Unholy Trinity (Rebel Kings MC #6)

by Garrett Leigh

wanted Locke’s mouth on me. So fucking much. I hated myself for stumbling away from him and sinking into a crouch, hiding my face in my shaking fucking hands. How was being naked with him this morning the easiest thing in the world, and yet this was imploding my brain? Locke’s warmth reached me. Then his big hand on my back, my shoulder, the top of my head.

“I’ll guard her.” I knew he would. He always did, even when I was there, but for the first time ever, it wasn’t enough. Locke was halfway to the door. I called his name. “Can you do me a solid?” He rotated to face me again. “Anything.” “Wait inside with her, brother. I don’t want her to be alone.”

“He left.” Expected it. Nash was a busy man, especially on a day like this. What I didn’t expect was the sheer weight of his absence to swamp me. Damn it, I still felt the imprint of his kiss on my lips. His terrified kiss. And I wanted to make that better. How? By kissing him more?

No Nash, but I didn’t expect him. He’d be gone till dawn like he always was, leaving me the whole night to keep my promise. I don’t want her to be alone. Somewhere along the line, I’d stopped hearing those words in his voice and they’d become mine. Cos it didn’t matter how long he was gone, we’d both be waiting for him when he came home.

My favourite thing was the huge velvet couch in the living room. I’d never sat on it, but I didn’t need to park my arse to know it would make for a banging nap spot. It was half the reason I rarely came inside for more than a security check. That I’d fall asleep and miss out on the way she was looking at me right now. Not that she’d spent the last however long since I’d been her bodyguard looking at me like that. If she had . . . Fuckin’ hell, I’d never felt more human.

I felt her behind me, her slim arms circling my waist, her touch a world away from Nash’s and yet the reaction in my body was exactly the same. Heat. Affection. That sliver of apprehension that didn’t seem to matter so much now I’d seen real fear in Nash’s sweet gaze. I forced myself to relax. If I couldn’t handle this, whatever it was, I had no business fuckin’ being here. Not anymore. You kissed them both. Another truth, and despite my brother’s Pandora’s box prophecy coming true, I had no regrets, just a brain-melting craving for more.

“Are you asking me what my intentions are with your man?” A faint smile curved Orla’s red lips. “A little. I mean, you love him, right? I feel like you do . . . when I see you with him, even without knowing you want to bang his brains out.” I’d never put words to how I felt about Nash McGovern. For so long he’d been this mythical creature. The hot VP from across the way. The target—the mark. The man they’d ordered me to kill, but I’d refused without—aside from the obvious I’m not a fuckin’ murderer reasons—ever truly knowing why.

“You’re right.” I abandoned my coffee and faced Orla. “I do love him, and it has nothing to do with wanting to fuck him and everything to do with the man who rode into fuckin’ Crow town by himself to offer idiots like me a better life. But I do want to fuck him, queenie. I can’t deny that, and I won’t. But . . . shit, I can’t be the person who puts that look on his face. I’d never touch him again before I hurt him like that.” The slow dip of Orla’s chin meant everything.

I drew back, a rueful chuckle shaking us both. “Sorry.” Orla kissed my temple. “For what?” “For derailing what we were talking about.” Beneath the tats, there was a flush to Orla’s pale skin, a heat in her gaze that let me know she was spinning as much as I was. But Nash, man. None of this could happen until I understood the tick in his brain that had wrenched him from me earlier. Can’t hurt him. I’d rather fuckin’ die.

I remembered the day Nash had come for us and led us home. How my gaze had zeroed in on him and he’d looked up at just the right moment. He’d smiled. I hadn’t. I’d been too fucked up from every shitty thing that had brought my boots and hog to his club. Too deep in my grief for Rocco, even before we’d got solid word he was gone. But that clench in my heart, it had never gone away, and I hadn’t managed to hide it from anyone who knew me well. Logan. Folk. Hell, even Willow had sniffed me out. “Dad, you’re so gay for him.” Nice. And I fuckin’ meant that.

