DIRTY ALPHAS: The Alpha Bad Boy Collection

by Franca Storm

  It’s a gold cross on a thick gold chain. The cross itself is stained with blood.

  It’s hers. So is the blood. I know that for a fact. It was on her when I found her.

  “How the fuck you get that? You went back for it?”

  “You know I like a souvenir of all my accomplishments,” he answers, laughing maliciously.

  “You piece of shit! I’m gonna rip you apart, motherfucker!”

  He crooks his finger. “Come here, you little shit and we’ll see who’s really gonna rip who apart. You’re going soft Ax. Shoulda killed those prospects of ours. Word never woulda got back to us ‘bout you being here then.”

  “Before I left, you said you were gonna take care of them,” Rox hisses at me.

  Yeah, that’s what I’d told her. Fuck that. I kept ‘em alive on purpose. To draw Broker out.

  I ignore her and fire back at Broker, “I set you up, shit head! Now, lose your boys and we’ll sort our business right the hell now.”

  He laughs. “You’re making this too easy for me, Ax. You’re still the reckless kid Trig brought into the club years ago. Willing to risk everything, cuz you can’t control your damn anger. You’re risking the club and the biker princess you got in there with you.”

  I look at Rox and see the shock on her face that Broker’s calling her out in front of me. Thing is, I already know she’s a biker princess now, after reading Trig’s files on her. She seems real surprised that I got no reaction.

  “You can’t beat me. You know that. I fucking trained you. So, we do this and I’m gonna come in there and rip you apart ‘til you’re begging me to put a bullet in your fucking skull to stop the goddamn pain! Then I’ll enjoy getting my dick wet in some biker princess pussy. Best kind. Just ask your old man.”

  His words push me over the edge and before I can even think ‘bout what I’m actually doing, I just react, barreling over to the door. I burst through it, roaring with fury and ready to rip Broker’s fucking head off.

  And then I hear sirens.

  Cops!

  Broker curses and signals his guys to get the hell outta here.

  He flips me off and then guns his bike, leading his guys away.

  “Fuck!” I bellow.

  He was right there.

  So close.

  “Let’s go, Ax!” Rox calls to me.

  I turn to see her now standing in the doorway, gesturing wildly for me to come back inside. “Through the back or they’ll see you.”

  “You got cops on your payroll.”

  “On the down low. I didn’t call this in. It was probably Ralph. I have no idea if my guys are gonna show up, or some others who aren’t on my payroll. They’ll take one look at your rap sheet and cuff you.”

  “You’ve seen my rap sheet?”

  “Of course. I looked into you when you showed up here. Now, let’s go.”

  I nod and she takes off towards the bathroom. I follow her in and she kicks the door shut behind us and locks it as I rush over to the window and work quickly to rip the damn dilapidated thing outta the wall, cuz it don’t open fully.

  “Hurry!” she yells as the sirens get louder, letting us know the cops are right outside.

  “Fucking trying, babe.”

  “Come on! Put your back into it!”

  Argh! “Shut it! Just shut the fuck up!” I thunder, the adrenaline pumping through me turning to rage now. Rage at Broker. Rage at her. Rage at the entire messed up situation.

  It helps me out, giving me the extra edge I need to finally rip the fucking window outta the wall.

  Footsteps and shouts sounding outside near the main room catch our attention. I grab her arm and haul her towards the window. “Go.”

  She hesitates. What the fuck? Is she…worried ‘bout me? Nah, I’m imagining shit now. I press my hand to the small of her back. “Rox. Now.”

  That gets her ass into gear and she hurriedly climbs through the window. I follow after her, just seconds before the assholes start pounding on the bathroom door, tryin’ to kick it in.

  As we sprint ‘round to the rear parking lot, I see a bike parked beside my Harley. Holy shit. It’s a 1970 Triumph Bonneville T120. A hell of a sweet bike.

  Rox swings her leg over it and guns it. Damn, what a fucking revelation. A woman who hates bikers owning a bike like that.

  “Follow me,” she calls over the roar of her engine.

  I nod and gun my Harley.

  A second later we’re both ripping outta the parking lot.

