Betting It All: A Hellfire Riders MC Romance (The Motorcycle Clubs Book 11)

by Wilde, Kati

  “Double his load.” Gunner speaks up but his pretty eyes are fixed on his plate. “Keep him too busy to think about her. Eventually it’ll pass.”

  Yeah, that has worked real well for him. He’s been mooning over Stone’s sister for years. “He’s a smart kid, Stone,” I butt in over some of the other suggestions being tossed at him. “So tell him why he has to keep his distance. Tell him he’ll be putting a target on the club, because even if she doesn’t figure out who he is, anyone keeping an eye on her will notice him eventually.”

  “The feds will be looking,” Jack says quietly. “They’re still trying to figure out who took down the Eighty-Eight and where the assault rifles we used came from. So they’ll keep swinging back to the women, hoping to shake out information.”

  Maybe they’re already looking if Creek is undercover. But Jack doesn’t mention that so I don’t either. Instead I say, “Pointing out the threat to the club is just half of it, though. Hashtag doesn’t know her, so part of the reason he keeps going back must be because she makes him feel like a hero. He saved her; now he’s protecting her. So you remind him she doesn’t need protecting now, make him feel like a hero for backing away and looking out for the club, and accept that you’re going to break the kid’s heart.”

  “Then you throw pussy at him,” Spiral adds.

  “All right.” Stone groans and rubs his hands over his face. “Shit. I’m never having kids. It’s too much fucking pressure.”

  “You don’t know pressure until you try raising girls,” Widowmaker says dryly. “Next item is regarding the altercation in the ring between two patchholders, Valentine and Zoomie. Boss?”

  The prez glances at Val before looking to me. Oh shit shit shit. I know that look in his eyes. He isn’t called the Wolf for nothing. That stare means the boss is out for blood and someone’s colors are going to run. I drop my hands to my lap to hide the sudden tremor in my fingers.

  Don’t let it be my colors. Please don’t let it be mine. But it might be. Merging these clubs means the Hellfire Riders are stronger than we ever have been before. Fucking it up would threaten everything—especially with the Devil’s Hangmen at our door—and I didn’t keep it amiable.

  The prez isn’t going to let that pass like it’s nothing.

  “Tell me your piece, Zoomie,” he says.

  My heart’s thumping so hard I can feel the blood throbbing in my head. “I screwed up,” I say. “I knew it wouldn’t stay friendly if I took him out too fast, because his ego was wrapped up in the rematch. But I lost my temper and threw him down.”

  I hear Valentine scoff from the other end of the table but I don’t look away from the prez.

  “Cool. Fucking. Head.” Each word drops like a brick and is joined by the thump of his knuckles against the table. “Get pissed all you like, I don’t give a damn. But you hold it in.”

  “I will, boss.”

  He nods and leans back, eyeing me thoughtfully. “Five hundred dollars.”

  A few of the guys around the table suck in a breath. Fines don’t ever run that high. I’ve seen patchholders pound each other bloody and only get tapped for one-fifty. The prez isn’t just drawing blood—he’s gouging deep.

  But I’ll scrape it up. Relief’s hitting me so hard I’d be happy to scrape up diamonds. I’d rather bleed money than have him take my patch. “Yes, boss.”

  “Gunner’s going to pay half of it because he didn’t keep you out of that fucking ring.” His gaze moves across the table, zeroing in on the sergeant at arms. “These other brothers probably thought it’d be real funny to see him try taking Zoomie down. Maybe you did, too. But joking’s not your job. Keeping the peace is.”

  Gunner winces but nods. “Yes, sir.”

  The prez’s gaze finally moves to Valentine but he only says, “Red?”

  Handing it over to the Titans’ former prez. Maybe because Val will be less defensive, maybe just Saxon’s way of keeping the peace.

  Red asks, “So what’s your piece, Val?”

  A seething one. I heard Val scoff as I was telling my part but I hadn’t looked his way. He’s sitting with his fists clenched and his face red.

  “It’s bullshit!” He spits it out like he’s been holding it in. “Just bullshit.”

  “What is?” Red’s tone is easy. His eyes are like chips of green ice. “That we’re here asking you about it or you don’t think Zoomie’s fine was steep enough?”

