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  He shakes his head, narrowing his eyes. “I may have been shot, but I’m not deaf. I heard his voice.”

  “His?” I ask, tiptoeing toward my guy, trying my best to play stupid.

  “I know you called Morris. I heard his voice.”

  Busted.

  Shit.

  “He just called to see how you were,” I lie, still smiling like an idiot as I place my phone on the nightstand and plant my ass next to Mammoth on the bed. “I told him you were resting and that I didn’t want anyone to bother you.”

  He reaches out with his good arm, hooking me by the waist and hauling me backward like I weigh nothing. “Princess, you’re a shit liar.”

  “I never lie,” I lie again, but I’m not backing down.

  I’ve never been known for my ability to admit when I’m wrong. Once I dig in my heels, they’re stuck, and there’s no going back. It’s a family trait—or maybe more of a flaw—but it’s the Gallo in me.

  He stares at me and doesn’t even crack a smile. “Want to repeat that?”

  “No,” I snap.

  The corner of his mouth turns up as he tightens his hand at the top of my hip. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “I can think of a few things.” I smirk, waggling my eyebrows. “It’s a shame you’re injured, though.”

  Always wanting to prove me wrong, he pulls me farther back until my body is flush against his. “My shoulder may be injured, but the rest of me isn’t.”

  I turn my face up, staring into his gray eyes. “It’s only been a few days, and the doctor said you need to be careful so you don’t rip the staples.”

  He runs his fingers down the side of my arm, causing my skin to break out in goose bumps. “What does my shoulder have to do with my cock?”

  “No strenuous activity, buster. Not until you’re cleared by your doctor.” I place my hand on his chest, toying with his piercing.

  He moves his fingers from my back to my spine, making a beeline for my ass. “You know what isn’t strenuous?”

  “What?” I ask, squirming when his fingertips move over the swell of my ass.

  “You ridin’ my cock.”

  I giggle and slap his chest. “Stop. We’re not fucking.”

  “Sit on my face, then.”

  I shake my head, biting down on my lip. God, I’d do anything to be riding his face right now instead of arguing about Morris while he has a hole in his body.

  “A few more days, okay?” I beg, wanting him to have every chance to heal without any complications. “You want another pill? It’ll help you sleep and get your mind off things.”

  “Have you ever taken one of those things?” he asks, brushing his lips against the skin of my forehead and breathing me in.

  “No. Not those specifically, but something like them.”

  “Those pills…” He pauses and sighs. “They give me the craziest dreams.”

  I move out of his embrace and prop myself up, still in the crook of his arm. “What kind of dreams?”

  “Sex dreams.” He smirks again. “Wild sex dreams.”

  “Wild ones?” My eyes widen. From what I know, Mammoth’s never had a tame sex life.

  So, what in the world would constitute a wild sex dream?

  He nods. “So, if you give me another one, you better be willing to hop on my cock because I won’t be able to stop myself from finding a way to be buried deep inside you, princess.”

  I swallow. “No pills, then.”

  “No pills,” he says. “Now, why don’t you get that sweet ass moving and make me a sandwich?”

  I blink. “Say that again, because it sounded a lot like you just ordered me to make you a sandwich.”

  “I’m hungry and injured, babe. If you want me to get better, I can’t eat any more ramen noodles. I don’t know how you eat that shit all the time. Will you please—” he emphasizes the word because my lips are twisted “—make me something with protein?”

  “Since you put it that way, yes. Yes, I will. Anything to make you feel better, but just so you know—” I push myself up, staring him straight in the eyes “—in the future, make sure to throw a please in front of a statement like that or else this platinum pussy may be closed for a very long time.”

  He stares at me, mouth flat, studying my face. “You shittin’ me?”

  I shake my head, crossing my arms.

  “So, do I need to say ‘Can I please fuck that sweet pussy?’ in the future too?” He raises a dark eyebrow.

  “If you say please when we’re fuckin’, I’m closing the pussy shop too.”

