* * *
On Thursday evening, a nondescript white van pulled into the parking lot of a warehouse on the opposite side of town, followed by two black Harleys. About fifteen minutes later, a large black SUV pulled into the same lot and parked about twenty-five feet away from the van. Three men got out of the SUV and walked toward the four men standing by the Harleys. The new prospect, Jesse, was in the back seat of the van, watching his first run from a distance with a Glock stuffed into the waistband of his jeans.
Jimmy, the Fugitives VP, nodded in greeting at the Vipers president, a man named Seguro. “How you doin’ today?” he said casually as his eyes scanned the scene.
“Not sure,” Seguro said, his tone tense. “We good here? No extra company?”
“What do you mean?” Jimmy asked.
“Word going around is, you got a rat inside your club,” Seguro replied. He looked slowly at each of the Fugitives one by one: first at Jimmy, then Bullet, then Spider, then Gonzo. “Doesn’t give us a lot of confidence.”
“Don’t worry,” Jimmy smiled. “Ain’t no rat. We got a little extra heat from the cops lately, but that’s being handled.”
“Even so,” Seguro said, “We decided to bring a little extra security.” He glanced over to one side and nodded. Jimmy’s gaze followed his to see seven or eight men emerging from the trees, semiautomatics drawn.
“Shit,” Spider muttered under his breath. He and the other Fugitives reached for their guns, but Jimmy stopped them with a quick shake of his head.
“Hey, that’s fine,” Jimmy said to Seguro with a smile, raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “But you got nothing to worry about. We weren’t followed. We’re good, man.” He nodded toward the van. “Come on. Let’s get you your guns.”
With a suspicious glance toward the van, Seguro nodded and motioned for Jimmy to lead the way. The four Fugitives walked toward the van with the same number of Vipers following. Gonzo and Spider yanked open the back doors to reveal the four crates stacked floor to ceiling. They pulled the topmost crate out, setting it on the ground in front of the Vipers president, and opened the top of the crate.
“Here you go,” Jimmy said with a grin. “Exactly what you ordered. Ammunition in the fourth crate, guns in the other three.”
Seguro and another man stepped forward. They picked up a couple of the guns sitting in the straw packing, examining them and testing their action.
“Okay,” Seguro nodded, then turned to his men: “Tómenlas.” Another man, whom Gonzo recognized as the Vipers V.P. stepped forward with an envelope. He had just handed it to Jimmy when a cough came from the front of the van.
Shit! They’d forgotten about the prospect! Gonzo had just enough time to formulate this thought before Seguro and his V.P. cried out angrily: “What the fuck?!” Instantly, their guns were drawn, and the men in the trees crouched and aimed, ready to blow off the heads of anyone who moved.
Seventeen semiautomatic weapons were all pointed at the Fugitives as Bullet, Spider and Gonzo reached for their own. Jimmy yelled: “Hold it! Wait! It’s okay!” A tense moment passed, their blood running cold in their veins, as Jimmy looked Seguro in the eyes and in a calm voice, said: “There’s one guy in the van. He’s a new prospect. This is his first run. He is armed, but I’ll have him come out of the van with his hands up, and you can search him. I swear. That’s all this is.”
Seguro cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at Jimmy. “You like to flirt with danger, ese,” he said. Jimmy called to the van. “Prospect! Set your gun down on the seat and come out with your hands in the air!” A few moments later, Jesse emerged, looking rattled. He got out of the van and stood beside it, his hands up. Two of the Vipers went to the van and examined the inside, then called something in Spanish to Seguro.
“Okay,” Seguro said, relaxing a little. “Let’s get this done.” His men picked up the boxes and loaded them into their own SUV. When they had finished, Seguro addressed Jimmy: “We’ll be in touch. If we like these, we may be in the market for another shipment of the same size in a month. You down with that?”
“Yeah,” Jimmy replied. “We can make that happen.”
Seguro nodded. “Meantime, you gotta take care of your rat problem. And your pest problem,” he said, narrowing his eyes at the prospect.
“Like I said, it’s under control, man,” Jimmy replied. “And this,” he said, nodding at the prospect, “won’t happen again.” The two men shook hands soberly. Then Jimmy nodded to his club, and the five men got into their vehicles and drove off.