  Chapter 10

  ~Ax~

  “Here,” Rox says, slamming down a bunch of items on her kitchen table.

  Tweezers, a couple of mirrors, disinfectant, Band-Aids and a small towel.

  She turns away from me without another word and heads over to the fridge. She pulls out a carton of orange juice and takes a long swig.

  I shake off my cut and hang it over the back of the high-backed kitchen chair I’m sitting on backwards. Next, I pull my black t-shirt over my head. As I reach for the tweezers, I feel her eyes on me. I look up to see her checking me out, her eyes wandering all over my ink. I get to my feet and her eyes widen as she gets a good look at my abs.

  “You finished?” I ask when she just keeps staring.

  Her gaze snaps back up to my eyes and she blushes. Yeah, caught you babe. You ain’t exactly discreet. “You got something to drink?” I ask her.

  She nods and pulls a water bottle from the fridge.

  “Alcohol?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t drink.”

  “How come?”

  She shrugs uncomfortably. “It’s not your business.”

  “Fine,” I mutter. “Water it is.” She walks over to the table with the bottle. She don’t hand it to me. Instead, she puts it on the table, like she did everything else. Is she afraid to touch me? Get too close? Hmm. Interesting.

  “When I looked into you, I found out about your nickname. Ax. You literally axed some guy.”

  I grind my teeth. That’s the last thing I wanna talk about. But seeing how stubborn she is so far, I’m betting she won’t let up ‘til I explain it. “Yeah. Guy reached for a chainsaw. A pickax was hanging nearby. I swung before he could fire up the saw.”

  She blows out a low whistle. “Wow. Is the guy still alive?”

  I nod, groaning inwardly. “Got a brutal scar to show for it across his ribs though.”

  “Who was he? Some Thorns enemy?”

  I screw off the top of the water bottle and down a little to soothe my dry throat. “Skinner.”

  She flinches at his name. “He did that to you? Tried to attack you with a chainsaw, of all things? Your own father?”

  “Ain’t been my father for a long time, babe.”

  “Yeah, I get that. I feel that way about mine.” She looks me over again and then adds, “You don’t look like him.”

  “Nah, always looked like my mom.”

  “You got lucky there,” she comments. She blushes when she realizes what she’s just said.

  “No need to blush ‘bout it. I already know you’re into me. You know, with you spreading your legs for me the first day we met?”

  Her eyes narrow. But when she sees the grin on my face, her anger disappears and she grins back.

  “Speaking of Skinner, he knows I’m here. That message Broker was going on ‘bout means me and the club gotta back off here ASAP or all hell will break loose.” I down half the bottle of water and then snatch up the tweezers, using the mirror to see whereabouts the shards are embedded in my back.

  “And a call to war,” she says.

  “Yeah.” I growl with frustration as I struggle to reach the first shard. “He taught you ‘bout club politics and shit then?”

  “He?”

  “Dealer? Cal Austin?”

  She tenses, her jaw clenches.

  “You know him as Dad.”

  She folds her arms across her chest, glaring at me and getting her back up again. “He didn’t teach me anything. You knew I
was the daughter of Black Thorns’ former president before Broker mentioned it, didn’t you?”

  “Found out a couple of hours ago. Trig sent me some files on you. Fucking threw me through a loop, babe.” That’s probably the real reason why Trig didn’t retaliate when he had a blow up with her a little ways back. She’s the fucking daughter of his predecessor.

  “He was a ruthless killer,” she says, her voice strained.

  “Yeah, he was.” Just like my old man. The fucked up thing that she and I got in common? Both our fathers were Prez, ruthless assholes and both got our moms’ blood on their hands.

  Her expression softens then and she pulls up a chair at the table, settling herself opposite me. “Did you know him?”

  I grunt as I rip another shard outta my flesh and put it on the table top. Rox grimaces at the sight of the blood-covered glass. Thinking she’s squeamish at first, she quickly sets me straight when she orders, “Put that shit on the towel, not the table top.”

  I roll my eyes and move it where she asked. It’s her house after all.

