I’m holding in my laughter when Grinder returns. “He’s a bold little shit. What is he, fifteen? Sixteen?”
Grinder shakes his head. “Almost fourteen. Big for his age, so no one questions me ‘bout having him ‘round the club. Trying to keep him out of trouble. Thinks he’s Don-fucking-Juan ever since he nailed his babysitter.”
I burst out laughing. “Shit, are you sure the ol’ ladies are safe with him on the prowl?” I joke.
“Yeah,” he grumbles. “He’ll behave. He recognized Mallory from that video, so I think he was a little star struck.”
“He’s not the first.” I clap him on the back. “You’re a good guy for looking out for the kid.”
He glances back at the bar where the kid’s staring straight ahead, sipping on a bottle of soda. “He’ll be an asset to the club. A good leader one day. If he learns to keep his damn dick in his pants.”
“Won’t we all,” I mutter, making Grinder laugh.
Even though we’re laughing it up, I wonder what Grinder has in mind for the future of his club. Their current president, Ruger, keeps pushing them into riskier business deals and I imagine it’s causing a lot of friction with their members. Ruger sent his SAA out here with only a few of his men. While our clubs get along, it sends a lukewarm message at a time we’ve been working to bring most of the outlaw clubs in the area together.
With the way law enforcement’s been cracking down on motorcycle clubs lately, it’s in all our interests to stay under the radar. A message not every outlaw accepts. Tonight’s a test of sorts and I guess we’ll see who passes.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Mallory
I emerge from the kitchen and find the chapel doors firmly closed and the clubhouse mostly empty. My gaze lands on the flirty young biker sitting at the bar all by himself.
“So, Rock.” I sneak up behind him.
Either he heard me coming or he doesn’t startle easily. He turns and stares at me with a raised eyebrow, patiently waiting for me to continue.
“You said you recognized me from ‘Candy Jar’. How’d you not know I was with Chaser? Stories about us have been on MTV, in every music magazine, and tabloid for months now.”
He snorts and shakes his head. “You think going to school and working for the club leaves me time for shit like sittin’ around watching MTV and flipping through gossip rags? Please. I caught the video while I was manning the door at our strip club.”
Feeling foolish, I blurt out the only question that comes to mind. “Aren’t you a little young to be hanging out at a strip club?”
He shrugs and takes a swig of soda.
I tilt my head toward the chapel. “Why’d you get kicked out?”
“Never got invited in.” He taps his plain black leather cut. “Not a patched member.” He nods to one of the other prospects who came with the Lost Kings. “Not even a prospect yet. Grinder lets me be involved more than a regular prospect, but not today,” he says, pride coloring his words. From the information I’ve gathered about the MC world, unless his father’s a member, allowing him to be so involved at such a young age is unusual.
“Is your dad a member of the club too?”
“Nah, he’s a useless drunk since my mom died.”
My heart breaks at the matter-of-fact way he states such a tragic situation. While he came on strong at first, he doesn’t seem to hold a grudge over me shutting him down. Now that he’s not trying to impress me, he’s actually kind and easy to talk to. “My mom died when I was a kid too,” I say softly.
“Sorry.” He stares at me with calm gray eyes for a few seconds. “Your father treat you okay?”
“More or less.” I snort out a laugh. “He’s in prison at the moment.”
He doesn’t even blink. “Got any other family?”
“Just Chaser. And the family he’s given me.”
“Sometimes it’s not about the blood you share. It’s about finding the ones willing to bleed for you.”
Wow, such a painful lesson to have already learned at his age.
For a moment I’m speechless. “Some days I barely even remember what my mother looked like.”
He nods slowly like he understands how hard it is to hold on to precious memories. He slides his hand in his pocket and pulls out his wallet. It takes a few seconds to find what he wants—a small picture of a beautiful young woman with long, shiny brown hair holding a little boy while they both smile at the camera.
“Is that you and your mom?”
The corners of his mouth lift. “Yeah.” He slips the photo back in his wallet and tucks it away. “I like to keep her with me.”
“I don’t blame you. I managed to keep some photos of my mom too.” When I stole money from my dad and ran away to California but that’s hardly a story to share. “They’re at our house in L.A., though.”
He peers over at me. “L.A.’s a long way from here. You like it?”
I reach over the bar and grab a bottle of soda from one of the buckets of ice while considering his question. “Yes and no. California itself is beautiful. Vastly different from the East Coast.”
“First thing I want to do when I can ride is take a cross-country trip.”
“Chaser and I did it once. I don’t remember much of it though.”
My fingers slip on the bottle cap and I search for something to open it with. Rock takes it from me, pulling an opener from his pocket and popping the top before handing it back.
“Thanks.”
“Go on.” He circles his fingers in a continue-the-story-gesture. “California.”
“Well, L.A. Hollywood. It’s an ugly business.”
“Sounds like you’re successful, though.”
Am I? And at what cost?
I glance away, uncomfortable talking about my success or lack thereof. “I’m like one, single speck of glitter in a bucketful that gets tossed around every week out there. For every successful big name actor you could name right now, there are probably two thousand struggling to make it.”
