Callous Criminal (Vicious Vipers MC Book 3)

by Lynn Burke

  Too young, but perky as fuck and built for sin. Flaming red hair, curves in all the right places, an ass made for plundering, and eyes flashing with the type of sass a couple of my brothers wouldn’t mind taming.

  My dick still didn’t twitch, and I huffed with annoyance.

  Fucking waste of time.

  Chapter Four

  Pia

  Heat flooded my cheeks as I studied the front of the establishment I had every intention of entering. I stalled, though, eyeing the poorly lit parking lot from where I’d parked across the street to watch the club’s entrance.

  I’d gotten the call I’d been waiting for—but on my cell, and hours after I’d left the office.

  Jessie, the sweetheart, had asked around town and gotten a lead into my latest missing girl case. The news wasn’t what I had hoped to hear, but better than a kidnapping and sex slave outcome.

  Letting out a slow exhale, I grabbed my purse off the passenger seat of my old Chevy, and climbed out into the sweltering night. Sweat instantly sprang across my forehead and chest, and I cursed the size of my breasts for the millionth time since they’d sprouted when I’d turned ten.

  I held my chin high while striding across the street in my sandals. I’d opted for my tightest jeans—daydreaming about being that biker chic fantasy I’d been having all day—but I’d gone with my usual frumpy shirt to hide my upper curves. God knew they drew enough attention without my highlighting them.

  I pulled open the door, a blast of cold air sweeping over me along with muffled thumps beyond the foyer I found myself in. The dimly lit entrance stank of stale smoke and sweat.

  A guy in all black sat on a stool beside the main entrance, and his once-over down my body heated my face as the door clanked shut behind me.

  “Hey, darlin’.”

  My smile wobbled as I eyed the door he hovered near. “Can I go in?”

  His gaze slid down over me again as he stood. “Go right ahead.”

  He used a big paw to push in the inner door, and the scent of booze and aftershave slammed into me along with the bass of a song. I slipped inside, blinking at the darkness—and the spotlight on the stage searing my retinas until my eyes adjusted.

  Dasia.

  “Oh, thank God.” I shouldn’t have stared at her bared body, but couldn’t help myself. Gorgeous and perfect … even if I didn’t like women in a sexual way. She moved with fluid grace while dancing, and I fought the green monster inside who loved to torment my self-confidence.

  I moved closer, purse clutched in front of me, as awareness of my surroundings settled over me. Darkness in every corner, lust hanging in the air and tingling my skin—danger for Dasia, I felt sure, even if she had been of age.

  A cool ripple of unease skittered down my spine, raising the hairs on my neck as I stepped beneath a soft overhead light. The left side of my face burned like I’d stayed too long beside a fire.

  Dasia turned toward me while dancing, blinking as our eyes met. She hesitated for less than a heartbeat before continuing with her gyrations, although a bit less sure of herself. I shifted on my sweating feet while waiting, choosing to watch her rather than take in the men salivating over her tight, young body. I didn’t even have the gall to sneak a peek to my left and find out why that side of my face continued to burn.

  The song ended—not nearly soon enough—and she grabbed her discarded top from the stage, yanking it into place, her gaze returning to me. She hopped off stage as patrons continued to hoot and holler, their grabby hands missing flesh as she scooted across the strip club toward me.

  “Dasia.” I managed to keep my lips from pressing into a thin line of disproval … barely.

  “Miss Pia,” she rushed to say, glancing around us as she drew close enough to talk over the next song taking over the speakers. She grasped my arm and drew me back the way I’d come in, close to the door. “Please don’t say anything.”

  My heart broke as she peered up at me, tears welling in her heavily-made up eyes. Sparkles brightened her eyelids, and a sheen of sweat covered the rest of her face.

  “I can’t let you do this, Dasia,” I said, needing to almost holler in order for her to hear me.

  She spun to take off, but I grabbed hold of her arm. “Please,” she mouthed, a tear sliding down her cheek as I drew her close once more.

  “I have to take you back. Give me a few days, Dasia—I promise I’ll get you placed elsewhere.”

