by Harley Stone
He was being ridiculous. “Surveillance is hardly storming anything. I just want permission to watch and gather information.”
“And I told you, permission denied. Stay away from the Serpents, Petrov. That’s an order.” He gestured toward the door. “Now, I’m sure we both have work to do.”
Dismissed, I ambled out of his office, feeling lost, confused, and angry.
I tried to stay in my lane and away from the motorcycle gang, but being sidelined continued to rub me raw. Another missing girl case came in. Another mom stared at me expectantly as I wrung my hands and crushed her hope with a lie.
“We’re doing everything we can, Ms. Vander.”
But I wasn’t. I was sitting behind my desk while girls were being kidnapped and most likely trafficked.
I couldn’t handle the inactivity anymore. I thought about going over the sergeant’s head to the chief of police, but I’d heard that Jose Romero was a hardass who rarely second-guessed Sergeant Wilkens. There was no way he’d do it for a newbie like me. So I started researching Serpent cases, searching for clues that led to their possible involvement in human trafficking. I didn’t find anything on missing girls, but I did discover a shocking number of cases that went nowhere. Entirely too many Serpents had been arrested but released because evidence and witnesses kept going missing. The rare cases that made it to court were usually thrown out due to technicalities.
Either we were the most incompetent police force in the country, or something was fishy in the Emerald City. Before I could find out which, Wilkens summoned me into his office and demanded my shield and Glock.
“What? Why?” I asked. “What’s going on?”
“I told you to leave the Serpents alone. You defied a direct order. I’m putting you on a two-week suspension, and you’re lucky I’m not firing you over this.”
Confused, I dropped my things on his desk in a haze. “But I was just researching.”
“I’ve had hemorrhoids last longer than you’ve had your badge, and I won’t sit here and listen to some young upstart tell me how to do my damn job. Get your ass out of my office, Petrov. Now.”
As I drove home from the station, my head flooded with even more questions I couldn’t answer. Something was going on, and I was determined to find out what. My options were limited, but determination and bad ideas were aplenty. The sergeant thought I was too emotional to do my job, so I’d show him just how emotionless I could be.
I was my mom’s daughter, after all, and I’d learned plenty of tricks from years of watching her work over her old pimp/boyfriend to get what she wanted. So, I went home and bleached my hair, chopping it off just below my chin. Then I opened my neglected makeup kit and got all dolled up before squeezing my body into the shortest leather skirt and tightest tank top I could find. At nine p.m., I went bar hopping, ending the evening at The Serpent’s Nest, the bar owned and operated by the outlaw MC.
A lone bouncer stood guard at the door. Feet shoulder-width apart, arms crossed, he checked me out as I let my hips sway, approaching him on a pair of six-inch bright red fuck-me heels. I didn’t recognize the bouncer, but the front patch on his cut read “Prospect,” telling me he wasn’t worth my time.
Prospects were basically guppies, and if I wanted answers, I needed to fish for a shark. I needed a snake ranked high enough to get me into the compound so I could find out what was going on in there.
“Hey, babe, your fine ass lookin’ for a good time?” the bouncer asked.
“Lookin’ for a drink. I heard Brewer’s manning the bar tonight, and he pours ’em strong.”
My blatant name drop had its desired effect, causing the bouncer to open the door and blast us with loud rock music. “Yeah, Brewer’s on tonight,” he said.
Sucking down my last breath of fresh air, I marched in like I belonged there. Despite the fact smoking was illegal in all Washington establishments, the air reeked of tobacco and pot. Homing in on the row of bikers seated at the bar, I drifted over to stand by the cash register so I could see who I was dealing with. Several bikers I recognized from their mug shots. So many of these assholes should be thrown under the jail for the shit they’d done, but here they sat, enjoying their freedom like they were innocent, God-fearing folk.
The more I thought about the lack of justice I’d seen since donning the badge, the angrier I got. Letting that righteous rage reinforce my backbone, I stuck out my breasts and tugged my skirt up a little.
