Keep It Classy (The Bear Bottom Guardians MC Book 7)

by Lani Lynn Vale

  The man fell over like a tree that’d been cut, hitting the ground with a loud thump as he cried out in pain.

  Turner stood up then, glared at the man, and then reared back her foot and kicked him again, this time in the face.

  “Dirty. I like it,” Wade mumbled.

  “Shouldn’t one of y’all be doing something?” Rome asked with amusement.

  “I would have,” I admitted. “But she seemed like she was handling it just fine.”

  “I would have, too, but I’m off duty until Monday.” Wade laughed.

  I sighed and handed the baby over, reluctantly, to Wade, who took her with a grin on his face.

  “I’ll handle it,” I mumbled.

  Moments later, I was pushing through the crowd that had gathered around the downed man and Turner, who was giving the downed man a talking to.

  “…and if some woman says ‘no,’ she likely means fucking no unless she’s previously stated otherwise. Do you understand me?” Turner hissed, her hands on her knees as she bent over to give the man a piece of her mind.

  I felt something inside of me clench.

  “And when she says no, and tells you no repeatedly that she doesn’t want to dance, and you try to dance with her anyway, then you get pissed when she punches you in the throat, that’s on you, too.”

  I closed my eyes as I envisioned what had just happened.

  The man had gotten pissed that she’d defended herself, had pushed her to the ground or something similar, and then she’d retaliated.

  “Do you need any help?” I heard asked from the other side of the huddle.

  My eyes went that way to see a man in the crowd around her who was about my size, six foot three or so, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes staring at Turner as if he wanted to eat her alive.

  Turner looked up and said, “No.”

  The man grinned. “It looks like you could use it.”

  I stepped in then, clearly realizing that Turner was about to lose her shit on a second man that night.

  “She’s got help, buddy,” I said stiffly. “All of you take a hike.”

  And since I was who I was, and was wearing my Bear Bottom Guardians MC cut, all of them left.

  All of them but the brown-headed helpful man that hadn’t taken his eyes off of Turner long enough to see the threat standing directly in front of him.

  “I said,” I repeated, pulling Turner back by her hand. “That she has help. You may leave.”

  Turner came back willingly, not shaking off my hand or even trying to.

  She must’ve realized that there was something more going on here.

  And I really didn’t like the look of the guy that had yet to look at me.

  His eyes were practically boring holes into Turner.

  The more he stared, the more Turner started to get wigged out.

  “How about you go back and stay with the boys,” I suggested to Turner.

  Realizing that she didn’t want to stay any more than I wanted her there, she turned on her heel and hurried away.

  It was only when she disappeared into the throngs of Bear Bottom Guardians that the man finally looked at me.

  His lips twitched as he said, “I’m leaving.”

  The man on the ground groaned, but I realized who the real threat was here.

  And it wasn’t the dumbass that had the audacity to punch—or try to punch—a woman in the middle of a bar that was brimming with cops.

  It was this dude, with his unnerving, unflinching gaze as he stared at me like he knew something I didn’t.

  “You do that,” I said, eyes never leaving him.

  The man smiled and he was gone a moment later, weaving into a crowd of people and being swallowed up as if by design.

  I gestured to the prospect that was by the front door that’d been watching the entire thing and gestured to the man headed his way.

  The prospect, Jarret Bales, nodded once and clocked the man, then followed him outside moments later.

  I trusted the prospect.

  He was one of mine. I’d met him while in the Navy. He’d been a newbie when I’d been two years in, and we’d passed quite a few times in our time in the service. When I’d gotten out the last time, we’d become friends through gaming, and had stayed that way since. When he’d told me he was getting out during a game of Call of Duty one night, I’d suggested he come here, and the rest was history.

  Once I was sure the little prick was taken care of, I called another prospect over to deal with the trash.

  “Make sure he knows that this one is banned from the club,” I said. “And any other Bear Bottom Guardians establishment from now on.”

  With that, I went back to the group of men.

  “Who was that prick?” Rome asked, eyeing the door that the asshole had walked out of.

  “No idea, but I put Jarret on him,” I said. “We’ll see what he can find out.”

  “Time to patch him in,” Bayou mumbled. “Been meaning to talk to you about him and Slate.”

  Slate was actually Rome’s brother-in-law and an ex-cop that was serving the last few years of a ten-year sentence for killing his fiancé’s murderer. Though, if everything went well, he’d be getting out on parole in two months for his good behavior at his next hearing.

  Saying that, however, someone in the prison system had a hard-on out for Slate, and was doing his damnedest to make sure that he never made it that far. There’d been eighteen attempts on his life in the last six months, and each of those was getting even closer to making sure that he never reached parole.

  Luckily the prison system that Slate was currently occupying belonged to Bayou, who was able to put Slate in solitary confinement. And when Slate was out of solitary confinement, he was able to put Slate into places where he knew he was less likely to be attacked.

  “I agree,” I concurred. “It’s been a long time coming for each of them.”

  Slate had been sponsored by Rome, who happened to be married to Izzy, Slate’s sister.