“Goddamnit,” Spider shook his head as he drove. “We almost got ourselves offed, there.”
“Sorry,” Jesse mumbled. “I didn’t mean to…”
“Ah, it wasn’t your fault,” Gonzo cut him off. “We shouldn’t have left you in the van. Dumb move.”
“Yeah, it wouldn’t have been as much of a problem if they weren’t already worried we’d brought the heat with us,” Spider said, glancing angrily at Gonzo.
“What, you think it’s my fault they think we got a rat?” Gonzo fired back.
“Well, who else in this club is bonin’ the goddamn mayor’s daughter?” Spider snarled.
“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”
“You think it’s a fucking coincidence that you meet this bitch, what? three weeks ago? And in the last three weeks we’ve had a fuckin’ police raid, and now we almost get ourselves killed because word on the street is that there’s a rat in our midst?” Spider shook his head in disbelief. “Jesus Christ, Gonzo, you got your pussy goggles on, man.”
“Look, man, Brenna has nothing to do with this. She helped the club by telling us her daddy was gunnin’ for us, remember?” Gonzo worked to keep the tiny sliver of doubt in his mind out of his voice. “She’s not what you think she is.”
Spider snorted. “Maybe not, man, but either way, I think your mind is too clouded to judge.” He looked at his brother for a long second, then turned back to the road. “Whether she’s working for her dad or not, she’s making the club nervous. At some point, you’re gonna have to choose, brother.”
Gonzo said nothing, but looked out the window with an angry scowl. In the back, the prospect sat silently, his eyes going from one man to the other.
Chapter Thirteen
Brenna opened her front door to find Gonzo standing on the doorstep.
“We gotta talk,” he said, his jaw tense. Without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked back down the front steps and down the sidewalk to his motorcycle. He was already straddling it when she locked the door and joined him. Wordlessly, he handed her his spare helmet and started the bike as she got on. When she had strapped on the half helmet, she wrapped her arms around his waist and held on as he put the bike in gear. Gonzo pulled away from the curb and sped off in the opposite direction of the club.
They rode down the city streets, turning first left, then right. Past the high school, past downtown, and eventually to a small, shaded street. Gonzo pulled into the driveway of a tiny slate blue house with white trim and parked the bike. Brenna got off and pulled off her helmet, studying the house curiously. Gonzo still said nothing as he strode up the walk and put a key in the front door. He opened the door and motioned for her to step through. Inside, she found a small but tidy living room, with an overstuffed leather couch and chairs, a worn oriental rug, and a standing bookcase that held books, DVDs and CDs.
“Sit,” he said, his tone unreadable. “Do you want something to drink?”
“No. Thanks,” she replied. Her heart was racing, despite her attempts to seem calm. Why had he brought her here, to what she could only assume was his house? She had wished many times that she could see where he lived. In her fantasies, though, he brought her here in the throes of passion. As it was, she couldn’t figure out whether he was planning to shout at her or break things off with her entirely. Whatever it was, he didn’t seem happy.
“Gonzo,” she began, “What’s wrong?”
H
e stared at her, a vein in his jaw pulsing. “The cops raided the bar and the clubhouse.”
She stared at him, her eyes wide. “Is everyone okay? What were they looking for?” When he didn’t answer, she sat back in shock. “They were looking for reasons to arrest you, weren’t they? To send you a message?”
“Did you know about this?”
“What?” Breanna was stunned.
“Did you know they were going to raid us?” Gonzo demanded. His eyes blazed.
“No! Of course not!” she protested. “Gonzo, if I had known what they were going to do, I would have told you!” She leaned forward, her eyes beseeching him. “You know that, don’t you?”
“No,” he said, looking away from her. “I don’t.”
Now it was Brenna’s turn to be angry. She stood and quickly crossed the room to face him. “How in the hell can you say that?” she cried. “When have I ever given you any reason to think I was working for my dad? What the fuck, Gonzo?” Her eyes blurred with unshed tears. “Why would I have come to tell you what I heard in the first place, if I was working for my dad?”
