Heart Ties (Club Ties Book 2) by Em Petrova Read Free Book Online Page B

he wanted to go over barbed wire.
    Then he’d drop onto a group of Dobermans.
    Not to mention the intermittent Raiders patrolling with AK-47s.
    Delta sat on the roof for a long time. When she disappeared from view, Drake’s heart rate had kicked into high, and it had taken him precious seconds to control it. He didn’t often get nervous, but she’d done it to him.
    More than once, dammit.
    He’d poised for hours, prepared to scale the barbed wire, fend off the Dobermans, and take down the guys with the AK-47s.
    His mind conjured a trap door in the roof and a Raider stealing up there to be with her. Dark fury had boiled in his system, and he ground off the points of his molars waiting—wondering if he should say fuck the risks and put a stop to the liaison.
    Then she’d appeared—alone. His heart did that odd jogging thing, but he didn’t have time to make it behave because she tucked her hair over her shoulder and began to climb down the ladder.
    Jesus fucking hell, her round ass made his balls clench. As he watched it sway downward, he ached to take his hard cock in hand again.
    While musing over Delta’s ripe curves and her perplexing actions, he leaned against the bar and drank half the bottle. Ace appeared with bite marks on his neck, and the brothers hooted about him being late. Copilot moved from man to man, having his morning scratching.
    When he reached Drake, the dog made a wide berth to his place behind the bar. Drake heard the animal chomping from his food dish.
    Delta hadn’t met Copilot. At the time she’d been here, the dog had been at the vet for something or other. A few nights’ stay and a big bill for the club, but they paid it gladly because Copilot was like a brother. He protected their property, fought their enemies, and even rode in his own sidecar.
    Ace clamped his hand on Drake’s shoulder as he rounded the bar. “All right, man?”
    The haze was creeping over Drake. He didn’t have words, so he raised the bottle in salute. Ace looked at him hard then nodded and moved away. Water ran in the bar sink, followed by Copilot’s slurping.
    Jamison burst into the room, his hair neatly combed, face fierce. “Church,” he barked.
    Chairs pushed back and men stood. Drake pulled away from the bar, reluctantly setting down the Scotch.
    “Must be urgent to call church. It’s not even eleven o’clock,” Rocket said.
    Jamison was already in the head chair—the place he’d occupied since their prez had gotten too entangled with family affairs to take care of the brothers. “Shut the door.”
    As the last one in, Drake closed the heavy wooden door. Copilot scratched at it and whined, so he opened the door enough to let the dog run to his master’s side. They all settled before Jamison spoke.
    “Someone broke into Tomfoolery.”
    Exclamations of outrage rippled down the table, but Drake remained silent, already plotting ways to get revenge on the fuckers who would hit one of the MC’s bars.
    Jamison spread his hands on the table. He wore a slim band on his pinky finger—Ever’s ring, and there was a new tattoo on his left ring finger—a red heart. Drake figured Ever now wore one too, and the legal ceremony and club celebration would be announced soon.
    She’d want her sister here for it. Drake had to get Delta out.
    “The cash register was empty—Rafe always takes the cash home with him for safekeeping. A few things were smashed—tables and chairs. A window too.” Jamison looked into each pair of eyes at the table. “They were in the back room.”
    Drake sat forward. The back rooms were his business—Operation Riches. The doors were kept bolted and barred when the space wasn’t in use. “They would have needed a welder to cut through the locks.”
    Jamison nodded. “I guess that’s what they did.”
    “What the fuck…?” Bunky said slowly. He was one of the older guys in the bunch, big, burly, and as loyal as they came. “They had to be watching, plotting.”
    “Yeah.”