Two Hitmen: A Double Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Lawless Book 1)

by Alice May Ball

  The Blades took the van, with the cargo, to a warehouse. Ryder went downtown to a bar and met up with Hammer and Scot, a couple of old buddies from the service. “You were right,” Hammer told him. “There was a party sneaking in behind you. You were right again when you said, ‘balaclavas, hoodies and no patches.’ They were not bikers.”

  “I knew it.” Ryder raised a glass to Hammer. “Good shooting, by the way. I assume that was you.” Hammer smiled a modest acknowledgement.

  Scot said, “We waited about three-quarters of a mile back from you, and three vehicles slid along behind your backs, just as you expected.”

  “FBI?” Ryder asked him.

  “Two cars of FBI, one ATF.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “The agents and officers are all trussed up with cable-ties, and they’re right where we found them. We went in behind them and they all failed the test.”

  “Which test?”

  “The ‘does this smell like chloroform’ test.”

  Hammer said, “They’ll have to fish their cars out of the quarry back there.”

  Ryder asked, “And their IDs?”

  “We took pictures. Seem to have lost all of their wallets somehow.”

  “None of them saw you?”

  “Nope, and not their dashcams neither.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “We came up low from behind. The cameras point forward. They couldn’t have seen us.”

  Ryder raised his glass again. “Good work.”

  Scot checked his watch and said, “A concerned citizen should be making a call about now from the center of town on an untraceable phone. He’ll be letting the Highway Patrol know that there’s six guys in suits out on the flats, wriggling around and making like long, black fishes. Another shot, Ryder?”

  “Thanks, bro, but I’m good. Something I need to take care of.”

  Chapter 20

  When he got back to the clubhouse, Ryder stopped in at the office. He told John Reader his theory. “The Feds, along with ATF, set the Skulls up. Maybe for a deal over Iron and Jam, who knows.”

  He stretched his legs out as he reached for his whiskey. His thighs were a little stiff. “Skulls were supposed to hand their weapons stash to us, then the Feds were going to pick us up for taking it.” John Reader’s eyebrow rose slightly.

  “Could be,” John Reader said. He probably had that figured out from the start, although, Ryder thought, with John there’s no way you would ever know.

  Ryder looked into the distance. “Skulls turned rat. Well, Haughey and Mace did, at any rate.”

  John Reader said, “That’s for later. Meanwhile, we got us a truckload of military grade hardware.”

  Ryder said, “You think this could have been Haughey’s play for Iron’s patch? Seeing himself more permanently at the top of the Skulls council table?”

  John Reader said, “Could be.”

  Ryder considered it. “Trouble at the Skulls top table may not be bad for the Blades.”

  “Could be,” John Reader said.

  Chapter 21

  She was outside in the warm night air, sitting on the saddle of her bike, parked in the shadows by an outbuilding. Somehow, she needed to connect with the familiarity of the saddle, and the completely alien strangeness of her coupling with Ryder.

  She saw him go into the clubhouse. He didn’t even stop or look around for her outside. Something had been building up and somehow it felt like this evening was the climax. It was maybe twenty minutes before he came out again. When he did, she saw that he was looking for her. She didn’t move. She waited for him to see her before she said, “Did you find Mary Ann okay?”

  His steps toward her lengthened. She said, “She have what you need, Ryder? She give you her special gift?”

  His eyes blazed when he reached her and her blood rose. She said, “I don’t suppose you got any left for me now. Not up to a second go just yet.” He grabbed her jacket by the lapels and pulled her off the bike.

  “Maybe you could manage it if I sucked your cock. Would that do it for you, Ryder?” His neck muscles tensed. “Why don’t you make me, Ryder? Why don’t you shove your big, hard cock in my throat? See if you can shut me up that way. See if you can pump me full of hot biker fuel.” Her tongue flashed across her lips.

  His lips tightened and drew back over his big white teeth and his nostrils widened. “Oh,” she pressed her hand on the front of his jeans and said, “Looks like you got your motor running. Mary Ann must not have finished the job for you.”

  He grabbed her throat. “There you go,” she said between her bared teeth, “You are rising to the occasion.” She felt the urgent swelling at the front of his pants. The denim was stretched full and throbbing against her.

  His voice grated, low and fierce, “Got any more?”

  She arched an eyebrow at him. “Well, Ryder, what are you going to do about it?”

  He spun her and shoved her against the wall of the shed. She sighed as her hands slapped on the brick. His hand came up into her skirt and found her torn panties still hanging in ribbons, exposing her hot core. He grabbed greedily at her, rubbed at her wet pussy, and slid up between the cheeks of her clenching ass.

  She gasped as his thumb burst into her tight little star. His fingers dove into her hot folds and she groaned, almost growling. He rubbed her at the base of her tingling clit, and her insides churned like bubbling lava. Nothing else mattered now.

  Roughly, he yanked her thighs farther apart. As the hard bulb of his hot shaft pierced her, she bit her thumb and a rasp dragged out from her throat. He stretched her wide, and she shifted her ass up to let him farther in. His breath was hot in her ear and his voice was low and hard. “Big enough for you?”

