We both laugh at that and any anger is left behind us. We watch the warehouse for a full five hours. Our legs cramp and our elbows get sore and our throats rasp from the desert air, but we watch.

  Nothing happens.

  “What’d you reckon?” Danny asks. “Go and have a look around?”

  I nod.

  We descend the ridge and bust open the warehouse door, guns at the ready. But there’s nothing to be ready for. The Pagan’s Sons are long gone, just like always. We search the warehouse for anything that might be useful.

  But even if I’d happily kill every single Pagan’s Son one by one with my bare hands, I can’t deny that they’re effective when it comes to clearing a place out.

  “Head back?” Danny says about an hour later.

  I nod shortly and we head back up the ridge.

  About halfway, I swallow dust and whiskey and a little pride. “Thanks for that, back there,” I murmur, not looking at him. “I mean—shit, you might be right. Yeah, you might be.”

  He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

  We ride back to the clubhouse. I feel a stab of guilt every time I think about how I talked to Doc, or how I’ve talked to a few of the other brothers over this past week.

  But mostly I just think about telling Jasmin to leave – the look on her face. The way it just dropped like I’d told her the world was going to end. Maybe it was ending. Our world, at least, the little private one we were making together. What a goddamn fuck up I am sometimes.

  “You can take a few hours,” Yates says, folding his glasses and placing them in the blood-red case. He massages the bridge of his eyebrows with a skinny forefinger and thumb. “Go and see your kids, Danny. And Wolf, go and …” He shrugs. “I’ll have one of the fellas call you when I need you. Get some rest if you can.”

  “Boss.”

  I get on my bike and ride out to Jasmin’s place. This isn’t some big moment, though, since I’ve ridden out to Jasmin’s place almost every night since we last saw each other. I’ll normally just shoot the shit with the fellas guarding her and then ride back to the clubhouse, or out to a bar.

  This time I get as far as the door before I stop, wondering if she even wants to see me. Wondering how a man can change so much so fast.

  I’m about to turn away, go back to my bike and sit there for a while, trying to convince myself this ain’t a terrible idea, when somebody coughs from behind me.

  A high-pitched, almost nervous cough.

  “Mason,” she says.

  Her voice is like a song.

  I turn to face her.

  21

  Jasmin

  He turns to me slowly.

  It’s like he thinks he’s dreaming and he doesn’t want to break the spell. My heart really is thundering now. It feels like it’s going to crack open my rib cage and explode out of my chest.

  Memories of sitting in the convenience store bathroom peeing on that stick are at the forefront of my mind. I did three tests in total and …

  “Jasmin,” he mutters, his wolfish eyes drinking me in. His mouth falls open. “I’m sorry,” he goes on in a quiet voice. “I’ve got no damn clue what to say.”

  I giggle, offering him a shrug. “I don’t know either,” I admit.

  He looks up and down the street. He waves to the jeep, then does a hand signal which I don’t understand. It must mean they can leave, though, because the jeep reverses and then drives to the end of the street.

  “Wanna go for a walk?” he asks.

  We walk to the other end of the street, silent for a time. Then we take a turn and head out to the park. It’s not much of a park, really, but it’s late and deserted. There are a few kids at the other end trying tricks on their skateboards.

  We wander over to an old rust-colored tree. Mason turns to me, hands stuffed in his pockets.

  “I need to—” He laughs grimly. “I’ve got somethin’ I need to tell you.”

  “Yeah?” I move close to him. But I don’t touch him, not yet. It’s hard to know if we’re over the madness. Maybe there’s still an argument to be had. I can’t be sure, but then again, that isn’t saying much. I can’t be sure about anything anymore.

  He reaches out and brushes his hand along my face. After a full week of dreaming of his touch, the simple gesture is like a tsunami of affection. It takes all my willpower not to just crumble right here. I bite down on a moan.

  “I wanna say sorry,” he growls.

  I can tell it takes him a lot of effort. I wonder if he’s ever apologized to a woman before. The answer seems pretty obvious.