  “I can’t go back there at all!”

  “What did he do?”

  Her lip trembled, and the hurt in her eyes knifed me in the chest, stealing my breath.

  “What’s going on?”

  Another man in all black approached, and Dasia straightened, flashing a fake smile his way.

  “Pia, this is my boss, Mikey,” Dasia hollered.

  I loosened my hold on Dasia’s arm, but didn’t let her go. “She’s seventeen,” I blurted with a frown. “And a ward of the state.”

  Mikey jerked his heard toward Dasia, a scowl denting his brow. “You lied?”

  Dasia kept her lips pressed tight.

  “You’re fired. Get out.”

  Another tear slipped free as Dasia nodded. “C-can I go get my stuff?” I barely heard her question over the blasting music.

  A muscle ticked in Mikey’s jaw. “I’ll take you back there myself.” He glanced over at me, giving me a once-over as his bouncer had done. “I didn’t know. You, stay put,” he ordered, putting his face close to my ear. “I’ll have her back here in two minutes with all her shit.”

  I considered insisting I go along—but Mikey didn’t grab her in anger, merely motioned her toward another door with his head. He stalked after her, but he seemed more upset she’d lied than intent on hurting her in any way.

  Another shiver slid down over me. Once Dasia and Mikey disappeared through the “Employees Only” door, I gave in and turned toward the dark corner opposite the bar on my left as though drawn by a cat to catnip. Cold eyes peered at me—and lit me on fire from the inside out in one rushed heartbeat.

  Ryker McGrath.

  I gulped as he stood, his gaze unwavering from my heating face. Temptation to stay in place warred with an instinct to flee.

  I didn’t move other than my heart thumping harder. Faster. Outmatching the bass overhead.

  He held my stare rather than check me out like the other two men had done, even though interest definitely sparked between us.

  “You alright?” he asked loudly, leaning close enough I could fill my lungs with the fresh scent of whatever soap he used.

  I nodded, my pulse thrumming throughout my entire body. “Yes.” My smile faltered as I clutched my purse tighter. “Just here to pick up Dasia—she doesn’t belong here.”

  Ryker’s downward glance stalled out on my lips. “No offence, little lamb, but you don’t exactly look like you belong here either.”

  “I’m her social worker,” I blurted, my voice high pitched and flaming me from chest to hair line.

  He glanced at the door Mikey had led her through. “Underage?”

  I nodded.

  The beard lining his jaw twitched as though he’d clenched his teeth for a brief moment before turning back toward me. “Do you need any help?”

  I opened my mouth to claim I had no clue, but the door to my right opened once more, and Dasia scuttled toward me in an oversized t-shirt and leggings, a duffle bag over her shoulder, and Mikey still on her heels. The scowl remained on his face.

  A muscle in Mikey’s jaw ticked as they approached. “If I’d known…”

  I offered a smile. “We’ll pretend like this never happened, won’t we, Dasia?” I hollered.

  She rolled her eyes, but moved along with me when I grasped her forearm to lead her out of that hell hole.

  Into the hot night—Ryker followed along, I noted as the door shut behind us. The loss of thumping music eased the tension in my head I hadn’t realized had taken up resident.

  “Thank you for your offer,” I
said, turning to smile at him and releasing Dasia’s arm.

  He nodded, glancing over at Dasia. “You alright, kid?”

  Lips in a thin line and her mascara a mess of tear tracks down her face, she nodded.

  His focus returned to my eyes, and I froze beneath his stare. Deer in headlights. Moth to flame. All those cheesy metaphors hadn’t ever meant a damn thing to me when it came to men, but in that moment, I understood them perfectly.

  Ryker McGrath had snagged my attention, tunnel-visioning everything but him to the edge of my mind, ready to blink from existence. Yearning to step closer, sniff and lick like a damn animal, for crying out loud, itched my feet in their sandals. I wanted to smooth my thumb over the lines between his eyebrows, flutter my fingertips along his lips. Press my ear to his chest and drown in the thumping heartbeat beneath.

  “I’ll see ya around.”

