I considered tackling him, but it seemed like too much work. I flipped him off instead, then reached for a game controller.

“Wanna play?”

“Sure.”

It felt good to zone out, and for a little while I was able to pretend we were back at our house and this was just like any other Friday night. Well, except for being fuckin’ sober and having two girls cuffed to the beds upstairs.

Well, except for being fuckin’ sober. Heh.

After a while Skid spoke, not bothering to look at me.

“Just remember you can’t keep her.”

“I know.”

“Just checkin’, bro.”

“No worries. I got my orders.”

“Don’t forget—Jacks first. You really like her?”

“Jesus. What is this, Oprah?”

“If you give a shit about her at all, you’ll hurt her bad. Make her give up on you now. Burke wanted her to fall for you, but with this kidnapping shit nobody’ll think twice about her hating your guts after it’s over.”

I snorted.

“Considering she’s cuffed to a bed after being lied to, you really think I need to go out of my way to hurt Em more? Seems like overkill.”

“You got scratches on your back, dickwad. They don’t look like defensive wounds to me, so no, it’s not overkill. You need to hurt her so much she never looks back.”

I considered his words and sighed.

“You’re probably right.”

We played a few minutes more, and then I turned on him and shot his character point-blank. Animated blood spattered the TV screen.

Skid started laughing again.

“You got anger issues, bro. Or maybe just blue balls. Not my fault you’re a pussy.”

“Eat shit and die.”

“Maybe tomorrow. Tonight I’m gonna eat a pizza pocket. You want one?”

I considered the question carefully.

“Yeah, sounds good.”

I climbed back upstairs around five in the morning.

Skid had camped out on the couch, still playing games and bitching that he’d given up a perfectly good bed so Sophie could have her beauty sleep. A bed that had more than enough room for him and her …

I pointed out that if I couldn’t have Em, he couldn’t have Sophie.

He pointed out that I could’ve had Em. I reminded him that Burke wanted peace, which probably wouldn’t happen if I screwed Emmy Lou Hayes while she was prisoner handcuffed to a bed frame. We settled the argument by calling each other assholes and glaring at each other for a while, which seemed to do the trick.

Now I found myself back upstairs, looking down at the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Before I left this room, I’d make her cry.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

She’d rolled onto her stomach, kicking off the covers. One leg was cocked to the side, which curved her ass perfectly, nicely set off by the fact that her low-rise jeans didn’t quite cover the top of a red thong.

And there, right in the center of her back, was a fuckin’ tramp stamp.

I looked closer, trying to figure out what the hell it might be. Some kind of Chinese symbol surrounded by angel wings. Pretty goddamn awful. Cliche as shit.

I loved it.

It made me think of every porno I’d ever watched, and because I’m an evil bastard my dick got so hard I felt my heartbeat pulse through it. I wanted to pull off those jeans and fuck her pussy, then hit her ass. I’d finish up blowing my wad right in the center of that tat.

Shit.

Yeah. She wouldn’t be down for that.

I slid into bed with her anyway, because she hadn’t been through enough. I tugged her into my body, wrapping my arm around her. Her corset had ridden up, leaving a thin strip of flesh across her stomach. I found myself stroking it, wondering what it would feel like to run my cockhead across that smooth skin. Em squirmed, stretching forward in her sleep. This pushed her ass back into my crotch, which was both the best and worst sensation I’d ever experienced in my life.

Then she stiffened and I heard her breathing change.

“Good morning,” I said quietly.

“Crap, this really happened, didn’t it?” she asked, and her voice sounded small and soft. She was only a few years younger than me, but that softness reminded me just how different our lives had been. Compared to her, I was an old man.

“Yeah, it really happened,” I told her, sniffing her hair. Flowers. “I’ll meet with your dad today, see if he’s found Toke. Maybe end this whole thing before it gets any worse.”

She made a little noise, a sort of hopeless moan that she immediately cut off. Shit. She hadn’t faked that. Either Toke really was in the wind, or she knew the Reapers wouldn’t give him up, even to save a couple of their women. If the whole club decided to take a stand, probably wasn’t much Hayes would be able to do.

I rubbed her stomach again, and she shifted back into me restlessly. Very nice. Skid’s warning that I needed to hurt her ran through my head, but maybe I could touch her just a little more, first. I promised myself I wouldn’t actually fuck her, which made it okay, right?

It wasn’t because I have morals. Hell, it wasn’t even because I knew she deserved better. I just wasn’t sure I’d be able to give her up once I’d felt that tight cunt squeezing down around my dick. Wars have been fought for less, and now I understood why. But seeing as we’d already fooled around once, I figured a little more playtime wouldn’t really change much in the long run … In fact, it would make the betrayal even worse. I’d be doing it for her own good.

I slid my fingers under the top button of her jeans.

“What are you doing?” she murmured, her voice sleepy.

“Makin’ you feel better.”

Em muttered something, but I couldn’t tell what it was and she didn’t try to stop me when I popped open the button. Then my fingers slid down the zipper and my hand slipped inside.

She was wet already.

Nice.

Had she been dreaming about me? Hell, maybe she’d been dreaming about someone else. If so, I needed to kill the motherfucker ASAP. She shifted her legs as my fingers found her clit, sliding past it to dip inside and collect some of that sweet moisture. Then I found that sensitive spot again and circled it, teasing.

“I hate you.”

“I know you do, babe,” I whispered. “If it makes you feel better, you can pretend you have a choice.”

“Do I?”

I considered the question.

“We always have a choice,” I said finally, and for some crazy reason my foster father’s face popped into my head—the way it’d looked right before I’d killed him.

The fuck?

“Are we going to have sex?” she asked, breaking through my twisted thoughts.

“Do you want to?”

It satisfied the hell out of me that she had to think about it. Then she shook her head.

“No, I want someone better than you for my first,” she said firmly. Fair enough.

“Let’s compromise,” I replied. “How ’bout I get you off. I can feel how much you want it.”

I circled her clit again for emphasis, and Em shuddered.

“Unlock me and take off your pants,” she demanded.

I burst out laughing.

“You’re supposed to be a little more subtle about seducing me into letting you go.”

“I’m not really good with subtle,” she said. “How’s this … You want to get me off, right?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Do you want my hand on your dick while you do it?”

I swallowed.

“What do you think?”

“Here’s the thing …” she whispered. “I won’t pretend that getting away from here isn’t a high priority. But you can feel for yourself how wet I am for you.”

My finger twitched on her clit and she shivered.

“So,” she continued. “It’s your call—is it worth the risk to find out whether I’m messing with you? I’m sure a big, bad biker man like you is more than capable of defending himself from me. You’ve already proven how much stronger you are.”

She wiggled her butt as she spoke, cradling my cock between those tight cheeks. Hell yeah, it was worth the risk—and you’ll be shocked to learn the little head made that particular call. I’m not an idiot—I knew she was playing games with me.