Beecher: Wicked Throttle MC #4

by Esther E. Schmidt

  I let a piece of metal slide through my fingers as I let my mind roam. Three weeks. Day after day—week after week—has gone by since I woke up inside her home. My brothers have told me how she fought at my bedside to make sure they didn’t pull me off the machines when I wasn’t responding to anything. And yet I’m here, alive and breathing, staying at her house while we dance around each other.

  They say everyone has their breaking point, and it’s true. We reached ours in the days after we were kidnapped. We thought we would die, every day we were held captive and tortured. But we pulled through. You might think we would be strong enough to overcome what was done to us and mainly what we had to do to survive.

  But the mind can be headstrong or as scattered as the billions of brain cells functioning to drive our bodies to live. There is no logic to anything when trauma is involved. I might have had her heart once, but getting ahold of a woman’s heart who has built mental walls around her as thick as she has goes beyond a challenge.

  And I’m all for a challenge, but to be honest, I’m scared shitless. As much as I want to hold her, the mere thought is overwhelming. My dick is itching to slide inside her tight pussy and yet there’s a scythe of life or death attached to it.

  Because what if I have to throw up after I’ve had the one woman I’ve been inside and experienced only pleasure from? The one woman I have ever craved to spend the rest of my life with. It would ruin me to a point where I would lose myself and the grip on hope to have a future with the woman whose heart was once melted with mine.

  Val’s voice rips me out of my concentration. “No, I’m sorry, it completely slipped my mind. No, I can’t.”

  She’s been gone all day. Working. I’ve had Morgan—Maci’s brother and a prospect—keeping an eye on her. He’s been giving me hourly updates, though she’s only been in and out of meetings all day.

  She doesn’t seem to notice me. Not that weird since I’m hidden in a corner of the garden where I’ve created shade along with the perfect lighting for me to work in. All while getting some fresh air.

  “Well, I guess if you still want the added stimulation for the two of you, I guess you would have to find someone else from now on, Donald.” She releases a deep sigh and kicks out her high heels as she heads for the gazebo. “I’m sure, Donald. You can handle him just fine without me.”

  I now notice the glass she’s holding as she swirls the liquid around before taking a sip. She looks tired, agitated, and completely done with the discussion. She rolls her eyes and takes a sip from her drink. It seems Donald keeps rattling on.

  Leaving my sculpture, I stalk right up to her and snatch the phone from her hand. “Listen, Donald, she said no, and now I’m saying no. Even if she would want to, right fucking now I’m in charge, and it still won’t happen.”

  I end the call to prevent Donald from quacking and gently lower the phone—because it’s better than shattering the thing—and place it on the table next to her.

  “You need to take the rest of the day off, maybe tomorrow too, or go in later so you can sleep in. You’re tired as fuck and have been working too hard with the back to back meetings you had today.”

  Her eyes are boring into mine until she takes another sip, emptying her glass, closes her eyes and says, “Why do you have that poor young man following me around all day?”

  “Morgan is a prospect. He does what is expected of him and in this case, he’s keeping an eye on you as a favor to me.” Close enough. I can hardly tell her he’s there to make sure she’s safe because ever since I woke up, I have the undeniable need to protect her.

  And I’m going stir crazy that I can’t be around her twenty-four seven because of all the other emotions roaring inside me. Like the need to bury my cock inside her tight pussy or the craving to smash my lips with hers to take her mouth in a hot as fuck kiss.

  “I don’t need a guard or a snitch who tattles every move I make to you. And I’m just tired after a long day at work. It’s just one of those days where everything piles up. There are seven days in a week and I happen to work six of those. Some days four, some days seven. This week is just dragging. Maybe I should have remembered the party Donald called about. It totally slipped my mind. If I did go, at least I could whip away some of my frustrations and tight muscles.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” I tell her between clenched teeth.

