by Chiah Wilder
After the waiter brought their food, Sherrie, munching on her paté and Swiss cheese sandwich, said, “What gives, Cara?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re hiding something from me. I know you, girl. ’Fess up. You’re hiding something.”
Pushing her salad plate aside, Cara chewed her lower lip and said, “Remember that biker guy I met at the bar a couple of weeks ago?”
“Yeah, how could I forget that cutie?”
“Well, he’s now my client. I mean, he came into my office with some of his club guys, and I almost died when I saw him.”
“Are you shittin’ me? Your sexy biker is now your client?” Throwing her hands over her mouth, Sherrie laughed.
“Shh… not so loud,” Cara said as she noticed a few people staring at them. “And no, I’m not shitting you. He’s my new client, and it’s not funny,” she whispered.
“I can’t fucking believe that. What are the odds?”
“First of all, he’s not my biker. The case was Les’, but he couldn’t do it and asked me to take it as a favor. If I’d known he was the client, I never would’ve agreed.”
“You have to admit, he’s sexy, right?”
“Yeah, I’ll admit he’s sexy, but he’s also arrogant and a smartass. I find him infuriating.”
“I couldn’t tell that by the way you were dancing with him.” Sherrie raised her eyebrows.
“I had too much to drink. I was tipsy.”
“Were you? You drove us home. Did you break your no-driving-if-tipsy rule?”
Sherrie knew her too well.
“Well?”
“Okay, so I knew what I was doing and I thought he was hot. So what?”
“So, nothing. It’s just that I’ve never seen you do that in all the times we’ve been clubbing. That’s all.”
“I don’t know, I guess I felt like letting loose. I had a long, stressful week, and I knew I wouldn’t bump into anyone I knew in that kind of bar.”
“You don’t have to explain. I’m not judging you. Hell, I’d go for him. It looked like you guys had something going there. I remember that, even if I don’t remember much more of that night. Talk about getting wasted.” Sherrie giggled.
“He’s not my type. He mostly makes me mad.”
“Not mad, Cara, hot. Damn, it’s been so long for you, you can’t remember what it feels like. I mean, you’ve buried yourself in work for the last four years. I have to drag you out most weekends, and when we’re at a bar, you send out don’t-touch-me vibes big-time. That’s what I’m saying—that Saturday, you were on fire. I don’t care what you say. This biker struck something in you.”
“Okay, yeah, I feel drawn to him, but that’s probably because he’s so damn persistent and demanding. For reasons that probably would take years on a therapist’s couch to figure out, I kinda find his arrogance a turn-on. Am I psycho, or what?”
Smiling, Sherrie said, “No, you’re a woman who’s been dry for too long. You need to go for it.”
Cara sighed. “What am I going to do? I acted like such a slut with Hawk. I let him kiss me and do stuff in my office, and he’s my client. It’s like I know it’s wrong, and he’s bad news, but I kiss him anyway. My common sense has left me. Crap, I am psycho. I think a great-aunt of my dad’s was. I’ve read that it can be hereditary.”
“You’re not psycho. You want to screw him. So do it.”
Cara gasped. “I couldn’t. We’re too different. I mean, we come from such different worlds, and we don’t know each other.”
“I’m not telling you to marry him or even get into a relationship. Just screw the hell out of him and have fun. When’s the last time you screwed anyone? Since you and Trevor broke up?”
Trevor and Cara had been engaged and planned to marry after law school, but she later discovered he was involved in extracurricular activities, like banging most of the first-year law students. She’d been devastated—she’d had such plans for their future—and had broken it off with him.
After that, she threw herself into passing the bar exam and setting up her practice. Four years later, she had a thriving law practice and Trevor was nothing more than a dull ache in her heart.
“So, when was it?” Sherrie’s question pulled her back from her memories.
“I’ve been so busy. I—I don’t know.”
“The answer is you haven’t screwed anyone since Trevor. Isn’t it time to blow out the vigil candles you’ve lit for your hurt and betrayal?”
“You don’t know how deceived I felt. I thought Trevor was my soulmate.”