  Her fist thumped on the wall and her body clenched. Her back arched as her soft walls stretched around his fat shaft. He lifted her leg to spread her wider as he drove harder into her tight pussy. He yanked her hair with the hand not holding her leg in the air.

  Her body flushed with sudden heat, her muscles shaking with uncontrollable need. The hard ridges of his shaft sawed into her, harder and deeper as his thighs slapped her buttocks.

  She trembled as the mounting waves of need crashed through her. With his shaft buried to the hilt in her, his body pressed against her buttocks, and her thighs spread almost painfully, he said, “Think you can get your throat around it, little girl?”

  Her eyes watered. She clamped them shut, bit on her arm and shook her head. She ached for him. Her whole body was hungry for him. Her ass stung as his big hand slapped her. “Let’s find out.” He hauled his thick cock out of her and pushed her to her knees.

  Her face was wet from tears of pain-filled pleasure, and the slick head of him twitched angrily in front of her. “Is this what you want?” He pushed it in front of her trembling lips. Her breath was hot and hard. He didn’t give her time to answer but she started to nod as he yanked her by the hair and shoved it in to fill her hot, soft mouth.

  His musky scent mingled with the unfamiliar tang of her juices. The head of his hard, thick shaft thrust along her tongue, and jammed against the back of her throat.

  Her throat muscles stretched, and she had to fight the spasms of reflex as his velvety girth drove through her mouth and into her tight throat. He pulled her hair until her lips met his wiry hair and his balls lightly tapped against his chin.

  She quaked as his hips propelled him in and out of her mouth, all the way to the tip and then back, right into his groin. She grabbed his hard, tight buttocks and clawed as she pulled him even harder into her. Pulses beat along and though him, one after another, and she took him all the way down. His heat exploded in bolts of thick, hot cum.

  His sticky, salty sweetness filled her mouth and dribbled out of her mouth.

  The way he held her afterwards, the way he stroked her with such strength and restraint, had to mean something. She knew right then that she would give Ryder anything, just so long as he wanted her enough to take it. />
  Epilogue

  Drops of water echoed from the far end of the dark warehouse. Haughey moved uncomfortably on the steel chair. Ryder’s voice behind him was too quiet; he had to strain to hear him properly.

  “The Skulls have always had excellent legal representation. What’s wrong? They’re bullshit charges against Iron and Jam. I’d have thought you could just make them go away.

  He tried to turn in his seat to look at Ryder. He was tied too tight. The light in his face made it hard to concentrate. “We thought so, too. We had the judge squared away.”

  His head turned from side to side as Ryder paced behind him. Ryder said, “So, what’s the problem?”

  “He’s not going to hear the case.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “It’s been listed for Judge Sage.”

  Ryder stopped. Jesska’s father. Haughey said, “Ryder, you got the Blades’ say-so for this, for having me tied to a damned chair? Seems like you’re flexing your muscle when it ain’t your beef.”

  Ryder leaned down and spoke next to Haughey’s ear. His voice was low, strong, andsharp as glass. “How the Blades feel about you leading their men into that trapis their affair. Standing out in front, that was me you put in the frame. You almost handed me over to the feds, Haughey. That’s my beef.”

  Ryder spoke over Haughey’s head, straight to Bear who was in the darkness.

  “Didn’t I say that I hate guns? Ugly business. They’re noisy, they jam and go wrong, and they’re always empty when you need ’em most. Add to that you never know where the fuck they’ve been. When you lift a gun from a gun show or a guy on the street, what kind of company are you really taking away with you? What other names are you dragging along behind you? Military kit is the worst of all. A fuckin’ AK? Man, that could have been used by child soldiers in Sudan. Or even used on them.” He paced some more.

  “Those are all good reasons to hate the whole business of guns, but they ain’t why I hate them. Really, I hate them ’cause they’re so damned impersonal. Where’s the fun of killing someone from across the street?”

  He grabbed Haughey’s head and twisted until he felt the crack. He looked up at Bear, “Simple, silent, swift, and yet so satisfying.” Haughey’s wide-eyed frozen expression didn’t change as Ryder let go and his head lolled down onto his chest. Ryder sauntered to the door, and Bear followed. “When they got to go, send ’em off the Ryder way.”

  They shielded their eyes as they stepped out into the sun. Ryder said, “Only testimony he’ll be giving now is at his autopsy.”

  Ryder climbed onto his Harley as Bear swung his leg over his own bike. “No need for the old family-style cross-cut two-shot, the bespoke Versace. Too noisy and too messy.” He slipped the key into the lock, and put his thumb over the switch. “People have come back from a bullet right through their brains.” The Harley engine made a crackling growl as Ryder wound the throttle. “No-one’s yet made a miracle recovery from the patent Ryder spinal snap.”

