But he didn’t.
He still saw me as that fifteen-year-old girl with thick eyeliner and glitter lip gloss.
“I knew the past few years with us have been rough,” Colt said.
“A way to put it, yes,” I said.
“But you’re always gonna be my little sister. And men can’t talk to you that way.”
“I’d rather have men tell me the truth then feed me lies just to keep me happy,” I said.
“So, you’re okay with someone talking to you like that? With some man saying it’s okay for him to do whatever the hell it is he’s doing because he’s not ‘sticking his dick in you’?”
“If I’m not, I can take care of it myself. I don’t need my absent brother stepping up to the plate because he’s weirdly possessive.”
“I’m just trying to keep you safe.”
“That’s not your job,” I said. “It’s my job to keep me safe. It’s my job to support myself. Your only job is to cheer me on and lift me up whenever I call on you. And I’ve called on you many times over the years. And the only thing I got was your voicemail.”
“I’m sorry, okay? Things were shitty between us and even shittier at home. Mom and Dad fought, and shit was kicking up with the club. You never came home to visit, so what the hell was I supposed to think?”
“That the tension in the house was why I didn’t want to come home,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean you couldn’t return my phone calls. Shit, Colt. I called you when stuff got real for me. When I lost my virginity and when my whole dorm was on fucking fire. When I was at my most fearful and needed my brother’s voice in my ear. And you weren’t there. For any of it.”
I tipped my beer back and guzzled as Colt’s eyes watched my movements.
“I don’t want your apologies,” I said as I slammed my beer bottle down. “I just want you to be better. To hear what I need from you and have you take it to heart. What men say to me don’t matter. I can banter and be crude with the best of them. It’s just how they communicate, and it doesn’t bother me. If you did, this would be different. You know what does bother me?”
“What?” Colt asked.
“You fucking not listening. When I call, you need to pick up. At the very least, your ass needs to call me back. Okay? We can fucking start there.”
“Okay,” he said. “I promise.”
“Now, go get that new prospect of yours some fucking food. Man’s got some muscles. He needs to eat,” I said.
“What were the two of you talking about earlier?” he asked.
“How fucking pathetic you looked yelling at everyone,” I said with a grin. “I still can’t believe that’s Rider Rider.”
“I know, right? Fucking had me in bug eyes when he came home from his first deployment. You wanna come over and have some food?”
“I’m gonna get some fresh air first. Too much testosterone in this place. I can’t breathe.”
“Okay,” he said with a grin. “But get some food and sit with us. Talk with us. Update us on shit. I wanna know what’s going on in your life.”
“Good. Because I’m ready to talk about it.”
Chapter 11
Rider
I had no idea what to do. Zoey was talking with Colt at the bar while the guys kept talking about her behind her back. How she’d ‘filled out nicely’ and how they all ‘wanted a slice of her.’ The conversation made me sick to my stomach, and I knew I needed to get away from it before I said something that would incriminate the both of us. Doc was eyeing me closely as I slipped away from my chair, my legs carrying me outside as my anger bubbled inside of me.
But a few seconds later, someone busted outside as well.
And I knew exactly who it was.
I turned around and laid my eyes on Zoey as she stood in front of me. She was looking up at me with those beautiful green eyes, and I wanted to take her in my arms. I wanted to whisk her back to my place and have my way with her. I wanted to shower her body with kisses and fuck her until she couldn’t remember her own damn name.
I wanted to print her into my life forever.
As much as I wanted to be a part of The Fallen Reapers, I wanted her more. As much as I didn’t want to cause any drama with my best friend, I wanted his sister more. She had struck a chord with me I couldn’t shake. Her actions when we were together drew me into a web I didn’t want to wrangle my way out of. The way she had kissed my scars on her lips. The way she had regarded me as a whole man. The way she never assumed control in bed simply because I had injuries… it was what I wanted. What I needed.
She didn’t see me as someone who was broken. She saw me as a full man.