  He bursts into laughter, grabbing at his shoulder when the pain slices through him, reminding him that he’s injured, and he quickly sobers. “Fuck,” he groans. “Don’t make me laugh.”

  “Well, don’t say dumb shit.”

  “Princess, you know your pussy shop,” he says, fighting a smile as he reaches out and strokes my leg, “will never be closed to me.”

  I tip my head back and laugh, fighting the tingles shooting up my thigh from his light touch. “I’m the boss of this pussy, baby. Always have been. Always will be.”

  His fingers inch higher, and I fight back a moan. “Is that so?”

  “Yes,” I say, but it doesn’t come out quite as forceful or truthful as I had hoped, and I change the subject as quickly as possible. “Anyway, you’re here for me to take care of you. So, let me go make you that sandwich you’re so in need of, and I told Morris you won’t be back until you’re healed.”

  His eyebrows rise. “You told him that?”

  “Well, maybe something like that.” I shrug, hoping he’ll believe me and drop it.

  “What did you promise me?” Mammoth’s jaw ticks.

  Well, shit.

  I cringe. “I know, but…”

  “Tamara.”

  “Mammoth.”

  He grimaces as he adjusts his body, moving his back against the bed’s headboard and his hand away from my ass. “I told you to leave shit alone.”

  “Well, I…he called me,” I lie again.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  Sometimes I can get away with bullshit, but not with Mammoth. The man can spot my lies from a mile away. Doesn’t mean I’m about to change my tune. At this point, I am too entrenched in the lie to back down now. I have no other choice but to stick to my story and ride it out, even if it leads to an ass spanking, followed by a hot fuck afterward. There’s always pleasure after any form of playful punishment.

  Mammoth tilts his head as he rubs his shoulder, careful not to touch the bandage. Those gray eyes bore into me like he’s reading my mind, knowing all the lies I’ve told him in the last five minutes. “Go make my sandwich,” he tells me without an ounce of emotion and definitely not with any kindness.

  Damn. I hate when I can’t read him. “Turkey or roast beef? I think we have both.”

  “Both, and I’m done lying around here.”

  “But…” I raise a finger, ready to tell him why he’s not done, no matter what he says.

  He shakes his head. “No buts, Tam. I played it your way for three days. I’m well enough to get out of bed. I’m not dying, and you need to stop treating me like I am.”

  “Fine,” I mutter, moving backward off the bed, extending my leg until my toes touch the tile floor. “I’ll meet you out there, then. Want anything else?”

  “My phone.”

  I gulp. “Sure,” I say as I climb to my feet and make my way to the dresser where I’ve had it turned off for the last three days. “Don’t be long, okay?”

  He holds out his hand, face still unreadable.

  Damn.

  I’m in trouble.

  I know I am.

  I place the cell phone in his palm and smile. “Food will be ready in five minutes.”

  “Close the door on your way out.”

  Ugh. My heart sinks. I fucked up.

  Did I cross the line? Yeah. I broke the promise, but if he were in my position, he wouldn’t have listened to
me, no matter how many times he’d have told me he would.

  I pull on a T-shirt and shorts, glancing at him from underneath my eyelashes. He watches me, phone in his hand, unmoving. I walk toward the door, ready to leave before I cry like a little bitch because he’s crabby as fuck.

  “Princess,” he calls out before my hand touches the doorknob.

  “Yeah?”

  Don’t turn around.

  Don’t do it.

  Don’t let him see you cry.

  I’m not weak.

  Not even for him.

  “I’m sorry,” he replies softly. “I’m not used to this.”

  “Me either,” I whisper, turning the knob and leaving, closing the door behind me without looking in his direction.

  2

  Mammoth

  “You straight?” Morris asks, not even bothering with a hello.

  “As straight as an arrow. It’s been hours since I’ve taken any meds.”

  I wouldn’t have taken any for the pain at all, but Tamara was on my ass, losing her shit on the hour. I figured I’d let her play nurse for a few days, helping her to feel useful during a time when she felt lost and mostly afraid.

  Hell, I’m not entirely fearless at this point either. I’d known I was going to live, but once again, I was faced with mortality and the possibility of death the moment the gun went off.

