The Nomad Series-Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  I never needed anyone’s guidance, never wanted it, yet here I am seeking out advice from the craziest motherfucker I’ve ever known. I really should get myself evaluated.

  “Why me?”

  “Why you what?”

  “Why’d you ask me to come back here with you?”

  He draws in a deep breath and positions himself on his bed so he’s sitting upright.

  “You thinking about running?” he asks as he glares at me.

  “No,” I say with conviction, surprising myself. I don’t want to run, I don’t want to pack my saddlebags and ride my tank of gas out until I reach the next clubhouse. I want to stay here, right here and fight for what I’m a part of. I want to fight for what I have, but every battle I fight I lose and losing isn’t an option for me anymore. The next fight I lose will be my last one, and for the first time since I touched American soil, I don’t want to be the man staring in the mirror with a gun to his head.

  I want to be the man who puts the gun down and turns to green eyes.

  “I fucked up,” I admit. “I’ve been lying to the club.”

  Wolf narrows his eyes at me, leaning forward to grab the pitcher of water propped on the rolling table in front of him. Figuring he’s going to throw it at me, I inch back and watch as he pours himself a glass of water.

  “You going to finish there or you going to tell me what the fuck you lied about?”

  “Remember the homecoming party you planned for me?”

  “Of course I do, it’s the last time I got laid.”

  “I met a girl that night,” I start.

  “Good, you got pussy too, mission accomplished.” He raises his water glass in salute.

  “Yeah, well, it didn’t end there.”

  “You dirty dog!”

  “Wolf! Focus, man, I’m telling you something,” I growl, watching as he rolls his eyes and nods for me to continue. “I meant for it to be one night, I did. I’m not the guy that attaches himself to anything or anyone. Then I saw her again and I couldn’t walk away. I don’t know what the fuck it is about her, but whenever I’m around her, I don’t feel like I’m drowning.”

  “Sounds like a keeper, but then they all do at first. I kept three of them and pay alimony to each of them.”

  “She’s Rocco Spinelli’s sister.”

  I question my decision to confide in him as his eyes bulge out of his head and he grabs his chest.

  “Fuck! Are you alright?”

  “You fucking that mobbed up pussy too?”

  I snap my attention back to him, grab the arms of the chair and narrow my eyes at him.

  “What do you mean? Who the fuck else is?”

  “Relax, boy, I don’t mean someone else is tapping your pussy. Riggs’ married to the mob.”

  “He hasn’t married her yet.”

  “Has one kid and another on the way…he’s as good as married,” he acknowledges, scratching the top of his head. “I should give it a go, apparently it’s all the rage,” he says thoughtfully before dropping his hand to the side and turning his gaze back to me. “Wait a minute, I didn’t know Rocco had a sister. Does Jack know?”

  “Nobody in the club knows. Linc met her, but I never told him who she was. The thing is Rocco showed up at her apartment when I was there with some fucking stiff he was going to assign to protect her and—”

  “And you didn’t want dick sniffing around your girl,” he interrupts.

  I glare at him.

  “Go ahead, deny it, I can use the laugh,” he adds.

  “He was concerned for her safety,” I ground out. “And I offered to watch out for her. I told him to lose the guard; that I’d stay with her and make sure no one harmed a hair on her head.”

  “You watch that Whitney Houston flick?”

  “Wolf, I swear to Jesus Christ—”

  “Fine, fine, continue…” he laughs.

  “You’re right; I didn’t want another guy around her. I didn’t think Rocco really had a leg to stand on with his bullshit. If no one knows Gina exists, she can’t be a threat, but in reality it is only a matter of time before they find her. Now, Rocco told Jack he doesn’t think the Corrupt Bastards were behind the bomb.”

  “Come again?”

  “You heard me,” I reiterate with a nod. “He’s pointing the finger to a guy named Vladimir Yankovich as the one who blew our shit up.”

  Wolf’s hands ball into fists as he stares at me silently.