“He wasn’t, and it’s a good thing you found out before the wedding rather than after. That’s a closed chapter, and it’s time to start a new one. You need to let someone else into your life.”
“I have. I’m going out with Luke.”
Sherrie rolled her eyes and made a face. “Of course you are. He’s safe because you don’t have any feelings for him.”
“Yes, I do,” Cara protested.
“Like what?”
“He’s nice and good-looking. We’re both lawyers, so it’s nice to talk to him about legal issues, and he’s smart, ambitious, and a gentleman.” Sherrie pretended to yawn. Shaking her head, Cara continued, “He’d never tell me that my pussy is wet and he wants to taste me. He respects me.”
Sherrie leaned forward, her eyes bright. “Sexy Biker says those things to you? Damn, that’s a turn-on.”
“That’s not the point, is it? Luke is future material and Hawk isn’t. Hawk would probably be a great screw, and that’s it.”
“What’s wrong with that? Luke is the guy who is the good-girl idea of what you should have, who your parents would approve of. Hawk is the badass biker who lives in your dark fantasies and would satisfy every urge in your body. What’s wrong with having parent-friendly Luke in the limelight and hot fantasy-biker on the side?”
Cara giggled. “You’re so bad, Sherrie. I know you’d do that. I can’t.”
“I’m sorry your hot biker didn’t hit on me. I’d already be in bed with his sexy body.” Sherrie licked her lips. “But he only had eyes for you. I saw it the minute he walked in the door that night.”
Cara flushed, shivers playing up her spine and neck. Sherrie talking about Hawk wanting her made her happy.
“None of this matters anyway, because Hawk is my client.”
“Hasn’t seemed to stop him… or you.”
Cara groaned. “I know, don’t remind me. I feel bad about it. I’m so unprofessional.”
“Who cares if you’re screwing your client? Some arbitrary group of staunch men in a windowless office? Anyway, he won’t be your client forever.”
That’s what I’m afraid of. Looking at her phone, Cara said, “I have to run. I have an evidentiary hearing in twenty minutes.” She jumped up and threw thirty dollars on the table.
“Cara, this was supposed to be my treat.”
“I know. You can get it the next time. Call me. I’ve gotta go.”
* * *
Sherrie watched as her best friend ran out the door, her heels clacking on the hardwood floor. The two had been through so much. They’d met when Sherrie’s mother moved to Pinewood Springs after Sherrie’s parents split up. Sherrie was in junior high, didn’t know anyone at the school, and everyone had their clique; it was miserable. Cara befriended her, and they had been best friends ever since.
When they went out, Cara usually picked up the tab, and Sherrie appreciated it because she was always broke. Being a lead teacher at the Little Tykes Day Care Center didn’t pay enough, but she loved the kids and the work.
Sherrie knew Cara was in deep with her sexy biker, and she didn’t believe any of Cara’s excuses or denials of her feelings for Hawk. She knew Cara, and Cara was scared shitless to open her heart to another man. Going out with Luke didn’t pose any danger because he was so not Cara’s type, and Sherrie knew he was just a safety net, even if Cara didn’t know that yet. Sexy Biker was a different deal altogether.
During their lunch conversation, and the way Cara brightened when Sherrie talked about Hawk’s attraction to her, Sherrie detected that she had a primal pull toward him. Sherrie was rooting for Sexy Biker, because she knew her friend needed a real man to free her heart from the self-imposed prison she’d put herself in four years back. Sexy Biker would be the perfect liberator.
* * *
Stay in a motel. Why the fuck would I do that? Even though it was early August, there was a chill in the air. Fall was going to come early this year. The crickets’ symphony reverberated from the oak and maple trees as Hawk sped around the curves. Craving solitude, he took the back road to the clubhouse.
The wind whipping around him and the hum of his bike’s powerful engine always made his troubles disappear. Out on the road, nothing mattered except for the asphalt and the ride. Fuck, it’s better than sex. Well, almost… At least his Harley didn’t talk back to him the way bitches did. Like Cara. She had a mouth on her. Must be the lawyer in her, always ready to argue. And she was so goddamn bossy. Who needed that shit? No, his love was a kick-ass, chrome powerhouse.