  “You said that my world ain’t your world and I reckon that’s the truth. But then you’ve gotta understand that this world ain’t mine either. I don’t know shit about dating and any of that. Danny told me you wanted to know that I cared. That’s why you were acting all… well, whatever.”

  I laugh. It feels good to let it out, even if the pregnancy test is at the back of my mind.

  “Danny is a smart man,” I tell him. “But …” I hesitate. His thumb moves over my chin. Those electric-snake tingles move down my neck and coil around me, hugging close to me. It feels good to almost be crushed by them. “I shouldn’t have said what I said,” I go on. “I just … I didn’t feel like myself, you know?”

  He lets his hand drop, taking a step so his body is almost pressed up against mine. I crane my neck to look up at him. “How could you?” he asks. “I’ve been in so many fights it don’t seem like any big thing to me. But you, goddamn … I can’t even guess how a civilian would feel in a situation like that. So fair enough, we both made mistakes, eh?”

  I put my hands on his shoulders. His leather presses reassuringly against my fingertips. “Apology accepted,” I say, smiling.

  “Now hang on!” he snarls, but he’s smiling too. “Don’t go makin’ it sound like I’m the only one who needs to say sorry here, all right? I reckon you’ve gotta eat some humble pie too. Are you gonna say the magic words or not?”

  I put my hand on his chest, give him a little shove, and swivel my head. I strut away like I’m on a catwalk, throwing him a look over my shoulder. “Come on, let’s keep walking.”

  He jogs after me, growling out a laugh. It’s like he can’t stop smiling.

  He grabs my hand and interlocks his fingers with mine. His hands are covered in small cuts and rough, callused patches, but I wouldn’t want to hold anybody else’s. He’s grown out a short beard, too, and his hair is a little messy. There are dark rings around his eyes.

  “Tough week?” I ask as we leave the park and head into a quieter part of town. We walk down lonely streets, past closed storefronts and parked cars. From above the stores, there are a few signs of life, but most people’s curtains are drawn.

  “Tough week,” he agrees. He moves his thumb over my knuckles. “But it’s getting better now.”

  “Oh, why’s that?”

  He kisses me on the neck. It’s a little spot of heaven, blooming like a flower. A flower in heaven, draped in liquid gold, planted right on my neck. I shiver when he kisses me again and again.

  Then I turn, finding his lips. Or he finds mine. We stand next to an alleyway outside a closed pizza joint, sharing the best kiss of either of our lives.

  I move my hands down his back, hugging him as our tongues clash. He pushes his groin into me. His rock-hard cock presses through his jeans.

  The kiss breaks off naturally and we keep walking.

  “So you missed me pretty damn badly, then.” He grins, truly a wolf now. He even has the teeth for it. He looks dangerous, predatory. My center throbs.

  “Who said that?” I counter, still playing the diva.

  We take a left turn into an alleyway. Graffiti covers the walls and there are some overflowing trash cans at the end of it, but we don’t walk that far. We stop at the rear of the pizza place, Mason leaning casually against the wall right next to the door.

  “So this is how you’re gonna play it, eh? I know for a fact you’ve been missing me. I’ve been watching you, Jasmin. Curling into a ball and crying your eyes out at night ’cause you miss the big bad Wolf so damn bad.”

  “Wow.” I blink rapidly at him, meaning to communicate the most astonished disbelief a person is capable of. “I haven’t curled into a ball and cried, not once.” Although I’ve come close a few times. “But that’s not the issue. Did you really just refer to yourself in the third person?”

  “I am the big bad Wolf,” he says, his smile so magnetic I’m pulled across the alleyway right up close to him. He leans down and kisses me firmly, our teeth pressing through our lips and click-clicking in hungry passion.

  When it breaks off both of us are panting, half-animals. “Why did I ever let you go?” he says quietly, smoothing my hair out of my eyes. He holds my cheek. “Am I the stupidest bastard in the world or what?”

