Trapped (Grizzly MC Book 1)

by Brook Wilder

  “You know, I’ve been thinking,” he says, tugging at my ear, “about how fucking hot you are up on that stage. How every man in there wants you.”

  I shudder at the excitement in his voice; it’s disgusting.

  “And I was thinking… how every man in there would do anything to have you, even for a night—nah, just an hour. How much they’d give up for you and that cute little candy ass of yours.”

  He grips me there, as if making a point.

  Stop… just stop…

  “And then… Then that got me thinking a little more…” He slips his fingers into my hair, tugging my head back. It forces me to look him in the eyes, those drug-glazed eyes that I hate so much, as they stare back at me with vile intention in them. “I have a job for you, Lena. A special little… assignment, if you will.”

  My heart drops. I’ve had assignments in the past before. Usually, they end up with me sleeping with someone as a deal sweeter. If I’m lucky, it’s just giving a blow job. Most of the time, I’m not lucky.

  “What kind of assignment, Marc?” I ask him flatly, unemotive—a pawn on a board waiting to be moved.

  “Ah, don’t say it like that. You’ll make me think you don’t wanna do it for me.” He smirks. “You know James Davis. He runs the Grizzly bar and the Tomahawk chapter of the Grizzlies.”

  “I know him.”

  Who didn’t know him? Brooding manager of the Grizzly Bar & Restaurant, diplomatic leader of their MC. James is a heart-throb, even the Viper girls talk about him. I’ve seen him here and there, never talked to him, though. I heard his girl died in a car crash a few months back; it was bad from the sound of it and he’s not been the same since.

  What does Marc want with James, though? I’m not excited to find out.

  “Good. Good… You see, James and his boys, they’ve been getting in the way of distribution lately. Pushing back on my boys trying to expand the selling territory, get a better foothold in the land. I don’t like it. We’ve been playing nice for so long… It’s boring. I want more. I want my product in every corner of Tomahawk and I want Viper cuts on every biker.”

  Marc leans in to me, nuzzling his nose against mine. It would look intimate to anyone outside the two of us who saw it, but for me it only gave me a closer look at the predator who had me in his arms, and that made my spine tingle with dread.

  “I want you to seduce the great James Davis. I want you to make him trust you, I want you to make him fuck you, I want him wrapped around your pinky and your pussy. You learn everything you can about him—I know his candy-ass deals pot out the bar; give me his suppliers, his runners, his clients. Where do they grow. How do they transport.”

  I swallow.

  “But we’ve had peace with the Grizzlies for years now,” I say. “I thought we were keeping peace. Neutrality. We run crystal here fairly unchecked but the police…”

  Before I finish my sentence, there’s a hot sting across my cheek, and I’m laying flat on the floor. Tears well up hot in my eyes, and I scrub them away quickly with the back of my fist. It’s not the first time that Marc’s struck me, though I wish I had the strength to make it the first and the last. Instead, I stay on the floor, looking up at him through the blur of tears I refuse to let fall.

  “I didn’t ask you for your opinions,” he says. He crouches down beside me, brushing thick strands of flyaway red hair out of my face. “I asked for you to do as I say. Can you do as I say, Lena?”

  I nod.

  He smirks and stands up.

  “Good girl,” he says. “Now clean up your face and get back to work. You do a good job maybe I’ll give you the Snake Pit.”

  He laughs—almost as if the idea of giving me what should have been mine to begin with is comical to him.

  I latch to that thought, though.

  “Do… do you mean it?” I ask tentatively. “Can I have the bar… Like… Like we planned?”

  I think for a moment that he’s going to strike me again. That I’ve asked him for something that, in his eyes, I don’t deserve to have. Instead, he thinks about it… contemplates. Then, he chuckles.

  “Of course,” he said. “You do this, you get control of the bar. You can run the whole thing—the girls, the booze, the drugs—all on your own. I’ll have too much territory to keep all my focus on it, anyway. Consider it your reward for being a good girl.”

  Marc leaves me. Silence fills the room until I let out a deep, shaky breath. What he’s asking me is to help him incite war. He wants to go against the Grizzlies, against the truce that we’re supposed to have, all to grow his drug empire. He wants me to seduce a man to do it.

  Part of me wonders if it’s even worth it. Marc in control of the entirety of Tomahawk… That would only lead to disaster and ruin. Part of me hopes that Marc gets in over his head with this venture of his, that it blows up in his face and burns the world around him down. A larger part of me knows how unlikely that is; Marc’s unfortunately good at getting what he wants, even when he doesn’t deserve to have it.

  A bitter thought comes to me as I push myself off the floor, intent on caking on an amount of make up to hide the bruise that’s slowly blossoming on my cheek.

  At least I just have to seduce a man; I’d hate myself if I had to fall in love with him, too. If life with the Vipers had taught me anything, it was that men couldn’t be trusted.

