Rahab's Domination

by Ravenna Tate

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2017 Ravenna Tate

  ISBN: 978-1-77339-523-4

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Karyn White

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  Thank you to Stacey at Evernight for continuing to encourage and support me in my writing career. Thank you to Karyn, my amazing Evernight editor, who helps me write stronger characters and better stories. And thank you to my loyal readers who keep coming back for more.

  RAHAB’S DOMINATION

  Demons on Wheels MC, 5

  Ravenna Tate

  Copyright © 2017

  Chapter One

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Liz pulled her car up to the iron gate, closed across one of two front driveways leading onto the property that housed Scotty’s Place. What are they hiding in there? Gold?

  Both driveways boasted the same tall gates, but this one had an intercom. She was told to ask directly for Donny Messina, who was waiting inside this fortress for her. Scotty’s Place was a strip club, for God’s sake. What the hell did they have to protect in there?

  She pushed the button, waiting at least three seconds before a male voice asked her what she wanted. Rudely asked her. If her supervisor hadn’t told her this was the most important client they’d had in the history of the firm, she’d be out of here.

  “Liz Chavez to see Donny Messina.” When he didn’t respond, she added, “I’m with the firm Campbell, Pennington, and Krucinski. Mr. Messina is expecting me.”

  “Pull around to the back.” The gate slid open, but it took Liz a few seconds to drive forward. The senior partners were too busy to take care of this, and apparently this Donny Messina dude didn’t trust fax machines or electronic media. He wanted papers, in his hand, that he could read over and make corrections on as needed.

  “Weirdo,” she muttered, eyeing the building. It was massive. Lights that she imagined lit up half the county at night topped it, with not only the name of the club but also the outline of naked women. Kind of obvious, no? As if the men who came here wouldn’t know they were paying to go inside and watch strippers?

  The grounds were immaculate, surrounded by trees and shrubbery on three sides. The trees were bare now, as it was well into November, but she couldn’t see where the property ended. How much land did they have here? Russell Campbell had told her, but she couldn’t recall right now. She was too busy staring at the biker dude with his arms crossed, standing next to yet another gate around the back where she’d been told to drive.

  Liz slowed the car only because she couldn’t think very clearly and was afraid she’d run him over. He waved her through the open gate, a scowl on his handsome face, and annoyance at having to deal with this clearly stamped all over his rugged features.

  “Back here!” he called, his voice deep and smooth. She’d do anything that voice commanded her to.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered. “Get a fucking grip. He’s only a man.” Liz navigated the car through the narrow opening and parked it in the first available spot. What the hell had she gotten herself into here? Three weeks at the firm and they’d sent her here. It was either a test or a punishment.

  Mr. Biker Dude uncrossed his arms and strolled toward her as she shut off the ignition and slid out of the seat. He had to be six four, easily. And muscled. And tattooed, like, all over. Or at least, what she could see of him. Her imagination ran wild in the space of two seconds as she pictured that ink everywhere else.

  Despite the temperature hovering around thirty-two this afternoon, he wore no coat. Only jeans, boots, a t-shirt, and a leather vest adorned with patches. She tried to read them, but her eyes wouldn’t focus. Except on his crotch. She had no trouble zeroing in on the bulge there.

  Holy shit.

  He crossed his arms again, and this time, instead of frowning, he grinned. A slow, sexy smile that lit up his entire face and showed off eyes the color of milk chocolate. His hair was long, tied back, medium brown with just a hint of gray at the temples. A neatly trimmed beard also sported a few gray hairs. The effect was mesmerizing, and intoxicating, and Liz couldn’t stop staring.

  “Did you bring the papers for Donny?”

  Papers? What papers? Who the fuck is Donny?

  “My briefcase…” Is still in the car. She opened the door and reached in, realizing at the last second she’d just bent over in a skirt, in front of Sexy Biker Dude. Well, let him look. If he enjoyed the sight of her size sixteen ass, more power to him.

  “Nice.”

  Oh my God. He did not just say that.

  Liz pulled the briefcase out of the front seat and straightened up. She locked her car, put the keys in her coat pocket so she didn’t do something moronic like lose them, and stared into those gorgeous brown eyes. “Excuse me?”

  “The view when you bent over.” His gaze roamed lazily up and down her body. “Very nice.” He wasn’t even trying to hide it, and instead of infuriating her like it should, her pussy grew wet and shivers ran down her spine. What the fuck?

  “Is Donny here?”

  “Yeah. He’s here.” Dude still hadn’t stopped grinning. “Come on in.”

  “You could at least introduce yourself.” And then she realized she hadn’t done that either, because whoever had answered the intercom was not this guy.

  He stuck out his hand. “Rahab.”

  “Rahab what?”

  “Just Rahab. It’s my road name.”

  Oh, for heaven’s sake. What was it with MC club members? They had real names, after all. “Liz Chavez.” She shook his hand but didn’t want to let go. In fact, they stood there, hands clasped, far longer than socially acceptable for a handshake between two people who had never met before. Liz broke contact first, unnerved now by that constant grin.