  She slams her glass on a nearby table, dashes up and comes to stop in front of me. “Back. Off. I’m not in the mood for an overbearing biker to get in my business. I might have promised Quill to fight for whatever it is between us, but I don’t know if it will ever be enough. So, don’t fucking push me when I’m already balancing on the edge of my emotions.”

  Her breath is a sweet caress and feels so fucking good flowing over my lips. Leaning in closer, I almost connect our lips. It’s only the heat of our skin colliding and the anticipation of a feather light brush, but the feeling it ignites is overwhelming. She sucks in a breath the same time my dick twitches and a jolt of electricity spikes my veins.

  I quickly step back and tell her, “I’ll always have your back, Val. Fucking jump or fall, I’ll catch you any damn time, any damn moment.”

  Her eyes narrow and anger overtakes her features. “You’re not invincible, Shaw. And there’s no damn reason you have to keep saving me. There’s no debt to pay, no guilt to live through, or justice to salvage. I killed them to save the both of us, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. If the opportunity was reversed, you would be the one who would have done it. And, yes, maybe things would have been different between us then. But it didn’t happen that way. I’m the one to blame for what happened between us since I couldn’t cope with what I did. But we were torn apart in a way life didn’t feel like living, but more like drowning in blood and every hand that reached for me seemed like it slipped right from mine due to the blood and guilt I was covered in. Our love became twisted, Shaw. I did that. I pushed you away. All me, I know. I regret…I don’t know how...I can’t...just leave me the hell alone.”

  She turns on her heels and stalks off into the house.

  Anger flares hot inside me but it’s not about her words, and yet it is. I should have been the one who killed them. Logan and Dana, the two who kidnapped us, who tortured us for their own pleasure. I should have been the one who sliced them open to make sure they were dead.

  Instead I was too fucking weak from the daily torture sessions and I only managed to watch how Val was able to free herself, allowing her the opportunity to kill him. I blacked out when the woman launched herself at Val. I tried like hell to get to her, to help, but I lost consciousness a few times getting only glimpses here and there.

  When I woke up Val had dragged me into the woods. And that was something that took immense strength because we were deep down in some shelter underground with a large stairway. But she did it. She saved us. Saved me.

  Fucking snuff films. We were abducted to become entertainment for fucked-up people and barely managed to live to tell about it. Well, we didn’t tell about it, obviously. Val told me she smashed the equipment and set fire to the building.

  We could have called the authorities but the way Val went nuts in slaughtering Logan and Dana, it wouldn’t be classified as self-defense; she completely butchered those two bodies.

  Twisted, but I would have done the same damn thing if I wasn’t weak from the days of torture these two put us through. Not just our bodies, but our minds along with it. And that’s just it, they might have physically done the excessive damage to me—slicing up my lower belly and upper legs—it was Val’s mind that sustained the extreme chunk of it.

  Stalking around the house, I head for my bike and fire it up. I need to clear my head and give her space. This confrontation has been a long time coming but if I head into the house right now and seek her out, we will go head to head and neither of us will benefit from throwing raw feelings at each other.

  The ride over to the clubhouse hasn’t calmed my temper o
r drained my emotions. If anything, it only magnified it.

  Stomping inside I roar, “Quill, where the fuck are you, asshole?”

  Zerox and Corban get up from their seat but stay in place when Barlow steps forward. “What’s going on, Beecher?”

  “Mind your own business, Barlow,” I snap and see Quill coming down the hall.

  “What’s wrong?” Quill asks, confusion vivid on his face.

  I know he can’t help it, but right now I need someone to take the blame; get all my anger out. I need to drain the fucking feeling of not being able to do shit about the one thing I want and need in my life; Valentina.

  “Take it outside,” Zerox snaps and nods at my brothers.

  We all head for the backyard and I take off my cut and throw it on the nearby table, my shirt follows right after.

  “Not the face or my cock, man. I have date night with my old lady and for fucking sure you’re not going to take that away from me,” Quill says as he bounces on his feet and leans his head from left to right.

