SECRET BABY AT THE ALTAR: Blood Brothers MC

by Claire St. Rose

  She made fast work of his fly, and when his erection sprung from it, she caught the tip of it in her mouth, running circles around him with her tongue. He moaned. “God, that feels good.”

  She chuckled, and the vibration made Vince’s cock twitch. He let out a vile curse and put his hands on the back of her head, pushing her to take more of him in. She slide her lips down his shaft, to his base, and back up, and then she did it again. She kept at it until his fingers twisted in her mess of hair and dragged her back to his mouth, where he devoured her like a starving man.

  He rolled Ariana onto her back and yanked at her loose house pants, baring her, and his kiss on her cleft made her shiver almost convulsively. He licked and sucked at her until she screamed with her orgasm, and in the midst of her wave of pleasure, Vince mounted her, thrusting deep inside her. She wrapped her ankles around his neck to lift her hips from the bed, and he pounded into her until she thought she might pass out from pure ecstasy.

  When he came, it was hard and fast, and his face twisted into an expression of pain. She felt his body jerk inside her and reveled in it, and euphoria settled over her from the mutual release. He collapsed on top of her, and she slowly adjusted her breathing back to a rhythmic, even whisper. Somewhat recovered, she pushed at his shoulder, and Vince rolled to the side. It eased her chest to have his weight off, and she took a deep, satisfying breath. “Well, that was necessary.”

  He chuckled beside her, a winded, tired sound. “Yes, it was.”

  To Ariana’s chagrin, her earlier thoughts began to taunt her again, and she frowned to herself in the dark room. “Where were you earlier?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Vince knew something was going to ruin the moment. He didn’t have a lot of problems with women, but one thing was true of all of them. They couldn’t leave things alone. They wanted answers, so they poked and prodded until they pissed off the bull, and the bull went raging through the china shop, shattering the peace.

  “Vince?” she asked again.

  Heaving a sigh as he rolled to a seated position, he told her, “I had some club business. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Don’t worry about it?” she repeated. Great, she was irritated again. Here it came. “You run off, saying you have obligations, and we miss each other all day. Then you show up at my door, and you screw me like a dying man on his last ride. But you tell me not to worry about it? Dammit, Vince, this club has you by the balls, and they’re yanking you away from the things you take pleasure in.”

  That was rich. “Well, the club’s been there for me for a long time, and I’m obligated, just like I said. I can’t help it if other people want to come along and take control of my balls, insisting that I’m making a mistake by being loyal to my family.” He stood, closing his fly and pulling his shirt down. “And they are my family. I don’t have anyone else.”

  He heard her smack her hand against the bed behind him. “I just wish we could make this work out in a way that each of us could be there when the other needs it.”

  He rounded, glowering at her through the darkness. “I suppose I’m the only one who felt relieved. At least, until you started this little tiff.”

  “No, but…” She trailed off, and Vince hoped she didn’t pick the conversation back up. He should have known better. He strode out of the bedroom toward her small kitchenette, looking for a glass and a drink of water, and she trailed behind him, attempting to pull her pants back on as she went. “I needed you earlier, Vince. I don’t want to have to wait for what I need until the damn club says you’re free to leave.”

  “Is that how you think it works?” He was sweltering, which only fueled his anger, and he realized he’d never taken his jacket off as he finally found a glass and filled it with water from the tap. He guzzled half of it before he spoke again. “I have the freedom to go where I please, when I please. No one tells me what to do. Not you, and certainly not the Claws. Anything I do with them is my choice.”

  “Then tell me why you’re so worked up tonight. Where did you choose to go? What did you have to go that made you so furious you nearly broke both of us in that bedroom?”

  He finished the water and thumped the glass on the counter. Glaring at Ariana, Vince asked, “Do you really want to know? Because I thought we agreed it was better not to mix business with pleasure. You don’t approve of my line of work, so I wouldn’t think you’d want all the gory details.”

  They stared at each other, a game of chicken, and it was Ariana who looked away first. “Just tell me if it was dangerous.”

  He scoffed. “It depends on what you consider dangerous. I think the way you drive is dangerous.”

  “Don’t be snarky, Vince. I’m serious right now.”

  That was another thing. Women were serious far too often. “It was a little hairy, but I’m smart enough and experienced enough to know how to handle things like this. You, on the other hand, are wholly unprepared to hear the details of tonight’s little business meeting.” Watch yourself, she’ll freak out if you even hint at guns or illegal activities.

  She dropped onto the couch and crossed her arms, and Vince stood there, leaning on the counter, and wondered if this was going to blow over or if he should get out before she started hurling heavy objects at his head. After a long silence, she spoke in a small voice. “How do I know that, one day, you just won’t come back?”

