Fugitives MC

by Daphne Loveling

  “Who are you calling lazy?” Rube challenged, his voice rising.

  “Now, Rube,” Bear cajoled, “I’m sorry if I offended. Let’s not say ‘lazy,’ then, let’s say ‘focused on other things’. But I think,” he continued,” that it would be in your best interest to start focusing your department on the Fugitives. And soon. This development deal isn’t gonna wait forever. Bob, and myself, well, we’d be eternally grateful.” Brenna could hear her father stand up, then his footsteps on the oak floor. “You have one more week. You come back and report what you’ve found to me then. And it had better be… damning.”

  “And if I haven’t found anything?”

  “I expect you will,” Brenna’s father said smoothly. “As I said, it would be in your best interests, Rube. I think we both know that.”

  Rube left the room without saying another word. Moments later, Brenna heard the front door slam. Racing as quietly as she could up the stairs, she arrived back in her room just in time to see the police car pull away from the curb and drive off.

  Brenna sat down on her bed in a daze, her pulse racing. What was going on? What could her father want with trying to take down the Fugitives? Something about a development? Brenna knew Bob Jenkins, a mutual friend of both her father and Chad’s. It sounded like Bear was invested in a development Bob was interested in putting up, and that somehow, the Fugitives were in the way. Worse, it sounded as though her father was putting pressure on the police chief to find enough evidence of criminal involvement to remove the Fugitives from the equation – even if it meant framing them.

  Brenna didn’t know what to do. None of this involved her at all. Her only small connection to the motorcycle club had been when Gonzo and Spider had rescued her from Chad. Sad as she had been to admit it to herself, she had expected never to see Gonzo again after that night. Thinking of him now, a shiver went down her spine as she remembered his touch, the burning path of his lips against her neck. And the way she had come shaking against the hard steel of his erection. Brenna’s nether folds began to swell and tingle at the memory. What should she do? What could she do? Everything she had just heard was just eavesdropping; she couldn’t prove a thing. If she went to Gonzo with this, he would probably laugh in her face.

  She found herself pacing around her room, the four confining walls suddenly driving her crazy. Brenna had to get outside, go for a drive to clear her head and escape this house, with her scheming father just downstairs. Grabbing her purse and her keys, she left her room and flew down the stairs, slowing only to call; “I’m going out!” to her father as she bolted out the side door and down to her waiting car.

  Chapter Six

  He couldn’t believe it when he saw her walk into the Horse two days later.

  Alarm bells sounded in a far off corner of his brain as he watched her stride through the front door clad only in a pair of high-cut denim shorts and a tight white T-shirt. What in the hell does she think she’s doing here? he wondered dazedly as he stared at her in disbelief. At least the girl had enough sense to look nervous. Gonzo cursed silently as he watched her scan the room. Looking for him, no doubt. He never should have brought her here after that thing with her pretty boy boyfriend the other evening.

  Gonzo still wasn’t sure why he had brought her to the Horse instead of straight home. He had told himself at the time that she needed a drink to calm her nerves, that it would help her to put some distance between her and the shit heel that she had just ditched with his fancy car by the side of the road. But the truth was, Gonzo’s motivations hadn’t been nearly that chivalrous. He hadn’t wanted to just drop her off and be done with it. He had wanted to have her alone, for just a few minutes. Something in her flashing amber eyes had caught him unawares – something fiery in the way she tossed her head as she told Chad to go to hell. Gonzo had found himself captivated, unable to simply take her back to her house without just a few minutes with her. The Horse was the only place he could think of where he wouldn’t do something he would immediately regret.

  Once they had gotten to the bar, though, he had quickly realized his mistake. Brenna was dangerous; he saw that now. She was at once too innocent and too sexy. Not to mention that she was the only daughter of the most powerful man in town. Bringing her to the Horse had been a danger to the club. This girl had no place anywhere near members of the Fugitives. No matter how hard she made him, no matter how many times her pert little tits and sexy ass had returned to his mind in the last few days, she was not for him. Gonzo’s jeans tightened painfully as he stared at her now, remembering the wanton way she had bucked against his hand in the parking lot. God, the way she had clung to him and shuddered through her orgasm as she strained against his stiff cock, her legs wrapped tight around his waist! After Gonzo had dropped her off at her house that night, he had driven back to the Horse and immediately found one of the club whores, choosing one who looked the most like Brenna. Fucking her senseless had sated him for a few hours, but thoughts of the dark-haired beauty with the flashing eyes had returned to him countless times since, no matter how he tried to push her out of his mind.