  “Who’s Slate?”

  I stiffened at the feminine words and turned slightly to my right and looked down to see her.

  “Where’d you come from?” I asked carefully.

  “I’ve been standing here the whole time,” she answered. “It’s not my fault you’re exceptionally unobservant.”

  I swallowed hard, trying to control not just my impulse to walk away, but also my impulse to pull her roughly into my arms and kiss the living shit out of her.

  There were a few chuckles that came from the men that were watching the play by play, and I felt my hand twitch in reaction to her words. Not because I wanted to beat her, but because I wanted to spank her ass…while I fucked it.

  Jesus, what the hell was wrong with me?

  “Okay,” I said, shrugging and trying to act like she didn’t affect me. “You okay?”

  I knew she was okay.

  I just didn’t know what to say to her.

  “I’m fine,” she narrowed her eyes. “Why do you ask?”

  I chuckled under my breath and brought one hand up to rub at my neck. “I can’t ask you if you are okay after being struck down by a man twice your size?”

  “No,” she said. “Not when you know I’m okay.”

  Okay then.

  “Well, then,” I finally said, unsure what to say.

  “Okay,” she countered. “Fine.”

  Then she walked away, and I swear to God I almost cried a little bit seeing her ass that up close and personal in that tight dress that left nothing to the imagination.

  There was no way in hell she was wearing underwear.

  None.

  “Why don’t y’all just fuck already?”

  I turned to find Zee standing behind me, watching me watch her walk away.

  “Because unlike you, who likes the feistiness and enjoys the attitude, I don’t,” I told him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Wade snorted, and Liner, who’d also appeared at some point w
ith Zee while I was checking out Turner’s ass, said, “I give it another two weeks, max.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “I’d take that bet,” I told him. “And you’d lose.”

  Liner shrugged. “We’ll see.”

  ***

  I wasn’t sure how it happened.

  One second the entire club was there, milling about in the parking lot talking, and the next, everyone was gone.

  While I’d been on the phone with Easton, talking him through a case that I’d had that might’ve been related to the ones he was working, everybody had left.

  The only ones left were me and one other person.

  One other person that had royally ticked me off that day and had continued to do it all night as I watched her dance with man after man that wasn’t me.

  Why that pissed me off, I didn’t know.

  But it did, and I wasn’t too sure I wanted to dig into the why of it just yet.

  Because at this point, I wasn’t sure I was willing to agree with what I found when I did.

  I sighed and walked up to the woman that was staring at her brand-new truck with consternation written all over her face.

  “Why are you still here?”

  Chapter 7

  Have a threesome? No thanks. If I wanted to disappoint two people at once, I’d go out to dinner with my parents.

  -Turner to a random man

  Turner

  I sighed at hearing the man’s voice that had been doing his best to annoy the crap out of me all night.

  Not a second had gone by that I hadn’t felt his gaze on me, judging me for every little thing that I did.

  “I can’t find my keys,” I said softly. “I’m going to have to call my dad tomorrow. For now, can you drop me off at Jubilee’s?”

  And for some reason, that set him off.

  He started laughing, and it wasn’t nice laughter, either. It was laughter…at me.

  Which pissed me off.

  “Oh, that’s rich.” He wheezed, wiping his eyes as the hilarity of whatever he was laughing at, hit him. “Do you know how to do anything without calling your father?”

  And all of a sudden, I was pissed, too.

  But before I could stop myself, I blurted it all out.

  “Why? What does it matter if I call my father?”

  I just couldn’t help it. I had to know why it mattered.

  “You could’ve called a locksmith,” he said. “Or you could’ve called the dealership. Yet you chose to call your father.”

  I narrowed my eyes at the annoying man.

  “Because he has the extra set of keys in case this happens,” I growled, wanting to explain to the damn man that I was notorious for losing my keys, and my parents had not only an extra set of my truck keys, but also my car keys, my house keys, the keys to the funeral home, as well as a set of keys to my storage unit. “What is your problem with me?” I asked, fuming. “I don’t know what I’ve done to you all of a sudden to warrant this kind of nastiness. But I’m telling you, it’s not fair. I’ve worked hard to get what I have. So I have a new truck my dad gave me. You want to know what would’ve happened to it had I not driven it? It would’ve sat in his garage at home, gathering dust.” I paused, gauging his reaction to my words.

  “You’ve worked hard?” he scoffed. “Did working hard get you your RV? Did working hard get you that truck? I’ll bet you’re spoiled fucking rotten.”

  I shrugged. “I may be. But I’m not dumb. I don’t act like a spoiled little rich kid. I don’t spend my daddy’s money like I could.”

  Castiel rolled his eyes at that comment. I swear he did it so hard that he had a real possibility of actually hurting himself.

  “You wouldn’t know hard work if it kicked you in the teeth,” Castiel countered. “Daddy’s money has probably always been there for you. You don’t know what it’s like to struggle to make ends meet. You don’t know what it’s like to wonder when your next meal will be. Hell, I bet that you’ve never worried about money at all, because in the back of your mind, even if you run out of your own, you have him as a backup. You know he’ll always be there to bail you out.”

