Grabbing my shirt, she pulled me down onto the bed. While our arms and legs tangled together, our mouths never parted. When she thrust her warm tongue into my mouth, I groaned and gripped her tighter. It was all so wrong and so right at the same time.

When I started to get up, she tried to pull me closer. “Where are you going?”

“I need to check on the guys. Make sure everybody gets out.”

“Oh. Okay.” A pleading look entered her eyes. “But you’ll come back to me. Won’t you?”

“Sure. Just let me take care of some things. I’ll also lock the door.”

She gave me a drowsy smile as her head lay back on the pillow. Her eyes closed in contentment, and she sighed. “You’re always so good to me. No wonder I’m falling in love with you.”

Her words had the same effect on me as standing in a field during a lightning storm. Electricity zapped the top of my head and ran through my body. Without a word to her, I backed quickly away from the bed and disappeared from the bedroom. I had been fearing something like this in the last month—the way she looked at me, the way she talked to me, the way she’d wrapped herself around me in the night. I’d been a selfish bastard and enjoyed it too much to put a stop to it. Now I’d somehow managed to lead her on. I was the sickest type of fucker out there. I’d preyed on an abuse victim.

As I walked up the hallway to the tune of my self-deprecating tirade, another voice broke through. Forceful and unrelenting, it was one I battled daily. It liked to call itself the voice of reason, but it was more like the voice of lunacy to me.

Man up. That beautiful girl in there loves you, and you love her, too. You’ve probably loved her since the night she called for you in the hospital. You’re just too fucking scared to admit it. You want to try to say she doesn’t know what she’s saying or doing because of what she went through with Mendoza. But the truth is you’re afraid you’re not good enough for her. After all, you’re just a biker with a two-year degree, and she’s political royalty from a privileged upbringing.

“Go fuck yourself,” I muttered to the voice.

“Excuse me, Prez?” Jolting Joe asked. He had a trash bag in one hand and was tossing beer bottles in with the other. As a prospect, he wouldn’t be getting any ass tonight like some of his brothers were. He would be on cleanup duty, and from the looks of it, he was going to be busy for hours.

“Sorry, Joe. I wasn’t talking to you.”

“You okay, Prez? You look a little pale. Need me to make you a hangover drink?”

I shook my head. “No. I’m good. Thanks.” When I started to the back door, I stopped. “Hey, Joe?”

“Yeah, Prez?”

“Take five on the cleanup and go stand outside my room. Annabel’s sleeping in there. If she wakes up or screams or something, call me on my cell.”

“You got it.”

I wouldn’t be gone long. I had promised Annabel to come back to her, and I would never let her down. Not intentionally at least. When I reached my house, I grabbed a beer out of the fridge and then sat down on the couch. There was a phone call I dreaded to make, but it had to be done. I knew I would hate myself in the morning, but in the long run, it was what was best for all of us.

FIFTEEN

ANNABEL

When I woke up in the morning and surveyed my strange surroundings, I bolted straight up in bed and screamed. The door flew open and a bleary-looking prospect, whom I had met last night, tumbled in. At the sight of him, I drew the covers tighter around me.

The guy held up his hands. “I ain’t here to hurt you or anything. Prez put me on post in case you woke up.”

“Where is Rev?”

“He’s having breakfast.”

I nodded. “Thanks for letting me know.” When I sat up straighter in bed, I winced at the pain that shot through my head.

“Regretting the Jack from last night, huh?” he asked with a smile.

It was then that I remembered he had been the bartender. “Jumping Joe?” I questioned.

He laughed. “Jolting Joe. Got my soon-to-be road name from Joe DiMaggio.”

“You were a baseball player, huh?”

His jovial expression turned sheepish. “Uh, it’s more for the way I can swing a bat and knock someone out.”

I didn’t know if I should be amused or horrified. “Well, thanks for letting me know where Rev is.”

“No problem.”

Once Joe closed the door, I threw back the covers. Gazing down at myself, I realized I didn’t have any reason to be modest since I was still in my clothes from last night. When I rose from the bed, my entire body ached. It had been so long since I’d had anything alcoholic to drink. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember what had possessed me to have so much last night.

Then it hit me. Hearing Deacon and Alexandra’s announcement about their baby boy had sent me spinning. Like an idiot, I thought alcohol would fix things—like some sort of liquid bandage for my broken soul. But in the sober light of day, I still had to face the fact that it would take nothing short of a miracle for me to become a mother.

Rubbing my shirt above my bruised heart, I gazed around the room. Memories from Rev bringing me in last night came flooding back to me. We had danced. And then I had kissed him. Just when I wanted to feel extreme remorse for what I had done, I remembered he had kissed me back. He was a good kisser, too, from what I remembered.

But then I couldn’t ignore the fact that he had pushed me away before things had gone too far. Of course, it appeared to be under the pretense of him having to take care of business. I wondered if he had ever returned, but then I peered down at the bed and saw the indentation of his body.