  And now, here she was, her eyes locking on his from across the room. Gonzo frowned and stifled a groan as she came toward him. She wore an expression of uncertainty, but her gait was determined. “Hi,” she said simply, her eyes meeting his.

  “Hey,” he replied. He leaned back against the bar and affected an air of indifference. “What are you doing here? A biker bar’s an odd place for the mayor’s daughter to be hanging out in the middle of the afternoon.”

  Brenna’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. “I… I know it’s kind of weird for me to come here. But I…” she stopped, weighing her words. “Look, I have something to tell you that might be… important. I figured you might be here.”

  “Yeah?” Gonzo smirked. “What could you have to tell me that is so important? You just looking to slum some more with the bikers? Dangerous move, darlin’.”

  “I’m serious, Gonzo,” Brenna retorted. “I’m not here to be a pain in the ass, and I’m not here to ‘slum’.” Her cheeks flamed as she realized that Gonzo probably thought she was here to throw herself at him. Which she kind of wanted to do, truth be told, but his expression told her that he was clearly uninterested. Brenna suddenly questioned why she had even come here in the first place. Why would I care what happens to this stupid club, anyway? It’s not like Gonzo gives a shit about me. Why should I give a shit about him?

  She had almost reconciled herself to storming out of the Iron Horse and letting the chips fall where they would for the Fugitives, when Gonzo’s gaze softened. “Okay, I’m sorry,” he said, and nodded. “What do you have to tell me, Brenna?”

  God, she loved the way her name sounded on his lips. A small pang of sadness hit her, which she quickly pushed away. She took a seat on the stool next to him and frowned, wondering how to begin. The bartender came up and asked her if she wanted a drink, and she was relieved for the extra moment to think. “Just a diet coke,” she said absently.

  Gonzo had to admit, she definitely seemed upset about something. Conflicted. “Brenna,” he said again, his voice softening. “What’s up?”

  “So…” she began again, hesitating. “Do, uh… do you know anything about a real estate development that’s supposed to be going up over there?” Her hand waved in the direction of the field to the west of the bar.

  “Yeah,” Gonzo replied, raising a hand to the bartender and gesturing for a beer. “I remember Chig saying something about the developer of that land over there coming to see him. I guess the guy was trying to get the club to sell the bar to him. This was maybe a month or two ago?”

  “Okay, yeah,” Brenna nodded. “That’s the guy I’m talking about.” The bartender came back with her coke and pulled the draft for Gonzo. Brenna waited until the bartender had walked away before she continued. “Well, here’s the thing: I overheard a conversation between my dad and the chief of police today. The chief came over to our house to talk to my
dad, which he almost never does, so I got curious. I heard them talking about the development, which is being done by my dad’s friend, Bob Jenkins. It sounds like my dad might have a financial stake in it, too.

  “Anyway, my dad was asking Chief Rubensen whether he had found out anything incriminating about the Fugitives that he could use against you. I think it sounds like he was planning on trying to find something on your club that could persuade you guys to sell the bar and the land to Bob Jenkins. Or else if you wouldn’t do that, they would try to find something that would break up the club, so the land would have to be sold anyway.”

  Gonzo had listened to her in silence, his eyes widening and then narrowing as she spoke. When she had finished, he frowned and cocked his head at her. “Why would you tell me this, Brenna?” he asked quietly.

  She nodded, as though she knew that he would probably ask that question. “I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “I just… I don’t like it, is all.” Taking a sip of her coke, she continued. “My dad and I had a big argument about what happened the other night. He’s really pissed off at me for breaking things off with Chad. I think it ruins all of his plans to have us married and making a pretty little picture for the voters,” she said bitterly.

