Goldie(Night Rebels MC Romance Book 4)(37)

       
           



       

"I can't get enough of you," he said as he raised her top, then yanked down her bra and devoured her tits.

"I'm so crazily turned on by you. I always crave your touch," she said as she fumbled with his zipper.

"I want to feel you raw, baby. I'm clean. Are you on birth control?"

"Yeah. I want to really feel you too."

Then he raised up, shrugged off his clothes, peeled hers off, and bent back down, hovering over her once again. The feel of his skin on hers fueled the burn deep inside her.

"I want you inside me. Right now," she whispered against his chest.

Without another word, he grasped her legs, put them over his shoulders, and rubbed the head of his cock over her wet pussy. Lowering his head, he sucked on her breasts, then pulled up and slammed into her. A million sparks flew through her as he pumped in and out, her warm walls clinging to him as he stretched her more and more. Tendrils of wicked pleasure tore through her pussy as she exploded into a million pieces.

Goldie stiffened, then held her gaze as he grunted, "Hailey," before he filled her. His cock kept twitching in her as her pussy walls clamped around him, milking his dick dry. She kissed his head and caressed him as he panted and collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving. I could get addicted to this. She sighed contentedly and ran her hands up and down his back.

After a long while, he rolled off her and tucked her in the crook of his arm. The gentle breeze cooled their bodies, and joy coursed through her. After a few minutes, she heard him snoring, and she smiled as she clung to him and watched the ripples in the lake.

Most perfect day ever.





Chapter Twenty-Six





Susan O'Brien rubbed her eyes and swiveled her office chair to face the window. The street was quiet and most of the windows from the apartment complexes were dark. She glanced at the clock, surprised she'd worked past midnight. Yawning and stretching her tired limbs, she leaned back and closed her eyes. Part of her was too tired to get up and go home, and another part of her wanted to get away from her office and forget the paperwork that kept piling up on her desk daily. Grasping the arms of the chair, she pushed herself up and grabbed for the corner of the desk, steadying herself. Sitting for hours had made her joint stiffen up, and having a few drinks made standing a bit challenging.

She gathered the paperwork she knew she wouldn't look at and placed it in her briefcase, along with the nearly empty bottle of vodka. After switching off the desk lamp and overhead fluorescent lights, she left the room.

The corridors were quiet and dim, with only a small amount of light around the baseboards illuminating the floor. The residents were asleep in their rooms, and she soundlessly walked down the hall to the door leading to the basement. An unopened bottle of vodka in her locker had been on her mind for the past two hours; it would make excellent company for her when she arrived at her empty townhouse.

When she passed Gus Halpern's room, something moved in the dark. Fear seized her as she thought Gus was trying to get out of bed. Whipping around, she rushed to the doorway. The room was so dark, it took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to it, but when they did, she saw a figure standing over Gus.

"I'm glad you came over, Vera," Gus said hoarsely. The figure didn't answer. "Ow! That hurt. Why did you do it, Vera? Where's my mother?" Gus began to cry softly.

Susan's heart broke when she heard the patient's tears. Gus suffered from vascular dementia, and he obviously thought the person was someone from his past.

"Gus?" she said in a low voice as she walked into the room. Then she saw the figure pulling a needle from his arm. No injections were ordered for Gus. As a matter of fact, he wasn't on any medication at all. The eighty-two-year-old was healthier than a lot of men half his age, which made his dementia that much more tragic. "What are you doing?" she asked as she approached the bed.

The figure stiffened and turned around. Stopping mid-stride, Susan's mind raced as she tried to figure out what was going on. "I thought you requested tonight off. What were you injecting into Gus?" She froze as the realization of what was happening hit her full force like a tidal wave. "You? You've been responsible for these deaths? It can't be."

Without a word, the figure rushed over to her. Something hard hit her head before she could yell out, dazing her, and she stumbled while red spots danced in front of her eyes. Before she could get her bearings, she was being half dragged to the locked door that led to the basement where her vodka bottle awaited her. I could really use a drink. My head is pounding. What's going on? Why did-                       
       
           



       

Then a rough shove had her arms flailing to grab onto the bannister, but she couldn't. Her feet were slipping off the concrete steps, trying desperately to steady themselves. The crash of the bottle in her briefcase sounded like a bomb in the stairwell as her briefcase flew out of her hand and slammed down on the landing. In less than a second, she followed it, her head meeting the floor. The crunch of bones in her skull deafened her before everything went black. From above, she heard the steel door shut, and she knew her mangled body wouldn't survive the fall. After all the years of poverty, adjustment to a new country, and hard work in her career, she'd end up dying on a cold floor that smelled like bleach. If her breathing weren't so ragged, she would've laughed at the irony of it all.