  Chapter Three

  James

  The scuffle at the bar has been forgotten days after it happened. Attention spans are fickle around these parts, after all, and when you mix booze with hot tempers, fickle becomes the norm. I’m glad for it, though. It’s much quieter tonight, and it’s mostly families in here. I can clean my beer glasses, watch my bar, and not be too bothered worrying over who’s gonna throw an errant fist they ought not to.

  A normal night… at least I think that it is. The front bell rings and I look up out of habit, eyes trailing to see the newcomer, and I pause.

  She’s tall for a woman, leggy, with a natural tan that offsets the natural copper of her hair, which is in ringlets that cascade down her back and bounce as she walks in. I feel like I’ve seen her before. And, when she draws closer, settling herself down at the bar, I realize why.

  She’s one of the Vipers’ girls.

  Viper bikers come in all the time. They’re in and out, sometimes to drink, sometimes to pick up pot. But their women? Their women don’t come here, by order of Marc. Even for an MC, he’s got a heavy lock-down on the girls. Rumor has it the Snake Pit’s dancers double as prostitutes for the club. I don’t know how true that is; Grizzly men don’t go there.

  So… why’s this girl here?

  It’s suspicious, and I frown, wondering if I ought to kick her out or something. I don’t want trouble because one of Marc’s girls decided she’d be a little rebellious—but it’s kinda hard to imagine this one’s being rebellious with the look on her face.

  She sits there, her head cast down. She doesn’t look at anyone. And, though I can’t see the entirety of her face, her profile shows the slight downward curve of her lips and the tension in her brow. The way she sighs, deeply in and then so slowly out as though she regrets it…

  She’s sad.

  Viper or not, she’s still a woman and she’s sitting at my bar. It’d be cruel of me to ignore her and I sigh, making my way down; at least there’s not a lot of other people sitting there to have to deal with right now.

  “Hey,” I say. “What’s a sad girl like you doing here on your own?”

  She looks up, and I have to school myself to keep my reaction normal. She’s got these crystal blue eyes, doe-wide and glassy like she’s gonna cry. She’s so painfully beautiful—a sorrow in her that shouldn’t be there fore someone as young as she is.

  “Sorry,” she says softly. “I just came in here for a drink. It’s…” She stops herself.

  “It’s fine,” I say. “What can I get for you?”

  “Whiskey?”

  “Coming right up.”

/>   I leave her and her mysterious sadness behind, pouring her a fresh glass. I linger there; as a bartender, even one like me, you know when someone has a story. I wonder what this woman’s story is… I wonder what it is that’s brought her into my bar instead of the Snake Pit.

  What is it that’s made her so damn sad?

  “You know, girl like you shouldn’t be so down,” I tell her.

  She takes a sip of her whiskey and looks up at me.

  “It’s… my boyfriend…”

  Ah… boy troubles…

  “He died last year. It’s his birthday today…”

  Well then.

  I clear my throat. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I tell her. I turn around, pouring a drink from the beer tap behind us. I give a toast. “To your boyfriend. What was his name?”

  “Marcel,” she says. “And thanks. I’m—I’m sorry for being so down, I just didn’t know where else to go… I know we don’t usually get to come here but it’s better…”

  She looks lost. I can’t help but feel sorry for her. But… How can it be put without sounding like a dick? I had my own walls that I needed to keep up. I knew what consoling could lead to.

  “Just let me know when you need a refill,” I tell her.

  She watches me as I go back to serving other customers. She has keen eyes, intelligent eyes, even if they’re fogged over in sadness. I tell myself all I’m gonna do is my job and nothing more—because I know what she’s feeling, I feel it every damn day something reminds me of Sarah. It makes a person vulnerable and my own vulnerable state is about all the vulnerable I can deal with directly. Especially when it comes to a Viper girl.

  She drinks steadily through the night. She doesn’t move from her spot, and she’s not bothered by anyone either. She drinks, looks sad, and every now and then I catch her blue eyes on me and every now and then… I can’t look away.

  It gets later in the night, closer to closing. I walk back over to the woman.

  “Hey. We’re clearing out soon.”

  “Right.”

  She reaches into her purse, pulling out money. I shake my head.

  “On the house,” I say to her, figuring I could offer her at least that small amount of courtesy.

  She flushes.

  “Thank you.”

  Her voice is soft, and a little slurred. I frown, watching as she stands shakily and makes her way outside. Did she drive here? Was someone going to pick her up?

  “Hey, James.”

  My attention is taken from the mysterious Viper girl and turned onto Pete. He’s a bit of a squat guy, a little more fluff in his middle than most. His head jerks to the door.

  “Noticed the girl,” he says. “Trouble?”

  I shake my head. “Nah, I don’t think so,” I tell him. “She uh. Just wanted to drink. Boyfriend died, I guess. It’s his birthday today.”

