Biker's Claim The Broken Angel is Mine (Cora and Jake) novel Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Gunner POV

Having finished what I needed to do, I hunted for Cora.

“Scones, have you seen Cora?” A little disappointed, she had left the kitchen without me helping her.

“She’s in your room, cleaning up.” I turned to leave.

“Gunner.” Stopped and turned back to look at Scones. She was like the unofficial mother of the club, we all

respected her.

“I like her. Go gently, she’s had a rough time.” Smiling in relief, she passed Scones‘ scrutiny, so few girls can do that on the first visit, and was concerned about what Scones learned about her to give me that

warning.

I bounded up the stairs, two at a time. I had never been this eager to be with a woman, a lady, no, my girl, before. She had already got the tick of approval from the president and the matriarch in just one meeting. All the officers approved of her; we need to make her see that this was her home, her safe place now.

What greeted me when I opened the door was not what I had expected, and the anger was so fierce that someone dared to violate my space, my room, without invitation or hint of one. Somehow, Kit was back. I thought they had kicked her out of the place. I am going to have some serious words with gate security over this. She was on my bed, naked, legs spread wide, and fingering herself, putting her disgusting smell

on my bed.

“What the fuk are you doing in here and in my bed? Get the fuk out.” I growled loudly as I pulled out my phone and called Oddball.

“Gunner.”

“Get to my room now!” I demanded and hung up.

I will most likely be reprimanded for that phone call; no one speaks to the president like that and gets away with it. I stood just inside the doorway, fuming, trying to get my ragged breath under control, taking long, deep, calming breaths, and it was starting to work until she raised her hand, crooked her finger in a come here action, and purred at me. Waiting for help to arrive, because if I moved now, that girl would be dead, I wouldn’t hold back. I was too worked up, tighter than a skin on a drum.

When I didn’t move, she seductively climbed off the bed, opening her legs wide as she climbed off, trying to show me what she was offering. I stayed glued to her face, not looking at that sickening sight. Why would I when I had a woman in the bathroom, or hope that was where she was, and safe.

Did Kit hurt her?

Cora might not be able to defend herself well while injured. The thought that she could be lying on the bathroom floor in pain, because of this woman, made my anger rise again.

s Chruptin 14

Kit made it across the room and reached out to touch me, purring something she must have thought I

wanted to hear, but I didn’t hear what she said. I flicked her hand away.

“Don’t touch me!” I growled at her, wishing Oddball would hurry up and get here before I lose control and kill this bytch.

Finally, Oddball arrived with backup. One look told him all he needed to know. Oddball signalled his men to take her away. I walked to the pile of clothes, which I knew weren’t Cora’s, and threw them at Oddball,

who caught them.

“I know I broke the rules, demanding you to come, but I was going to kill her if you didn’t make it in time.”

“Don’t sweat it, I will investigate how she got back onto the property and into your room. Where’s Cora?” Oddball’s calming voice soothed my anger, and knowing he wouldn’t let this rest and would investigate

made me feel a lot better.

“I am hoping she’s safe and in the bathroom. I haven’t been able to move and check, because if Cora’s in here hurt, Kit would have been a corpse by the time you arrived. I was trying not to kill her,” I replied. As much as I wanted to go check on Cora, see if she was in there, I had to wait for Oddball to finish his questioning of me. It was one of the hardest things I had to do lately, but protocol had me standing,

waiting.

“Go look, call me if you need me, I will get someone to bring up clean linen.” Oddball left the room. I turned and, in my anger, slammed the door shut, harder than I intended.

When I opened the door to the bathroom, Cora looked up at me. She was putting oil or cream, or something, on her legs, and acted like she had no clue what had transpired in the bedroom. Maybe she

didn’t know.

“You look angry. Did I do something wrong?” Cora’s sweet, innocent voice floated up, dispelling the anger that was still raging below the surface.

“Kit was on our bed. Has someone come to change the bedding? I don’t want her stinking on our bed.” I felt the anger trying to rise again, but I pushed it back down. It was over and dealt with; there was no need

(* to keep getting angry over it.

“I thought I heard someone come in, and about two minutes later, I heard the door again, and you shouted. In here, it was muffled, so I didn’t know exactly what was going on. But what could she have done in two minutes?” I was so relieved it was only two minutes and that Cora was in there doing her legs, and whatever else a woman does. If I had taken longer, who knows? Cora could have left the bathroom, or Kit decided to take a shower. Both would have been trouble.

I decided to be honest, no good hoping for a good relationship. Suppose I shouldn’t hide things that don’t need to be hidden. I need Cora to learn to trust me, and to do that, I need to be open where I can; some areas are not to share, and I hope she learns to understand that.

“On our bed, naked, fingering herself.” I spat back, the words tasting bad in my mouth.

“Wow, all that in two minutes, she’s a quick worker, not an image I want in our bedroom. Glad I didn’t investigate who had arrived. I was expecting you to join me, but when it didn’t happen, I thought maybe you had other things you needed to do first.” Cora didn’t sound affected by the action in the other room,

good.

“What were you doing?” Watched as she put the lid back on a tube of cream.

“I shaved my legs; they were starting to look like a thick forest, and I tried to feel human again. I had been on the road for three days, driving here, and then that incident happened. My poor legs had gone over a week past when I would normally shave them, and I needed to feel human again, if that made sense.” It did, and it didn’t, but I was happy, she told me, without feeling embarrassed about it; that was progress.

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