  “Well, it was my fault as well,” I admit. “Maybe I can be more than one person, you know? I mean, isn’t everybody else? It’s not like I have to be Jasmin the bartender for the rest of my life, is it? Who ever said I can’t be in gunfights and help save men’s lives?”

  “I wouldn’t wanna make a habit of that,” he says tightly. “But yeah, I don’t reckon you need to be a bartender for the rest of your life. Come on.” He turns around, taking a small cylindrical box from his pocket. He takes out two small metal instruments and replaces the box.

  “What are you doing?” I ask as he leans down to the keyhole. “Oh,” I mutter a moment later at the click sound. “You never told me you knew how to pick locks!”

  “I never told you I could do a backflip, either, but I can.”

  “Yeah right!” I laugh. “You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?”

  He grabs my arm, pulls me through the door. “Believe whatever you want. Just get your ass in here.”

  I giggle as he drags me into the back room of the takeout place. We walk into a small storage cupboard filled with cardboard boxes, some full of sauces and dry ingredients and others folded up ready for recycling.

  From the next room comes the hum of the refrigerator. The only light comes from a small lamp left on in the corner.

  Mason fumbles around in the low light and finds the switch. Bright yellow light spills out into the room.

  “Why did you brought me here?” I ask, willing myself to tell him about the pregnancy.

  If I don’t tell him now, will I ever have the courage to do it?

  But then he’s on me, a wolf moving in on its prey. “Why do you think?” he snarls, backing me up against a stack of boxes.

  He reaches down and grabs onto my thigh. I slide my hands around his shoulders like him squeezing me is a switch. Immediately, thoughts of telling him about the pregnancy seem distant and silly.

  My clit throbs even more, like it might just go pop. He slides his hand up higher and higher as he kisses my neck. I close my eyes, seeing bright red, nothing else but bright red rage-like pleasure.

  He yanks down my pants and my underwear in one quick motion, pulling them all the way down to my knees. I shift from side to side, sliding them down to my ankles. Then I step out of them, the warm air pricking at my bare skin.

  Mason steps back, staring at me for a moment. “I’ve missed that pussy more than I’d miss my own goddamn arm.” He unbuttons his jeans, pulling at them urgently. “Come here,” he growls as his massive cock springs up. Pre-come glistens at the end of it, the same way wetness slides down my thighs.

  We are both animals. We are both starving for each other.

  I leap at him. He catches me, lifting me up. With a squeal I wrap my legs around him and brace my hands on his shoulders. He lowers me down slowly. I grab onto his cock and guide it to my opening. His cock is so hard; there’s no give whatsoever. It’s like a solid rod of steel.

  I sit down heavily on his cock. He grabs my ass, holding me up by my cheeks. His callused fingers dig into me. I sit down with even more force, driving myself down his cock all the way to his balls.

  I bite down on his neck when the tip of his cock smashes against my sweet spot. The feeling is no longer familiar. A week makes it brand-new. I feel like a virgin, but without any of the pain or awkwardness.

  There is only shiny, sparkling, new euphoria.

  He lifts me up. I help him, pressing my hands firmly into his shoulders. I slide up the length of him and then sit down, and then slide up and down. Wetness slides down his cock, onto his balls. I feel it all mixed together down there, a potent, boiling-hot steamy mass of tingles and friction.

  Somehow I find his lips in the madness, but we miss. I end up kissing the side of his mouth as he bites down on the corner of my lip.

  “Fuck,” I whisper in his ear, the only sound our moaning, the refrigerator, and the sounds of our bodies. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  He moves his hands from my ass to my hips and then throws me around like I’m a ragdoll. He tosses me up high and slams me back down into his cock. It’s all I can do to clasp onto his neck to stop myself from just falling to the floor. The pressure between my legs gets close to the breaking point several times, but it doesn’t shatter, not just yet. Then he loops his arm around me, pressing me close to him. With his other hand, he presses his thumb against my clit.

  “Ah!” I scream, unable to contain myself. I press my hand over my mouth to trap the noise. I scream into my hand as the orgasm attacks me from my head to my toes, my whole body trapped by his unbelievable length.