“Shitty odds.”
“It brought Chaser into my life, so I can’t complain.”
My soul searching is halted by the front door to the clubhouse slamming open.
Rock jumps off his stool, placing himself between me and the man who storms inside.
Before he gets himself into more trouble, I tap Rock’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I recognize him.”
I wave. “Hi, Bishop. How are you?”
He gives me a quick chin lift. “The old man here?”
“They’re in the chapel.” Shit, what am I supposed to do? Stump’s made it crystal clear I’m not supposed to disturb the men when they’re at the table. Bishop’s from another club, is he even allowed at the table? Lost Kings are there, so maybe? I bite my lip unsure of what to do.
Thankfully, Tally solves the problem for me. He pushes the door open and waves Bishop inside. Rock watches the men carefully until the chapel doors close.
“The Saints’ SAA hang here frequently?” he asks in an almost too casual way.
“Once or twice,” I answer vaguely. For some reason, I have a feeling that information falls under club business I shouldn’t discuss with outsiders. Not even a horny thirteen-year-old who’s a hell of a lot smarter than he looks.
I look him over once more. Maybe that was his purpose for coming today. Chat up Chaser’s old lady and see what information he can bring back to the club?
He catches me studying him and a half-smile tugs at his lips.
Too bad the only stories he’ll have to bring back to his club are about my dead mom and the perils of Hollywood.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Mallory
Our L.A. bungalow is dark and quiet when we return. Not a reporter in sight.
“Thank fuck,” Chaser mutters as he opens the door.
There’s a script for Shallow End waiting for me but I don’t have the energy to look at it yet.
I press play on the answering machine and Marilyn’s fr
ustrated voice grates my nerves. “Ocean Ave. was picked up! You’ll start filming after New Year’s.” There’s a pause. “I have something else to discuss with you but I’d rather do it in person than over your machine. Call me when you’re back.”
“I only caught the last part, but it sounded ominous,” Chaser says.
“Well, I’m too tired to call her now.” I clap my hands together and let out a happy squee. “The part you missed is that Ocean Ave. got picked up for a full season.”
“That’s awesome.” He hugs me tight and my body perks up from the closeness. “So proud of you.”
Maybe I rub myself against him a little too long. He grasps my hands and pushes me back. For a second we stare at each other. He bites his lip. “I’m gonna go pack a bag for tomorrow.”
I follow him into the bedroom. “I’m going to tell Marilyn I don’t want to renew the contract for Shallow End.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“I really hate it.” I kneel on the bed next to the bag he’s packing. “Chaser? Are you sure you still want me?”
He stops moving and stares at me. “Are you out of your damn mind? You’re my girl. You’ll always be my girl, no matter what.” He drops the T-shirt in his hand and clutches my hip. “How could you ever question that?”
“After…”
He tips my head back. “Baby, I can’t keep my damn eyes or hands off you. I’m hanging on by a thread over here.” He runs his knuckles over my cheek. “I’ve been trying to give you space and time. That’s all.”
“Oh.”
He leans in and presses a soft kiss against my lips. “I hate leaving again too.”
While I’m sad he’s leaving, Chaser’s been my anchor in a tumultuous sea these past few days. I won’t do anything to make him feel worse. “Vegas will probably be a fun show. I’ve never been. I wish I could go with you.”
“But then I’d drag you off to the first chapel I find to get hitched and we wouldn’t have your dream beach wedding.”
“I’d be okay with that,” I whisper.
“I wouldn’t. You deserve to have everything the way you want it.” He pauses. “And Vegas would probably be the worst place to have a secret wedding. Word would get back to your father in no time.”
“I definitely don’t want that.”
He holds up two T-shirts. “Help me decide. Black or dark black?”
“What, no light black?” I tease. Leaning up, I run my hands over his chest. “What are you planning to wear to the Elimination Date premiere?”
“I’m not planning anything.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “That’s a girl thing. I’ll throw on the first clean items I find. Are you looking forward to it?”
“Yes. It’ll be fun. I’ll have you home for a few days. Get to hear your song in a movie.”
“I’m not sure I’ll believe it until I actually hear it. Still convinced we’ll get a phone call saying it’s been cut.”
“They better not,” I growl.
“So feisty.” He kisses my cheek again and then returns to packing.
I slap my alarm off the next morning. Next to me, Chaser groans.
The script I tossed on my nightstand last night catches my attention. I never even flipped it open. I sit up and pluck it out of the envelope, flipping through pages for the scenes I’m in.
“You’re cute when you’re so focused,” Chaser whispers.
I glance down and find him staring up at me. “Creep.” I whap him with my script.
He curls his hand around my leg and pulls me closer. “What’s happening this week on Shallow End?” He gasps and widens his eyes. “Will someone confront their stalker?”
I fall over laughing. “We’ve only had three stalker story lines.”
“I love making you laugh.” He tickles his fingers over my ribs and sits up, pulling me into his lap.
“Stop! I need to finish this.” I frown, flipping through the pages. “I think they’re bringing in sharks?”
“Isn’t it set at a pool?”
“Yeah, but they let us go to the beach sometimes.”