  “Bullshit that they’re saying getting into the ring with me was a joke.”

  “Did she win your match?”

  Val turns even redder. “She got lucky.”

  “Did you take a swing at her?”

  “Maybe. Shit. Should I apologize for that?” His furious gaze shoots to me. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to hit a girl. Especially not one the Riders treat like their fragile little doll.”

  Silence drops. The only sound is Val’s ragged breathing as the dozen pissed-off Riders surrounding the table bite their tongues. Even Knucklehead’s looking irritated at him. I don’t have the guts to glance back at the prez. When Saxon’s angry, it’s best not to draw his attention, and he’s probably enraged after having that disrespect tossed at him.

  Calmly, Red says, “Apology is a start. And instead of taking a swing, you should have asked her to teach you the move that took you down.”

  Valentine’s head snaps back like he’s been slapped. He stares at his former prez. “You know what? Fuck this. Fuck all of this.”

  His chair scrapes back and he shoots to his feet. Immediately Gunner, Bull, and Jack are up—just watching. Waiting. Not a word comes from either prez as Valentine tears out of his kutte and throws the leather to the floor.

  “The fucking joke? Is this club.” His eyes land on Red. “She must have spent the last five years sucking their dicks to get them all on her side like this. I don’t know when she started sucking yours, too.”

  “Get out,” Saxon says quietly. “While you can still walk out.”

  “I’m going.” He looks to Knucklehead. “You coming, too?”

  The asshole has the grace to appear disgusted that Valentine would even ask him. “Fuck off, man.”

  Valentine glances at Bull. The other Titan shakes his head. Val throws up his hands and slams through the door.

  There’s only quiet as Jack and the others sit again. Then Stone exhales a long breath and says, “Hold up your hand if Zoomie has sucked your dick.”

  I flip him the bird but Spiral’s already running with it. “Does fantasizing count?”

  “Nope. Oh, look. No hands.”

  “Shit.” Face dejected, Bull sinks deep into his chair. “I only stayed because I thought there was dick-sucking going around.”

  My huff of amusement joins the brothers’ laughter. God. I don’t know Bull well but I sure as hell love him for that. Instantly the tension eases around the room.

  Saxon raps the table and the laughter quiets. “Blowback, see that he’s left.”

  Quiet as fuck, Jack’s gone an instant later. A shiver rolls over my skin. Valentine better pray Jack doesn’t find him still here.

  “All right. But, boss—” Knucklehead’s voice pulls my gaze to him. He’s looking half-apologetic, half-determined. “I’m not siding with Val. I know Zoomie can kick ass. She’s earned her spot. But he had a point about her making us a joke.”

  Big hands clasped, Saxon leans in and puts his elbows on the table, his stare burning the distance between his seat and Knucklehead’s. “You step real careful now.”

  Swallowing hard, Knucklehead nods. “When the Hangmen rolled in last night, it started out all right. Then she comes out wearing her kutte, looking like Blowback just fucked her in the back rooms, and any respect they had for us was gone.”

  My throat is tight. “They didn’t have respect to begin. If they had, they’d never have showed up like they did.”

  “Maybe. But they weren’t laughing at first, were they? They weren’t until they saw you and asked how you earned yo
ur colors.” He looks back to Saxon. “They made a joke out of us. Ask any of the brothers who were standing with us. Stone, Widowmaker—even Blowback when he gets back. That’s exactly how it went down.”

  The prez doesn’t even look at them. “I know how it went down. They mentioned her tits because they think having tits means we’re weaker. And you don’t want to be slapped with shit like that again. You don’t want tits making you into a joke.”

  “I don’t.”

  “So you can’t handle ten minutes of dealing with the same shit Zoomie deals with every single day? Thing is, I’ve never heard a single complaint about it coming from her. Not in five years. But you’re going to whine to me about a few minutes?”

  “No, boss.” Knucklehead’s face has become a frozen mask. “I can handle it.”

  “Then handle it.” The prez’s gaze slips past my head. “He gone?”

  “He is.” Jack takes his seat again. I can feel his eyes on me but I’m still trying to process what just went down between Saxon and Knucklehead, and I’m not sure I can take whatever I see in Jack’s expression. He must have heard the end of it. I don’t know if he heard the part where he was fucking me in the back rooms, though. I know Hashtag didn’t say anything. So had our encounter been that obvious? Maybe Jack wanted all the brothers to know.

