after dinner? Then he’d do what he always did. He’d take her into his bedroom and put his mark all over her, make her his in every way possible, so she was in no doubt whose property she was.

  Except apparently he wouldn’t be doing that this evening after all.

  Sorry. Feel like shit. Can’t make it tonight.

  The letters of her text glowed on the screen, making disappointment twist inside him.

  “Nothing,” he muttered to Rigger. “Just gotta make a call.”

  Picking up his phone, he wove his way through the tables to the club exit and stepped out into the quieter area of the foyer, hitting Alice’s number as he did so. The call switched straight to voicemail without even ringing.

  Fuck. So either she’d turned her phone off or it was out of battery. And given that she’d only just sent him a text, he was thinking the problem wasn’t the battery.

  Why would she do that? Tell him she was sick and then turn her phone off? She must know he’d want to call to make sure she was okay. And hell, even if she was sick, that didn’t mean she needed to stay away. He’d look after her.

  He stared at the phone for a long moment.

  Ah, fuck it. He’d go and check on her. Yeah, they’d decided that him visiting her apartment wasn’t a good idea, but maybe she should have thought of that before she’d turned her phone off. Anyway, he’d be careful; he’d make sure he wasn’t seen.

  Returning his phone to his pocket, Blue went back into the club to check out with Rigger. Then he went to get his bike.

  Ten minutes later, his cut safely stowed in his saddlebags, he arrived at Alice’s apartment. After parking the bike unobtrusively on a side street, he ducked in the front door of her building, taking the stairs two at a time to get to her floor.

  She didn’t answer when he pressed the buzzer on her door, and for a second a cold and unfamiliar fear licked up inside him. What if something had happened to her? What if she was really sick and wasn’t able to get to the door?

  He leaned heavily on the buzzer again, ready to hammer the whole thing down if necessary, when suddenly the door was pulled open and Alice was standing there.

  Her hair was tied back in a long ponytail, and she was wearing jeans and a dark blue, tight-fitting tee. She scowled at him. “I was wondering how long it would take you to get here.”

  He ignored her, scanning her face. She didn’t look terribly sick, he had to admit. “Are you okay? You said you didn’t feel good.”

  “That didn’t mean you needed to come straight over. You shouldn’t be here anyway, Blue. I thought we’d agreed you coming to my apartment was a bad thing.”

  “Yeah, well, I just wanted to be sure you were okay.”

  “I’m okay.” She was still scowling at him and it didn’t look like she was going to issue an invitation to come inside, which was weird.

  “I can see that. Then you won’t mind if I come in.” And without waiting for a response, he came toward her, moving so fast she had to back up into her hallway.

  “What the fuck, Blue?” There were angry sparks in her eyes, which was another weird thing since when she’d left him that morning, she’d been pretty far from angry with him. In fact, she’d kissed him like she never wanted to let him go.

  “Hey, you tell me.” He kicked the door shut behind him and folded his arms. “You’re not sick, are you?”

  Her chin came up. “Yeah, I am. I’ve got a—”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit,” he interrupted. “Are you blowing me off? Is that what this ‘sick’ crap is?”

  She folded her arms, very definitely a defensive posture. “I…need some space. This is all happening really fast for me and I guess I could use a night off.”

  He stared at her. “You didn’t seem to want a night off when you left me this morning.”

  “So? I changed my mind.”

  Anger stirred inside him, hot and possessive, the biker in him not liking that one fucking bit. She was his old lady. She’d made him a promise. Every night in his bed meant every. Single. Fucking. Night. And he didn’t want to hear bullshit excuses like “distance” and “nights off.” Especially when he goddamn knew they were exactly that—bullshit excuses.

  “Why?” he demanded, taking a step toward her. “What changed your mind?” Because clearly something had.

  Her jaw firmed, a sure sign that she was getting pissed. Good. He was getting pissed too. “Do I really need to justify everything to you?”

  He took another step. “Yeah, you kind of do. Especially when you’re fucking lying.”

  The blue in her eyes abruptly burned hot. “I’m not! I’m serious. This is…a big step for me. Christ. I’ve gone from not having anyone to having you all up in my grill twenty-four-seven. I’m still adjusting.”

  But he’d had enough. He closed the distance between them, anger and the inevitable hunger that always gripped him when he was around her rising. He didn’t want distance. He didn’t want space. He wanted her.

  She put her hands out to stop him, but he ignored them, taking her by the hips and pushing her up against the wall. The sweet, familiar scent of her wove around him, the warmth of her body a constant revelation. Jesus, he couldn’t get enough of her. The more he had, the more he wanted.

  She’d gone rigid, her palms pressing against his chest, the look on her face mutinous. “And this is why,” she said angrily, pressing harder. “Because you don’t give me any fucking breathing room.”

  “You don’t want breathing room.” He let his hands slide up the delicious curve of her waist, right up to the swell of her breasts, cupping them in his palms. The hiss of her indrawn breath was loud in the hallway and he could feel her nipples harden. He looked down into her face and saw the flush in her cheeks, the glitter of arousal in her eyes. “You want this. You want me. So don’t fucking lie, Red.”

  A shiver went through her, the pressure of her hands on him easing. Her lashes swept down as if she couldn’t bear to meet his gaze. “I just wanted a night off.” The words sounded husky and thick. “That’s all.”

  And she was still lying to him. He knew it like he knew he hated his fucking Delacroix name. “No you didn’t.” He moved his thumbs, rubbing them gently back and forward over her nipples, feeling her tremble with each pass. “You were all over me this morning and now you want distance? What changed?” He watched the color ebb and flow in her f
ace, the flush of arousal deepening. “Something happened, didn’t it, baby? What was it? Someone in the Ministry get suspicious?”

  She turned her head away, but he felt her tremble as he kept up the movement of his thumbs, stroking her. “Blade came to see me,” she said abruptly, hoarsely. “I’ve been distracted lately and he wanted to make sure I was okay.”

  He frowned, not understanding. “So?”

  Her head turned back and her lashes lifted, that summer blue-sky gaze meeting his. “He looked out for me, Blue. He made me the Ministry mechanic after Dad died, and he was at the hospital after my miscarriage. He was there for me. And I had to lie to him.” Her throat moved as she swallowed. “I hate it. I hate sneaking around behind his back.”

  An instinctive, defensive anger turned over inside him at the mention of that fuck’s name. A reminder that Blade had been there for her. Had looked after her when Pete had died and after her pregnancy. And Blue hadn’t.

  Let it the fuck go. Anyway, you’re here for her now, right?

  Yeah, damn fucking straight.

  Forcing the anger away, Blue gentled his hands, his thumbs moving to brush along the curve of her breast. “Okay, I get that. But what other option is there?” He tried to keep his voice calm, tried to be understanding. “He can’t know we’re asking questions or that we suspect anything.”

  “Only if he’s guilty.” She’d gone still beneath his hands, looking up at him. “I could just ask him.”

  Blue didn’t even have to think about his response this time. “Fuck, no. You can’t.”

  “Why not?” The edge had begun to creep back into her voice. “He didn’t do it, Blue. I know he didn’t. Asking him straight out would save all this sneaking around.”