  “Pretty name,” he said, his voice smoky and warm now.

  “Thanks. It’s not my road name, though.” Why the hell had she said that? “I’m sorry. That was rude.”

  But he was laughing. A full, sexy laugh that sent more shivers down her spine and made her want to kiss him until she couldn’t see straight.

  “It wasn’t rude. It was funny. My real name is Dave Sherrard, but if you tell anyone inside I told you, I’ll deny it.”

  When he winked, she couldn’t help smiling. “All right. It’s a deal, Rahab.”

  He led her toward a door, and it was then she noticed two more men, dressed like Rahab but wearing winter jackets, standing further inside the fenced-in area. Various trucks and motorcycles were parked back here. The men were smoking, and leered at her but didn’t speak.

  She was a far cry from the polished wood and gleaming fixtures inside the offices of Campbell, Pennington, and Krucinski. But they paid paralegals twice what she’d get anywhere else, and she’d never had a job she loved this much. A trip out to Lorain County on a Friday afternoon wouldn’t kill her.

  “This way,” said Rahab, giving the two men sideways glances. The pair were laughing now, though whether that was at her or something else, Liz couldn’t tell. She must look completely out of place in her wool coat, expensive boots, and dark suit. Even her briefcase reeked of money. It should, for what she had paid for it.

  Liz followed Rahab inside the building, and her stomach immed
iately growled as the smell of roasting peppers and eggplants hit her. “Yum. That smells incredible.” She’d eaten a late lunch, knowing she’d had to make this stop on her way home from work today, and might not be home for dinner until much later than usual. But the aroma made her hungry all over again.

  “Yeah. Whenever Donny’s here for lunch or dinner, our Sergeant-At-Arms’ old lady, Rai, cooks up a feast for him. You should have been here about an hour ago. It was fabulous.”

  She didn’t need to ask what he meant by “old lady”. That was MC vernacular for his woman, his wife, his partner, whatever you wanted to call it. Russell had told her all about the Demons on Wheels MC, as well as Donny Messina’s connection to it and to their members. It wasn’t a lifestyle Liz had any interest in, but she was here to do her job, not become best friends with the people who lived and worked in this building.

  But the name “Rai” made her wonder. “Is that the same Raiyana Parente who lost her marketing company, and was once a client of our firm?”

  “Yeah. One and the same.” He narrowed his eyes. “How long have you worked for them?”

  “Three weeks. I don’t know any details about her specific situation. Only gossip I’ve heard.” She shouldn’t be talking about other clients, former or otherwise, no matter where she had heard the information. Time to shut her big trap and do what she came here to do.

  As they passed the kitchen, Liz caught sight of three women drying dishes, talking, and laughing. Their backs were turned toward them, and either they didn’t know she and Rahab were in the hallway, or didn’t care. They were dressed in tank tops and jeans, and didn’t look any different than she might on a Saturday afternoon at home. Were they strippers, or did they merely work here?

  “His office is this way.” Rahab led her down the hall, past several closed doors. She detected stale cigarette smoke, but it was nearly masked by the scents of furniture polish and floor cleaner. She’d expected it to look seedy inside, but she’d been wrong. It was modern and clean. Obviously, they took care of the place.

  Rahab knocked on a door at the end of the hallway, and a deep male voice called for him to come in. He held the door open for her, and as Liz passed Rahab, she was acutely aware of his presence. She felt his body heat, and had to fight not to look up into those eyes again.

  “Ah, you must be Liz Chavez.” A tall, beefy man with graying dark hair and intense dark eyes rose from a chair, extending his hand. “I’m Donny Messina.”

  Liz shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Have a seat. Any trouble finding the place?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want a drink?”

  She eyed the half-empty glass in front of him. If she didn’t have to drive home, a drink would be a great idea right now. “Water would be fine.”

  “Water it is.” Donny turned his gaze toward Rahab. “And I need a refill.”

  “Be right back,” said Rahab. He closed the door, giving her a long look as he did.

  Liz mentally shook away the image of a naked Rahab as she opened her briefcase. “Mr. Campbell said you wanted to look these over, and that you’d probably have corrections to make.” She slid them over. “He also told me to wait for them.”

  “I don’t like to do things online. Not where business is concerned, anyway.”

  While Donny read the papers, Liz glanced around the office. Pictures of vintage motorcycles and people she didn’t know hung on the walls. A large corner desk boasted a computer and printer, plus a fax machine. She smiled at the sight of it. Rahab had said this was Donny’s office. So, he owned a fax machine but wouldn’t use it?

  If there were law books in here and degrees on the walls, she might easily be inside one of the conference rooms or offices at work. This place was full of unexpected surprises so far. Right on cue, Rahab opened the door and placed a bottle of water in front of her, plus a fresh drink next to the one Donny hadn’t yet finished.

  “Do you mind if I stay?” he asked.

  Donny barely glanced up. “Be my guest.”

  Rahab took the seat next to her and gave her an intense stare. “The club will be open in a couple of hours. I hope you’re still here so I can show it to you.”

