by Nicole Fox
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.
TRIP’S BABY: The Pride MC copyright 2017 by Nicole Fox. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.
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Contents
TRIP’S BABY: The Pride MC
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
GRIZ: A Dark Bad Boy Romance (Chained Angels MC)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Books by Nicole Fox
GRIZ: A Dark Bad Boy Romance (Chained Angels MC)
THE DADDY NEXT DOOR: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Heaven’s Horns MC)
HOGTIED: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Satan's Chaos MC)
MANHANDLED: Sigma Saints MC
The Hitman’s Child: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance
DOM’S BABY: Broken Spires MC
King’s Baby: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance
Rip’s Baby: Hounds of Hades MC
Biker’s Baby: Devil’s Wings MC
Bad Boy’s Toy: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance
Chopper’s Baby: Savage Outlaws MC
BROKEN ANGEL: Devil’s Route MC
CAGED: A Dark Bad Boy Romance
Born Sinner
Mailing List
TRIP’S BABY: The Pride MC
By Nicole Fox
I THOUGHT SHE WAS DEAD. BUT NOW SHE’S BACK… WITH MY BABY IN HER ARMS.
I heard her scream as they gunned her down.
I promised I’d get my revenge for her death.
Years later, I’m almost ready to strike.
But then everything changed.
I’m a soldier, a warrior, a stone-cold killer.
It’s the only way to survive in this world I’ve chosen…
Kill or be killed.
As VP of the Pride MC, my men depend on me to be ruthless.
I’ve got reason enough to stoke the fury that burns in my chest:
The murder of my girlfriend years ago.
My enemies took her from me.
They wanted to stop me in my tracks.
But all they did was throw gasoline on my fire.
For years, I’ve told myself to wait for the right time to make things right.
Death for death, blood for blood.
But then Misha shows up on my doorstep.
And she’s not alone…
She’s got my baby in her arms.
I’m reeling now, my world turned on its head.
I know only one thing for certain:
I’m about to show her what she’s been missing all these years.
Prologue
Trip
She was gone.
She was fucking gone.
There was blood smeared all over her room, splattered across her windows. It painted everything in the dainty little space that she used to occupy, but there was no body. There was nothing left of her amid the overturned lamp with its bulb shattered on her floor or her bed, messed up like someone had fought her in it. Even her curtains were torn from her windows—and she wasn’t there to witness the aftermath of whatever the hell had gone down.
But fuck, there was blood. A lot of it. More than there should be to hope that she would be alive. There was a trail leading out her door like she’d been dragged out and away.
I paced around the fucked-up room, my boots thudding against her floor. When I stepped in a pool of blood and nearly slipped, it clicked that it was hers. I grabbed her dresser in a white-knuckled rage and slung it across her room. It crashed, scattering lace and silk that I’d gotten to peel off her body to worship what was beneath too many times to count.
“Fuck!”
“Trip. Trip! Calm down, man—”
There was a hand on my shoulder and I flipped out. I swung around to face whoever the fuck thought they were gonna touch me while I had to look at her blood all over the damn place, knowing that she was gone and that I was never going to see her again. I couldn’t see anything but red, but I felt the hands on my arms as I fought against them.
I struggled until there was no fight left in me. I struggled until my face was on the floor and the wood pressed into my skin. I could still smell her perfume in the air, even with the blood. The wood didn’t mask that, and as the fight started to leave me as I sagged against it, and I didn’t know how I felt.
I was numb.
It was those Jackal bastards, over the border. I knew it, and I knew my boys knew it too. They were the only ones who left blood baths like this. They thought they were untouchable. They knew a few names—thought they’d take a few of ours for themselves. We wouldn’t let them.
“It’s gotta be retaliation. Gotta be retribution.” It was what—barely a week ago we made it firm that we didn’t do business with Jackals—not now, not ever. I bet that had made them mad as all hell. When the Pride backed an MC, it was known it was always smooth sailing from then on out.
“Jackals, those damn Jackals …”
“Trip?” It was Brig. “Trip, man, you gotta breathe normal or something man. Come on.”
I couldn’t.
There were voices coming from the other room. Big John. I knew his voice; Misha’s daddy. He was like us once. He hadn’t wanted her around us or me—me especially. Too much bad news, and I guessed he was right about that, since I had dragged his little girl into this world.
