“Amy?”
I shook my head. I had been retreating into it far too much these days.
“Yeah?” I glanced up at Brock, who was shirtless. My gaze didn’t get past his midsection as I drooled over his tattooed six pack.
“My eyes are up here, babe,” he said playfully.
I didn’t move my gaze. “I know,” I replied. I heard his chuckle and I licked my lips.
He knelt down and grasped my chin. “Keep looking at me like that and our dinner’s going to go cold,” he stated in a low voice.
I ran my hands up his rock hard abs. “Food’s overrated,” I declared.
Brock’s eyes flared. “As much as I would rather eat your sweet pussy instead of dinner, you need it.” His voice was firm and I pouted.
He sighed, pulling me off the couch. “You’re going to kill me, woman. Eat. Then back to bed.”
I smiled at him. It was genuine and it was full of all that love I felt.
He stilled and his face turned tender. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful, baby.” He kissed me firmly and directed me into his cluttered dining room.
“So,” I said, chewing my amazing dinner. Brock could cook. And he had a hot body and a hot face and was great in bed. Oh, and I loved him. I guess I’d keep him.
“So,” he replied in between mouthfuls.
“The Sons killed Jimmy, right?” I asked casually. I had wanted to talk about this with Brock or Cade at some point, but with Ian’s death and all the drama that followed it had kind of fallen by the wayside. Now that Brock and I were together I wanted to lay it all out. I wanted to know everything about the club.
Brock had stilled and was staring at me.
“Don’t worry. I don’t have a wired stuffed down my bra, considering I’m not wearing one,” I joked, forking some more food into my mouth.
Brock had put down his fork and I had his full attention. His easy gaze had gone and he was in full on biker mode. It was kinda hot. “How do you know?”
I chewed. “I’m not an idiot. Gwen shacks up with Cade and Jimmy mysteriously gets shivved not three months after they get together. I’m assuming you called in a marker or something like that.” I waved my fork. “Is that what it’s called? A marker? That’s not important. I just wanted to thank you. Off the record, of course. Gwen would go gonzo if she knew I was condoning vigilante justice. She’s a rare person who believes in justice and karma and stuff like that.” I paused. “I don’t. I believe that a person who tortured, scarred and almost raped and killed one of the most important people in my life deserved to die.” I shrugged. “If that makes me a bad person then I’m guessing I’ll be sunbathing in hell.”
Brock was staring at me with that blank look on his face but it was tinged with shock. I decided to solider on.
“I kept my promise on the first night we met. I promised that I wouldn’t go poking around into the clubs business since I was satisfied you guys weren’t a bunch of misogynists who liked to hurt women.” I stared at Brock. “But now we’re—” I paused, “now we’re dating officially. I guess I need to know more. You know me too well to know I’m not okay with ignorance. Or lying by omission. I need to know it all. I suspect Gwen’s the same, but she hasn’t uttered a word about the club to me. So I guess what I’m saying is, if we’re going to do this, it’s full disclosure.”
“Of all the things that I thought would come out of your mouth, that was probably the last thing I expected,” Brock said after a second.
“Really? What about if I said I like to dress up like a clown and spank you with a paddle?” I deadpanned.
Brock didn’t laugh. He seemed to be battling with something before he finally decided he looked at me with a wary gaze. “I guess I knew you wouldn’t be content with the bare minimum,” he sighed. “Yeah, the club was indirectly responsible for Jimmy’s death. What else do you wanna know?” He clasped his hands together on the table.
I put my fork down. “Have you killed anyone?”
Brock’s gaze didn’t waver. “Yes.”
I didn’t flinch. I guessed I expected it.
“When I was in the Navy, I killed people in battle, on assignments. I was good at it. It was part of my job. Ironically it’s part of my job here.”
“That’s what you do for the club?” I asked quietly. “You kill people?”
Brock frowned. “It’s not as cut and dry as that, baby. Contrary to popular belief, the everyday life of an MC isn’t walking around shooting people. Well, at least not the Sons. ‘Specially now that we’ve gone legit.”
I had suspected as much; I knew they had been involved in illegal activity and now they seemed to be keeping their noses clean.
“But there’s exceptions. Our version of going clean may not match up with society’s expectation. But we don’t run guns. I suspect your little file said something ‘bout that,” he said.
I nodded.
“Yeah well, that was how it was when I first got in. I didn’t blink an eye, to be honest. I’d grown up with the club,—even though the Navy taught me a lot, I would never question my brothers. And it was the only place I belonged. I knew it ate at Cade, what we did, I knew he wanted to get the club clean the moment he took the gavel. I supported him. He’s my best friend, I’d follow him to the gates of hell.” He met my eyes. “But truthfully, I didn’t give a shit. Whether we went legit or not. Sometimes the shit we had to do didn’t sit right with me, but it was same as in the Navy. Sometimes I did stuff I didn’t agree with. But it was for the greater good. It’s how it is with the club. I believed it was for the good of the MC—I’d live and die for the cut. I didn’t get Cade’s desperation to get clean but I stood by him. I didn’t get it until the day a little spitfire redhead burst into my life.” His gaze didn’t waver from mine. “Then I got it. I got why he’d want to have a life that was free from the filth that sometimes got so deep it was hard to scrub off. How he didn’t want the woman he loved to get any blowback from the club he loved. He wanted the best of both worlds. I got it.”