While I was trying to decide which dangerous perp would most likely get me into the compound without dumping my corpse into the Sound, a body leaned into my personal space, demanding my attention. My ridiculous six-inch heels elevated me to a height of about 5’10”, which put me at eye level with the biker now in my face. He looked rough, weathered, rugged. His dark hair, beard, and mustache could all use a good trim, and he smelled like he’d been in the bar about a week too long, marinating in the smoke and booze. But it was his icy blue eyes that made me instinctively take a step back as recognition slapped me across the face.
I’d caught the attention of Tommy “Breaker” Pritchard, nephew of the gang’s president. Suspected of committing more crimes than the department could keep track of, Breaker had been charged a few times, but like the rest of his family, all the shit we threw at him bounced right off.
He took in my tense posture and hasty retreat with a predatory smirk. “Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my bar?” he asked.
Straightening my shoulders, I took a deep breath and forced myself back into character. “Me? I’m trying to get a drink.” I let my gaze sweep over his body, just like he’d done to me, before closing the distance between us like he was some sort of magnet pulling me in. “Think you can help a girl out with that? Or are you just gonna stand there and gawk at me?”
His lips twitched. I’d heard Breaker liked his women mouthy, and the smile he fought verified my information. Good. I’d been written up for insolence twice in the past two weeks, so smart-ass was my new normal. I could hang. I quirked an eyebrow, waiting for his response with just a hint of challenge.
Keeping his icy gaze locked with mine he asked, “What are you drinkin’?”
“Rum and diet.”
“Brewer,” Breaker called, getting the bartender’s attention. He repeated my order before looking me over again. The heat of his gaze warmed my cheeks and kicked my fight or flight reflexes into overdrive. Hooking up with any of the Serpents meant playing with fire, but spending time with Breaker would be more like dangling myself over a volcano. His attention was a gift and a curse. It would get me in the door, but it might burn me alive in the process.
But I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t willing to take the risk. Those girls needed someone to go to bat for them, and since the sergeant had benched me, I was stepping up to the plate the only way I knew how.
I’d get that jerk his evidence, then I’d shove it right up his hemorrhoid-ridden ass.
“I haven’t seen you around here,” Breaker said, his voice deep and husky as he settled his hand on my hip and tugged me against him. The move was possessive and challenging. I could wiggle free, but really, I was right where I wanted to be.
“It’s my first time.” I flashed him the stamp on the back of my hand. “I was watching paint dry at the Corral when I overheard a couple of skanky-looking bitches talking about this place. Said the drinks are strong and the men are stronger.” I wrapped my arm around his waist, tugging myself even closer. “Made it sound like the bikers who frequent this place are a bunch of sex gods or some shit like that. Figured I’d come and see what all the fuss is about.”
This time, he did crack a smile. It made him look dangerous and a little crazy. “So you’re looking for a good time, huh?”
Licking my lips, I let myself really take him in. He wasn’t a bad looking guy. Nice face (if you didn’t look directly into his terrifying eyes), square jaw, bad boy appeal, radiating the kind of confidence and power that promised a good fuck. His chest was
wide, his arms were muscular and tattooed. All in all, he wasn’t bad for a murderer, thief, drug dealer, and possible sex trafficker.
“I’m always up for a good time,” I said beneath my lashes, flirting my ass off.
“This can be a dangerous place for someone who looks like you. You sure you’re up for it?”
My mom hooked for years to put food on the table and pay off my dad’s hospital bills. The irony that I’d be whoring myself out with the hopes of keeping other girls from her fate wasn’t lost on me. “I think I can handle myself.”
His raised eyebrows spoke volumes about his disbelief in my abilities. “What’s your name?”
I thought about lying, but immediately dismissed the idea. With a little more planning and a little less last-minute suicide put into my mission, I could have come up with a fake ID. But since I didn’t have one on me, I couldn’t take the chance that he’d check. “Sasha. Yours?”
“Breaker,” the bartender called, answering for him as he held out a drink.