  He had me there. I’d never wanted for anything in my life.

  Not a damn thing.

  Yet, I had been doing it almost on my own since I left the house at eighteen. He had no right to judge me. He didn’t even know me!

  I had no clue what to say.

  “By the way,” he said, suddenly gesturing to his bike. “I can’t take you to Zee’s. Tomorrow is the day they get married. I’m not taking away his last day with her by dropping you off with them.”

  “They wouldn’t care,” I replied angrily.

  “They probably wouldn’t, but I would,” he snarled. “I know what it’s like to have someone else always choose the best friend over the husband, and I’m not putting them into the position to do that.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. I knew there was a story there, that there was something more going on here than even I knew. Something more than the eye could see.

  Which was kind of comical. Here was a person that I had quite a bit in common with and he hated my guts due to something I’d probably never be privy to.

  “So where am I going to go?” I asked, deflated.

  “My place,” he answered.

  I scoffed. “I’m not going to your place.”

  He turned his back on me and started to walk to his bike. “Then you can stay here.”

  I growled in frustration.

  Then, just to piss him off and show him that I wasn’t scared of him, I stomped my way toward him and gestured to his bike.

  “I’m not sure what I’m doing here. Do you get on first, or do I?”

  In answer, Castiel got on first then held out his hand.

  I held up a finger and handed him my purse.

  He frowned as I started digging around in it, but his eyes cleared when I pulled a pair of bike shorts out of the depths of my purse—so sue me, I liked to be prepared—and proceeded to slip them on under my dress without a second thought.

  I then mounted the bike like I’d done it every day. In reality, it’d been my very first time to ever do something like that, and it was incredibly awkward. I was honestly surprised that I didn’t end up falling on my face or kicking the tailpipe with my shin.

  Once I was settled behind him, I tried to decide what to do next.

  But he took that choice out of my hands as he reached behind me and scooted me up by placing both hands on my lower ass cheeks and yanking me forward. I went from having about six inches of space between the inside of my thighs and Castiel’s hard ass, to nothing.

  Not one single inch.

  I was plastered to him from the inside of my knees, all the way to the juncture of my thighs.

  And up to my unbound breasts that felt like they were covered by a silk sheet instead of a well-made dress that did really well at holding all my jiggly bits in.

  And then he started the monster we were sitting on, and I didn’t bother to hold back the moan.

  He didn’t hear me, of course, but I wouldn’t have been able to stop it even if I’d wanted to.

  “Put your arms around me so I don’t have to worry about you falling off,” he ordered harshly over the loud roar of the motor.

  That was the last thing in this world that I wanted to do.

  Why?

  Because as I leaned forward, my sensitive breasts—God, so sensitive all the damn time—pressed up against Castiel’s back. My nipples were hard points, and there was no way in hell that he didn’t feel them.

  My arms went loosely around his waist, and I swear to God I saw heaven.

  He had abs.

  I’d suspected, of course, but knowing and thinking are two very different things.

  He had great abs.

  Abs that felt like hard ridges and valleys underneath my not-searching fingertips.

  Oh, God. I wanted to run my fingers up and down each dip and rise, d
rag them over his belly as I rode his…shit!

  “Hold on tighter,” he ordered.

  And when he did, his belly flexed underneath my fingertips, causing my arms to tighten around him anyway due to the new definition in his abdominals.

  “Okay,” I said.

  I held on tighter, and then we were shooting off through the quiet streets of Bear Bottom, weaving in and out of side roads, alleys, and cut-throughs until we were well and truly flying down the interstate.

  I’d felt adrenaline before.

  I’d felt exhilaration before.

  I’d never, not once in my life, felt like I did right then.

  Going two hundred plus miles an hour was everything.

  But going fast with nothing around us to stop the ground from rushing up and swallowing us whole? That was an entirely different ball game.

  And by the time we arrived at Castiel’s quiet place in the middle of nowhere twenty minutes later, I was fairly convinced that he’d have to do this again with me.

  Even if he didn’t say a word, and neither did I, I had to experience it one more time.

  By the time he parked in front of a sprawling little shack of a house in the middle of an open field, my heart was pounding, and my hands were slick with sweat.

  He stopped the bike just short of being on the little postage-stamp-sized front porch and got off, offering me his hand.

  I took it, thankful that I had a pair of shorts on underneath my dress, because the damn thing had ridden up even farther to expose my entire lower half during the ride over.

  “This is a nice little place,” I found myself saying as I pushed the dress back down below my crotch.

  He watched silently as I did, and didn’t reply until I looked up at him.

  “Thanks,” he said dryly.

  I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t think that I like it?”

  He shrugged. “I think that you may like it, but it’s probably not up to your standards.”

  “I stayed in a cabin at the lake for three weeks before my dad forced his RV on me,” I told him. “Honestly, I prefer that over what I have, but my dad is right, unfortunately. I’m a well-known person that could easily be stalked thanks to my father’s followers. It’s been known to happen.”

  It’d happened twice before, actually. And it definitely wasn’t a fun experience.