Protective (Diamondback MC Second Generation 4)

EPILOGUE

CRUSH

TWO MONTHS LATER

Massimo may have helpedme out, but it didn’t come without strings. Thankfully, it’s not too bad and means he mainly needs muscle when he’s having issues with suppliers. Sometimes I think he’s got too many fingers in the pot, but that’s not my problem. Nope, it would be the text Doe sent me earlier this week saying ‘Surprise’ with a picture attached. You’re gone for a week, only days after your woman celebrates her twenty-first birthday, she’s talking about using her inheritance as a down payment for our home, and then Gigi goes and does something like buy the house you two looked at before you had to leave town.

That’s why when I back my bike into the concrete parking lot of the clubhouse, I’m taking my time. It’s been well over twenty-four hours since she sent that. To say I’m pissed would be mild. That money was what her parents left for her. I know what Doe wanted to do. She had dreams of opening up a dog shelter. It’s why I was so adamant about her holding on to her trust. If she wanted to do something for our place, she could help furnish it, use some of it for a new car because even as a mechanic, I could only do so much when it comes to the frame rusting out.

I missed the hell out of my Ol’ Lady. The few times we got to talk, it wasn’t for more than a handful of minutes, the texts we’re sporadic, and not being inside her and using my fist all fuckin’ week, that upset me, too. But her doing this, knowing we should talk about it first, that’s what has me pissed.

“Word of advice, Crush,” Rage says as he comes out of the compound. I’m grabbing my pack of smokes, Zippo lighter in my other hand, ready to light one up.

“What’s that?” I bring the pack up to my mouth, shaking it until a cigarette is ready for me, cupping it so the wind doesn’t take the flame away when my thumb glides across the flint wheel, butane working inside to bring up the flame to light my smoke.

“Don’t stay pissed off forever. It ain’t worth it. These women of ours are goin’ to piss us off more often than not, but if you think about it, we give them ten times as much hell, and they take it. They don’t give up on us, and when it all comes down to it, they welcome us home no matter the circumstance.” Rage winks as I inhale the first rush of nicotine into my body in hours. I cock my head to the side. He nods and walks away. Fuckin’ Prez. Leave it to him to make me rethink this whole bein’ pissed at Georgiana.

“There you are, Silas.” She’s wearing one of those all-in-one outfits—a tank-looking top that ties at the shoulders, shorts on the bottom. And I know from firsthand experience that if I pull those strings, it’ll leave her naked. “Now, before you get pissed, we’re under contract. It’s not sold. I didn’t buy the house, but the housing market is insane. I’m not sure how much longer I can stand being quiet under your parents’ roof or running to the club when we have a spare moment. No money has been transferred, and if you’re so worried about me paying my way, I’ll just put the money away for our future children instead.” I can see she’s riled up, probably more ticked than I am with the way my woman is standing by the door instead of walking her beauty towards me.

“Doe,” I interrupt her rant.

“What? I’m not dumb. If I step any closer to you, I know what’s going to happen. You’ll kiss me stupid, I’ll forget why we’re fighting, and you’ll take over.” I quirk an eyebrow up, exhaling the smoke from my lungs. “Fine, but don’t you start in on me until we’ve talked, and not in the ‘me man, you woman, do things my way’ way either.” Crazy woman even drops her voice, attempting to talk like a dude.

“Doe, it’s been a week since I’ve seen you, since I’ve had you in my arms. Get over here.” There’s a reason I’m not getting off my bike. She’s right; we need something for us if we’re going to have a true relationship.

“Hi, honey.” Gigi’s hands go to my neck, my arm bands around her middle, and she gets the memo when I lift her up.

“Need your lips.” Her legs wrap around me, so she’s sitting on top of my bike, a sweet smile on her face, and I kiss my woman. A week, a fuckin’ week, and I’m ready to rip her clothes off, take my cock out, and take her out in the open.

“Silas, please don’t be upset,” she says when we pull apart.

“I’m not. We’ll talk about your money and how you can contribute. Just because I went away for five years, that doesn’t mean I’m destitute. As a member, my cut was put away monthly. Did nothin’ with it. You wanna set up your business, look into that. You need a new car first, though, and then whatever is left, put it away for a rainy day. Things get tight with the club, we’ll use it as a fallback.” Neither of us had any idea how much Gigi was left with until the time came to celebrate her twenty-first birthday, which we did for two solid days, away from the club and everyone. She wasn’t prepared for the amount of money. It had her speechless and about to faint. Needless to say, Gigi doesn’t need me, not in the financial aspect. My Ol’ Lady is well off. A lesser man would be pissed as hell. Not me, though. That money won’t replace the family that was taken away or the shit she went through along the way.

“Alright, but if you’re paying for the house, I’m furnishing it.” I don’t fight with her on this. It’s a good compromise. Besides, I’d rather spend my time fucking Doe than fighting with her, and we’re going to do just that all damn night long.