I kissed her. Let my hands roam as she arched against me, turning my cock into a heat-seeking missile. My blood into a raging inferno. My imagination into a fuckin’ theme park. I wanted to fuck her with his dick in my mouth. I wanted to fuck him while she rode him. Both of us kissing him. Worshipping him. Cos that’s what he deserved. I drew back, laying my forehead against Orla’s, absorbing a dark gaze that was as frazzled as I felt.

Missing him hurt, though, and it made me yearn for the piece of my heart I’d sent to bed. Made me think of my daughter and everything Nash and Orla had done for her today. Everything they’d fuckin’ chosen to be for her. There were a lot of stand-up souls in the Rebel Kings, but somehow I’d caught feelings for the best.

I sat up taller, reaching for him, coaxing him forward, letting my palms ghost over the bare skin of his ribs. “Kiss me, Nash. I’ll catch you if you fall.” Nash gripped my shoulders. Then his hand slid to the back of my neck. “What if I land on top of you?” “Then I’m right fuckin’ here.” I held steady, waiting for him, tracking the nerves that hadn’t been there before I’d crushed him against the sink in the bunkhouse bathroom.

Nash took a breath, and then he was on me, sliding off the couch and into my lap, his lips fused to mine like a goddamn dream, fear and desire pumping up a storm, a tremble dancing beneath his red-hot skin. I held him tight like I’d promised, letting him control the pace, only taking over when he faltered to reel him back in.

His body blew my mind. The edges and bumps of his lean muscles. The hardness. It was so different to Orla, but I’d told her nothing but the truth about the magic of her soft curves and that dirty laugh I wanted to IV into my fuckin’ veins. About Nash’s rough, masculine jaw and his harsher touch. I was here for all of it. I was made for i...

Breathing hard, Nash dropped a fist either side of my head. “Okay?” With him ripping my clothes off in the dark? That was a hard yes, but I knew what he was really asking and it fuckin’ killed me that in a moment that probably felt like jumping off a sky-high cliff, he was thinking of me. I grasped his hips and flipped us, putting him on his back, the thud echoing in the silent flat, his face illuminated by the noted TV. His eyes blazing as I pinned his arms over his head. I squeezed his wrists, my body wedged between his legs. “We need to wake her up.” Chest heaving, Nash held my gaze. “Yeah. I think we do.”

Seventeen years young and he drew his first blood for me. Sixteen years had passed since then, but I’d never lost that primal feeling of safety whenever he was close. It’s why I woke with a smile on my face, despite knowing he hadn’t entered my room alone. That and his hot lips at my throat. “I brought you something.” Someone. My sweet boy. Of course he’d brought me Locke. The bed dipped either side of me, Nash at my back, Locke in front of me, his green eyes sparkling in the dark.

Nash grappled with them, ripping them free as Locke broke our kiss, still clutching my hair. He turned my head. “Kiss your man, queenie.” In the dark, I found Nash and we fell into the same headlong connection we’d shared the first time I’d ever put my lips on him. The kind that never ended unless a brighter spark took hold. Nash was that spark for me, forever and always, but if he was the lit match, Locke was the dry tinder to the flame. I felt his gaze on me as I kissed Nash—on us—and it made my heart pound, a rush I’d never felt roaring in my ears. This is really happening.

Nash’s gaze swept over him. Widened to the point of comedy before hooded desire weighted his lids. “Fuck. You’re huge.” Locke chuckled. “So they say. But I’ve had this dick my whole life, and I know how to use it without hurting anyone.” Curiosity got the better of me. I reached back and found Locke’s length, wrapping my fingers around it, a crazed gasp escaping me as I realised everything about this man was entirely in proportion. Nash grinned, eyes sparkling with lust-crazed mischief. “You want that? You want him inside you?” I wanted everything. Nash. Locke. Nash and Locke. But most of all, I wanted whatever happened between us to keep that smile on his face forever.

Nash’s hands, lay one on me, and drew the other to him, low down around his hip and to a part of Locke’s body I’d yet to see. His lower back. His thighs. Whatever Nash found there brought him back to earth with a sharp gasp. He tried to pull back, but Locke held him firm. “Inside or out, brother, they’re all the fucking same.” Nash hid his face in Locke’s shoulder.

