Rocket (Hell's Handlers MC 5)

Mav whispered something in her ear that had her rolling her eyes, but she nodded then gave him a quick hard kiss. “Don’t fucking scare her,” Steph warned, jabbing her finger in Rocket’s face. “You look like you’re about to rip the heads off a bunch of puppies.”

Scare her. Shit, there was only one person scared and it was him. Terrified she’d order him out of her life forever. Not that he’d listen. No matter what, he wasn’t stepping away from her until Esposito had been dealt with and Chloe reclaimed her life. Even if today set her back. Now that he knew what her skin felt like against his, what she tasted like, and how her face glowed when she came, his obsession with Chloe had morphed into a full-on addiction. One he couldn’t walk away from.

“You gonna stand in my way too?” Rocket asked Mav who now stood in Steph’s place, arms folded, and legs spread.

Lifting his hands in surrender, Mav shook his head. “I ain’t looking to get a bullet between my eyes, brother. Just didn’t like the way you were talking to my woman. Want to make sure you get that. Have at her.” He stepped away from the closed door. “Be warned, if you upset Chloe, Steph will probably recruit Izzy to go for your balls. My woman’s like a mother hen around that one.” He inclined his head toward the closed door.

Rocket winced. Steph would unman him if he hurt her friend. Izzy would do it for fun. Hell, she’d probably bronze his nuts and wear them around her neck. The woman was positively bloodthirsty now that she was carrying Jig’s spawn.

Mav whistled a cheerful tune which faded down the hallway until Rocket was completely alone. Church started in an hour, so he needed to get his ass downstairs soon, but he couldn’t leave things with Chloe so fucked up.

After two sharp knocks, he entered without waiting for an invite.

Chloe sat on his bed, huddled in the corner with her chin resting on drawn up knees. Her face was pale, making her auburn hair and green eyes even more striking. Resting just beyond her feet, a sandwich sat untouched as did the glass of Bourbon Stephanie brought her.

This was the second time he’d walked into a room to find a defeated Chloe. Sure, the first incident was a million times worse than this one, but he fucking hated the pattern forming here.

She lifted her head, eyes shrinking to slits as he stepped into the room. He gave her a moment to take him in. This was the first time she was getting a full-on view of who he really was as opposed to the role he’d been playing in her presence. Her narrowed gaze traced every inch of him, lingering on the patches covering his worn cut. “Rocket,” she stated, the name sounding like a revolting taste in her mouth.

He nodded. “My road name. A nickname,” he added when her forehead wrinkled.

“Why?”

“Leftover from my days as a Marine. I had a knack with weapons. Explosives especially.” He shrugged. The name hadn’t been his choice, but the club liked it, so it stuck.

She huffed out a bitter laugh. “So that much was true? You really were in the Marines?”

Ouch.

Her tone was heavy with accusation. Any ground he’d gained over the past weeks had been obliterated in the blink of an eye. One look at him, at who he really was, and Rocket fell even further back than square one.

“I was.”

“Am I a prisoner?” she asked in a flat voice, staring out the window at the woods that stretched for miles behind the clubhouse.

What? A prisoner? “Fuck no. I thought Steph explained it to you. You’re here so the club can protect you.” He balled his fists to keep from reaching for her, though denying that need made his insides coil into a tight knot.

“Protect me?” she asked with another harsh laugh as though being helped by his club was the most foreign concept imaginable. “Please, after all the other lies, you can at least spare me this protection bullshit.”

Well, shit. He deserved that.

He could see her walls erecting, blocking him out. Well that wasn’t happening. He wouldn’t stand for it. In two long strides, he reached the bed. The moment his ass hit the mattress, Chloe curled in an even tighter package. Her eyes were so guarded, so wary, Rocket’s chest ached.

Death was too good for Lefty. Though he couldn’t blame everything on the motherfucker. He’d done plenty himself to fuck her up.

“Chloe.”

Once again, she fixated on the woods outside the window.

“Baby, please look at me.”

She did, her angry expression doing nothing to alleviate his conscience. “Don’t call me that,” she said with heat. “I know who you are now. The fucking charade can stop.”

Damned if he knew why that word set her off, but that was a conversation for another day. They had a larger mountain to scale before they could get to his use of endearments. He could see he wasn’t getting anywhere until they addressed the elephant in the room. “You know I’m the one who rescued you.”