by Cathryn Cade
The young woman gasped in horror as Mac hustled the guy into the lighted room.
Mac winked at her. “He’s lookin’ good, huh?” He jerked his head toward the back door and mouthed ‘go on.’
She dashed into a room off the kitchen, and Mac hoped she was getting dressed to make a run for it.
His captive struggled. “I’mma meth ‘oo ahp,” he mumbled to Mac. “‘oo thead.”
“Yeah, not tonight, sweetheart,” Mac answered, shoving the barrel of his weapon against the guy’s side. “I got plans.”
They moved around a corner in the hallway. From the shadows, Mac could see Rocker facing off with the same guy who’d led the gang at Paddy’s. He recognized the sneer and the red do-rag. Did the fool wear that to bed, too?
“So, you see,” Rocker was saying. “We gave you a chance to back off, but you didn’t take it. Now, you’re goin’ down.”
The gang leader sneered. “Ri-ight. You bust into my house and make threats against me? So you got your biker bud with you. You think I don’t got nobody else here?”
Rocker cocked his head. “Toro, you see anyone else around?” he asked.
Toro answered from out of Mac’s sight. “Oh, you mean those two pendejos out front? Think they’re taken care of, sí.”
“Bounce? Snake?” Rocker called.
Mac heard replies, although he couldn’t understand the words.
The gang leader could, though. His face darkened, and he glared at Rocker with sheer hate. “You think you’re so smart. Fucking biker losers. Oscar!”
Mac’s captive struggled, uttering a garbled sound.
“Oh, you mean this Oscar?” Mac shoved the guy ahead of him into the doorway of the living room. It was a mess too, with dirty, old furniture and a huge screen TV flickering silently on a MMA fight. Sagging drapes were drawn over the windows, and the front door was shut.
The gang leader cursed when he saw them and grabbed for the back of his belt.
But Rocker was faster. He kicked out, his booted foot catching the guy square in the groin.
The gang leader flew backward and then curled into the fetal position on the floor, clutching his groin and letting loose a hoarse keen of agony.
Rocker squatted over him. “Oh, I’m just gettin’ started, Damone,” he said. “You’ve been having a good old time, establishing your territory here. But you went too far. Now, you’re messing with the wrong people—threatening to beat up old men, and women just tryin’ to run a business, make a living. You don’t fuck with friends of the Flyers. You do, we fuck you back.”
Mac had never seen anyone deliberately break someone’s hands. And he hoped to hell he never saw or heard it again, although this guy deserved it. Damone’s scream was muffled by the rag Rocker stuffed in his mouth.
Oscar didn’t much care for it either, by the garbled whimper he let out. Mac had to drop him on the filthy carpet and plant a knee in his back to keep him from running.
Toro tossed Mac a pair of handcuffs. “Cuff your guy to the radiator. We don’t want him getting loose too soon, helping his jefe out. Let the pendejo get medical help by himself, see how he likes that.”
Then Toro opened the front door, and Bouncer and Snake walked inside with two more Boyz. They both turned pale when they saw their leader on the floor. Toro had no trouble cuffing them together and to the old-fashioned radiator.
Rocker stood in the middle of the living room and stared around at all the gang members as the Flyers watched. “Boys, this was our last message. Next time, our response will be fatal for some of you. You don’t want that to be you, you’ll wanna relocate.”
Unmarked weapons handily deposited in a way that the Spokane PD would find them if they ever got a call to the house and gangsters handcuffed in ways that would not allow escape without extreme effort, the Flyers quietly vacated the house and drove away into the night.
“Wonder how long it’ll take that shitstain to get to a doc?” Bouncer mused aloud.
“Gonna be a long night for all of ‘em,” Rocker replied. “Prospect did well—had the back door covered, took out one of them without shots fired, and brought him in.”
“Yeah, you ain’t no bigger than a cootie, but you’re tough,” Bouncer called back to Mac. “We oughtta call you Cootie. No, Cooter, that sounds good.”
The brothers howled with laughter, but tonight, Mac didn’t mind their teasing one bit. He had done his part and helped show a gang that they would not be allowed to operate in Flyer territory.