Hawk loved customizing his bike; it was his obsession. He and his bike were one—it was for the ride—it was always about the ride. The only ones who got it were bikers—true bikers—not those fucking weekend assholes who wore leather pretending they were bad. God, he hated them. Those jerks would come out with their buddies and ride around the mountain passes, acting tough, but they were just sniveling ass-wipes. They didn’t know shit about the ride, the life, the brotherhood. He gritted and leaned low around the curve on Ghost’s Pass, his shin inches from touching the road. This was freedom.
He came around the backside of the clubhouse. A thirty-foot, chain-link fence with barbed wire on the top surrounded it. The Insurgents had bought an old, three-story, red brick schoolhouse back in 1976. The founding president, Stinger Gaitlan, wanted a big enough place that could accommodate the growth of the club and the neighboring charters.
The clubhouse was twenty-five miles outside of Pinewood Springs. The front door bored the logo of the club—a flaming skull with two smoking pistols on each side—and the name “Insurgents” in large, red and yellow lettering.
There was a big parking lot in front of the fence, and evergreen, pine, and aspen trees surrounded the clubhouse. The Colorado River ran alongside the back of the club’s property, and the river’s swift, dangerous currents mirrored the craziness of the club’s parties most weekends.
Hawk parked his Harley near the fence as he spied a couple of prospects cleaning out the trash cans from the previous night’s party. Seeing a patched member, they scrambled out of the way so Hawk could pass. Prospects were vying to also become patched members and had to go through a probationary period to prove they were worthy to don the full colors on their cuts. Being a prospect meant doing whatever a member told them to, without any questions or arguments. They were responsible for the menial and grunt jobs around and outside of the clubhouse and were allowed to speak only when spoken to.
In the room behind the great one, there was a large kitchen where the old ladies would make the meals. Sometimes the whores would cook, as well, but mostly, they cleaned. Walking through the back door, Hawk saw Doris, Ruben’s old lady, drying a large pot in the kitchen.
Doris had been Ruben’s old lady for as long as Hawk had known them. They had a couple of kids and seemed to understand each other in a way he sometimes envied. Ruben had his pussy on the side, and Doris pitched in with club activities, but she mostly raised their two kids and lived her life away from the club. If Ruben’s fucking around bothered her, she never showed it, and Hawk admired her for the respect she gave Ruben and the brothers. She knew her place. She knew the sluts Ruben sucked and fucked meant nothing more than pussy on a Friday night, and Ruben’s heart and love belonged to her only. Doris was a good example of what an old lady should be—women could learn a lot from her.
“Hiya, Hawk. We missed you last night.”
“Had some shit to do. Where’s Ruben?”
“Snoring in one of the rooms upstairs. He got so fucking plastered last night.” She smiled widely. “It was a helluva party.”
“Banger around?”
“Yeah, he’s in the great room.”
Hawk nodded and walked toward the great room. Inside, he saw some of the brothers passed out on the floor, a few of them with naked women on top of them. A couple of his brothers were sitting wide-legged on the couch, beer in hand while two sluts, their tits jiggling as they moved their mouths and hands up and down, kneeled between their legs, sucking the shit out of their dicks.
Squinting, Hawk spotted Banger with his face buried in a whore’s pussy, who sat on top of the bar, legs spread wide, playing with her tits as Banger ate her out. Hawk came over and slapped the president on the back. “Enjoying yourself?”
Banger pulled his mouth away and the slut pouted and scolded him. “I ain’t finished yet, baby. I love the way you eat my pussy. I need to come for you and then suck your cock.” She ran her purple talons down his back.
Banger pushed her away, saying, “Slut, get outta here. I got club business goin’ now. Go on, get your ass outta here.”
Crestfallen, she jumped off the bar and Banger slapped her ass. “Later, bitch. I’ll finish ya later.”
She walked over to another brother who was drinking a beer at a table and sat on his lap, her ass pressing against his cock. As she brought her mouth down on his, they kissed and groped each other. Hawk shook his head. “Who’s that one? I haven’t seen her before.”