  Gonzo chuckled. “Yeah, that would be a good picture, actually. I can see why he likes having that asswipe around. He looks like the future president of the country club.”

  “Daddy wasn’t even concerned about my safety, even when I told him that Chad was hurting me,” she muttered. “All he cared about were Chad’s feelings. And he freaked out that I got a ride home with you. He wouldn’t even listen to me when I said he should be grateful to you for rescuing me.”

  “Well, I suppose the Fugitives don’t make quite the same pretty picture for his campaign,” Gonzo remarked drily. He looked at her now, a disappointed smirk on his face. “So, you’re doing this to get back at Daddy, huh?”

  “No,” Brenna retorted. “I’m really not. I swear, Gonzo. I just… I don’t think it’s right for him and Bob Jenkins to get what they want, just because they have money. This bar belongs to your club. Why should they be able to take it away from you?”

  “Rich people tend to be in the habit of thinking they have the right to anything they damn well please,” Gonzo said drily. “Well, if you’re right about what you heard, I suppose this is something I better bring to Chig.”

  “Do you want me to talk to him?” Brenna asked. Gonzo scoffed.

  “No way is he going to listen to what a chick has to say.” Gonzo caught her indignant look. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. Especially a chick who’s the mayor’s daughter.”

  “But I brought you this information!” Brenna protested.

  “Doesn’t mean you’re trustworthy,” Gonzo replied. As she opened her mouth to protest, he continued: “I believe you, Brenna. I really do. But that doesn’t mean Chig will. Look, I’ll bring it to him, and I’ll let you know what he says. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she sighed. She stood to go, and Gonzo caught her hand. “Brenna?”

  “Yeah?” she looked up at him. Her face was pale as their eyes met, her lips trembling. A bolt of heat passed through them at the contact of their burning skin, and Gonzo once again felt himself stiffen with lust. He felt his breath grow shallow as he imagined bending her over the bar and taking her with fast, hard thrusts until he emptied himself inside her. The image was excruciating, and he forced it from his mind.

  Not trusting his voice, he muttered thickly: “Thanks.” Their hands fell apart, and she turned slowly, her ass swaying tantalizingly as she walked out of the bar. At the doorway she turned to stare at him, her eyes sad. She waved once, and he nodded. Then she was gone.

  Gonzo shook his head as he stared at the now empty doorway. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered, and went to find Chig.

  Chapter Seven

  Chig Taylor looked up from a pile of paperwork for the bar to find his son Spider standing in the doorway.

  “Son,” he nodded. Spider looked troubled. “What’s on your mind?”

  Spider sat down heavily on a rickety chair next to the filing cabinet. His brow furrowed, he looked at his father. “I got something I don’t know what to do with,” he finally muttered.

  “Something to do with the club?” Chig asked.

  “Yeah,” Spider affirmed. Then: “Something to do with Gonzo.”

  “Gonzo?” Chig looked surprised. “What about him?”

  Spider leaned forward and lowered his voice. “You know our contact at the P.D?” he began.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, he came to see me earlier today. Turns out Rube requested the arrest files on all the Fugitives back to 1980, about a week ago. And apparently, he’s been taking a lot of phone calls from the mayor for about the same period of time.”

  “Huh,” Chig grunted. “Wonder what he’s got cooking?”

  “Dunno.” Spider shifted in his seat and looked away for a moment. When his eyes met his father’s again, his brow was furrowed. “But seems pretty clear to me that whatever it is, the mayor’s behind it. Thing is, Gonzo and I just happened to run into the mayor’s daughter and her boyfriend a couple days ago. They were stranded by the side of County Road 15, about five miles from the Horse. Gonz and I stopped to see if they needed any help, and Gonzo ended up taking the mayor’s daughter here to the club on his bike for a drink. She was coming on to him pretty strong. I don’t know if you’ve seen her, but she’s a fine piece of ass.”

  “I’ve seen her,” Chig said mildly. “So, what’s your point? You think that was not a coincidence?”