  The Hostage Sister

  Amy Law

  Tiffany huddled and shivered from shock in the thin blanket. Blue and red lights flashed over the dark asphalt and radio noise crackled through the night air. She was distant, disconnected, as if she were watching firm male hands steer someone else to the open door of an ambulance.

  Questions rained down on her but they bounced off and faded away into the blur of noise and movement as her senses began to shut down.

  They poked her mouth with spatulas. Took swabs. Shone lights in her eyes and turned her arms over.

  Felt everywhere.

  All over her body. Again.

  Someone gave instructions. Drips, injections. Measurements.

  “We’re going to get them,” a strong, male voice said. “There’s plenty to go on, Miss. Don’t you worry about a thing now.”

  Them. One of them, she wanted that bastard caught. For what he did, she wanted him behind bars, his skin turning pale and gray while he waited on years of appeals against the death penalty. But the other one… not the other one…

  All the voices, all the sounds of boots on shale, they all receded into the soft, soothing darkness.

  The clocktower bell clanged and her eyes flicked open. She was back in the funk and gloom of that square, bare, windowless room.

  Chapter 1

  Tiffany spent the bright spring Saturday morning making use of Daddy’s credit cards at the mall. Her first weekend off from her med school internship roster at Mountain View Hospital and she meant to recreate.

  Serious party plans were afoot with her gang of med students, and they knew how to rip the night wide open. She just hoped that nobody leaked any of the details to the notorious Doctor Mastermann. She didn’t need her slender skills in martial arts tested again.

  She cruised the food court, picked out some Thai vegetarian snacks, and schlepped her big bags full of upscale grunge-wear and Urban Decay makeup—most of it in shades of black—over to a table.

  Leaning on the balcony rail above were two bikers. They looked pretty hardcore, probably members of Blades MC. The local trouble, or the local heroes, depending on whether you took Daddy’s outlook or her sister Jesska’s.

  Mean shades poked out between their unruly masses of wiry hair. One had a mess of light brown tangle; the other had a dirty blond thatch. The darker-haired one wore a thick, neat beard.

  Cut-off leather jackets over cut-off hoodies left the hard cords of their arm muscles on show, and their jeans covered but did nothing to conceal two heart-stopping clenched asses. You could stack a row of textbooks on those asses. If books were what was on your mind, that is.

  Tiffany didn’t see the bikers take any notice of her at all but, if they were around any longer than her samosa, she meant to make sure that they did. She had used up most of her morning plan for spending Daddy’s money, so she had nothing else in mind for the day.

  Bikers. Bikers had always fascinated Jesska; fascinated to a point of obsession. She rode a motorcycle herself, and Tiff was sure that Jess had been hanging around some biker bar. She wondered why she was so sure.

  It was a few weeks ago Tiff decided that was what happened. Why? Because Jess stopped talking about it. Duh! Obvious as soon as she thought about it. Was she having sex with bikers? Wow, you heard pretty wild things about bikers clubs. All exaggerated, Tiff was sure. But still.

  She snuck another glance at the bikers. They were pretty hot, in a rough kind of a way, but definitely hot. They didn’t look like any of the boys in med school, that was for sure. She gave her attention to her veggie nibbles.

  Tiffany casually noticed with satisfaction that the two Blades men were still in sight. In fact, they had hardly moved. They still didn’t seem to have registered her tiny faded denim skirt or her black stockings, torn across her thighs and laddered all the way into her short, patterned cowboy boots.

  Not even the deep scoop of her t-shirt seemed to have caught their eyes yet. The tee, without too much study, revealed that she wasn’t wearing a bra. That was in case the pert, bouncing nipples under the soft white shirt hadn’t made that point—those points—already.

  Tiffany dressed in black, mussed up her dyed-black hair, and wore black makeup so as not to be noticed. She said so all the time. Deep cover, as a smart-ass in med school called it. As she stepped onto the up escalator, she thought she saw another man in the bikers’ cut and jeans on the far side of the food court.

  He slipped backwards behind the pillar with the clock. It was ten of two. The clock showed its happy face.

  When the escalator let her off on the first floor, she saw only the blond biker, but that wasn’t so bad. He was the cuter of the two. Tiffany’s hips rolled slowly as she strutted nonchalantly by, and the heels of her boots snapped nicely on the polished floor.

  As she passed him, his scent wound around her, and she felt it land deep in her stomach. It was a dark scent, unusual to her nose but definitely not cheap, patchouli and something exotic, as well as a light bu
t unmistakable sweet-stale whiff of freshly burned weed. Behind all that was the kicker. The only word for that smell is ‘man.’

  She slouched to shove open the door to the parking levels, and she just happened to peek back at him. A thrill beyond satisfaction fizzled up through her as she saw him pull up his hood and follow her. He was speeding up.

  Tiffany let the heavy door swing closed behind her, and headed behind a partition for the pay station. She sensed that somebody was already there. Before she could look around, a huge gloved hand clamped over her nose and mouth. An arm across her stomach pinned her arms, and squeezed the breath out of her.