  Why in the hell did he imagine she’d want to watch strippers? “Great.” She’d be lucky to make it home before dark. Donny didn’t look to be in any hurry as he read the stack of papers in front of him.

  “I’ll need some changes made,” said Donny. He had a red pen in his hand—an actual red pen—and was marking all over the papers she’d meticulously typed up for the past three days, exactly as she’d been told to do.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  He waved a thick hand in the air as if swatting a fly. “No apology needed. These are only draft copies.”

  Rahab leaned closer, sending delicious tingles over her arms. “Sure I can’t get you a drink? You’ll be here a while.”

  Donny gave him a quick glance that was more indulgent than angry, before turning his gaze toward her. “He’s right. Take the drink. You should eat, too. There’s plenty left over.”

  No one had said anything about her possibly having to stay for hours. She was hungry. She was also completely out of her element, and the smell in the air wasn’t helping. It was awkward just sitting here, watching him, while Rahab watched her. And, considering she obviously wouldn’t get dinner for hours, she might as well take them up on their offer.

  “Since I’ll be here that long, I would like something to eat, if it’s not any trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble,” said Donny, not even glancing up from his papers.

  Rahab stood. “Follow me, Liz.”

  She rose and followed him into the kitchen, but the women she’d spotted earlier were gone.

  “They finished cleaning up,” she said. “Won’t they be upset if we dirty dishes again?”

  “No.” Rahab pulled containers of food out of the fridge and opened them. “It needs warming up a bit.” He handed them to her, along with a fork he pulled from a drawer, and a clean plate. “Help yourself.”

  “Do those women work here, then?” She piled food on the plate and put it in the microwave, setting the timer for a couple of minutes.

  “Like I said before, Rai is Tannin’s old lady. She works part-time for Donny, and cooks for us.”

  So the poor woman lost her marketing firm and now worked for a Mob boss, and cooked for an MC? That sucked. “Which officer are you?” She knew from Russell’s crash course on life inside an MC that they had officers who were in charge of running the club.

  “I’m the Vice President.”

  “Who were the other women in here earlier?”

  “Meghan is one of our bartenders and cooks. She’s also Phenex’s old lady. He’s our Road Captain. Chloe is Gorgon’s old lady. He’s our President. She’s a dancer here, and also helps in the kitchen. But she’s having a kid in a few months, so she isn’t dancing right now.”

  “You don’t have a dedicated staff that does the cooking?”

  “No. Everyone here helps with the household stuff.”

  The microwave beeped, so Liz removed her food and began to eat it. “This is really delicious.”

  “Rai’s a great cook. When you’re done, I’ll show you the club.”

  “Do you really think I’ll be here that long?”

  “Yeah. You will. Unless you leave the papers and come back for them.”

  “I have strict instructions to wait. I’ll be typing up the corrections this weekend at home.”

  He leaned back in the stool, balancing it on the back legs until it rested against the wall behind him. “Then you’re stuck here. We might as well have some fun.”

  Liz stopped with the fork halfway to her mouth and licked her lips. His comment, said in an obvious undertone, coupled with the grin that had returned, sent her imagination into overdrive.

  She’d been hit on before by clients and associates of clients. That was nothing new. What was uncharacterist
ic for her was to let it happen without nipping it in the bud, or ripping the guy a new one if he wouldn’t stop. What was so different about this dude? Was it the ultra-sexy biker aura, or those eyes that peered right into her soul?

  “Finish your dinner. You’re going to need your strength.”

  She started to speak, but had to clear her throat first. “Why is that?”

  He moved the stool back onto all four legs and leaned forward with unmistakable lust in his eyes. “Because I’m going to show you the club, and then I’m going to fuck you, all night long, until neither one of us can walk or see straight.”

  Chapter Two

  You’ll never know unless you try. Rahab’s father had told him that often enough. Now, he lived his life by it. This woman was the sexiest thing he’d seen in a dog’s age, and he wanted her. The prim and proper aura that hung about her like a cloud didn’t faze him a bit.

  The wildest women in bed were usually dressed to the nines and spoke like royalty when everyone was watching. They hid their sexual urges underneath expensive clothes and the right words. He’d bet dollars to donuts this one was a tiger in bed.

  Dark eyes flashed at him, but they weren’t filled with indignation. Oh no. That was lust. It was a brief emotion, but he’d caught it. Her dark hair had caramel-colored highlights in it, giving her a fun, flirty look. That expensive suit and those equally pricy boots couldn’t hide her curvy body or her full tits. He’d see that body naked, and taste every inch of it before this night was over.

  “Excuse me?” Her voice came out in a whisper, but the fine sheen of sweat along her hairline told him she’d heard him just fine, and was right now picturing the two of them together.

  “You heard me. Don’t pretend you didn’t.” He nodded toward the plate. “You want some more? It’s so damn good I might have more myself.” Rahab slid off the stool and grabbed a fork and a plate, then piled it high with food from the open containers. He put it in the microwave and turned to face Liz, who still stared at him.