“Trip, if we let you go, you gonna be good?” Brig asks with a shaking voice; that’s right—he’s never been fond of blood. Must be woozy.
I didn’t answer, and the arms didn’t let go of me. I thought they probably thought I was going crazy again; I might. I almost wanted to laugh, that’s how crazy I felt. That would be a hell of a lot better than just the nothing that’s settled.
I heard heavy footfalls, and I didn’t move, not even when it was a foot falling on my skull, followed by Big John’s shouts. There was so much ringing, I could barely hear a damn thing over it, but I heard him calling me every name in the book like I deserved it. Like it was my fault that he had walked into his little girl’s room to find it like that.
Maybe it was.
Who was at fault and who was not, though, didn’t really matter when I knew whose hands Misha’s blood had drenched when they killed her.
I was gonna ruin every last one of them.
Chapter One
Trip
The rev of bikes trolling the highway was a comforting
sound, oddly enough. Ther was just something right about the purr of the engine, nothing between you and the asphalt that raced underneath you, and the growl like a beast that came from your ride as you cruised.
Misha used to love it, but I tried not to think about her too much anymore. She was long gone.
Trixie, though, was here right now. She was pressed against my back, with her tits squished against me. She held on to me like she was afraid that she was going to die, and I kinda liked having that kind of power over her. It made her thankful when I delivered her sweet ass safely back to her house and made her tremble at how scary but exciting it was, right up until she was inviting me inside her house to make her more than tremble. We had just gotten done celebrating; news had come in about a run to disrupt some Jackal business, landing us a nice stash of goods to hock off on the market and putting the Jackals out a few nice, fat ten-grand stacks off the spoils they’d have made from that load.
All was fair in love and war, after all. And when war was fruitful, Trixie was there to help me celebrate in ways my boys couldn’t.
She wasn’t very smart, but she was always wet, always wnated to fuck, and didn’t ask questions she didn’t need to. She wasn’t that hard on the eyes, either, and when I took a look back at her as I pulled us off the highway and onto the road her rickety little house was on, I caught those pretty, doll-like, blue eyes and those cock-sucking, pink lips of her, smirking at the look of admiration on her face.
“Almost there, doll face.”
She giggled at me; she loved that name, like it makes her special. She pressed her tits against my back, right up against the Pride patch on my kutte.
“Don’t go too fast. I don’t wanna crash, T!”
“Crash? With you on my bike? Wouldn’t dream of it doll face. I like you too much.”
She giggled again, and it wasn’t the most annoying thing I’ve heard in my life, but it was damn sure not the sweetest. I revved a little to make her squeal and zipped through the dark streets with their flickering street lights. Trixie didn’t live in the best part of town; her family was textbook trailer trash because her daddy liked to spend all his money on lotto scratchers and big titties down at Assets. Trixie didn’t do too badly for herself though. She had a nice, cushy spot working the diner the next exit down the highway and maybe a little ass-selling on the side, which is fitting; Trixie was hardly her real name.
I pulled n, and she slid off my bike, thick legs wobbling like she’d had them spread to fuck. I reached out and popped her on her ample ass.
“T!” She squealed again, jumping and making her ass cheeks jiggle a little out of her denim skirt. Though—heh—you could barely call that little strip of cloth a skirt.
We walked up to the front of her trailer, her fumbling with her keys while I slid my hand up under her skirt. She was already wet; her panties were hot and soaked, and she moaned when I rubbed my fingers over her ass crack.
“Wait until we’re inside, T—”
She was trying to unlock her door as I presssed behind her. I was hard hard and not really keen on waiting. I leaned against her, speaking against her ear. I could smell perfume on her. Something cheap. I made a note to maybe buy her a little something I liked.
“If you think I’m not ready to fuck you enough to slide that skirt up, shove your little tooth-floss panties out of the way, and shove my cock inside you until you’re screaming for your neighbors, you don’t know me very well, doll face.”
She gasped and her ass jutted back against me, but she damn sure made the effort to open her door, right and quick, too. As soon as we were inside, I slammed her against the door.
“Ah, hell, T. You’re needy tonight.”
“Baby girl, I just wanna hear you scream.”
Needy? Not what I’d call it. I was fucking high—lit light a kite and I hadn’t even taken anything. It was victory. I’d claimed it in a small dose over the Jackals tonight, with help of my boys. Now I’d claim it on Trixie’s sweet little snatch.