Alexei came back. I felt more than heard his irritated exhale. “Fine. We will speak in here. I do not care if this happens with you undressed.” I let the pillow fall from my face. “Dude, I’m in bed. It’s not like I’m waving my dick in your face.” Alexei’s hard gaze remained unimpressed. Okay. Maybe I did have my dick out. I rearranged the sheets, shooting Rubi a glare he didn’t give a shite about. “You could’ve told me.” “You coulda felt the breeze, brother.”

“Then we need to figure out which brainless Crows are still alive then. Can’t speak for Lord Nashie, but I kinda lost track somewhere between gas leaks and boat bombs.” Alexei pulled out his phone. “I have a list.” I shot him an incredulous glare. “On your phone?” “I am texting Cam.” “About this?” “No. About sex. You would like to read?” My mind was in bits. Maybe reading Alexei’s sexts to my boss/brother-in-law/other best friend would clear it, but I didn’t want to take the risk of inflicting an apocalypse on my synapses. I waved Alexei’s phone away.

“I love him, man. He’s on my mind as much as she is. I want him as much as I want her.” “But you won’t let yourself have him?” “It’s not that.” I set my mind free, sifting through the nights I’d spent with Locke and Orla in this bed. “We’ve done . . . stuff. It’s just not as easy as I want it to be. As he deserves it to be. I want him to feel as wanted as he is. I want him to know.” Rubi rubbed my arm. “Locke’s a smart dude. I’m sure he knows. Besides, you can see the spark between you from space, so I’d be worried we’d patched another dud if he hadn’t figured it out.”

The kiss ended. Orla went back to work, and I moved to where Locke stood at the end of the bar. I wanted to kiss him too. So much. I settled for a bro hug, but he was a better man than me, and the fleeting brush of his lips at the hollow behind my ear left me reeling—wrecked—by the lightest touch. “You fucker.” Locke made a sound that might’ve been a low laugh, but in the noisy bar, it was hard to tell.

I want him to fuck me. Hardly a new revelation, but as trapped by circumstance as I was by my own head, it was a lot. I loved watching Locke with Orla. The careful way he fucked her. The respect. The reverence, but if our time ever came, I kinda wanted him to ruin me. Damn, it was hot in here.

Saint waited for me at our hogs. “Tools?” He meant weapons. I nodded. “I’m good.” “You should do it.” “Do what?” “Him.” Saint roared away without explanation, and it was the start of the longest night since the last never-ending ride had done my box in.

I returned to the bathroom in time for Nash to turn round in the shower, and the sentence forming on my tongue deserted me, my attention diverting to his wet skin and inked muscles. To his ripped abdomen and his dick hanging heavy between his thighs. He knew how to use that thing. By now, I’d watched him fuck Orla a lot, and I still couldn’t get enough of them. Some nights I didn’t care if they never touched me, as long as they kept touching each other. But they never left me out, and fuckin’ hell, I’d never had so much sex in my life.

Because he didn’t trust me? No. That wasn’t it. He trusted me in bed with his girl while he wasn’t here. Fuck. He’d trusted me with her life long before that. So this? It was something else, and if I knew Nash at all—and by now I knew as much of him as I could get my hands on, I knew every facet of his life—every fuckin’ step he took was for the sake of anyone but him. He’s protecting me. But from what?

forget about it when you’re touching me.” “Like this?” Nash trailed his fingers down my chest, watching them, his gaze intense, every breath slow and deliberate. Me? I shivered like a motherfucker. “Something like that. What else you got?” Nash bit his lip and slid his hand lower, curving over my hip, the tips of his fingers brushing the macabre scars that sat higher than my waistband. “You okay with me touching them?” “If you want to put yourself through that.” “Locke.” That was it. A single word admonishment, heavy with affection.

I reached behind me and turned off the spotlights under the cooker hood. As if the dark could save me. But the moon was a fiend, and all I saw in her soft glow was his beautiful face. Nash moved to reclaim his hands. I gripped his wrists. Stay. Nash stayed, pressing closer and nuzzling my neck the way he did Orla’s. Sweet. Hot. Loving. All the things Nash McGovern was so good at. It didn’t take him long to chase the bad shit away.