“Yeah, why would you?” Gonzo laughed sarcastically. “Unless your dad set this whole thing up. It’s a perfect cover: the mayor’s daughter dumps her country club boyfriend for the big, bad biker, and all of a sudden, she’s loyal to him and the club, even though she lives in her daddy’s house, spending the allowance he gives her and driving the car he gave her. Come on, Bren,” he scoffed. “How do you expect me to believe that?”
Gonzo’s words cut Brenna to the quick. “How can you say that to me?” she cried. Tears began to stream down her face, and she brushed them away angrily. “I can’t help the family I come from, Gonzo, any more than you can help the one you came from. It’s not my fucking fault that my father’s the mayor! How can you judge me like that?!”
Gonzo flinched as her words about his family hit their mark, but he refused to back down. “I’m not judging you,” he retorted. “I’m just pointing out that it’s a little hard to believe the daughter of the mayor would be trying to help the club against her own father. Either you’re lying to me, or you’re a pretty shitty daughter.”
“Says the guy who turned away from his own family to be a Fugitive. Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?” Brenna shot back.
Gonzo froze. His eyes turned on her in a look of pure, unadulterated fury. Before he could speak, she said in a shaking voice: “I don’t know what your story is, Gonzo, but you’re wrong about me.” She turned to go. “Whatever it is you think I’ve done, I don’t deserve this.”
Brenna went to the door and turned the handle. Without looking at him again, she opened it and stepped through, the screen door slamming behind her. Gonzo stood alone in the living room, the only sound his heavy, labored breathing.
* * *
Brenna was a little less than a block away when she heard footsteps behind her. Angrily, she prepared to push Gonzo away when he grabbed her. She was caught off guard when he didn’t touch her, but simply caught up even with her and said in a quiet voice: “Brenna. Stop.”
Before she knew what she was doing, she had done as he said and halted in her tracks. Her chest heaving, she stood facing straight ahead, refusing to look at him. Gonzo came around to face her, and she raised her gaze to his face. Gonzo’s eyes were tortured, his irises dark and stormy. “Brenna,” he said softly, his voice thick. “I’m sorry.”
With a small sob, she walked into his outstretched arms. He held her, rocking back and forth slightly, not caring who saw them. “Please,” he whispered into her hair. “Come back to the house with me.” Wordlessly, she nodded, and they walked back down the block, Gonzo’s arm tight around her. Back at the house, he held the front door open for her, then stepped through himself and gathered her into his arms. He bent his face to his and kissed her long and deeply. His tenderness was so unexpected that Brenna stifled a sob. “Shhh,” Gonzo whispered, and lightly kissed first one eye, then the other. Then his mouth was on hers again, his darting tongue probing. The heat and insistence of his kiss ignited a fire deep inside Brenna, and she moaned and pressed her body against his as their tongues tangled. He bent down and put an arm under her legs, lifting her up easily to carry her to his bedroom.
Solemnly, he set her down on her feet in a sparsely furnished room with a king sized bed. Without speaking, he reached for the waistline of her T-shirt, pulling it up over her head. Then he reached behind her, unhooking her bra and letting it fall to the floor. Her heavy, full breasts swung freely, rosebud nipples tautening as she stared at Gonzo her breath coming quick and shallow. With a low growl, he cupped her breasts in his hands, bending to take one taut bud in his mouth as he caressed the other with his thumb. Brenna gasped and moaned loudly as flame shot through her from her breasts to her pussy, causing a low, throbbing ache between her legs. She raised her hands and threaded her fingers in his hair, making small whimpering sounds as his tongue laved and flicked. After a few moments, he stepped away from her. Ignoring her mewl of protest, he peeled off his own shirt, then pushed her back gently on the bed. He unbuttoned her jeans and waited as she shimmied out of them. Hey pushed her thighs wide apart, then lay on the bed between them and began to kiss up her thighs with his burning lips. Brenna writhed, her legs spreading even wider in spite of herself. Her clit was thrumming; the only thing she could think of now was that moment, the inevitable moment, when his tongue would make contact with her pussy.