  “I don’t know. But she just showed up here at the Horse again a little while ago. Just saw her talking to Gonz at the bar.” Spider’s voice betrayed the conflict in his mind as he spoke. “Gonzo’s my best friend, Pop. You know that. I’ve known him since we were little kids. And I know he loves this club more than anything.”

  “But?”

  “But…” Spider sighed. “That doesn’t mean he couldn’t get his head turned around by some gash. And this Brenna, she is some hot fucking pussy. I just think it’s a weird coincidence that she shows up playing the helpless damsel in distress just a few days after her dad tells the police chief to start snooping around in our business, is all.”

  “Yeah, I see your point,” Chig nodded. “Okay. Thanks, kid. Look, have your contact try to sniff out what it is the chief is looking for on us. Meantime, let’s keep an eye on Gonzo.”

  “Got it.” Spider stood up. “And look, just to reiterate: I know Gonzo is loyal to the club. He would kill for any of us.”

  “I know, son. He took the vows. He gave up more than most to be one of us.”

  Spider nodded once at his father and passed through the door of the office, closing it behind him. Chig watched him go, then sat back in his chair, thinking.

  A little while later, a soft knock came on the door. “Yeah,” Chig called out, and looked up to see Gonzo open it and step through.

  “Hey, brother, what’s up?” Chig asked.

  “I got some information for the club,” Gonzo said simply.

  “Have a seat.”

  Gonzo sat, and looked Chig in the eye. “You know the developer guy who was in here about a month ago, trying to get you to sell the bar?”

  “Yeah. What about him?”

  “I think he’s got the police chief trying to frame us so the club will be forced to sell the land to him.”

  “Where did you get this information?” Chig asked, his expression neutral.

  Gonzo was silent for a moment; he knew how this would sound to the President. He looked down at his hands, and then back up at Chig: “The mayor’s daughter, Brenna, just came here and told me about it.”

  Chig laughed. “Why the hell would the mayor’s daughter want to help the Fugitives?”

  “I don’t know, exactly,” Gonzo admitted. “Gratitude, maybe? Me and Spider ran into Brenna and her ex-boyfriend by the side of the rode the other day. Their car had
broken down. The boyfriend was being a dick to her, so I laid him out. She left with me, and I took her home. She was grateful to me for helping her out.”

  “That all you did?” Chig asked wryly.

  “Yeah,” Gonzo said, reddening slightly. “It is. Anyway, the boyfriend – ex-boyfriend, now – is her Dad’s golden boy, so maybe she told me to get back at him.”

  “Or, the whole thing was staged to make you think she was mad at her daddy.”

  “No, it wasn’t like that. You can ask Spider.” Gonzo’s eyes flickered for a moment, as if he was just now considering whether it was possible. Then he continued resolutely: “It’s not like that. She wasn’t acting.”

  “How do you know, brother? You can’t tell me you don’t think pussy’s not capable of telling a lie.”

  Gonzo pursed his lips but said nothing. Then, looking Chig in the eye, he repeated: “She wasn’t acting.”

  “Gonzo, you got no way of knowing that.” Chig gave him a speculative look. Gonzo’s telling the truth, he thought. But better keep an eye on him, just in case. “Thanks for the intel, though. I’ll check it out.”

  This seemed to satisfy the younger man, who stood up and nodded. “That’s all I ask. Check with Spider. He’ll tell you the car thing wasn’t staged.”

  “Sure, I’ll do that.” Chig watched as Gonzo walked out the door and disappeared down the hallway. Sighing, he picked up the phone and dialed a number. A few moments later, he spoke into the receiver: “Hey. It’s Chig. Listen, get over here to the clubhouse. I gotta talk to you.”

  Chapter Eight

  Chief Rubensen watched Brenna Connor pull out of the parking lot of the Iron Horse with a frown. What the hell is that girl doing here? he wondered irritably. He watched her car speed away from his hidden vantage point across the road. Jesus Christ, this wasn’t good. The last thing he needed was to have Brenna Connor hanging around the Fugitives while her father was pushing him to catch them in illegal activity.