Possession(Sons of Odin MC)(51)

She didn’t look convinced. “I knew that guy, a real asshole.”

Dog Tag slid his arm around her shoulders. “Crash is done. And so is his fucking dead friend. Remember who your real family is.”

Vincent could never forget. The creed of the Sons of Odin had always been live hard, die hard. If that meant putting a bullet through the back of the heads of a few Man-o-Wars to protect a Brother, so be it.

J.T. had done it for the club. End of story.





Chapter 24


After the sixth attempt to reach Vincent by phone, Tina gave up. She’d gone straight home from the restaurant and locked herself inside her apartment. A hot bath and two cups of herbal tea had done little to take the edge off her confrontation with Kline. The bastard had touched her in a violent way, cornered her in the bathroom. She regretted not getting the names of the two women who helped her; they deserved fresh bouquets and a day trip to the spa.

But damn if her pride hadn’t gotten in the way. The very thing she knew attorneys worked hard to ingrain in their clients if they were victims of violent crimes—it’s not your fault. Somewhere in her stubborn mind, Tina lived by a separate set of rules. And she never overreacted—years of law school and dozens of cases defending repeat, violent offenders had desensitized her, prepared her to face this type of situation.

Wrong.

She could hardly keep her tea down, she felt so nauseous and weak. Kline had found a way to get under her skin, and all she wanted to do was hide. Why? He had everything to fear, not her. With his criminal record, known malicious history, and bitter infatuation with her, she had enough material to file a formal complaint at work. And if her bosses didn’t manage the problem quickly, she possessed ample evidence to go to the police. That’s the last thing she wanted, though—drawing public attention to herself.

Some things were better handled internally. If James and Bronte refused to represent Kline as a client again, and he agreed to a financial settlement that provided enough compensation to repay the Sons of Odin body shop for fixing her SUV, she’d agree to forget anything happened.

Bile rose in her throat. Only in a perfect world.

She sat on the sofa and used the remote control to turn on the TV. Mary Poppins was playing on the Turner Classic Movies channel, the perfect distraction. She grabbed the quilt off the arm of the couch and spread it over her legs, ready to fall asleep in the relative warmth and safety of her apartment and her favorite pajamas. Eventually Vincent would show up. Something serious must have happened at the clubhouse; he never missed her calls or failed to return a text message.

She woke a couple of hours later from someone pounding on her front door.

Memories crept back into her hazy mind, and all she could think about was Kline standing outside. With trepidation, she stood up and wrapped the blanket around her midsection. Layers would act as armor against anything scary.

She crept up to the solid metal door and peered through the peephole. Dressed from head to toe in black leather, Vincent didn’t look happy.

“Open the door, Tina,” he said firmly. “I can see your shadow underneath the door.”

She stepped back and undid the chain and bolt lock. Vincent took care of the rest, turning the knob and bursting inside her apartment.

“What the fuck did that bastard do to you?”

She’d left detailed messages for him, probably a bad idea. By the last phone call, she’d sobbed into the phone uncontrollably, so desperate to hear Vincent’s voice. She regretted it now. His lethal expression could turn someone into stone.

“Good evening to you, too,” she said, trying to mask her emotions.

His gaze traveled up and down her body. “I’m sorry, baby—it’s been a long day. Why are you wearing that quilt? Take it off.”

She let it drop on the floor. In his alpha brain he probably thought she was broken. “I’m fine.” She tried to sound convincing.

“Really?” He honed in on her bruised wrist. “What’s that?” He flipped the hallway light on, then raised her hand for a better look.

“I already told you about my hand, remember? Or did you erase my messages after hearing the first one?”

His features softened. “Only took one.”

She more than appreciated his concerned tone and protective nature. That’s what she needed now, not the I’m-going-to-destroy-the-world Vincent who acted before he thought things out. He swept her into his strong arms and carried her to the living room, then took a seat on the couch and cradled her close. Tina let her head fall against his chest, the thump of his heart close to her ear.

“Where were you?” she asked.

“Club business.”