I claimed his mouth again, still holding his arms over his head, swallowing his snatched breath as he kissed me back, hips straining, seeking the blissful friction. Out of air, I ripped our kiss apart and mauled his neck, sucking his hot flesh into my mouth, smothering his groan with my hand. I was going to leave a mark. Didn’t care. Orla loved that shit. How did I know? She told me.

That meant Folk was living his best life with Ivy, and the dog that was apparently mine. Also, that he was parenting like a boss on zero hours of sleep. Not that I’d know it to look at him. Folk had one of those faces that looked exactly the same one hundred per cent of the time unless he was literally dying. I’d only seen that once, and he wasn’t dying now. My friend was happy, a fact that warmed my heart as he slipped into the sales building with Ivy and Lida either side of him.

Still wasn’t over opening my eyes to Orla laughing at the snake pit of arms and legs me and Nash had turned ourselves into overnight. I’d been wrapped around him like an overgrown limpet, arm clamped to his abdomen, chin on his shoulder, my chest moulded to his back.

I pursed my lips. Rubi was a beautiful man, inside and out. It was hard to comprehend that Nash had fucked him and not fallen in love with him. That Rubi had fucked Nash and not claimed him for eternity. Then I remembered that this was real life and it didn’t work like that. I had beautiful friends. Folk was a smoke show. So was Juana. But my heart didn’t skip when they walked in the room. Didn’t fuckin’ explode when they laid a hand on me. Only two people had ever truly provoked that reaction and I’d spent the last two weeks in bed with them.

“Nice, isn’t it?” The question came from beside me. From Decoy. I pried my gaze from where Locke had somehow ended up with every child in the room attached to him: Hope and Ivy on each knee, Willow and Liliana looking over his shoulder, watching something on Willow’s phone. Every man in this room was an amazing parent, whether they had biological children or not, but there was something so easy about Locke in dad mode. So soothing. “Yeah.”

Locke brought Nash’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “We are lucky.” The gesture was absent, his mind still on his brothers outside, but somehow that made it sweeter. And Nash’s answering smile? It blew me away. These boys. These men. They were killing me far more than any idiot with a gun ever could.

Ranger laughed, brittle and without humour. “I could tell you a thousand things about Priest, but trust me, it’s not going to make that jagged broken thing in your chest hurt any less.” I almost lunged. But the reality of his growled words was a brutal thing. His unspoken words. Ranger wasn’t telling me shit because he thought—because he knew I couldn’t handle it. He knows you love him. Fuck. Did Locke? Tell him.

“I get it, brother. You think knowing everything without him having to tell you will somehow make it easier, but it won’t. You might fucking die without ever knowing the worst of it, and you have to be okay with that. Otherwise, you’re just another cunt taking shit from him.” “I know. I just—” Fuck. Was I really going to tell Ranger how I felt before I told Locke?

Saint was a good man. One of the best. And he loved me. This mess inside me. This ache. On some level, he felt it too, and his hard-fought words underlined that. “Horrible things happened to Alexei. If I didn’t love them enough to live, it would kill me.” “That your life advice to me? Don’t die?” Saint nodded and I wanted to hug him, but I knew better.

“How do you know I love him like you love Alexei? How do you know it’s the same?” That earned me a head tilt. A deep stare that withered any desire I had to argue with him. What was the point? Saint was too clever for me, and I didn’t fucking care. I loved Locke, and I was proud to love him. My woman had seen to that. Tell him. Tell him. Tell him.

Inside, River had Rubi pressed against the wall, kissing him like no fucker was watching, and a long-ago drunken conversation flooded back to me, one I’d cringed away from, awkward and fascinated all rolled into one. “It doesn’t matter that I’m the big spoon, Nashie. Him fucking me is the best feeling in the world.” I’d never thought about it too hard until now. And as the images in my brain manifested, it wasn’t Rubi and River I pictured; it was me and Locke. I’d dreamed of him fucking me. So. Many. Times. Talked it out with Orla. Fantasised about it with her while we were fucking. But goddamn I wanted to fuck him too.