He starts humming the theme from Jaws and nibbles on my arm.
“You’re…” I’m laughing too hard to finish my sentence.
“What, little dove?”
“Dangerous!” I slap his chest and try to wriggle out of his lap.
His eyes spark with the fire that excites me every time it blazes and his arm clamps around my waist, holding me tight. “Yeah, but I’m the best kind of dangerous.”
“How’s that?” I gasp, rubbing myself against him.
He runs his fingers under the edge of my underwear, slowly peeling the material out of his way. “Because all I want to do is make you happy.”
I gasp as his knuckles brush against my skin. My whole world shrinks to where his thumb rubs over my clit. “Oh,” I moan, “That’s making me very happy right now.” Heat slides down my spine, intensifying the ache between my legs.
He leans forward, kissing the column of my throat. “Do you want me to make you come?”
“God, yes. More than anything.”
“How?”
My heart pounds with nervous anticipation. I reach down and move the sheet out of my way. Slowly, I slide my hand up and down his erection. “On your cock.”
Tension has his muscles locked tight. “My pleasure.” The desire coiled in his hoarse voice and the heat of his skin drives my need higher. He squeezes my hip. “Come here,” he whispers.
I straddle his lap, positioning myself over him. He slides my underwear to the side and continues stroking me. Slowly, I lower myself over him, gasping with excited pleasure when he nudges my entrance.
A flash of pain crosses his face. “Easy. You don’t have to—”
“No, you feel so good.”
His muscles shake with the effort of holding back. While I slowly rock my hips, taking him inside. I pant and shudder as he spreads me open. “I feel you everywhere,” I whisper.
“Don’t be upset if I don’t last long.”
I wrap my arms around his neck. Our foreheads meet and I roll my hips with more urgency while staring into his eyes.
“You’re my whole world.” He strokes his fingertips up and down my spine. “My everything.” His feather-light touches push me toward the edge. I buck harder, my eyes rolling back in my head. I’m swept away.
His breathing’s hard and choppy, holding back. “Come, come with me,” I urge. He’s tried so hard to be gentle, but now his fingers dig into my hip. He dips his head and scrapes his teeth over my nipple.
Finally, he throws his head back, a raw sound rumbling from his throat. I can’t stop touching him. Running my fingers over his neck and shoulders, down his stomach. His body jerks and twitches. “You’re tickling me, little dove.”
“Tickling.” I tease my fingers, feeling his cock jerk inside of me. Little aftershocks. “I think we’re doing it wrong if it tickles.”
He grabs my hips and lifts me off him, rolling us so he’s on top, staring down at me. “There was nothing wrong about that.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and pull myself up to kiss him over and over. “Thank you.”
“Come on.” He presses a quick kiss to my lips. “Let’s get you showered and ready for work.”
I don’t want to leave our little love island. I want to spend every second I can with him while he’s here. “Do you want me to drop you off at the airport?”
“Nah, I’ll call for a car.”
“Are you sure?”
He leans down and kisses my cheek. “If you take me to the airport, there’s a good chance I don’t get on the plane.”
At least I know we’re both feeling the strain of him leaving.
My beautiful, perfect, love-soaked morning takes a dark, confusing twist as soon as I park my car at the studio. A swarm of people rush me as I try to cross the parking lot to get into the building.
Swept up in a sea of strangers, flashbulbs, and question, my b
ody locks up. I freeze, unsure of how to respond.
“Mallory, do you want to share your side of the story?”
“W-what story?”
“Your miscarriage.”
“It’s no one’s business.” I hate the trembling indignance in my voice. How dare they ask me such an invasive question. “Chaser and I would appreciate some privacy and respect.” I elbow my way through and refuse to say anything else.
“What about the rumors that you were carrying Andrew Lane’s child? Do you want to address those?”
The question stops me cold. Why would anyone assume that? “I have no need to address vicious lies,” I answer tartly, tossing my hair back.
I knew my first day back on set would be awkward.
A soft, cool hand lands on my shoulder, pulling me to the side. “That’s enough. Go away and leave her alone,” Pamela scolds the throng of reporters.
“Ms. Scott, do you want to address the rumors of Mallory and your ex?”
“No, and you shouldn’t waste your time with that hogwash either.” She leans down and whispers in my ear, “Come on, let’s go inside.”
“Thank you.”
Tucking me close to her body, she strong-arms our way through the wild crowd. “Get them out of here,” she snaps at the security guard.
Inside the studio, she releases me. “Are you okay?”
“I was better until that.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “Why would anyone even think…” I shake my head. “Whatever. Nothing should shock me anymore.”
“It was a big story while you were…gone.”
Chaser must have worked hard to intercept those stories while I was recovering. I knew reporters were camped out at our house, I’m so used to the lies tabloids tell, I’ve learned to ignore them. It never occurred to me to pick up a paper and see what their angle was on this story.
“Did you see the script?” I wave my copy at her. “What’s going on in that last scene?”
She bites her full bottom lip and looks away. “You’ll have to ask Sean.”
Wheels of Fire (Hollywood Demons Book 3) Page 32