  I blinked, reality rushing back with his muttered words, and I stared after him as he turned and strode away, shoulders rigid, footfalls leading him away from me, sure and steady.

  “Miss Pia?”

  I tore my focus off his retreating back and forced a smile, having forgotten all about the young woman in my care.

  Dasia’s lips quirked. “You’ve got it bad.”

  My smile faded. “What?”

  “Miss Pia and a bad boy biker.” Dasia actually giggled under her breath while glancing his way as a bike’s engine roared to life. “He’s the last guy I could see you falling for.”

  I started toward my car, ignoring the desire to watch him ride off into the night—without me. “And what would be my type of guy?” I couldn’t but help ask as his rumbling mufflers faded away.

  “A stuffy, dowdy businessman.”

  “How exciting.” Temptation to roll my eyes ended up with sarcasm lacing my voice.

  Dasia snorted and tossed her bag onto my back seat. “Exactly.”

  Rather than focus on her words and what they said about me, I drove us away from the strip joint and did my job of taking her back to the man who, according to her account on the way there, had no right hosting foster kids.

  “Give me a few days,” I reminded her once more before leaving her with the tearful woman who’d hugged her—and the leering husband beyond with his crossed arms.

  I had no choice. And, I hated that truth.

  While driving away, my mind returned to Ryker and his bike. His kind offer to help. His checking in with Dasia to make sure she was okay even though I doubted he found my appearance threatening to her in any way. He might appear to be a bad boy biker, but I had a feeling a lot more hid beneath his hardened shell, the exterior of immovability he portrayed. I also wondered what had made him that way, and if there was a way to bring him out of it.

  Cursing my nurturing spirit, I returned home to my empty apartment, wishing not for the first time that day I had someone to share it with. Someone with a cold gaze, full beard, and a shaved head I wanted to glide my hands over while wrapping my legs around his waist.

  Yes. I had it bad, as Dasia had said.

  I also wondered if I’d missed the opportunity of a lifetime to let loose and breathe for once.

  Chapter Five

  Ryker

  It hadn’t been the right time or place to ask the pretty little social worker out for a quick fuck to get her out of my system. We hadn’t been in the right company—but I sure as fuck had wanted to. A woman like her, though, wouldn’t want to just bend over a desk or couch and let me take what I wanted. She’d want the picket fence first. The two-point-five kids and four dogs in exchange. Hugs and cuddles, pillow talk with our bodies all wrapped up. Spooning.

  All of which I wasn’t capable of offering.

  I still found myself in Dunks the next morning, though, hoping she’d show up like she had Friday, even though she hadn’t dropped in once prior during the week.

  Mom had made it through the night, and I’d promised to bring Jenny a box of Munchkins. Vigil hadn’t called, and I could only hope the whole Arturo affair would lay quiet like he did in whatever grave the Vegas Vipers had dug for him.

  The beat up Chevy my little social worker had driven off in the night before pulled into the parking lot alongside the window I peered out, and my dick took note quick as fuck, same as it’d done the second I’d caught sight of her in the strip joint.

  Tight jeans. Billowy shirt hiding tits my fingers itched to actually touch.

  Goddamnit.

  I shifted to ease the sudden ache in my balls. Jerking off in the shower after getting back to Mom’s hadn’t eased the load brewing in them one fucking bit.

  I needed a warm pussy. Wet mouth. Something other than me to get me off.

  She walked into Dunks and hesitated right inside the door, scanning the tables to the right where I’d sat on Friday before turning toward the tables on the left.

  Our gazes connected, and her lips parted, face flushing. The corner of her lips rose as she offered an unsure wave.

  I nodded a greeting of my own even though my lips didn’t twitch to reveal the pleasant … warmth … radiating through my chest.

  She glanced at the counter and back at me as though unsure, another smile lighting her face before she strode toward the young man waiting at the cash register.

  My gaze tracked every step, every soft sway of her hips, and the round ass a man could sink his teeth into.

  Dick leaking like a salivating mother fucker, I couldn’t look away. Didn’t fucking want to even though I questioned that tingling in my chest as something so goddamn foreign I couldn’t recall feeling it since childhood when my bastard father had actually liked me. Hugged me. Ruffled my hair.