At Rocker’s pad, he invited Mac to share a drink with him after the other Flyers had gone on their way.
Mac sank into a chair at the battered table, feeling as if he’d been gone for the whole night instead of just a couple of hours.
Rocker brought a bottle of whiskey to the table and eyed him. “You okay with what went down tonight?”
Mac thought about this. “Yeah… I am. I mean, it’s what those assholes deserved.” He looked to Rocker. “You okay with dishing out that level of punishment?”
With a wry grin, the veep saluted him with the bottle, and refilled both their glasses. “A man doesn’t walk away without darkness following him, no doubt. But… the world is a big place. Even this city is good-sized. There’s dark shit going down every minute, every hour, every day and night that we can’t do anything about. So, if we get the chance, if this club gets the chance to right a wrong or prevent one, and it takes some head-knocking to make that happen… hell yeah. I’m okay with that.”
Mac saluted him with his glass. “Then here’s to you.”
Rocker’s smiled widened. “And here’s to you. You did good tonight. So I’ll tell you, you’re in. Stick will do the formal invite, but… we’ll make that soon.”
Mac’s heart leaped. “I’m in,” he repeated, a smile spreading across his own face and warmth spreading in his chest. “I’m in.”
He tossed back his shot of whiskey and relished the burn as it slid down his throat and settled in his gut. “Thanks for letting me know, Rocker. Appreciate it.”
He was gonna be a Devil’s Flyer.
Life was good, even if he hadn’t gotten laid tonight.
“Oh, there is one thing,” Rocker added, frowning at his own empty glass.
Mac tensed. “What?”
Rocker looked at him, his eyes twinkling. “Be sure and have your baby mama fix your hair for ya again when you patch in. You’ll wanna look good for the party.”
Then he roared with laughter at the look on Mac’s face.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
February 14th
For Valentine’s Day, RaeAnn baked chocolate chip cookies for Mac, complete with chopped nuts.
They were so yummy, she had to force herself to stop after her third one, all warm and buttery and gooey with melted chocolate.
Her appetite just kept increasing along with her baby bump. She’d gained nearly ten pounds already.
Mac came over that evening and groaned with pleasure as he stuffed the first cookie in his mouth. “Mm, so good. Here, this is for you.”
He handed her a pink bag. Inside was another tee, this one gray with two fancy, glittery pink and blue cupcakes. It read ‘What’s in My Oven? Cupcake or Stud-Muffin?’
Mac burst out laughing at her look of consternation as she held it up.
To his delight, she let him persuade her to put it on. It fit well, with the two desserts centered prominently over her baby bump.
When she came out of her bedroom wearing the tee over her stretchy black pants, he eyed her with satisfaction. “Yeah, that’s good. You are one sexy mama.”
Rae blushed with pleasure. “Thank you. This will make a great nightshirt, ‘cause I am not wearing it in public.”
“Ah, c’mon,” he teased, stepping close and sliding his arms around her. “I was gonna take you out dancing in that.”
“That would be a no,” she said, her hands on his chest. “The smell of cigarette smoke in any bar or club would make me hurl.”
> “Yeah, also, they’ve figured out even second-hand smoke is bad for babies in utero,” he said, sobering. “So if you end up around a smoker, ask ‘em to quit or move.”
Rae wrinkled her nose. “Okay. I’ll do that.”
“Right. You’d be the one moving,” he said. “You’re a softie.”
“Hey! Not when it comes to my baby’s health and safety. I’m a tiger, rrr!” She mimed clawing at him.
He chuckled, the motion quivering through her body. “Well, we can dance right here. You have a boombox?”
She did, with a Maroon 5 CD loaded. They danced to ‘She Will be Loved,’ and Rae smiled to herself, because dancing with Mac was just as much fun when she was sober.
“So if you’re a tiger,” he murmured in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine, “Can I see your stripes? Hmm?”
Since he kissed her, RaeAnn didn’t answer… with her words, at least. Instead, she kissed him back and slid her arms up around his neck, loving his scent and taste and his hardness and heat against her body.
He deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into her mouth to play with hers. His arms tightened, one hand stroking down to cup her ass and squeeze.
RaeAnn gasped into his mouth as he pressed his groin into hers. He was big and hard through their clothing, and she wanted his touch more than she wanted her next breath.
He danced her backward and through the door of her bedroom as the music twined through the quiet dimness there. “Know what tastes even better than your cookies?” he asked, nipping at her ear.
“What?” she managed, shivering at the pleasure of his tongue dancing against her skin.
“Your sweet pussy. I need me some of that.”
Thank God she’d showered this afternoon. That was Rae’s last coherent thought as Mac laid her back on her bed and slid his warm, calloused hands up under the tee to find the stretchy waistband of her pants.
He bent his head as her pants came down and cool air was followed quickly by his warm breath on her belly, the nuzzle of his face there, then another cool draft as he pressed his face to her mons and inhaled.
He groaned, his hands stroking down over her hips and thighs to cup behind her knees. “Ah, mama, you smell sweeter than I even remembered. C’mere and let me make you real happy.”
His warm, wet tongue on her clit was the sweetest kind of torture. And when he thrust two fingers carefully into her, RaeAnn came hard and fast. “Mac—oh, Mac.”
He caressed her gently as she came down and then knelt up over her, leaning on one hand as he grinned down at her. “Mama, you went off like a firecracker. So sweet. Gonna let me in there?”
“Mm-hmm,” she murmured, smiling up at him.
“Good, then let’s get this top off you. I want your sweet tits against me while I fuck you.”
Rae lifted her arms and let him take the tee and her bra off of her. He bent to press kisses first to one breast, then the other. “Mm, these are bigger.”
Yes, they were. Her bras were tighter, and her nipples were so sensitive that when he rolled his tongue around one, she arched off the bed. “Oh! Careful.”
“How’s this?” He cupped both breasts in his hands and suckled her with exquisite gentleness. “Okay?”
It was more than okay, so much that Rae’s pussy clenched with need all over again. “I want you,” she told him, her hands under his shirt, greedily stroking over his smooth, warm skin. “Inside me.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said instantly, straightening to yank his shirt off, tee after it. His boots thunked on the carpet, his jeans disappeared, and Rae had a naked, eager lover between her thighs.
He kissed her hungrily, reaching down between them to stroke the hot, velvety head of his cock into her slickness.
“You tell me if it’s too much,” he said, his voice rough. “Too deep.”
“I will,” she promised. “Mac, hurry.”
He thrust home, and both of them moaned at the tight, slick contact. He braced himself on his elbows, his lean belly just grazing hers, and began to move.
“Ah, Christ,” he groaned. “So tight, so… so fuckin’ good.”
As he rocked into her, and she rose to meet him, Rae held onto him, her only anchor in a rising tide of heat and pleasure. She cried out as her pussy clenched around him, sheer naughty joy suffusing her body.
Mac gave a hoarse shout and sped up, pistoning into her once, twice, three times before he stiffened like a bow and shuddered deeply. Heat flooded her.
After a long moment, Mac pulled carefully out and collapsed onto the bed beside her. He was sweating, panting as if he’d been running.
He laid a hand on her belly and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Think you killed me,” he said breathlessly.
Rae smiled, but she didn’t bother to open her eyes.
Mac patted her hip. “Hey,” he said. “Rae? Listen—I have an event coming up. I’d really like you to come.”
She opened her eyes and turned to him. “What is it?”
He smiled, wide and happy. “A party. I’m patching into the club—the Devil’s Flyers.”
She brushed a stray lock of hair back from her face and turned on her side toward him. “What does that mean?”
Mac caressed her bare arm. “Means I’m becoming a full member—a brother. I’ll get the cut—the vest—and I’m in. Ceremony’ll be private, but afterward they’ll throw a big party at the clubhouse. Mean a lot to me if you were there.”
“Oh.” Rae struggled to make her drowsy brain work. “When will it be?”
“This Saturday. Party starts about seven. And, uh, I recommend you come early, leave early. Things are bound to get a little, uh, wild, later on.”