  “Jack told us today, but I already knew the name because Rocco had mentioned it to me. I found his card in the Corrupt Bastards' clubhouse.”

  “Where’s the card?”

  “I gave it to Rocco,” I cringe. “I know I fucked up.”

  “You’re fucking thinking with your dick is what you’re doing,” he hollers at me, pointing an accusing finger. “Jack knows all this now?”

  “He knows about the card but doesn’t know I gave it to Rocco,” I pause. “There’s more.”

  “Fuck me,” he growls.

  “Cobra knows Yankovich, the motherfucker kidnapped his sister when they were fourteen-years-old. They never found her body but Cobra is sure she’s dead. He tortures girls, Wolf, and I’m not real keen on finding out what kind of torture that might be. Cobra says whoever survives is sold overseas. I mean this is some serious fucked up shit we’re getting wrapped up in. Jack’s hell bent on not getting involved with Rocco, but I told him I’d get the goods and find out whatever intel Rocco’s got on Yankovich.”

  “If Jack don’t know about the sister how did you convince him Rocco would give you anything?”

  “I told him I’m seeing the girl who crashed Rocco’s car,” I mutter, realizing what a fucking mess this whole thing is as I say the words.

  “Explain!”

  “Gina stole Rocco’s car and I brought it to the shop to fix after she crashed it.”

  “Gina’s your girl I’m assuming.”

  Gina one hundred percent is my girl but I don’t answer Wolf because I know what comes next and before he says it I try to mentally prepare myself.

  “You better get used to that, boy, because if this is going the path I think it is then you’re going to have to grab your balls and claim Spinelli’s sister if you want the club to back you. Especially since the Bulldog doesn’t want anything to do with the mob anymore. Ain’t no way in hell he will drag the club into this unless that pussy is property of a Knight.”

  “Even if Rocco is right and Yankovich is the guy who fucking blew up the clubhouse; if he’s the guy who killed our prospects and Pipe’s wife—this guy took Cobra’s sister…”

  “Old news,” he seethes. “I don’t like it, it tastes foul on my tongue but it’s the truth. We’re not in a position to be dredging up old vendettas. If this fuck sent Ronan in there with the bomb, he had to have beef with the Corrupt Bastards to pin this shit on them. We did our part, took out their whole fucking club and that should be enough to keep Yankovich at bay. He set us up to do his dirty work, but this threat on Rocco’s sister, that’s a different story. The club will feel that because you’ll feel it. You gotta tell Jack.”

  “I won’t let anyone hurt her.”

  “Then say the words, boy, claim her and the club will have your back.”

  “Having my back means having Rocco’s back,” I remind him.

  “No, having your back is having your girls back. Rocco just gets to benefit from the bonds of brotherhood. I bet he knows that too. If Pastore trained him well, he knows how we work. He probably staged that whole fucking thing with the guard to get you in his corner because that’s all he needs. Pastore had Jack, and we all followed. You carried the man to his grave because Jack took to that man. Not all of us agreed with the alliance, most of us vetoed that shit at church, but in the end we take care of what is ours. Jack made Victor ours and you, you’re making Rocco and his sister ours now too.”

  “Jack’s going to kill me.”

  “He’ll probably fuck you up. Hell, I might fuck you up for thi
s shit, but your girl…ain’t nobody gonna touch her. You gotta tell Jack. You need to bring this shit to the table.”

  He refills his cup of water, takes a swig before placing it back on the table and looks back at me.

  “Get the goods from Rocco, find out everything he knows and bring that to the table. Then drop your truth on Jack’s lap.” He pauses for a moment, “What you're feeling right now is the exact reason I chose you. I was desperate to save my club just like you’re desperate to save your girl. I’m no savior but I salvaged what was broken by giving it what it needed to be fixed.”

  Desperate.

  I’ve been desperate many times in my life. I was desperate to save my mother, desperate to save my country, and desperate to save the men who stood with me every day defending freedom.

  I’ve been desperate before.

  But never have I been the savior.