  Vince squeezed his eyes shut. This was not a conversation he wanted to have tonight. It hit too close to home and called up the image of the gun pointed at him a couple of hours ago. “I’ve always come back. And my business isn’t as bad as you probably think. We don’t run drugs, and we don’t sell guns. We haven’t lost a guy to anything but natural causes as long as I’ve been with the club. But I’m guessing you get all your ideas about motorcycle clubs from documentaries on Hell’s Angels and other crocks of shit.”

  She didn’t answer, and when Vince came around the counter to see her expression, her cheeks were red with embarrassment. He laughed. “That’s what I thought.”

  Ariana closed her eyes and shook her head. Vince saw the fight go out of her and he let go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes still closed. “I just got some really bad news today, and it’s made me think about how easy it is to lose someone that… ” She didn’t finish, but she gazed up at him and met his eyes. “Someone that you might actually give a shit about.”

  Vince could think of about a thousand things he would have imagined coming out of her mouth, but nowhere on that list had those words appeared. “What happened to you today? You almost fainted reading a text, and now you’re talking about mortality and losing people.”

  Ariana leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “My father’s dying. We don’t get along. I don’t really get along with any of my family, or I would be at the hospital with him right now.”

  Something in Vince’s gut wrenched. He hadn’t been a big fan of his own father, but it had still hurt to lose him. “I’m sorry, Ariana. How long does he have?”

  “I don’t know.” There were tears in her voice, and she sniffed, obviously not wanting to cry. “He’s got a disease and needs chemo, which he can’t have without a liver transplant. But he can’t get a liver transplant because he’s an alcoholic, and he won’t even take one from family. So, days, maybe? Weeks? I don’t know. He’s in bad shape.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  It had been ages since Vince comforted anyone, but he tried. He sat next to Ariana, pressed against her side, and put an arm around her shoulders. He pulled her head to his chest, and she didn’t fight him. Instead, she buried her face deep into him, like she needed his warmth. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked.

  She shook her head against him, her voice was muffled by his clothes. “You’re doing everything you can right now.”

  Vince rested his chin on top of her head, and they sat for a long time. His mind went blank; he couldn’t foc
us on anything but the feel of Ariana in his arms and the pain that dwelled inside her. He understood loss and regrets. When she finally sat up and tucked her hair behind her ears, her eyes were red but they were dry. She gave him a sad, embarrassed smile. “Thank you.”

  He smiled. “Are you feeling better?”

  “I think so.” She didn’t sound convinced.

  Risking another fight, Vince told her, “Maybe you should try to talk to your father and put whatever came between you in the past. You don’t want to have regrets when he’s gone. It’ll just eat at you until there’s nothing left to recover.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “You speak from experience.”

  With a shrug, he stood. “I guess you could say that.” He made a show of adjusting his clothes while he took a minute to turn a corner and get off Memory Lane. “I need to get home. I’ve been on the go since about seven this morning. Are you okay? Are you going to be able to sleep?”

  “I’ll be fine. What about you?”

  He pretended to consider that carefully. Then, on a whim, he leaned down and kissed her with almost as much passion as he had when he’d arrived. He straightened and brightened at her stunned expression. “I think I’ll sleep just fine now.”

  He walked out of her apartment without looking back. Vince mounted his bike, his heart feeling much lighter than it had an hour before, and kicked the engine to life. The machine rumbled beneath him, and he took off for home. He had two questions on his mind. First, what were they going to do with the Demons’ request when the club met tomorrow? And second, had it been the sex or Ariana’s admission of caring about him that made him feel on top of the world?

  Both questions were frightening, and he knew the answer to either one of them could be the death of him. But Vince also knew for sure he was ready to face whatever came his way.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  “Well, boys, your fearless leader tried to turn down the Demons’ demands,” Cyril began as the door to the Court Room closed behind Traunch. He pinned Vince with a deadly glare. “But someone promised those bastards we’d bring those demands back for a vote.”

  “Vince saved your life, Cyril, and the rest of us, too,” Dustin argued from the other end of the table. He knit his brows. “You got cocky and didn’t think about the safety of your crew. Vince had to do that for you.”

  “What did you expect me to do?” Cyril bared his teeth. “We voted not to negotiate.”

  Vince shook his head. “Maybe, but we didn’t vote to have a gun fight last night. We voted to talk to the Kingsmen, which we haven’t even done yet. Even if we go with the original plan, we needed to buy some time. If you insist on going ahead the way you want to, we’re wasting time. We’ve got to get to the Kingsmen and back in two and a half days now.”

  Kentucky stood up and paced back and forth by the door. “Let’s cut out the arguments and talk about what they want. How much are they asking?”

  “Fifteen percent,” Pound and Dustin chorused.

  Vince sat forward. “Look, for $75,000 a run, we can buy our way into Demons territory, cut the risk in half, and keep the peace. We don’t have enough businesses on our payroll to launder what we’re buying into anyway. We were already on board for fifty, what’s an extra twenty-five? It still gives us 1.7 million a month, which is triple what we had before.”

  “And it’s smaller bills, so we can probably buy our way into another business or two,” Pound piped in.