  “Good. Now, what the fuck happened? Details are hard to come by.”

  I lean over the bed, arm in a sling, holding the phone in the hand of my only functioning arm at the moment. “My bike took a shitter, so I pulled over at the Cherry Pit, figuring it was the safest place in the area. I parked around the back, staying out of sight. I called Tamara, had a short conversation with her as I waited for Pike and Jett to come and grab me and my bike. The back door opened, I saw the gun, and a second later, he shot me.”

  “Fuckin’ hell. The Cherry Pit is supposed to be neutral.”

  “Well, obviously, the agreement isn’t sticking. I didn’t recognize the guy or see his cut, but Pike said he was a Southern Warlord.”

  “Fuck,” Morris hisses. “Why the hell are they even in this state? This isn’t their territory, and there’s no fuckin’ way I’m allowing them to get a foothold here.”

  “Since I have a hole in my body, looks like they’re making their intentions known.”

  “Over my dead body,” he replies quickly.

  “You may get your wish.”

  He grunts. “When will you be back here?”

  “Tomorrow,” I tell him, knowing full well Tamara will lose her shit, but I have to be there.

  I’m still a member of the club. My vote still counts; my words still have meaning. “But I can’t ride. I’ll probably have full movement back in a few weeks.”

  The last thing I want is a war with the Southern Warlords, but I know there will be payback for what he did to me.

  “We don’t need you on the road with us, but I want you at the table, helping figure this shit out. There needs to be a resolution, but the last thing we need right now is an all-out war with those fuckers.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Just keep your woman busy so she isn’t chewing my ear off. I have better shit to do than placate her. You got me?”

  “Got the message, passed it along. But you know Tamara. I can’t watch her every second of the day, but I’ll do my best to keep her occupied.”

  “Tie her ass up or some shit. Whatever it is you do with your woman to keep her in line. I need to concentrate on other things besides having her up my ass about letting you go out alone.”

  “Noted, but I’m warning you now, she’s probably going to drive me back there tomorrow.”

  “Whatever it takes to get you back here.”

  “Mammoth.” Tamara’s voice carries through the small apartment. “Come eat.”

  “Gotta go, brother. See you tomorrow.”

  “Contain her,” he reminds me before disconnecting.

  I try to pull on a pair of pants with one arm and fail. After thirty seconds, I yank the sling over my head, throwing it across the room. My shoulder is sore, but not anything worse than I’ve experienced before. I was playing by the doctor’s rules to make Tamara happy, but I’m done with the pansy-ass bullshit.

  After slowly putting on my jeans, I walk out of the bedroom, surprised not to see her hanging out in the hallway, keeping watch.

  Tamara and Gigi are standing at the kitchen counter, huddled together whispering when I enter the room. They look at me for a moment, neither of them saying anything before they go back to whispering about whatever those two are cooking up.

  They always are, too. They never leave shit alone. It’s like they’re genetically wired to stir up trouble.

  My mouth waters the moment I see the sandwich waiting for me on the counter, a glass of water next to it, and a small bag of chips. “Thanks for the lunch, princess,” I say, trying to bring my sweet back along with my patience as I slide onto the stool.

  Gigi grunts, always willing to share her displeasure with me. Tamara doesn’t look my way. She doesn’t even acknowledge my words as she keeps her back to me, facing her cousin instead.

  I grab the sandwich, take a bite, and close my eyes, letting the flavors explode across my tongue. She took the doctor’s directions a little too far, feeding me soup—by which I mean ramen—and soft fruit as if I were ready for the old-age home and not healing from a small wound.

  I keep my eyes on the girls, and Gigi keeps her eyes on me too, never too afraid to look away. Tamara obviously told her about what happened and how I lost my patience with her right before she left the bedroom.

  It was a dick move and one I think I’ll be paying for for more than a few minutes. Tamara’s forgiving, but not until she’s made the person feel the absolute worst. She’d make a great sadist, finding pleasure in watching a man, or a woman, writhe in pain.

