“When you go all He-Man like that, I have the strangest urge to strip naked and lay myself at your feet.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Mm…hmm… Jax, my conqueror,” I flirt.
“Oh. I like that. We’ll play that little scenario out when I get home.” The heat of his gaze melts me.
“I’ll be waiting…Daddy.”
“Damn it woman. You’re trying to kill me,” he groans adjusting his dick. I watch him, filled with fascination. I do this to him. Me.
“Hurry back to me.”
“I will, Bree. You can count on that,” he says going to the door.
“And be careful,” I warn him, worried, but not wanting to cling. I have been cut off from the club life mostly, but I know the last thing a man needs is a weepy, clinging woman.
“Always,” he says carelessly, opening the door.
“I mean it, Jax. I need you to come back to me. Preferably in one piece, cause well I’m rather attached to all of your pieces,” I tell him, blushing, but desperately trying not to. For his part Jax smiles. It’s a real smile, one where I can tell he’s happy.
“Roger that. I’ll make sure to bring myself and all my pieces back. Trust me. It’s never been more important to me than now. You just stay inside, please?”
“Yes, sir.” I fight back the urge to salute him.
“Believe I like Daddy better,” he grins.
“Get out of here, before Keys comes back. I’m not sure I can handle him anymore today,” I laugh.
He nods and then with a wink he’s gone. Suddenly, this small apartment seems way too big.
Big and lonely.
Chapter Forty-Two
Jax
“Mierda! How is it possible for a man to just disappear?” Skull growls, his hand going through his hair.
“We searched the entire section, Boss. There wasn’t a sign of him,” Beast tells him.
“Christ’s big toe,” Torch grumbles, lighting a cigarette.
“Can’t you ever talk normal cabrón, your language is getting as ridiculous as those damn shirts you insist on wearing,” Skull tells his vice president and brother-in-law.
“There’s not a damn thing stupid about my shirt,” Torch says looking down at his black shirt with large white writing that says: I don’t always make my wife scream, but when I do it’s usually against the wall with my dick buried in her. “It’s completely true,” he says easily while Skull flips him off.
“Shaft?”
“Nothing Boss, me and Keys went over our area backwards and forwards. There’s no sign of Sabre.”
“Was there trouble?” Skull asks, watching me closely. I look down at the blood stain on my shirt. I know I’ve got bruises he can’t see on my ribs, and my jaw is still bruised and swollen. After I left the apartment this morning, Keys and I had it out where Bree couldn’t see. I’m not sure if I won, or he did. We’re pretty evenly matched, but I will say the fucker will be damned sore in the morning, and he will think twice before he talks shit about my woman again.
“Nah. Just some personal shit. Keys and I worked it out,” I shrug. I hear Keys grunt his agreement in the background.
“See to it that you do. I don’t need any more shit piled on right now,” he tells me, and I nod in agreement, without saying anything else. It doesn’t need to be said. We all need to have our heads in the game here. “Briar’s still in a coma, still fighting. There’s not much new to tell,” he says resigned, and the pain of this news hits us all. A darkness settles, a black cloud hanging over the club.
“How’s his old lady holding up?” K-Rex asks from the corner. Stephanie is a good woman, and we all think the world of her. She’s been a basket case since Briar was shot.
“Doc had to give her a sedative. She’s resting now. I’ve got a couple men standing guard at the hospital. There’s some shady shit going on, and until we get down to who’s behind it, you guys need to be watching each other’s backs. Am I clear?”
All the men give their agreement by nod, grunt, or yeahs, but none of the men are happy that this is where things are. If we could just find Sabre, it would be better. Even if he was dead, at least we could move forward and maybe have a clue as to what the fuck is going on.
“It’s close to Christmas. I want Sabre home with his family before then. We broaden the search tomorrow,” Skull growls, knocking the gavel against the table. On that we’re all in agreement, but there’s not a damn one of us who knows how to make it happen.
I follow the rest of the men out, feeling like I’m letting my brothers down, but knowing fuck-all about how to fix it.