  “Nobody can be a hero by themselves in this world. You know that shit better than anyone. Every man who fights a good fight has a band of brothers standing alongside him. Some may fall, but those who stand, stand together. You got your army you just need to take it.”

  Take it.

  And hang onto it.

  -Twenty-six-

  Stryker

  Glancing out the window, I spot the sun creeping up the horizon ready to rise and hand us all a new day. It’s the time of day I look forward too because it’s when I’m the most at peace. It’s when my body relaxes because I made it through another night without the ghost of war haunting me. It’s the time when I watch Gina sleep peacefully, knowing she will wake up soon and give me her eyes. I crave to be next to her, to have her in my arms, against my body, but I’m not selfish enough to take what I want.

  At least not now.

  I gave her one final night of peace, one night before I dump all the ugly bottled inside of me onto her. Claiming her to the entire free world isn’t such a hardship for me as it will be for her. I get her, all of her and she gets all of me—the nightmares, the times when reality fades and I’m transcended back in time. I get the pretty girl and she gets the wounded soldier.

  Crap deal.

  At least she’ll be safe.

  The club will keep her safe.

  After calling Rocco several times, I gave up for the night and came home to the eyes waiting for me. At this point Rocco might be lying in a ditch somewhere because I can’t get a fucking hold of him, but every minute I don’t get in touch with him is a minute too long. I need whatever he’s got on Yankovich so I can deliver that shit to Jack and tell him that Gina’s my old lady.

  She’s going to hate being called that.

  She can hate it all she wants but if being my old lady keeps her safe, then she will wear the fucking title like it’s one of those fancy name plates she displays on her desk.

  “Morning,” she whispers, stretching her arms over her head. She hides the frown I’ve come to expect and turns down the sheet beside her and pats the space I should be lying in. Robotically I rise from the chair and slip into bed beside her. The frown is replaced with a lazy smile as she rolls her body into the crook of mine and props her chin on my chest.

  I thread my fingers through her hair and lean forward to kiss her forehead.

  “Good morning, pretty girl,” I murmur.

  “Now it is,” she whispers, throwing her leg over mine. “Do you know what today is?”

  “What’s today?”

  “Football Sunday,” she declares, running her fingers up my chest and twisting my nipple between them.

  “Ouch,” I tease.

  “You love it,” she accuses.

  Yeah, I do. Every time she plays with my piercings I think she’s the reason I did it. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t know her when I had them done, I’m sure I got them because subconsciously she was across the country waiting to play with them.

  “So,” she starts, pushing herself up before crawling over me until she’s straddling me. “Are you ready?”

  “For what?” I ask as I stare at her perky tits, watching as her nipples turn to rigid peaks.

  “To stay in bed all day, fucking and watching football?”

  My eyes leave her chest and meet hers. She’s got a sexy grin working her lips as she rocks her body against my dick.

  “Are you real?”

  She throws her head back and her laughter fills the room. Fuck, it fills me, occupies all the hollow pieces of me.

  “Of course I’m real,” she says with a big smile as she leans down and smacks her lips against mine. “Do you feel that?” she whispers against my mouth as she slides her pussy over my cock. “Yeah, you do,” she answers. “How can you not?”

  I don’t know what the fuck she’s talking about; if she’s talking about the way she’s teasing my cock or if she’s referring to that fucking lightning between us.

  I feel them both.

  And they’re both fucking real.

  Reaching up I take her face in my hands and pull her mouth back to mine, kissing her, robbing her air and giving her mine. Her lips part for my tongue and I take her. I fuck her mouth nice and slow, lazily stroking her tongue savoring every taste. Her moan excites me but it’s not what I want. I want her to say my name. I want her to scream it, to cry it; then I want her to curse it when she can’t walk, when she can’t talk because I’ve fucked her silent.

  Then I’ll tell her she’s my old lady.

  Good plan.

  Works well with her plan too.

  We’re already compromising like a couple.

  We’ve got this shit.

