Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
I was mid-profile on one of Ellen’s coworkers—a freelance designer who’d been a little too interested in her travel plans—when a knock on the door broke my focus.
I grunted a low, “Yeah.”
Fox stepped in and tossed a package on the edge of my desk. I caught it before it slid off.
“Gift for your girl,” he said as he dropped into the chair across from me and stretched out his long legs. “Don’t say I never got you anything.”
I peeled back the plain brown wrapping and leather met my fingers. Soft, deep black, unmistakably custom. I unfolded it and held up a vest in Gemma’s size.
On the front, just above the left breast, it read Gemma. On the back was a patch with the club logo and Property of Hawk in bold block letters.
My gut twisted, and my heart thudded once—hard.
“Had Sheila start on it the day after we met her at the bar,” Fox explained. “Figured you were already fucked, might as well make it official.”
I looked up, one brow raised. “You always this optimistic?”
“No. But I know the look a man gets when his brain’s stopped working and all that’s firing is instinct.” He crossed his arms. “You weren’t thinking. You were reacting. You saw her, and that was it. Might as well save us all the wait.”
I grunted. “You done waxing poetic about my woman?”
His grin was slow. “I’m just confirming what we all saw. You were hooked before she even said your name.”
I didn’t argue. Because it was true. And I didn’t have the patience to pretend anymore. Instead, I traced the lettering on the vest, my thumb brushing over the word Gemma like it was holy. My jaw clenched.
“Thanks,” I finally said.
“Just make sure she knows she’s yours before someone else gets stupid.” His gaze turned sharp. “That profile coming together?”
I turned the laptop, showing him the digital corkboard of notes, connections, and highlighted anomalies. “Almost. Got three possibilities I want to push harder on.”
“Good.” Fox nodded as he stood and headed for the door.
He paused with his hand on the knob and looked back at me. “She’s good for you. Makes you less of a cold bastard. Keep her safe.”
“I will.”
He nodded again and left, the door shutting with a solid click.
There was a reason I’d pledged my loyalty to him as president of the Iron Rogues. He was a fierce protector of those he considered family. He was always calm, always watching. A good man to follow and a lethal one to cross.
I stared at the vest for a long minute after the door shut.
It would look damn good on her. And I was determined to see her wearing it soon…with nothing underneath but my marks.
Before I got edgy and started pacing like a caged animal, I folded the vest and stowed it in the desk drawer.
Just in time because the door opened again. Tentatively, this time. And there she was.
My Gemma.
She stepped inside, cheeks flushed from the spring air. She wore a pale blue sundress that brushed her thighs and hugged her curves. A sweater was tied around her waist, her camera bag slung over one shoulder. Her hair was down, the soft waves brushing her chest, and my body heated with desire.
She looked like sin dressed in innocence.
I stood without thinking, my body moving toward her out of instinct.
“Hey,” she said, her voice warm and sweet.
“Hey, baby.” I reached out and took her hand, tugging her into the room. “Come here.”
She melted into me instantly, arms wrapping around my neck as I walked her back to my chair and sat, pulling her down onto my lap. Her weight settled over my thighs, and I buried my face in her hair.
“You smell like sunshine.”
She laughed softly. “That might just be baby powder. Elise had like ten different products in that diaper bag.”
I chuckled against her neck, but the moment I heard her breath hitch, I pulled back. I saw it—the flicker of pain. The way her eyes snagged on my laptop screen.
The profile of Ellen was still open with a photo of her in the right corner. It was a cropped picture from the shoot, her smile bright and unaware.
Gemma went rigid.
Then a sob broke loose.
“I should’ve known or seen something. Maybe if I’d asked more questions or warned her to be careful or—” Her hands trembled as she pressed them to her face, her voice cracking. “She was sweet. I really liked her. Now she’s just… gone. And I did nothing.”
“Stop.”
I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her close, burying her against my chest. Her fingers fisted in my shirt, and the raw grief shaking her made my heart ache in a way I hadn’t felt in years.
“Don’t do that, baby. This isn’t on you,” I murmured against her hair. “So don’t you dare blame yourself. You didn’t fail her. You were kind. You were good to her. That’s more than most people ever give.”