  I throw myself in time with his monstrous thrusts, the friction so intense now it’s like he’s carving a new path inside of me. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I moan, my ass slapping against his balls.

  He whispers close to my ear: “Come all over that dick, baby. Come hard. Come all over that fuckin’ dick.”

  “I am,” I cry, letting my hand go.

  The orgasm moves into my belly like a thousand razor-winged butterflies, all of them fluttering their wings faster than I can keep up with. I close my eyes and see nothing, just feel. Just feel the tingles traveling a million miles per hour throughout my body. Just feel the potent release again and again and again.

  As it comes to an end I bite down on his neck, tasting sweat and leather and Mason, my Mason. His taste is something I will never forget for as long as I live. It makes the orgasm hotter, somehow.

  I collapse into his chest as my pussy finally relaxes. He groans in my ear as he finishes, thrusting up into me one final time.

  He lowers me to the floor slowly. I put my feet down, smiling so hard now I’m not sure what aches more, my cheeks or my pussy. Sweat slides down my body, sticking my shirt to me. When I reach down for my pants, Mason gives my ass a quick spank.

  “Hey!” I giggle, leaping up with pants and panties in hand. “You need to be careful, you know. I’m a trained killer.”

  He shakes his head, grinning a mirror version of mine. “Sure you are.”

  Then the pregnancy slides back into my head. My smile drops.

  He pulls on his pants and then steps forward, his hand out to touch my face again. “What is it?” he asks. “Is somethin’ wrong? I mean, I know my dick is pretty fuckin’ intimidating so if you’ve …”

  He trails off when I don’t smile or laugh. “Jasmin?” he asks.

  “I need to tell you something,” I whisper. “But I’m scared that if I do, you won’t want to see me again.”

  “Well, unless you did somethin’ to a kid or a brother, I don’t reckon we’re gonna have that problem. Or if you fucked somebody else.” Suddenly he gets serious, letting go of my face. His expression is death. “Did you fuck somebody else?” he asks grimly.

  “No, no!” I snap. “It’s not that. It’s just. Mason, I’m—”

  Someone’s voice comes over the loudspeaker.

  The bald man’s voice.

  Trevor’s voice.

  Deadman’s voice.

  It moves through the building like a wave of sound, shattering my conviction.

  “Hello, boys and girls!” he calls, coughing out a madman’s laugh. “We have you completely surrounded. If you think we’re lying, take a look outside.”

  “Wait here,” Mason mutters, taking out his pistol. “What fuckin’ fool calls off backup?” he growls to himself. “I’m a fucking moron.”

  He goes into the main room and returns a second later, his face drained of color.

  22

  Mason

  “Barricade that door as best you can,” I tell her, nodding to the door that leads to the main takeout area.

  I go to the rear door that leads to the alleyway, break off a steel pipe from one of the shelves, and push it through the door handle. It cuts into my hands when I try to bend it, but after about a minute it bends into shape. I go to the other door with Jasmin and help to barricade it with boxes and shelves. Not that that will do much good if they have explosives.

  “Fuck,” I mutter, tossing my pistol from hand to hand.

  It was a damn fool thing to do, waving that jeep away. But in the moment it seemed like the right thing. The Pagan’s Sons haven’t come into town full force, just in small strike groups.

  Until now.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  “Try to use your cell phone, Wolf,” Deadman calls from outside. He sounds gleeful, the same way he did when he was beating the hell outta Danny and me. Jasmin stands near my shoulder, using me as a shield. If I can find a way to get her safely out of here, it doesn’t matter what happens to me. But I need to get her out first.

  I take out my cell. No signal.

  “Technology!” he laughs over the megaphone. “It’s an amazing thing, eh? They call them jammers. You’re not calling anybody, little Wolf. You’re all on your own.”

  I go to the door. “Can you hear me?” I call.

  A moment later, his voice comes through, not on the speaker anymore: “I can hear you.” Some real fear moves through me when I think about how many men there were in the street outside. At least a dozen out front, all armed. And how many out back?