  Affection—and my consuming desire for it as a kid.

  I cleared my throat, fighting off the need to scowl and flatten the nose I’d done twice before it had doubtless rotted off in a coffin six feet under.

  The little lamb got her coffee and turned, attention immediately flitting toward me and the empty chair across the table from where my elbows rested. Her gorgeous tits raised as though she inhaled, pulling in confidence, and strode my way.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  Goddamn watermelon … fucking waterworks in my mouth. “Go ahead.”

  She sat, her hand shaking a bit while setting her purse on the table beside her coffee. “Come here often?” she asked, breathless—and laughed lightly while settling onto the chair. “Sorry. That was really lame.”

  “Honest question,” I told her, taking in the flecks of gold around her slightly dilated pupils. “And to answer it, not really, no. I only stopped by this morning hoping to see you again.”

  Pink flushed her cheeks. “Oh.”

  “Ryker McGrath.” I held my coffee cup in both hands rather than reach across the table to offer a proper greeting.

  “I’m Pia Hill.” She smiled wider, her eyes searching my face as though hoping to find something. She didn’t offer her hand, either, thank fuck.

  “How’s your friend?” I lifted my coffee to sip, focus on her expressive eyes.

  Pia blinked, her smile faltering. “Dasia. I wish I could say good—but I’m not really sure.”

  I tucked the young girl’s name into my memory. “Tough foster home?”

  Her focus slipped to her coffee as she wrapped her still-trembling hands around it. “You could say that.”

  “Abuse?”

  She lifted her eyes to peer at me, once more seeming to search for something. “That’s not exactly something I can talk about, Ryker.”

  “Who the fuck am I to the situation? What would it hurt? Just making small talk.”

  She considered for a few seconds and finally nodded. “So she says.”

  “And you believe her.”

  “I do, but there’s no proof, and he’s rich. Her word against his.”

  I clenched my jaw, glancing around Dunks to try to calm the pissed reaction simmering in my gut. Friends laughing, couples making those goddamn lovey-dovey eyes … the same damn loud
teens from the day before, carefree as fucking birds getting their frou-frou coffees.

  “She needs to get out of there,” I said, snipping the words out.

  “I know.” Pia’s whisper pulled my focus back to her face. Wetness welled in her eyes. “But it’s going to take me a few days to get something else set up for her.”

  “A few days could be too late.”

  Pia nodded and swiped at an escaped tear. Not even her own kid, and the woman was all momma-bear toward the girl.

  I rubbed at my chest, pushing aside thoughts of my own mom. “What can I do to help?”

  She glanced at my leather cut, gaze lingering on the patches on my chest. “While I would love to tell you to go put the fear of God in him—”

  “Consider it done.” I sat back, hands on my thighs. “Just give me the fucker’s name.”

  Lips pressed together, she tried to suppress a nervous laugh, the wetness in her eyes lessening. “You’ll do no such thing. And what happened to just small talk?”

  “Who is it, Pia?”

  That searching gaze again. She finally shook her head after a few moments of silence while seeming to gather her emotions in check. “I think you want to harm the man.”

  “Better fucking believe it.”

  Heavy silence settled between us as she peered at me. “It’s a touchy subject for you, isn’t it? Something personal.”

  I stared at her, hating yet appreciating she saw through my hard exterior. Intuitiveness I could admire, even if it earned her my secrets, something only a few of my brothers knew.

  Leaning my elbows alongside my coffee, I crowded close as the table allowed. “My sister was raped around the same age as your friend Dasia.”

  “Did he pay?”

  The memory of warm blood coating my hands filled me with sick satisfaction, but I wished I could have done it a dozen times over. “Oh, he paid, alright.”

  “Good.” Pia nodded, not a hint of wariness in her eyes, probably in response to my cold as fuck tone. “I’m glad he’s behind bars.”

  I wasn’t about to correct her assumption, but goddamn, what a woman. Sweet, wholesome—with a vindictive side that heated my blood. But he was behind the bars of hell—I nodded anyway.