  I adjust my weight on the chair and answer her question, “Yeah, he was Prez for my first few years with Thorns. But the VP was ‘round more than him. Trig back then. Never saw Dealer there that much. Was always on the road. Rode a hell of a lot. Any chance he could get. Also remember him coming to our house when I was a kid.” I feel my face twist at the memories.

  “What?” she asks, noticing my look.

  “He used to disrespect my mom—order her ‘round, slap her ass and shit.”

  Her eyes narrow at that. “What about Skinner? He didn’t shut that down?”

  I shrug. “Business came first with him. He let it happen.”

  I guess she sees something in my expression, cuz her eyes flash with realization. “But you didn’t.”

  “No. Took some beatings from Skinner for it, but at least it was less shit for her to deal with.”

  Her hand grips mine then, shocking me. The shock keeps on coming as she says softly, “I’m sorry, Ax.”

  I smile at her and a tense silence falls between us.

  I hate these kinda situations. Any awkward unsaid shit.

  “He’s why you hate bikers, yeah?”

  “Skinner didn’t help either.”

  I squeeze her hand. “You hate me, Rox? Truth, babe.”

  She leans forward in challenge and looks me right in the eye. “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “Yeah? You need my help deciding? Just say the word and I’ll have my tongue launch a hell of a campaign on that sweet pussy of yours.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Nice try. But your lines won’t work on me.” She laughs and pulls her hand away.

  “Well something is, babe. Any time we’ve come into contact it’s been hands on all the way.”

  “Maybe I was just hard up and you were conveniently there,” she says with a chuckle.

  “Yeah? That right?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  The next thing I know, she’s walking behind me. She snatches the tweezers outta my hand. “I’ll finish up here,” she tells me. “Least I can do, considering you took these for me.”

  “Is that a thank you?”

  She leans into my ear and whispers, “I can give a better thank you than that.”

  That’s all my dick needs to wake the fuck up. Damn. She blows lightly on my neck, teasing me with her warm breath.

  I grab her wrist behind me. “Rox,” I growl.

  “Shh,” she breathes in my ear. “Stay still for the next ten minutes, so I can fix this.”

  Stay still? Yeah, like that’s gonna be easy now she’s riled me up. She’s a devil woman!

  Her soft hands touch my upper back and I suck in a breath.

  “Easy there, biker boy,” she teases.

  A second later, she rips a shard out.

  “Ball buster,” I mutter.

  She laughs quietly and continues on.

  Her hands leave me after God knows how long and she says, “They’re all out.”

  She leans over me and reaches for the disinfectant and the box of Band-Aids. She starts applying the disinfectant and then I hear the rip of the Band-Aids.

  “Ain’t no way I’m having a bunch of pussy-ass Band-Aids decorating my back.”

  “Don’t be stupid. They’ll protect the injuries. Some were pretty deep. Just shy of needing stitches.”

  “Uh uh.”

  I feel her pressing ‘em onto my back anyway. “Too late. All done.”

  She places the items back on the table and then leans against it, eyeing me curiously. “I can’t believe you didn’t even flinch once after that first time. How did you do that?”

  “Pain and me are old friends.”

  Her eyes stray to my chest, to the red raw patch over my heart. “Like the scar there? That looks like it was painful.”

  “Ain’t something I like talking ‘bout.”

  “Why not?”

  “You like talking ‘bout your scar? Right arm, yeah?”

  She’s shocked. “How do you know about that? You haven’t seen it.”

  “I’m good at reading people. You’re always rubbing it, especially when you’re put out by something. You were coming out of a tattoo shop. Went to see if you could get it covered, right?”

  It takes her a moment to recover. Yeah, that scar’s her weakness. Major sore spot for her. She tenses up and her face hardens as she grinds out angrily, “No, I don’t like talking about it.”

  “Ain’t asking you to. And I ain’t talking ‘bout mine neither. You good with that?”

  “Yeah.”

  She blows out a breath and she’s ‘bout to turn away from me, ‘til I grab her wrist.

  Her gaze snaps to mine. “What are you doing?”

  I grin. “You were worried ‘bout me in the motel.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Please. Like hell. You know I hate you.”

  “Nah. You hate the idea of me and what you think I am. You don’t hate me, babe.”