  “I’ll do whatever the fuck I like,” I snap. “Why the hell did you make my woman promise to fight for me? You don’t fucking know what you’re asking of her, you asshole.”

  “Nothing in this fucked-up world can stand between a love that’s meant to be. You’ll see, and if it means I need to take a few hits because I’m the one who made sure she woke the fuck up? So be it. Because you two have been letting the fire you have for each other smolder inside you. Still there, still burning hot. You were fighting for your life while she was dying inside at the mere thought of losing you. That’s love, asshole. The kind you can’t ignore no matter what price you paid in the past. Now throw a fucking punch, you wimp.”

  My fist connects with his jaw and his head whips to the side. A growl rips from his chest before he launches himself at me. I manage to throw my arms around him to keep him pinned as we hit the ground. Both rolling, struggling, trying to get a punch in and get on top all at the same time.

  My left kidney takes a hit and a grunt leaves my mouth as I push myself up and connect my fist with his eye. Fuck him with the whole “not my face and cock,” if I can manage to connect my knee with his balls, I’m gonna damn well go for it.

  “Motherfucker,” Quill growls.

  “Who’s the wimp now?” I taunt, but it doesn’t last long because his fists start to fly and I’m not quick enough to dodge all.

  Pain flares in my jaw, my right eye, and my ribs. With a hard shove I knock him back and it gives me enough time to brace for another attack, but Maci is blocking me.

  Shit. The tiny woman is standing between us with her fists on her hips and a challenge in her eyes. The president’s old lady isn’t the normal kind of chick. This one kicks ass and I know she will punch me in the nuts and my jaw before I have time to so much as blink ‘cause this tiny woman is quick.

  “Keep it together, Beecher. You shouldn’t be fighting, even if your wounds are healed. And, dammit, you’re fighting one of your brothers. Use your mouth to get rid of the obstacles in your head. We’re all here for you, now damn well use us or I’ll punch you in the face until you do.”

  “She’s right,” Zerox says and wraps an arm around her waist to pull her close. “Not about her being the one who will be punching you in the face part. One of the brothers will handle that.” He looks down at Maci. “I don’t want you fighting any of the brothers.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I can take him.”

  “No doubt in my mind,” Zerox murmurs and kisses the top of her head.

  My chest tightens and it’s not because of the hits I took but it’s the envy of how easy touches go back and forth to show their connection and love.

  “That,” I croak and wave my hand at the two clingy ones while my gaze slides over Zerox, Maci, Quill, Corban, and Barlow. “I had that. All of it and way fucking more special, but they took it. They took us. They kidnapped Val and I. Shot us with tranquilizing darts to knock us out and woke us up so they could torture us for days. They did it so they could make snuff films. They made us do shit, horrible, horrible shit, and in the end, we had no choice. When Val was finally lucky enough to get her hands free. Escaping was...it was...it was worse. Everything caused an open wound to fester. Disrupting whatever we built together for the time we spent together before all the trauma we endured. Obviously, it can’t be fixed with talking or time. We tried. But you don’t understand.” I point at Zerox. “Would you be able to touch your woman with the same feelings and love, fucking point of view, when another bitch has touched every inch of your body with a knife and her hands? Erotic fucking blood play while your woman has watched that woman taking your cock all lubed with blood? I’m repulsed by every woman. Seeing the hands of another man on her breasts, her pussy. Getting fucking tasered if she resisted or bit back. Fuck,” I bellow and lean forward to brace myself on my knees as I heave and feel the bile rise up.

  My breathing is choppy and it takes everything in me to get myself to calm down. When I straighten, I notice all eyes are on me, but none show pity. They hold anger and even Macy is glaring at me while they are standing there, teaming up on me with their arms crossed in front of their chest.

  Quill is the first one who steps forward. “The woman I saw in the hospital when you were fighting for your life wasn’t one who only saw burned bridges. She saw you, a man she still holds all the love for since it was right there in her eyes. And that’s what fucking matters.”