  If so… Well, screw it. I’m already all in. “To be clear, I wasn’t fucking Blowback in the back room. I was banging his fingers, but I haven’t had his dick in me yet.”

  Pin drop silence.

  Good, because I’m not done. “Yet,” I repeat, “because I lost a bet. So he gets to tie me up and screw me all night. Probably tonight, since I have tomorrow off. Does that work for you, Jack?”

  He’s absolutely still, watching me with eyes dark and flat. His voice is gruff. “Tonight’s good.”

  “Great,” I say before turning back to the others. Everyone’s staring at me and most of their faces resemble a scream queen’s wide-eyed horror, like there’s a killer at my back but fear’s petrified their tongues, so they can’t get a warning out. “Anyway, that answer about whether I’ve fucked another Rider is going to change. Next time, Jack can raise his hand. I’m sure it’ll be the worst sex I’ve ever had, but a bet’s a bet, and there’s no real reason to back out.”

  “Uhhh…” Stone says, like he’s about to offer a reason, then his gaze flicks to Jack’s face and his mouth snaps shut.

  So that’s that. I look to the prez. He’s frowning at both Jack and me, but he only says, “Next item?”

  “Ah.” His face scarlet, Widowmaker clears his throat a few times. “The Devil’s Hangmen.”

  The prez nods. “Blowback?”

  Jack didn’t recognize them last night but he’s apparently made up for that in the past day. “They’re out of Nevada. Las Vegas area. Their mother chapter’s been riding for twenty years. They’ve got seventy members, plus forty in a chapter down in New Mexico, and now twenty five here. They’ve put out that they’ll provide security for hire but word is their annual take is ten to fifteen million, so chances are they’re running guns, meth, or girls. Maybe all three. They’re small-time for Vegas, but they’ve got connections—and they’re aiming to grow.”

  He looks to Gunner, who picks it up. “I’ve got a buddy who rides with the Bedlam Butchers in New Mexico. About five years ago, the Devil’s Hangmen set up that chapter down there. Right away they start throwing their weight around, grabbing territory and putting all the surrounding clubs under their thumb. My guy in the Butchers says his club didn’t have a run-in because the Hangmen were on the other side of the state and because the new chapter had some kind of business arrangement with the Eighty-Eight. So the Hangmen and the Eighty-Eight weren’t stepping on each others’ toes.”

  “Then what’s this move about?” Spiral asks. “Because if they’re coming up and taking over the Eighty-Eight’s territory—instead of letting the Eighty-Eight send up men from other chapters—I’d say that’s stomping on their damn feet. Are they going to take each other out?”

  Jack shakes his head. “Don’t know yet. But it’s more likely someone else is calling that shot. A mutual business connection.”

  Who would have so much sway with the Eighty-Eight that they’d just sit on their hands when they were told to? “So the skinheads got toasted,” I say, “and instead of letting their mother chapter send more men here, some asshole with money tells the Devil’s Hangmen to take over. So you must be talking cartel kind of money.”

  “He is. Which means this is a big move for them,” the prez says. “One they won’t dare fuck up.”

  “Not unless they want to be skinned alive—or whatever else the hell their business associates think up,” Stone adds.

  “Jesus.” With a grimace, Spiral pushes away his plate as if the burger suddenly doesn’t look so appealing. “I, for one, am damn glad of the Riders’ policy of not getting mixed up in that kind of shit. I just want to fuck and ride.”

  He bumps fists with Knucklehead beside him, and a general rumble of agreement comes from some of the others. It all falls quiet when the prez says, “We’re not going to have a choice. We won’t get into the business but we’re going to be mixed up in this shit real quick.”

  “They came in the same way they did in New Mexico,” Jack tells us. “Only two dozen men. That means they’ll be looking for strength from the local MCs. They’ll try riding over us first—and do the same to the Blue Coyotes—and they’ll be recruiting the strongest men to fill their ranks. They might dangle cash or use other methods of persuasion.”

  “You’re talking threats,” Stone says flatly.