  She scoffs. “Yeah? And what makes you so sure, biker boy?”

  I tighten my grip on her wrist and jerk her towards me. In the next second, I’ve ripped open her jeans and my hand is sliding into her panties. “Mmm…cuz you’re so fucking wet for me.”

  She gasps as I slide my index finger inside her tight little pussy. “How long’s it been?”

  Her eyes meet mine and, once again, the intensity between us has my dick throbbing like crazy. Fuck me.

  “How long, babe?” I press when she just stares at me, probably wondering how the hell I know that. How do I? Her pussy ain’t just tight. It’s virgin tight. Goddamn. And the way she responds to me is a dead giveaway too. She’s so sensitive, too sensitive for somebody who gets ‘round like the bitches I’m used to. Yeah, she’s the furthest thing from that that I’ve ever had the fucking pleasure of getting my dick near. Nothing whorish ‘bout this girl. It’s refreshing and a huge turn on.

  “Two years, give or take.”

  Wow. I pull my hand free and smile to myself as I hear a little whimper of protest from her. Yeah, she fucking wants me all right.

  I shove her jeans down and she kicks ‘em off her feet. I spin her ‘round and push her against the table. I press my hand to her back, forcing her to bend over. She trembles as I run my finger real slow along her pussy. Up and down, just giving her the slightest bit of friction.

  “Stop teasing!”

  I press my finger to her entrance and lean over her, my breath hot on her ear. “Beg me.”

  She shakes her head.

  We’ll see ‘bout that.

  I slide in just an inch and stop.

  “Ax!”

  “Yeah, babe?” I tease, grazing her earlobe with my teeth.

  She whimpers and tries to thrust back, but my free hand is on her hip, holding her against the table tightly. She can’t move.

  “Argh! You asshole!”

  “Payback’s a bitch, huh?”

  “Cuz I made you pull
out last time? Seriously?”

  “Yeah, I’m serious. You got any idea what that takes for a man? Now, you’re gonna beg me. I wanna make sure you fucking want it this time ‘round, you know?”

  “You’re such a dick! I hate you!” she screams, smashing her fists on the table.

  I pull my finger out and step back. She stands up and turns ‘round as I’m stepping outta my jeans. Her eyes zone in on my cock as I free it from my boxers and start stroking it in front of her.

  I raise my eyebrows at her and wait for her to beg me.

  Instead, a sly smirk creeps over her lips and the next thing I know, she’s shedding her leather jacket, and then her tank top.

  Oh shit. She stands there in nothing but a lacy black bra that pushes her small, perky tits up nicely. And then she reaches ‘round and unclasps it. She bites her lip coyly as she slides it off her arms and lets it fall to the floor.

  Her hands cup her tits and I watch spellbound as she starts to pinch one of her nipples. The other travels down between her legs.

  Fucking bitch!

  “You’re playing with fire, woman.”

  “Yeah? Am I, biker boy?”

  “Yeah, you fucking are.”

  She grins. “Fuck you.”

  I step towards her. “Fuck me, huh?” I growl, liking the amusement dancing in her sexy blue eyes.

  “Yeah.”

  “Just what I wanted babe.”

  “What?”

  Yeah, got you now. She should watch that mouth of hers. “Wanted you to beg me to fuck you. You just did.”

  “What? No, that wasn’t—”

  That’s it. My dick can’t take this no more. I grab her arms and slam her into the wall behind her.

  “Shut up.”

  “How dare—?”

  Before she can finish, I shut her the hell up, my lips crashing down on hers.

  I kiss her hard, nipping at her bottom lip before sucking it into my mouth. Her hands push against my chest, fighting me, but she parts her lips anyway, granting me access to that sweet mouth of hers.

  There ain’t no room for gentle here. I slide my tongue into her mouth, tasting every fucking inch of her, claiming every part of her. She gives it right back to me, clashing with me. It’s a frantic whirlwind of lips, tongue and teeth. She breaks my hold on her arms and her hands come up ‘round my neck. She digs her sharp nails into my skin, scratching deep enough to draw blood. I love that shit. It sends a bolt of pleasure straight to my dick. Finally, a woman who can get good and rough. Just what I fucking crave.