Undeniable Series: Undeniable Part 9

I took a sip of my coffee. "What?"

"That f.u.c.kin' dress babe. Killin' me."

I glanced down at my strapless sundress. It was dark green, virtually shapeless soft cotton that hung just slightly above mid thigh. It was simple, comfortable and very me. And not at all s.e.xy, not compared to the clothing women like Kami wore.

"Um...seriously? It's like a big green bag."

He narrowed his eyes. "No babe, it's not."

Jase chose that moment to barrel into the kitchen. He crossed the room and literally swept Dorothy off her feet and into a pa.s.sionate embrace like the ones you see in the movies.

"Missed you baby," He groaned into her mouth.

She giggled. "You saw me yesterday."

With her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his neck, he strode back through the kitchen.

"Eva!" Dorothy yelled, "Are you going to be here for the barbeque?"

"Twenty four hours," Jase growled. "Babe, it's been twenty four horrible f.u.c.kin' hours and you're talkin' 'bout barbeques. This is me time and you need to focus. You gotta let me get you your own place, you gotta leave that man, so I can see you whenever the f.u.c.k I want and you'll be f.u.c.kin' focused. On me. You gotta let me take care of- The doors closed behind them leaving Deuce and I alone.

"Speakin' of the barbeque, how long you stayin' babe?"

My gaze slid back to Deuce. I couldn't tell by his expression if he wanted me to stay or not.

"Babe?"

"Um..."

Laughing, he reached out and pulled me into his lap. His hands wrapped around my middle and he buried his face in my neck.

"How long you got?" He murmured.

"All summer," I whispered.

"Then you're stayin' at my cabin."

Oh G.o.d. He wanted me to stay all summer. At his cabin.

"The clubhouse is fine with me," I whispered, reeling from this new development.

"No babe. I know you're used to it but I don't want you seein' all the f.u.c.ked up s.h.i.+t the boys are always doin'."

"It doesn't bother me."

He snorted. "Me f.u.c.kin' Miranda bothers you."

"Not if it's in the past tense." I narrowed my eyes. "It is in the past tense, right?"

He snorted. "You're here; it's in the past tense."

Huh. I wasn't sure I liked that answer.

"Okay," I said slowly, "Then it doesn't bother me."

"Babe. Old ladies don't hang at the club. And they sure as s.h.i.+t don't sleep here. You know that."

What?

What!

I twisted around in his lap so we were face to face. "What did you just call me?"

His eyebrows drew together. "Babe?"

"No!" I yelled. "You called me an old lady! I am not an old lady; I'm a Demon! I was born and raised in the life and I'm not going to be locked up in some cabin in the middle of nowhere waiting for you to hang out with me!"

"You done?" He asked evenly.

"Are you going to let me hang out here?"

"No."

I scrambled off his lap. "No?" I whispered.

"Yeah babe. No. You're goin' to my place and I'll be there with you when I'm not here."

I gaped at him. "You won't let me stay here but you'll let Kami?"

His expression hardened. "Kami's a f.u.c.kin' wh.o.r.e," He said flatly. "Locked in a room with two of my boys right now."

"f.u.c.k. You." I spat. "If I wanted to be treated like this I'd be in a Demon's bed not yours!"

In the blink of an eye, Deuce was off the stool, gripping my shoulders.

"First," He growled. "Don't run your f.u.c.kin' mouth at me. Ever. Second, ain't no way I'm lettin' you hang here so stop f.u.c.kin' askin'. Third b.i.t.c.h, you throw s.h.i.+t 'bout bein' in someone else's bed at me again an I'm puttin' you on plane back to New York so you can climb right the f.u.c.k in someone else's bed and you can f.u.c.kin' stay there."

Staring up at him, watching the lines around his eyes tightening, his nostrils flaring, his lips pressing together in a thin white line, hearing the raw anger in his voice, made my stomach drop. This wasn't the Deuce I knew glaring down at me; this was Deuce, bad a.s.s biker, cold blooded killer, furious with me. Me.

What had I done?

My lip began to tremble and I bit down on it.

"You feel me, Eva?"

I nodded.

"Say it," He growled.

Sheesh. My own father, even when mad at me, had never spoken to me like this.

"I feel you," I whispered.

He shoved me towards the doors. "Go to my f.u.c.kin' room if you're gonna cry. Last thing I need is weepin' females in my f.u.c.kin' club."

My tears spilled over as I pushed blindly through the swinging doors and down the back hallway, past the hall of bedrooms, to the very end, Deuce's suite. Digging through my backpack, I pulled out my credit card and called the airlines. I was going home.

Deuce ran his hands through his air. f.u.c.k, she p.i.s.sed him off.