I kissed her before she could say anything more, trapping her against the door. She tasted like beer and lipstick; I felt the stuff smear over my lips and didn’t bother to be annoyed about it. They could smear over my cock later too. Her arms went around me, and those ridiculously long, manicured nails dug into my back. I hoisted her up; she wasn’t that heavy. Her legs went around me, and I pressed against her, rocking my cock against that pretty pussy of hers.
“I thought you wanted to fuck me?” she panted.
“I’m gonna; I just like hearing you mewl before you get it.”
She whined, but she didn’t argue. I was allowed to get what I wanted from her, and she gave it to me like any other club girl would. She was just happy to be worthy enough to take my cock, and as I shoved those frilly, little, barely-even-there panties aside, plunging my fingers into her heat to work her open, she wouldn’t be able to think that I wasn’t being fair to her anyway.
“Oh, T, fuck!”
In and out, I fucked her on my hand. So wet and tight. I was used to her by now and knew how to get her wet quickly. I didn’t feel like fucking around on her and taking my time; that kinda shit was for another girl.
Trixie had strong legs and those thick, pretty thighs of hers held her up while I fiddled with my pants, not too much a gentleman to resist fucking a pretty girl against her door before I decided whether I wanted to bend her over her couch or bed next. I undid my belt, opened the button, pulled down the zipper, and found it was a relief when my cock let loose from my pants. There was a condom in my pocket—I was not a stupid man.But as I went to rip the foil, my phone rang.
“What the fuck.”
I groaned. There was a temptation to ignore it, but it was Brig’s ringtone, and he knew not to mess with my me time unless it was something important.
I set a pouting Trixie on her feet and pulled away to answer.
“This better be good,” I said.
“I dunno if it’s good, Trip.”
“Well, it’s gonna be worse if I don’t find out what it is.”
“It’s—it’s Misha, T. She’s right outside the fucking club.”
Chapter Two
Misha
Everyone’s eyes were on me—everyone’s. There were only a few of them who I didn’t know, but most I did. There was Brig, who’d filled out a lot since the last time I’d seen him. He wasn’t quite so thin, but then again, he didn’t have quite so many scars, either. He didn’t look like a boy anymore. Jackson and Prewet, the DeVos twins. I could still tell them apart after the years; I’d bet money it was Johnny with the long hair and Peaty with the short. There was Travis, too, with a patch over his eye. Arms folded. He looked dumbfounded like the rest, and I couldn’t blame them for it. I imagined that it was hard to look at someone who you had thought was dead sitting there in front of you, alive, well, and with a little, knee-high girl perched in lap. No one said a word, trying to process what I was doing there, alive and, surprisingly, with a child.
I never thought that I would find myself here again, Ace of Pride, the bar Bobby Oakland’s Pride worked out of. Though, talk was that Bobby didn’t run the Pride anymore. No …
I looked down at my little girl, and she looked up at me, a little shy. She had my auburn hair, falling in curls around her little cherub face, but she had her daddy’s eyes—blue as the sky over the sea and just as bright and full of mischief as I remembered Trip’s being.
He wasn’t here. He’d gone off celebrating on his own. I wasn’t dumb and knew what that meant. He’d either taken someone back to his place or gone back to hers. It didn’t bother me as much as it should. Lord knew I hadn’t saved myself over the years …
“Mama?”
Rose looked up to me. I hadn’t realized I’d zoned out.
“Yes, baby?”
“I’m sleepy.”
“I know, baby. It’s okay. It won’t take long, I promise.”
“Okay, mama.”
She tucked herself into me,
drawing away from the big men in leather kuttes who surrounded us. I wished it was a sight that was unfamiliar to her, but I couldn’t boast about being a mother who had been able to keep her daughter from the things that had driven me away from the Pride to begin with. No …out of the fire, into the frying pan. That had been my life for the last five years.
I looked to Brig. He didn’t seem to know what to do about me, but we’d been friends back in the day. He’d always treated me kindly, especially since Trip had been so sweet on me.
“Is there a room in back she can lie in?”
“I dunno if that’s a good idea, Misha. Should keep you together in the same place and all.”
My face fell a little. It didn’t seem that our old friendship would win me any bonus points here.
“I guess you have a lot of questions.”
“T’s gonna have a lot of questions, too.”
Harsh.
I bit my lip.