  “The both of you went through unimaginable trauma but, dammit, Beecher...you struggle and get your ass out of the past and into the future and take her hand to do it together. And now that I know some of the details, the whole ‘no touching’ makes perfect sense. But those guys here also told me that when you went into a meeting, before you were shot, Valentina touched you. She put her hands on you and you didn’t freak out. Remember that? I’m thinking the whole getting shot and almost dying part is bringing back memories. Memories that are tying your hands and putting restrictions on your life.”

  Maci sighs and steps away from Zerox and comes to a stop a few inches from me. “But this is your life, Beecher. You guys have spent years apart. The time I saw her sitting at your bedside, holding your hand. Hell, that woman has become one of my best friends too.” Tears are shimmering in her eyes. “Don’t you dare think it’s beyond repair. It’s there, Beecher. But the hardest part for you is to reach for it.” She suddenly swings her arm up and punches me in the fucking chest. “And by reaching, I mean fucking touch it, you idiot. Get over yourself.” She cringes and adds, “With all due respect and all...because dammit, my heart hurts for what the both of you went through. And I seriously wish I could hug you.”

  I take a step back just in case and it makes Maci growl.

  Zerox wraps an arm around Maci. “That’s enough growling and punching, sweetheart. You made your point, let the man think. It’s all raw and rough. He knows we’re all here for him no matter what. Right, brother?”

  I give him a tight nod because I don’t trust my voice. Emotions are running high and with the shit Maci said it’s all becoming too much.

  “I don’t know about you guys, but I could use a drink,” Corban says and stalks into the clubhouse.

  All my brothers follow and so do I. I’m putting on my cut when Quill hands me a beer.

  “Thanks, man,” I tell him in all sincerity, and those words aren’t just for the beer he handed me.

  “Always,” he replies with determination.

  My next breath is somehow lighter. This is what I needed; my brothers. My family surrounding me and knocking some sense into me.

  I place the bottle against my lips and knock the beer back. When I put it on the counter, I tell Maximus, “Bring me another one, my throat is kinda dry.”

  Barlow snickers, “Better keep ‘em coming, Maximus, or he’ll end up on his back, mouth open underneath the tap.”

  “Keep him on that side of the bar,” Maximus grumbles, making the corner of my mouth twitch.


  Maci has four brothers and all of them are a part of this MC. Morgan—the one who was assigned to me when they were still punks—is close to getting patched in. His older brother, Michael was recently patched in. But Maximus, still being a prospect, he has another few months to go before he will become a full member. Screwed up, but the dude is still young so he needs to grow up a bit before we can patch him in. Yet, he’s smart for his age and takes his job behind the bar seriously, meaning no one is allowed back there when he’s in charge.

  Maci stalks around the bar with a little girl on her hip. It still boggles my mind how my Pres and Maci suddenly have a kid. I’ve seen the pictures; she was a tiny thing when she was born and they didn’t even know she was pregnant until close to birth. Both of them are thrilled though. We all are.

  “Thanks,” I tell Maximus and lift my beer the second he places it in front of me. “And like Barlow said, keep ‘em coming.”

  I need tonight to mute my brain and my body to give it a hard reset. I’m still in love with a beautiful woman, and it’s time I pull my shit together and fully take what was once mine, and hopefully will be mine again.

  Chapter Four

  Valentina

  “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Morgan questions as he drags a passed out Shaw onto the couch in the living room.

  I close—and lock—the door behind us. “It’s fine, Morgan. And you can crash in the guest room next to his bedroom. It’s too late to drive back to the clubhouse and Beecher here would call you in the morning anyway. Not that I’m going to the office tomorrow, but you know what I mean.”

  “He’s very protective of you.” Morgan’s eyes meet mine and they hit the floor when he says, “He had a rough time tonight but the brothers pulled him through.”

  I glance at Shaw and only now notice his face and hands.