What a bloody silly way to die.





Chapter Twenty-Seven





"You're going to a lot of trouble with this chick," Paco said.

"Do I have use of the prospects or not?" Goldie replied, ignoring Paco's comment.

"Steel and I are wondering how we can justify taking the prospects away to do personal stuff for a brother who has a hard-on for his best friend's sister."

"I'm just gonna tell you this one time, dude. I don't give a shit that you're the VP of the club. If you say that shit to me again, I'm gonna smash your goddamn face."

"Then we'd have a bloody mess after I kick your ass." Paco's arms flexed when he crossed them over his chest.

"If the club doesn't want to help me out with this, fine. I can figure it out. I was just asking because it didn't seem to be a problem when Muerto and Diablo asked for their women. Just fuckin' forget about it." He pushed away from the bar.

"He's messing with you," Steel said as he walked over.

"You sick fuck," Goldie said.

Paco laughed and handed him a shot of tequila. "You were the one always giving Muerto and Diablo shit about their women, so I thought I'd take over your spot."

A half smile curled Goldie's lips as he shook his head. "So I can use Ruger and Patches if I need to? I'm gonna be doing it most of the time. I just want to make sure she's safe until they catch this fuckin' perv."

"Since Wexler can't find his ass with both hands, I'd say you're gonna be watching your woman for a long time," Paco replied.

"I heard a detective from Durango's manning the case," Army said as he came over.

"Who're you fucking this time at the sheriff's office?" Steel asked.

"A hot redhead. She just loves telling me everything going on after I fuck her good." Army laughed and picked up his beer.

"What do they know about this bastard?" Goldie said.

"They think he may be the one offing the old people at your grandma's place."

"Fuck. I got a bad feeling about all this. I have to figure out how to protect my grandma when I'm not there."

"Why don't you move her out?" Chains asked as he sat on one of the barstools.

"Cherry Vale's the nicest private place in the area. The state-run ones are shitholes, and I don't want to send her to Durango. Besides, moving her now would totally screw her up. I just have to figure it out." Goldie scrubbed his face.

"You know the badges are usually wrong. I can't believe a guy raping women is also offing old people. It doesn't make sense," Paco said.

"If he's trying to avoid detection and throw the badges off, it does," Chains replied.

For a few seconds, silence descended on the group. Then Paco clasped Goldie on the shoulder. "When are you gonna tell your friend about fucking his sister?" The others guffawed.

"I don't know," he grumbled. After he finished his beer, he begged off a game of pool and headed to his room. Paco's question needled him, and he knew it was something he had to do. Since he and Hailey had come together, they'd both acted as though Ryan didn't exist, but he was always in the back of Goldie's mind. Sometimes he'd chastise himself for being so weak or a disloyal, shitty friend, but then the memory of Hailey's kisses and the sunlight in her hair washed the guilt away. How could he give up the way she snuggled close to him when they slept, the way her lower lip jutted out when he annoyed her, or the way her face contorted when she climaxed? He couldn't. It was that simple, yet somehow it wasn't.

Kicking his desk chair, he cursed under his breath. Of all the women he'd ever hooked up with, why the fuck did it have to be Hailey who'd found a way into his heart? Fuck. I need to tell Ryan. He'll get it. He knows I'd never hurt Hailey. We've been buds since we were five. And what was Hailey to him? His feelings for her were all scrambled inside him, and the fact that he even had feelings for her surprised him. In all his years, he'd never felt anything more for a woman than pleasure. Some of the women had been more fun than others, and he'd liked hanging out with them more, but if they started pressuring him, he'd walk away without a backward glance. And on the rare occasion when a woman decided she wasn't into his no-commitment mentality and left him, he'd usually be with another one within twenty-four hours. That was the way he lived his life, and it had suited him just fine until Hailey came into his shop.