  “Ahh… That’s rough.” His eyes train toward the door again. “Ah, well. I hope she gets home safe. Never see Viper girls in here. With any luck Marc won’t be pissed because she was here.”

  I frown, and get back to work, trying not to think about the Viper girl.

  It’s a couple hours later and the patrons of the bar are gone. Pete and I are the only ones around, getting out to lock up and leave the bar for another day. As I’m making sure the door is secure and there’s nothing out of the ordinary, Pete nudges me.

  “Hey—”

  I turn around, wondering what he’s pointing to, only to see the Viper girl sitting at the bus stop that sits on the bar property. I check my phone; it’s three in the morning. The next bus doesn’t run for another two hours. I frown.

  “You don’t think she’s gonna wait the bus out, do you?”

  “No idea.”

  “You want me to check?”

  I shake my head. “Nah… Nah I’ll do it.”

  Pete gives me a look and pats me on the shoulder. “No problem then. See ya tomorrow, James. Get home safe.”

  “Yeah.”

  I watch Pete head to his bike, sliding on. The bike sinks a little under his weight but zooms off nonetheless. I make sure he’s safely down the road before I approach the girl, gravel crunching under me so I know that she won’t be spooked by my walking up behind her.

  “Hey—you alright?”

  She looks over her shoulder, surprised to see me.

  “Oh—hey.” She hiccups. “Sorry, I was just waiting for the bus; is that alright?”

  “Is there no one coming to pick you up?” I question instead.

  She shakes her head. “No. I was just going to ride the bus back home…”

  I look around. It’s dark, and if I leave her here she’s going to be all alone. It’s deserted now, but that doesn’t mean there’s not a chance of an errant person riding through. Truckers use this road, sometimes they stop off the side to sleep. The idea of one of them stopping here seeing her by herself…

  “Come on,” I tell her. “It’s not right to leave you out here like this. I’ll give you a ride home.”

  Her eyes are disbelieving.

  “You’d do that?”

  “Of course,” I tell her. “Come on. It’s chilly and late and you don’t wanna be caught out here, trust me.”

  I start walking toward my bike. Whatever the case or deal with this woman, she doesn’t deserve to be left out here alone. I’m happy to hear her uneven steps behind me. I get my helmet out of my bike seat as I wait for her to catch up, casting my gaze her way to make sure she doesn’t fall over. For a Viper she’s modestly dressed—though that doesn’t say much. Her skirt still shows a lot of skin and her belly button glitters with a shiny diamond there. Her red shirt covers the most of her, I think, only offering a peek of cleavage as its tightness shows off the thinness of her body, faint of curves.

  I stop staring at her. She’s obviously drunk, and emotionally hurting.

  I hand my helmet over to her. “Here. You take that. I’ll ride without.”

  “You don’t have an extra one?” she questions softly. “Not for a girlfriend—wife?”

  I stiffen.

  “Nah… Neither.”

  She slips on my helmet, looking at me as she does. It’s been a while since I’ve had a woman on my bike—she looks too good in my helmet for my own good and I slide on so that she can, too.

  “Just give me directions; I’ll have us there in no time,” I tell her.

  She slips in behind me, skirt riding up a bit as her thighs come to caress at the sides of my legs. She’s soft as she presses against my back, and her subtle, sweet scent wafts up from behind. I can’t help but shift on my bike; I’m reminded by the feminine touches that I’ve denied myself over the last few years in just the mere seconds that she’s touching me.

  Man, I need to make this the last time I go out on a limb here.

  She lives on the southside of Tomahawk, like most of the Vipers and their people do. Somewhat developed country with paved roads gives way to more dirt and gravel roads, and family homes and ranches become crowded apartments and trailer parks. I feel a little exposed out here; this is pure Viper territory, and I’m out here on my own. I pull into the little trailer park that she indicates, riding through. It’s sparsely populated, with a lot of space between each of the trailers. Hers is toward the back of the park, the farthest set away from the others. Plain little white thing with cracked, yellow trim.

  I come to a stop in front of the doublewide. Turning off the bike, I let her slip off before I do the same.

  She kinda looks cute. My helmet is a little too big for her, doesn’t fit her head perfectly. I unbuckle it and pluck it off her head before that thought can go any further.

  “You know, I don’t know your name.”

  She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

  “It’s Lena.”

  Huh. Pretty name.

  “It’s a good name,” I comment instead, however.

  She smiles.

  “Thanks. Yours is…?”

  “You mean y
ou don’t know?”

  Lena blinks, and a small chuckle escapes her.

  “Am I supposed to?”

  Well. This is a first.

  “Most women do—least, most of the women in Grizzly and Viper circles do. It’s James. James Davis.”

  I hold my hand out to her, and she takes it delicately. Her palms are soft, delicate. She’s fragile and I feel like I could break her in just my hold alone.