A whole man.
And I didn’t want to lose that.
I craned my neck to keep her in my view as she closed the distance between our bodies. Her hand rose up to cup my cheek, and I nuzzled into her touch. Our faces grew closer as her breath pulsed against my lips, beckoning for me as I pressed my lips against hers.
I didn’t care who saw us. All I cared about was feeling her again.
I slipped my arm around her waist as her hands tangled in my hair. Our tongues collided in front of the bar, right where everyone could see us. My arms came up and wrapped around her, pulling her closer to me as I picked her up off her feet. I felt her giggle into the kiss, my mouth swallowing her sounds as my body heated for her.
The rumble of motorcycles were heard in the distance as the ground vibrated beneath my feet. I planted Zoey back on the ground, our lips still connected with each other. The rumble was getting louder as my hands explored her body, but as the sound got closer, I forced our lips apart.
“Hell of a kiss,” Zoey said breathlessly.
My military instincts were kicking in. My cock wanted me to ignore the sounds, but my gut couldn’t shake them. The entire club was at Milo’s right now. Ushering me in as a prospect and using it as an excuse to drink and party. Their guard was down, and their stomachs were full of a substance that would soon render them idiotic and weak.
We were exposed, and as the motorcycles grew closer, I felt that tingle trickle up my back.
The tingle I always got when I knew an enemy was watching us.
“Get inside. Now,” I said.
“What? What’s going on?” Zoey asked.
“Get the fuck inside. I’ll explain later,” I said.
Why would there be another group of motorcycles nearby? The Fallen Reapers occupied this territory fair and square. We defended it. We protected it. We serviced it. This was our town. Our turf. There was no reason to hear that many motorcycles riding through together, especially since all of us were at the bar.
Which meant there could only be one reason as to why.
I shoved Zoey back into the bar as Colt eyed me. He had seen me with her. I could see him fuming with anger until the sound hit his ears as well. I saw guys shuffling Zoey towards the back of the kitchen, getting her out of harm’s way as Colt and Doc rushed out the doors. We all looked towards the sound and saw the group of motorcycles cresting the hill, and all of us clenched our fists.
They were wearing red fucking cuts.
“The Red Horsemen,” Doc said.
“What the fuck are they doing here?” Colt asked.
“Isn’t that the new club that just set themselves up a couple years ago?” I asked.
“What the fuck’s going on out here?” Bruiser asked.
“Oh shit. Is that who I think it is?” Fender asked.
“I think they’re looking for a fight, gentlemen,” Doc said.
“Haven’t they gotten their asses beat enough already?” Colt asked.
The Red Horsemen had a lot of beef with The Fallen Reapers. When they established themselves a couple of years ago, I remembered Colt bitching about them. About how they would come into town, take what they felt was theirs, and the club would have to roll out at all sorts of hours in the morning and the night time to chase them back out of town. One time, Doc and the guys chased them all t
he way to the fucking California border. Right along the San Andreas fault before they jumped it and disappeared.
The Red Horsemen weren’t just looking for trouble.
They were looking to take over our turf.
“All they wanna do is have another dick measuring contest,” Grave said. “But we all know who’s gonna win that one.”
“That’s fine and all, but I count at least thirty of them,” I said.
“You can see that shit from this far away?” Colt asked.
“I can. Thirty-four, to be exact.”
“Can you read anything else on them?” Doc asked.
“I can see their outlines well. I’m not a fucking eagle,” I said.
“Just wondering, kid. Don’t need to get defensive. You’re in enough hot shit as it is,” Doc said.
“What the hell’s going on!?”
Zoey’s voice caught me off guard as I whipped around and looked at her.
“Why the hell are you out here?” I asked. “You need to get back inside.”
“Not until I know you’re safe,” Zoey said.
“Why the hell would she want to know you’re safe?” Colt asked.
“Shut up, Colt. Who are those guys? Why are there so many of them?” Zoey asked.