Something in his voice made her uneasy. “Like how wild?”
“Uh… like you prob’ly won’t enjoy it,” he admitted. “But, like I said, you come early, it’ll likely be fine.”
“Oh, Mac,” she said, touching his chest. “I don’t know.”
“Well, you don’t have to decide right now. You can let me know by Saturday, okay?”
“Okay.”
“All right. Listen, I gotta go. Early shift tomorrow, and I need to get my shit together.”
He gave her a last kiss and rolled off the bed to get dressed.
She pulled the duvet over herself and watched him. He came back to the bed for a last kiss. “Talk to you soon. And thanks again for all the sweets.”
Rae blushed, and somehow, he knew, despite the dim light in the bedroom. With a low, dirty chuckle, he patted her hip and sauntered away.
February 15th
“I think you should go!” Dee said, her eyes alight. She leaned forward over their favorite table at La Maya. “I mean, you’ll get to meet all those sexy biker guys.”
RaeAnn wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want to meet anymore ‘sexy guys,’ thank you very much. And honestly, some of them aren’t that sexy.”
Lacey was shaking her head. “I don’t know if you should go, Rae. I’ve heard about the parties at those kinds of places. They get pretty raunchy. As in, women take their clothes off and—you know.”
Rae was afraid she did know. Mac had beguiled her into sex in a room upstairs at Stony’s, and she wasn’t even the wild type. What more would ‘wild women’ do? And did she want to witness it?
She sighed heavily, pushing her empty plate aside. “You’re right, Lace. I probably shouldn’t.”
“Oh, come on,” Dee protested, picking up her margarita. Rae watched her enviously. She really missed margaritas. “You’re gonna miss your chance to meet Mac’s friends. If you’re not willing to hang out with them, why would he stick around?”
“Because she’s a nice person,” Lacey snapped. “And because of the baby.”
Rae shifted in her seat, a hand on her baby bump. Maybe Dee was right—if she wasn’t willing to meet Mac’s friends, was she really a ‘nice’ person? Or was she just being childish? And if she didn’t go, would Mac and his friends think she was stuck-up?
&
nbsp; She yawned and slumped back in her chair. She was tired after a day of classes. Also, growing this baby was sapping her strength. “I just don’t know. I’ll decide tomorrow.”
Not a solid plan, but the only one she had right now.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
February 17th
Mac ‘Cooter’ Carson, now a full-fledged member of the Devil’s Flyers, E WA Chapter, was a little pissed off.
Not at any of the brothers—they were all awesome, especially in the glow of the numerous shots of whiskey he had consumed that afternoon and early evening, each one mandated by a different brother as part of his initiation into brotherhood.
His new club handle was stupid, but then so were a lot of ‘em. He wasn’t gonna fuss about that. He’d eventually pay back Bouncer for coming up with the remark about him being ‘no bigger than a cootie.’
No, right now, he was pissed off at RaeAnn. Where the hell was she, and why was she not answering her damn phone?
His had been acting up, so he’d called her on Toro’s phone.
Didn’t matter, she was not answering.
“Your pequeña rubia comin’ to help you celebrate?” Toro asked when Mac handed him back his phone.
Mac huffed in disgust. “Fuck, guess not. She won’t even answer her damn phone.”
The short, stocky brother made a mock-sad face. “Then you’ll just have to party with las culas dulce, eh?”
“The sweetbutts?” Mac steadied himself against the back of a chair and surveyed the clubhouse.
There were plenty of women in attendance tonight, for certain. And some of them were fine.
The strippers from the State Line clubs liked to party with the brothers. They knew how to dress to thrill and work their bodies.
“I shouldn’t,” he said, shaking his head. “Not while I’m fuckin’ her, y’know?”
“Eh, each man to his own. Me, I got no woman, so I got choices.”
Mac sank into the chair and watched, grinning as Toro beckoned and two pretty strippers strutted over. The redhead wore a tiny, stretchy tube dress, the brunette short shorts, high boots, and a halter that barely held in her D-cups.