Breaker leaned forward and grabbed the beverage before handing it to me. I watched the entire interaction to make sure he didn’t slip anything into my drink. Taking a sip, I dissected the flavor as it rolled over my tongue. I couldn’t taste anything other than Captain Morgan’s and Diet Coke, but that didn’t mean shit. Hoping for the best, I raised my glass in thanks before taking another swallow.
“Let’s sit down,” Breaker said.
I was about to point out that the bar was full when he flexed on some skinny dude and the guy slithered away, giving up his seat. Breaker planted his ass on the barstool, tugging me down onto his lap. I wasn’t used to being manhandled. My body tensed up and I had to force myself to relax, leaning against Breaker as if I couldn’t stay away.
His hand landed on my stomach as he struck up a conversation with the man sitting beside us. Sipping my drink, I listened in as they chatted about an upcoming wedding and plans for what sounded like one hell of a bachelor party. Breaker’s hand migrated to my breast as he rattled on about the club whores who’d be there. Two bikers on my left bragged to a third guy about some girl they’d double-teamed. The bartender poured drinks as he gossiped with another biker about some dumbass who’d gotten stoned out of his mind and picked a fight with a Serpent named Crash.
This was the lifestyle I’d committed my life to fighting: Drugs, abuse, violence. I wondered again at why my sergeant wanted to keep me away from it. Then again, since I’d literally marched into the snake’s den and sat on one of the bastards’ laps, maybe I was too emotionally involved in these missing girl cases after all.
But someone had to find the girls, and Wilkens, Franks, and Scott weren’t doing shit.
Minutes ticked by. Bikers came and went, approaching Breaker like he was some sort of royalty they sought favor with. One guy, who’d apparently been out of town, told Breaker he was sorry to hear about Joe. Joseph Pritchard was the youngest Pritchard child, and had been shot and killed about a month ago. The details were sketchy, but the investigation was closed and sealed. My ears perked up at the mention, hoping to finally get some clues about what had really happened.
“Thanks, brother. It’s good to have you back in town.”
“Any leads on the motherfucker responsible?” the newcomer asked.
“No. Texas wants us all to believe it was some random hit between Pier 62 and Pier 63, like some damn deal gone wrong. But that motherfucker’d be better off selling me ocean front property in Arizona than getting me to buy that bullshit. Joe and Trucker were working with that stupid son-of-a-bitch, Brass, and there hasn’t been hide nor hair of him since their death. I’m betting he double crossed them, but a dumbshit like that would need help. No way he took down Joe and Trucker by himself. We’ll find out who’s behind the hit, and the prez better hope he’s not hiding anything. Dad will lose his shit and finally make a move.”
It was shocking to hear any biker threaten their president so openly, but I’d heard rumors that a war was brewing between Breaker’s dad, Buzz, and his brother, Texas.
“You need me, all you have to do is holler, brother.”
Conversations and songs changed as I wondered what Breaker was waiting for. I’d planned to waltz into the bar, seduce a biker, and have him take me back to the clubhouse, but Breaker seemed to be content to just sit there with me on his lap. Guns N’ Roses “Sweet Child of Mine” blared from the speakers as I tried to remember how many songs had played since I arrived. Four? Five? Six? I’d been sipping slowly, but my drink was mostly gone. The bartender set another in front of me, but I was too distracted to pay it any mind. There was a little nick in the side of the bar, and it captured my full attention. The divot felt strange beneath my fingertip. So strange, that I had to rub each of my digits against the wood, finishing with my thumb, before pressing my palm and the back of my hand against it.
I’d never felt something so cool in my life.
The different texture, the dip, it was all fascinating. Captivating. I wanted to rub my entire body against it, to feel it beneath every inch of my skin.
That’s when I realized my drink had been spiked after all.
After everything I’d seen my mother go through, I promised myself I’d never fuck around with drugs, yet here I was. A wave of panic washed over me before my training kicked in, reminding me to stay calm and focus on the symptoms. I didn’t feel dizzy, disoriented, or sleepy. I knew where I was and remembered what I was doing there, which meant I hadn’t been roofied.
Think, Sasha. You know what this is.