The Red Horsemen got closer and closer as the club continued to trickle out of the bar. I already heard guns cocking on our side as my eyes gazed into Zoey’s, pleading with her to go inside. The rumble of the motorcycles drowned out any voices I could hear around me, and I saw guys grabbing her and trying to force her back into the bar.
But I knew she wasn’t budging.
Not until she knew what was going on.
“This is a new gang in town,” I said as my lips pressed against her ear. “The Red Horsemen. They’re ruthless, and they’ve been trying to take our territory for a couple of years now. This is serious, Zoey. You need to get back inside.”
I could feel Colt’s eyes heavy on my back as Zoey wrapped her arm around my neck.
“You need to stay safe, okay? I can’t have you getting your body hurt. It’s too pretty,” she said.
“My only concern right now is your safety. Now get back inside,” I said.
The rumbling of the motorcycles stopped, and I whipped up from Zoey’s grasp. I stared at the throngs of red leather jackets as they leaned against their bikes. I felt Zoey’s hand run down my arm, intertwining our fingers as her hands began to tremble.
She was terrified, and the feeling her trembling against my body infuriated me. They had no right to do this. To roll up into this bar and scare the people we cared about. This club was all talk and no action, but the look in their President’s eyes wasn’t good.
I watched Doc approach them as everyone slowly gathered around Zoey. I pushed her behind me, blocking her with my own body as Colt ran his eyes up and down my form. We encased her in a shield, protecting her from what was about to happen as the other crew snarled and laughed at us.
“What do you want?” Doc asked.
“Our fair due,” the President said.
“Then go find it somewhere else,” Doc said.
That same tingling feeling shot up my back again. I felt Zoey release my hand as she pressed her body into my back. She was leaning heavily on me like she was trying to support the weight of her fear against my back. I saw Colt dart his eyes behind me, worry dripping from his stare as he watched his sister become vulnerable. His eyes met mine, and they heated again, but this time I wasn’t going to let it bother me.
“She’ll be okay. I’m going to make sure of that,” I said.
Then, it happened.
The sound of a gun rang out, and Doc went falling to the ground.
Chapter 12
Zoey
I felt Rider stiffen against me as the sounds of motorcycles revved off in the distance. The crowd crew on both sides as men in red leather cuts rode up on multiple motorcycles. They looked mean. Like they had come for blood that ran the color of their coats. Fallen Reapers were pouring from the bar, surrounding me as Rider pushed me behind him.
I looked around for my brother and found him standing at my side. I looked up at him, seeing the fear running through his eyes he tried to keep stoic. This was bad. I knew it was bad. If my brother feared anything, it was the loss of someone he loved. Someone he cared for he felt the need to protect. And if he was fearful of the men riding up onto his property, then it confirmed my worst fears.
This group was, in fact, out for blood.
Milo’s parking lot was full of people. Black cuts on our side, red cuts on theirs. It was like an old war standoff. Like two countries fighting over a piece of land, they both wanted to claim as theirs. One of the men turned around and exposed the logo on his back. A horse of the apocalypse parting the skies as the man on its back threw red lightning bolts down to the ground.
The Red Horsemen.
I’d heard of them.
There were murmurs about them in the community. How they were new and trying to establish themselves. They’d been around for a couple of years, and in that time they had robbed, pillaged, and even set fire to a few businesses. They thought they way to get what they wanted was through intimidation and fear. They thought they could keep people underneath their thumb by charging them exorbitant rates for their ‘protection.’
Which really only meant The Red Horsemen wouldn’t set fire to their fucking businesses.
They were the modern-day mob. A group of assholes that didn’t bring any benefit to the community. At least The Fallen Reapers were guns for hire. Protecting those that needed it if they were willing to pay the fees. And the protection my brother and his club gave them was top notch. Around the clock surveillance. Private escorts to anywhere in the country. A higher premium if someone wanted to be escorted outside of the country. Their club had people who were trained with sniper rifles and staying up for days on end. People who were good at tracking and people who were good at fighting. If you wanted them to snoop out who was doing what, they could do that. If you wanted one of them to protect someone you loved, then they were up for the job.