  But Scat slammed his fist on the table. “It’s not about the cost or the safety. It’s about letting those assholes get a line on us. If we compromise with them, they’ll just want more, and word will get out that we’re pushovers. We’ve got to stick to our guns on this.”

  “Maybe we should weigh the cost of using the Demons against the cost of guns from the Kingsmen,” Dustin interjected. “It’s a longer trip to Wyoming, and we’ll likely have to give them a much larger cut to keep the ammo coming.”

  “Then we lie about our income,” Scat suggested.

  Pea scoffed. “They’ll ask why we have such a problem working with the Demons if we lie about our profit.”

  “Then we tell them the truth,” Cyril grunted. “And we tell them we’d rather cut them in for the ten percent the Demons are demanding because we’d rather work with the white boys and get rid of the scum. They’ll eat it up. It’s a much better lie to tell. Much more beneficial.”

  Vince couldn’t see any benefit. “If you’re worried more about the financial cost than the human cost, your priorities are off. If we do this, we’re going lose men. There’s no way to avoid that. I’d rather pay the money and find a way out of it later, before they decide to completely extort us, than lose a single one of the Claws.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way,” Raw spoke up. “We get enough guns, and we can call on the businesses on our payroll to back us with some of those guns. These guys have been making money off us for a long time, and they’re about to multiply their own income off our work. They owe us their loyalty.”

  But Vince couldn’t see it. He refused to willingly drag anyone else into this mess. Those businessmen were already taking legal risks; when it came to spilling blood, they were innocent. They didn’t deserve to stand in the line of fire because the club feared losing too much money or looking weak. That would be the same as telling Ariana she had to ride with him on a money run because she’d entered into a sexual relationship with him.

  And thinking of her brought home the need to protect the innocent. “If we did that,” he said to Raw, “we’d be the ones to blame if any one of them was hurt or killed. And we’d also still be looking at a war on our territory. It would be selfish to put the entire damn town in danger just because we didn’t want to give up a little extra cash. It would be different if we couldn’t afford it, or if they were asking for more. But I would rather protect this club and all the innocent people around us than worry about getting bent over for an extra five percent.”

  “Enough,” Cyril called out. “We’ve laid everything out that needs to be considered. It’s time to make the call. I vote no on fifteen percent.” He turned to the right, where Traunch sat, but Vince shook his head.

  “I’m putting my vote out now. I vote yes.”

  The vote went around. Pound, Raw and Pea also voted yes. The decision hinged on Traunch. Vince looked back and forth between Traunch and Cyril, hoping that he’d make the right decision.

  With a sigh, Traunch looked down at his hands and said, “No.”

  That was it, then. Vince stood, wanting nothing more than to jump Cyril and beat him until he was black and blue. He glared at his leader. “I hope you’re happy.” He started to leave the room.

  “Wait,” Pound called, and he turned to stare at his friend. Pound shifted uncomfortably. “If we have to do it this way, we’ve got to form a plan, fast. Like you said, we have to get to Wyoming and back before the Demons come looking for an answer.”

  “Not that anyone else seems to have stopped to think about it,” Pea said, twiddling his thumbs, “but it is practically impossible to get out there with a truck that can carry back the weapons, negotiate business with the Kingsmen, and get back here in time to confront the Demons in time. Even if you’d gone straight from your meeting last night, we wouldn’t have been able to turn it around fast enough.”

  Vince’s rage built as he realized Pea was right. They’d have to make their first stand with the weapons they had, and that wasn’t much. “So I guess we’re putting the trip on hold. We need every member here when the Demons come hunting.”

  Cyril rubbed a hand down his face, but Vince knew he wasn’t concerned; his eyes were bright, and his lips curved up at the corners. “We’ll be fine. Everyone in the club has fire power. We’ll scare those bastards off long enough to get more.”

  Vince hoped so. He didn’t like this one bit, and despite the fact that he needed to be here in case something happened, all he wanted was to go home. “I’m going out for a while.
I’ll be back later.” He threw open the door and strode out to his bike, lighting a cigarette and smoking fast. Pound was already on his tail, and he didn’t want to talk about this with anyone else, or he might just blow a gasket.

  “Hey, Larson, hold up!” Pound called as he came toward Vince. Stopping next to him, he spoke in a much quieter voice. “This is bad, man.”

  “No shit.” Vince shook his head. “I didn’t sign up to put my life on the line for the whole damn town.”

  “Neither did I,” Pound sighed. “What do we do now?”

  “Keep our eyes open and, starting tonight, no one rides alone, or without a gun.” It was the best they could do, and it wasn’t good enough. He needed some time to think, to see if he could come up with a better solution. “I’m going to spend some time at home. I’ll be back early evening. You should suggest that the entire crew get back here by then so we can partner up somehow.” He tossed his cigarette and started the engine. Pound gave him a lazy salute, and he pulled away. He’d figure something out, if he could just go somewhere private.