The nick in the side of the bar kept tugging at my attention. I rubbed my arm over it, marveling at the way it felt. The way I felt against it. Strange. More. Stimulated.
Breaker leaned forward, his hot breath landing on the side of my neck, sending goosebumps down my oversensitive shoulder and arm. “How you doin? You ready for me yet?” he asked as his hand slipped beneath my skirt to slide across my thong. “Fuck yeah, you are. Your pussy feels like a hot bath. I can’t wait to take a dip.”
He was vile. Disgusting. He had no right to talk to me like that. Still his words incited more goosebumps and sent another wave of heat to my core. His fingers danced lightly over my sensitive area, teasing.
Part of me was appalled. The bar hid what he was doing under my skirt, but we were still in public. I shouldn’t have been aroused, but I couldn’t help myself. All too aware of how silky my bra felt against my nipples and how the lace of my thong felt beneath Breaker’s wandering fingertips, I had to force myself not to writhe for more friction.
Every touch, every breath of air, was overwhelming. Sensual. Euphoric.
Whatever control I’d had when I walked into The Serpent’s Nest was long gone. They’d dosed me with either liquid ecstasy or molly, because my entire body thrummed with sexual energy. Eventually, I gave in and arched my pelvis against Breaker’s hand to increase the pressure. People were watching me grind against him, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was the sensation.
“You’re gonna want this,” Brewer said, plopping a tall glass of water in front of me.
I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was, but all of a sudden water was everything. Muttering a quick thank you, I reached for the glass and gulped it down, not coming up for air until it was empty.
“Good girl,” Breaker said in my ear. “You gonna be that greedy with my cock?”
He continued to stroke me through my thong. It felt amazing, but it wasn’t enough. I grabbed his hand, pushing it harder against me. His thick, blunt fingers felt so good I could barely stand it.
“What did you give me?” I asked, arching against him again. I knew I shouldn’t, but it was like I couldn’t get close enough. He was practically finger-banging me right there in the bar, and I was letting it happen. Hell, I was encouraging it. My body was on fire and only pressure could put it out.
“Just a little X to get the party started, babe. You were all uptight and needed to chill the fuck out and relax.” Pushing m
y thong aside, he dipped a finger into my pussy.
I bit back a moan.
“You’re so fucking wet. I bet I could bend you over this bar right now and fuck you here in front of everyone. Would you like that?”
No. Yes. It was wrong, but it would feel so right. I pushed on his hand, driving his finger deeper inside me.
“Fuck,” he growled, removing his hand from my crotch, he sucked on his finger and stood, jostling me forward. Before I could protest, he threw me over his shoulder, no doubt showing my ass off to the entire bar.
Raucous cheers followed as he carried me around the bar, down a hallway, and into an office. Closing the door behind us, he set my ass down on the desk and undid his pants. Those icy blue eyes stared into me again as he dropped his pants and grabbed his cock, stroking his shaft.
“That’s it. Touch yourself,” he said, his voice low and husky.
I hadn’t even realized my hands were kneading my breasts. I gave each a squeeze and then pinched my nipples through my bra, throwing back my head as I reveled in the sting.
“Let me see you,” he said, plucking a condom from his wallet. “Take off your shirt and bra.”
I did as he commanded. Air kissed my nipples, making them even harder. Every inch of my body felt sensitive, sexy, free. As he rolled on the condom, he dropped his head to attack my breasts. He sucked and nibbled as he grabbed my hips and slid me forward until my ass was hanging off the edge. Then, he slammed his cock inside of me.
The pressure, the fullness of it all, was too much.
“Your pussy is so damn tight. I’m gonna tear the shit out of it.”
I hated myself for enjoying the friction he offered. I hated Breaker, everything he and his family stood for, all the evil shit they’d done. I was supposed to be the one seducing him, but he’d flipped the script, and now I didn’t want him to stop. I needed him to douse the fire raging inside me. Digging my nails into his arms, I hung on, wringing every ounce of pleasure I could from the asshole.
Breaker had taken the reins, and now I needed to be the best lay of his life so he’d ride me all the way to the missing girls.