Gonzo took his time. He chuckled softly as she tried to inch her pussy closer to his mouth. He continued to tease her, enjoying the way her breath sped up as he got closer to her dripping center. Finally, he stopped less than an inch from her desperate pussy and breathed hot breath against her waiting skin, then softly lapped at her as though she were a new flavor of ice cream he hadn’t tried. Her response was immediate; she cried out softly, fisting her hands in his hair again. As he plunged his tongue deep inside her wet center, then pulled it out to swirl her own juices against her throbbing clit, Brenna cried out once, then again, and again. Her hips were moving of their own volition, and Gonzo grabbed them and held them down, forcing her to be still. She struggled against him, her pleasure and agony mounting higher and higher as she began to call his name – not the name he went by with the club, his real name. “Kyle!” she whimpered as she thrashed. “Yes, please, Kyle, please!” His tongue lapped and lashed at her, bringing her higher and higher, until she finally shattered, wild cries escaping her lips as her climax found her.
Brenna shuddered and spasmed as he moved from between her legs and lay on top of her. He kissed her deeply, and she tasted her juices on his tongue and lips. Then he rocked back on his knees, his hungry eyes taking her in. He stood and unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down over his muscular ass and thighs. His thick, rigid shaft sprung up, pulsing slightly with his heart. He stepped out of his jeans and kicked them to the side, then stood over her, his eyes hooded with lust. “Turn over,” he muttered thickly. She did as she was told, her heart still racing from her release. Spreading her legs to expose her still-throbbing sex to him, she gasped slightly as his hot mushroom head slid against her opening. “Jesus Christ,” he moaned, pushing himself slowly inside her. A low sound emerged from deep in Brenna’s throat as she felt him fill her; her still-swollen channel clenched around him. He paused for a moment, as though frozen, then withdrew and pushed back inside her all the way, his heavy balls slapping up against her sensitive nub. Brenna hissed and angled her hips upward to take in as much of him as possible. “Yes,” she whispered. “Hard.”
Gonzo gripped her hips and began to pull her toward him, roughly, impaling her on him with every thrust. Brenna closed her eyes, the pleasure returning suddenly to her again in waves. The harder he pounded inside her, the more she wanted, and soon she was mewling and bucking against him again. His thrusts got more insistent, his grunts mingling with her cries. “Oh, Jesus, Brenna, oh yes,” he groaned as he felt her inner walls clench against him. “Come for
me, baby.” Brenna felt him stiffen inside her and shoot his hot release deep. His own release sent her over the edge again, and she cried out and came around him, milking him with her own spasms. Finally, they collapsed together on the bed, Gonzo pulling the bedspread around to cover them both. Exhausted, they slept.
When Brenna woke, she was lying on her back against Gonzo’s chest. He was looking down at her, when she opened her eyes, and he smiled and brushed his lips against hers.
“Hey,” he whispered softly.
“Hey,” she said, and laughed.
Gonzo gathered her into his arms, and she nestled against him and closed her eyes. After a moment, he began to speak, and she listened to his voice resonating in his chest as she lay there.
“I abandoned my family for the club,” he began. “You’re right about me. My mom, she’s had multiple sclerosis since I was a little kid. Since right after my sister Tallie was born.”
Brenna listened in silence as Gonzo stopped talking. When he continued, his voice was quiet and somber.
“My dad had to work really hard, long hours, to make enough money to support us, what with the cost of my mom’s treatments. My mom tried to take care of Tallie, but it wasn’t long before she was too weak to do much but stay in bed most of the day. I ended up raising Tallie, more or less. I was the one who did the housework, made sure Tallie got fed and bathed and put to bed. I was the one who made sure there was food on the table for my dad when he got home from work.” Gonzo sighed, then continued. “It was a lot. A lot for me to handle. I tried so hard to be good, to do everything they needed me to do and not complain. I knew my mom and dad had it much worse than I did, and I didn’t want to make it even worse on them.
“I didn’t have a lot of friends at school. Didn’t have time for them. When kids ask you to come over to their house and play after school and you can never say yes, eventually they stop asking, you know? But Spider, he was my one friend. Everyone knew his dad was in the MC, so lots of kids’ parents wouldn’t let them play with him. Spider and me, we were a perfect match. A couple of misfits,” Gonzo laughed sadly.
Fugitives MC Page 15