  Pulling away from my mouth, she lifts her hips as her hair falls over both of us, cocooning us. My hands move to her hips and I arch off the bed as she sits on my cock. My eyes fall to where we’re joined and I’m put in a trance as I watch her pussy swallow my cock, taking every fucking inch of me deep and bare.

  “Is it real for you yet?” she rasps, sucking my lower lip into her mouth.

  It was real the moment I fucking laid eyes on her.

  It was real when she took that first ride on my bike.

  And it's fucking real now that she’s riding me.

  Breaking the kiss, she sits upright on top of me and rotates her hips as she gives me her eyes. I don’t blink, not sure I even breathe as I watch her reach up and play with her tits. Pinching her nipples, twisting them until she cries out and quickens her pace. She’s in her own world, or maybe it’s just the world where only she and I exist—the same world I’ve been stuck in since the day I met her.

  I reach between us, find her clit and start to play with it. Her eyes go wide and her movements jerk as she tries to steady herself.

  “I’ve got you,” I ground out as I hold her in place with one hand and continue to work the sensitive bundle of nerves.

  “Let go, pretty girl.”

  She listens and I feel her tighten around me.

  “That’s it,” I rasp, as she braces her hands on my chest and cries out her orgasm. She drops her head against my chest and I wrap my arms around her, rolling her onto her back as I keep myself buried inside of her. I take her hands, place them above her head and watch as her fingers tighten around the wrought iron of her headboard.

  “Hang on,” I tell her as I bend my head and suck her nipple into my mouth.

  “Stryker,” she cries out.

  Sliding out of her, my mouth releases her turgid nipple and travels down her stomach. I slide my hands to the insides of her thighs and push her legs as far apart as they go before I slide further down the bed and my face hovers over her sweet cunt.

  “So fucking wet,” I say, sliding my fingers over her. “You want to come again, pretty girl?”

  “Mmm,” she moans.

  “Don’t worry you’re going to,” I promise, taking my wet fingers and wrapping them around my cock. I close my eyes, pushing the need for release out of my head because I’m not ready for it to be over, not when there’s so much more I still want to give her.

  “What
about you?”

  “Don’t worry about me. We’re going to fuck all day, right? Your words.”

  “Yeah, we are,” she breathes.

  “Then there’s plenty of time for me to get there,” I tell her, releasing my grip on my cock as I bow my head. “Right now it’s all about you, pretty girl. Lose your mind, let go and let me take care of you.”

  “You already do,” she whispers.

  “It’s not enough,” I tell her.

  It’s not and I’m not sure anything I give her will be, but I’ll keep trying until I can’t anymore, until it’s physically out of my means to try to give her anymore.

  I spread her apart with my fingers and let my tongue take a lap at a heaven a man like me has no business having, but a heaven this soldier won’t surrender. Her taste hits me, her scent engulfs me, churns all my senses to shit and I lose myself in the high of getting her off again.

  My fingers dig into her ass cheeks and I bring her closer, burying my face in-between her legs as I suck and nip at her clit. She writhes beneath me like a snake in the grass and her hands grip my head, pressing my face where she needs me. I break for air, bringing my hand around and slide three fingers inside her. She’s so fucking wet I bet I could get my entire fist inside her, and for a moment I wonder if she’d mind.

  The thought flees me as she grabs my ears and tugs.

  “Fuck,” I grunt.

  “I’m going to come again,” she hisses.

  “Yeah, you are,” I say, curling my fingers inside of her.

  “Not without you,” she says, clenching her teeth. “And not without your name,” she adds, reaching in-between us and wraps her hand around my wrist.

  “Give me your name.” Her pretty eyes plead with mine.

  I momentarily stare at her, not moving, just picturing her writhing beneath me crying out my name. It’s a fucking pretty picture. Withdrawing my fingers, I move back up her body, position my aching cock with her pussy and bend my head to kiss her lips. Kissing is almost as good as fucking her.

  Almost.

  Fucking her as she screams my name—yeah, nothing will probably ever compare to that. Certainly not kissing her.