That was the benefit they brought to the community.
All The Red Horsemen did was shoot shit up, rob small businesses, and charge them insane amounts of cash just to keep those assholes from burning shit to the ground.
Suddenly, I felt Rider push back into me. The entire group was moving in slow motion. A snail’s pace as The Red Horsemen dismounted their bikes. They were slowly moving back towards the front door as Rider reached back, shoving me further away from him. I grabbed onto his hands, not wanting to be parted from him as my eyes connected with the men over his shoulder.
But then I felt someone’s arms wrap around me as they slowly bled me through the crowd.
The members of the group kept slowly pushing me backward. Reaching for me and maneuvering me back into the bar. Rider kept getting farther and farther away as I reached for him. Clawing for him and trying my best to get back to him. I didn’t care what anyone thought. I didn’t care what my brother saw. All I wanted was to hold his hand and bring him with me.
All I wanted was for him to be safe.
Just as Bruiser grabbed onto me and pulled me towards the front door, gunshots rang out. Bruiser pulled his gun as bullets whizzed by my body, taking out the glass doors of the bar. I saw Doc fall to the ground and then move quickly behind a set of bikes. Rider appeared in an instant, grabbing onto my arm and tossing me behind a bike. I went down with a crash as his body landed on top of mine, his muscles pinning me to the ground as I curled up into a little ball.
Then, I felt his lips on the shell of my ear.
“No matter what happens, don’t you fucking move.”
I felt Rider pull away from me and I reached for him. I didn’t want him to go. I wanted him to be safe with me and not out there with all of those bullets. I watched him dip behind bikes as gunshots ricocheted, darting every which way as he drew the gunfire.
That was
what he was doing.
He was drawing the gunfire away from me.
I looked around for my brother and saw him dipped down behind another bike. He pulled a gun from behind his body as his eyes found Rider. He was watching his friend, noticing all of the bullets following him as he perched his gun on the seat of the bike.
I watched my brother pop off a few rounds before his eyes connected with mine.
They were terrified. Dripping with adrenaline-laced panic. I’d never seen my brother like this. I’d never seen him so comfortable and yet so blatantly out of place. I peeked up over the bike as another bullet came flying for me, and I dipped down just in time for it to lodge into the brick behind my head.
But when I spotted Rider again, I understood why Colt was panicking.
Rider didn’t have a gun to defend himself.
Gunshots came in every which direction as Rider continued to dart and dash between bikes. Every once in a while he would jump up, waving his hands to get someone to shoot at him. I saw him take down a few people, ringing them around the neck and disarming their guns from their bodies. But never once did he pick up the gun and ammunition himself.
Instead, he kept kicking all of it towards other Reapers.
The sounds of motorcycles struck back up, and a few of the Horsemen rode away. I could tell some of them had been shot, their groans audible and their screams of pain piercing. They were leaving blood trails as they sped off into the distance, dirtying the concrete as Rider continued to sneak up on unsuspecting Horsemen. This was what he did. This was his specialty. He was trained in close-up fighting stances. Taking people down without the need for a weapon. I watched him disarm eleven different people, giving Reapers more guns and ammunition to work with as he filtered his way through the crowd.
I was watching one of the reasons why he had become a prospect.
He made it almost look like a dance. A fluid dance of a military-bred man whose skill set was defined by his need to protect. He choked the air from their necks before kicking their guns away from their hands. He wrestled a couple to the ground and dislocated shoulders, disarming them with pain rather than with lack of oxygen. And every time someone would shoot at him, he would duck behind one of their bikes. Ruining their rides instead of ours.
Baby and the Biker: The Ghost Riders MC Page 85