  “To property, family. And they’ll try to make an example of someone first, so we’ll know the threats aren’t bullshit.” Jack’s cold gaze sweeps the length of the table. “I expect that example will be me.”

  “You?” My heart slams against my ribs. “Why?”

  “I took inspiration from you.” He looks at me, his firm mouth taking on the slight curve that makes me want to crawl all over him. “He wanted the boss to call on him like a lap dog. So I flipped him. It pissed him off. Now I expect him to come back swinging.”

  A few of the guys snort with laughter. I ignore them, searching Jack’s face. His lips suggest amusement but his dead-eyed stare is all business. So he meant to infuriate Croc by telling him to use the club’s e-mail. He meant to put a target on himself. “You ought to be fined for pulling shit like that. Five hundred bucks is the going rate.”

  Now he grins. “Not when it’s my job to pull shit like that.”

  I can’t argue that. And there’s no one who can handle himself better if Croc does send someone after him.

  I still don’t like it.

  My disapproval doesn’t bother Jack at all. Expression even, he regards me steadily as I glower at him, neither of us looking away while the prez says, “The rest of us, our primary job is watching each other’s backs and holding on to our territory. You hear of anyone receiving a threat—or if they’re acting like something’s off—you come to me. The Barracks strip joint is closest to the Eighty-Eight’s old territory so we’ll keep our strongest presence there, and I’ll reach out to the Coyotes. All right?”

  With my gaze tangled up in Jack’s, we both add our “Yes, boss” to the chorus going around.

  “Then unless there’s anything else, we’re done. Blowback, with me.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Jack says before leaning in, his voice deep and low. “What time you heading home?”

  Home. Where he’s going to fuck me. All night.

  Everything inside me winds up hot and tight, but I keep my answer cool and easy. “I’ll be there by nine.”

  “Then so will I.”

  A second later he’s up, joining the prez and heading out of the conference room, and I’m resisting the urge to grab my beer and gulp it down. Nine o‘clock. Two hours.

  Two hours until Jack Hayden is inside me.

  “Hey, Zoomie.” Stone drops
into the chair Jack just vacated. I must look a little dazed because he says, “You all right?”

  “Yeah.” Of course I’m fine. Just on my way home, where I’ll let Jack fucking Hayden fill me up with his big thick cock— Oh, shit, that sounds so freaking hot.

  God damn it. I shouldn’t be wet already. Worst lay ever. That’s the goal.

  “She’s lying.” Gunner joins us, sitting back on the edge of the table. “We just got hit with the biggest fine the boss ever laid on anyone, and that’s after it’s split in half. She’s reeling.”

  “Only with relief.” I force my head out of bed with Jack and reach for my beer. “I thought it might be worse.”

  “Worse?” His eyebrows shoot up. “You mean taking your colors?”

  “Yeah.”

  Stone chuckles like I’m joking. “Not you. The prez likes you too much to yank your patch.”

  That sticks right in my throat. “What does that mean—he likes me so I won’t ever get thumped? I’m his fragile little doll so he has to protect me?”

  “Shit. Fragile little doll? I can’t believe you let that asshole get to you.” The enforcer bumps the leg of my chair with his boot, but I get the feeling he’d rather kick my head and knock some sense into me. “The prez respects you. Can’t say he felt the same for Val. Am I right?”

  He looks up at Gunner, who nods. “Hell, yeah. The only one who goes out of his way to protect you is Blowback.”

  Right. I choke on a laugh. They laugh, too, but theirs sound different from mine. More like “that poor, sad bastard” laughs than “wasn’t that a good joke?” laughs.

  I stare at them in disbelief. “You guys are serious.”

  Stone gets a gleam in his eyes as he leans in. Oh, shit. I know that look. He’s found a way to poke at me so he intends to have fun doing it—and that means Gunner will be joining in. Clowns, both of them.

  “You don’t think so?” He glances at the scar on my arm. “Seems I remember when you got that little graze, the next second Blowback’s charging in like a white knight to pull you out of the line of fire.”

  I was ready to joke right back, but recalling how that went down still pisses me off. “Are you freaking kidding me? He was coming to pull me out because he thought I fucked it up. That I compromised my position. He obviously didn’t think I could finish the job.”