I stood over the bed, sucked in by them. There was space for me on the other side, and yet I didn’t move, unwilling to disturb the peace they’d found together. On the rare occasions Locke didn’t wait up for me, it always felt like this. Precious. Sacred. I wanted in, so fucking badly, but I needed this too—this quiet, perfect moment to gaze down at them, her soft curves interwoven with his masculine brawn. Her dark hair spilling over his tattooed skin.

I stepped closer. He ditched his notepad on the boxes and reached for me. That he didn’t question it should’ve given me some clue as to how frayed I was looking. It was hardly a secret that we had something going on, and we were both tactile men. But the way he caged me in his arms was a long way from fraternal. It was protective. It was loving. And fucking hell, I needed it. His solid warmth and strength, if only to remind me that he was alive. A shudder passed through me. Locke tightened the arm he had around my waist, the other sliding up my spine to tangle his fingers in my hair. He said nothing, just breathed slow and deep, the steady thump of his heart the same quiet song that had lulled me to sleep.

Orla relaxed into her seat. “And this, Locke, is why I love you.” She didn’t seem to realise what she’d said. She closed her pretty eyes, head bobbing to the music, and zoned out. Me? I fixated on those three little words all the way to her flat. Cos I was a sap, and I loved her too.

Willow: Can I vape? Dad: only when i’m not looking Willow: Nash vapes. You don’t give him the stink eye. And hey, maybe you should vape too, so you don’t smell like a smoky goat Willow: JS Dad: Nash’s young lungs aren’t my concern. Willow: Is he, like, your boyfriend? Dad: he’s orla’s boyfriend Willow: So? I don’t think she’d mind if you were a little bit gay together. Christ on a bike.

Nash. I opened my eyes. He was staring right at me, face inches away, those blue eyes a heady mix of humour and affection. Of desire. Man, he was pretty. I tucked a curl behind his ear before I was truly reconciled with being awake, and he laughed. “You’re cute, brother.” “Says you.” I blinked hard and sat up, stretching the kinks from my older-than-both-of-them muscles and joints. “What time is it?” “Dinner time.” Worked for me.

Orla sat on my other side, completing the circle, and nudged a bowl of potatoes at me. “Eat.” I obeyed with the same enthusiasm I felt when she urged me to fuck her. The girl could cook, and I was fuckin’ hungry. Also, I loved watching women eat. This woman, in particular. Her plate was as full as her heavenly thighs, and with Nash’s knee nudging mine under the table, I could exist in this moment for the rest of my life. It made me wonder if this was how their rare nights in together played out and if I should’ve left them to it. Orla was stuck with me most days, whether she wanted to be or not. Her time with Nash was precious.

“What are you trying to say?” Orla wet her lips. “I’m saying you both spend way too much time focused on me. I don’t need that and I don’t want it. I’m not sitting here worrying that he’ll like fucking you more than fucking me, so leave your gentlemen pants behind and have some fun. Go wild, Locke. You deserve that as much as he does.” I didn’t deserve her. Fuckin’ hell, where had she been all my life? Where had they been? Even in my most untamed dreams, I’d never imagined anything like this. “You know I’ll take care of him, don’t you?” Orla’s fierceness gentled. “Like I know we’d die for you.”

I sent Lida with them and it was my cue to go, but something held me back. Fuckin’ hell, everything did . . . the urge to kiss the shit out of her as if her big brother wasn’t watching us from his window. A need to tell her I loved her, in case there was the tiniest, slightest chance she didn’t already know. Screw it. I hauled her against me. “I’m going to miss you today.” “Stockholm syndrome?” I kissed the quip away, cupping her soft face in my rough hands. “Not even close. I’ll miss you because I love you.” A spark of surprise lit her gaze, and it shouldn’t have. She meant as much to me as Nash did. I wanted her as much. Fuck, I loved her as much.

These were the moments I’d survived for. The dreams that had kept me living on too many dark days to count. And I owed every single one to the man dancing like sin beside me. I felt him in every fibre of my body—my skin, my dick. My heart. Couldn’t look at him cos right now, I belonged to Willow, but fuck me. As if I’d needed another thunderbolt of affection for him.