She had called herself a Demon! What the f.u.c.k was Preacher thinking raising her inside the club? The entire f.u.c.king circuit knew Eva Fox. Why the f.u.c.k had Preacher done that s.h.i.+t?

Christ. He would not rearrange his whole f.u.c.king life for some b.i.t.c.h just because he had some f.u.c.ked up obsession with her.

"Hey you."

He turned and found Miranda pus.h.i.+ng through the kitchen doors.

"You want somethin' to eat baby? I was gonna make myself a salad."

"Yeah," He said roughly, "I want somethin' to f.u.c.kin' eat."

Miranda was his b.i.t.c.h. He didn't share her. He'd given her a room at the club so he had access to her when he wanted it. Eva's arrival had him considering sending her to the apartment he paid for.

He was seriously reconsidering that now.

Gripping Miranda's tiny waist, he swung her up on the counter in front of him and pushed down the straps of her tank top revealing the double d's he bought a few years back.

"You done with that little girl?" She purred.

"Shut up," He muttered and took her mouth in his.

After booking a flight home for tomorrow afternoon, I dried my eyes and set out to find Kami. I found her in c.o.x's bedroom in a seriously compromising position with c.o.x and Ripper that I was pretty sure would be giving me nightmares for the rest of my life. I told her I would talk to her later and slammed the door. Then I headed towards the front of the warehouse to tell Deuce I was leaving. He wasn't in the main room or his office which left the kitchen or the bathrooms. I checked the kitchen first.

Miranda's back was facing me but I could see Deuce just fine.

I was not going to cry. Nope. Just because he wasn't the man I'd thought he was didn't mean I was going to cry. It was my own fault, putting him on some kind of pedestal when in reality he was just another biker, who lies, cheats, and steals and who can't resist s.l.u.tty club a.s.s.

He looked up and saw me standing in the doorway. If he was surprised to see me, or felt any sort of guilt at all, he didn't show it. For this I was grateful. My threatening tears were replaced by anger; anger that allowed me to meet him stare for stare.

I was still standing there, staring, when the gate alarm went off.

ZZ came flying down the hallway past me. "RAID!" He bellowed. Several more brothers's followed him, looking panicked. c.o.x and Ripper were next, s.h.i.+rtless and pulling on jeans as they ran.

I moved out of the way of the stampede and into the kitchen. Miranda had since jumped off Deuce and was pulling up her tank top. Deuce walked by without even looking at me.

Miranda and I caught eyes. "Eva," She said softly. "I'm gonna tell you this because you're a sweet girl. Deuce is not a one-woman man. He never will be. You'd do well to find yourself a nice guy who will wors.h.i.+p all that beautiful you've got goin' on, not just once in a while but all the time."

She was being sincere; she even looked apologetic.

I shrugged. "It's really not a big deal. I was on summer vacation and wanted to have some fun without my daddy and brother breathing down my neck, you know?"

Lie. Biggest lie I had ever told. But that last thing I wanted was a club wh.o.r.e feeling sorry for me. She bought it and took off down the hallway to hide in her bedroom. I was still standing there staring at nothing when Deuce walked back in.

"ATF's outside, we got 'bout two minutes before they blow the gate," He said. "Figured Preacher might have used you before, yeah?

"Yes," I said.

He handed me a ring full of keys. "Those are for the doors. Code to the gate is 009673."

I nodded. "009673," I repeated.

He stared at me.

"Go," I said. "Do what you need to do, I'll stall them."

Outside the gate stood white-collar special agents wearing bulletproof vests over their b.u.t.ton downs. Behind them SWAT was pouring out of several large paddy wagons dressed in military issued boots and BDU's. They too wore bulletproof vests but unlike the agents, they had glocks strapped to their thighs and a.s.sault rifles slung over their shoulders.

"ATF," An older, seasoned agent greeted me. "You mind opening the gate."

I smiled. "What's this about?"

Another agent, young, clean cut and good looking, waved a piece of paper around angrily. "Warrant," He barked. "Open the f.u.c.king gate!"

"Can I see that?" I asked sweetly.

He shoved the piece of paper through the gate and I scanned it quickly. It was a search and seizure, dated correctly and signed by a judge. In order and legit.

I handed it back but took my time punching in wrong code after wrong code after wrong code until a good fifteen minutes had pa.s.sed by and the agents were getting angry with me.

As soon as the electricity running through the gates was disarmed they clicked open and the tarmac flooded with SWAT headed straight for the club.

"Front doors locked!"

"Side doors locked!"

I rolled my eyes. Of course they were locked. I wasn't stupid.

"Get the ram!"

"Wait!" I yelled. "Don't break it down! I have the keys!"

The younger, good-looking agent turned to glare at me. "Get over here!" He barked.