  I chew slowly, studying their body language. Both have their arms crossed. One facing me and the other still refusing to look in my direction. Both talking softly, barely audible to me even though I’m only a few feet away.

  I drop the sandwich to the plate and lean back. “Can I have a minute with my woman?” I ask Gigi and not Tamara, because I know she’ll say no, shutting me out longer than necessary.

  Gigi slides her eyes to Tamara, and they exchange a look. Not a good look either, based on the way Gigi’s lip curls. “I won’t be far,” she says, like she’s warning me.

  “Got it,” I tell her, not moving a muscle.

  She starts to walk away but moves slower than a snowbird stumbling through a parking lot.

  Once I hear her bedroom door close, I move my gaze to Tamara. Actually, to her back because she hasn’t bothered to face me yet. “Princess, look at me.”

  “No,” she says softly, looking straight ahead to the cupboards on the opposite wall.

  “I fucked up,” I admit. “I’m sorry.”

  “You did fuck up.” Her shoulder drops, but she still doesn’t turn toward me. “You made me feel like shit when all I’m trying to do is help you.”

  I push away from my sandwich and make my way around the counter to stand in front of her. Raising my hand, I touch her face, and she doesn’t move away. “Listen, love,” I plead, swiping my thumb across her cheek, feeling the dampness against my skin. “I didn’t mean to be a dick. The pills make me loopy and crabby as hell too. I hate feeling like a burden and having you wait on me like I’m an invalid. I’m the one who’s supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around.”

  She keeps her hazel eyes down, not giving me the thing I want the most. “You’re not a burden. If it were me who was injured, would you think of me like that?”

  “Of course not. I’d do everything in my power to make you better. I love you too much to watch you suffer and not do something.”

  She tips her face back, staring up at me, tears resting near her eyelashes, ready to fall. “Goddamn you. I’m not a crier. I’ve never
been a crier, but you were such an asshole, Mammoth. You never treat me that way. Never. It just threw me, hearing you order me to make you a sandwich. I thought we’d gone backward about fifty years in time and I should find a set of pearls to put around my neck so I could become Little Suzy Homemaker.”

  I cringe at her words. “Listen, I didn’t mean it that way. My head’s foggy, and I don’t feel like myself. I should’ve said please and asked if you could make me something to eat. I’m sorry, princess. Truly sorry.”

  “You should be,” she whispers, moving her face into my palm, melting into my touch.

  “Why the tears, Tam? I know there’s more to this than a sandwich. I mean, the woman I know would’ve told me to just shove the sandwich right up my ass, given me the middle finger, and slammed the door as she marched her fine ass out.”

  She leans forward, falling into my chest, smashing her face against my skin. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared,” she whispers and wraps her arms around my body, holding me so damn tight I’m almost winded.

  But I don’t dare move.

  I don’t speak.

  Hell, I’m barely breathing.

  Although I was pissed when the argument started about something unimportant, this conversation is about something else…something that’s changed her. She needs to get this off her chest, and I’m not about to stop her by opening my mouth. I’m going to give her what she needs and hold her as tightly as possible, letting her get everything out.

  “When Pike called, I thought you were going to die,” she confesses. “I lost my mind. Images of you lying on the gravel at some shithole, bleeding out…” She shakes her head, rubbing her tears into my skin. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to see your face again. Touch your skin. Feel the warmth of your arms around me, holding me, comforting me.”

  “Baby, I’m fine. Pike shouldn’t have—”

  “No,” she interrupts, tipping her head back and gazing up at me with her eyes blazing. “He told me everything. He didn’t freak out. He didn’t say you were dying. But my mind went there. I allowed myself to feel that fear. I know the longer you’re across the state, living with the Disciples, the closer we come to the day when I really get the phone call that you were shot and didn’t make it. What if next time it isn’t a shoulder wound? We were lucky. The guy had shit aim, but what if he’d moved the gun just a few more inches? He could’ve shot you right in the chest, stopping this heart.” She places her hand in the middle of my chest, right over my heart. “What would I have done then?”