“Shit, I can’t remember her name. She and a bunch of her friends came by last night to party. They were wild—gave the brothers a good time. This slut, she must’ve done all the brothers every which way. She’s a damn good fuck. You should try her. She’s eyeing you now.”
Hawk looked over at the woman who was grinding her ass into Ronnie’s cock. She winked at Hawk and blew him a kiss. He stared, stone-faced. “Nah, I think I’ll pass. Not my type.”
“When in the fuck did that matter?” Banger joked. “You’ve fucked two and three sluts at once, and it didn’t look like you were all that choosy. Shit, it’s good pussy.”
Hawk shook his head; he didn’t want any of the bitches there. Yeah, he was horny as hell, and it had been a while since he had some pussy, but the only one he wanted was Cara’s. That woman was messing with his head, and it pissed him the hell off that he wanted her so much. He needed to just fuck the shit out of her and get it out of his system. After that, he could go back to his normal life: riding, working, drinking, and random pussy.
“The badges were here,” Banger said after he shut his office door.
“Shit. I knew they’d show up here, the motherfuckers. What did they want?”
“Said they were looking for you. I told ’em I haven’t seen you in days and they threw their chests out a bit, but a couple who are cool with us pulled the others back and they left. What the fuck’s up with this shit? We’ve never had problems like this. In Denver, yeah, the fuckin’ badges are a pain in the ass all the time, but here, we’re on good terms with the sheriff and some of the deputies. Something’s not right.”
“Ya think? They’re targeting me ’cause of that goddamned Fourth waiver. I should ring Les’ neck for striking that deal. I was a fuckin’ idiot to go along with it. Cara would never have given my Fourth away. We need to fire Les’ ass for good and put Cara on retainer.”
Looking at Hawk, Banger nodded. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. Les just wants his money. I don’t think he gives a shit anymore, not like he used to. This woman lawyer, she knows her stuff, and she’ll have our back. Let’s see what she can do with this shit you’re in. If she does good, we can put her on the payroll.”
Hawk smiled. “That would be sweet.”
“She’d be here to watch our legal asses, brother, not to fuck.” Banger paused, looking Hawk straight in the eyes. “I know you want her pussy. I saw it when we went to her office
, and I can see it every time you say her name. Ain’t never seen you like this with any bitch. Don’t know what she’s got that the others don’t, but with this one, you gotta remember, she’s helping you. You don’t wanna fuck this up ’cause your cock keeps jerkin’. We got plenty of hot club sluts, mamas, and hoodrats. Use their holes to drain your itch. Got it?”
As the vein in Hawk’s neck pulsed, he fought the urge to slam Banger against the wall and tell him to fuck off. “I don’t need your fuckin’ advice on bitches and pussies.”
Staring into Hawk’s narrowed eyes, Banger said, “I can’t have you go to the joint. Already have Tigger and Skeet doing time—don’t need no more brothers in there. Don’t distract your lawyer; let her do her thing.”
“I’m not going anywhere, especially to the joint. I’ll shoot the bastards before that happens.”
“Just use your brain and not your cock in this situation. I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to be here. Did you talk to the lawyer?”
“Yeah, she said to stay in some shitty motel. I’m not doing that.”
“She’s right. The blue assholes will come back, and I don’t want you to be around when they do.”
“They’re not gonna find me.”
Banger sighed. “Okay. If they come back, go to the safe house.”
“Just what I was thinking.” Hawk walked toward the door.
“Where’re you goin’?”
“I have a fuckin’ ache that only a pussy can soothe.”
Hawk walked out and down the hallway to one of the rooms. Cara was causing him all kinds of trouble, like making him almost punch the shit out of the prez. Just thinking about her had him horny and pissed. He needed to get laid in a bad way, and he wanted to fuck his lawyer, but she was keeping her legs closed. Fuck that. Tension racked his body. Fuck!
Scattered throughout the second and third floors of the compound were small and large rooms. They were for the brothers to crash, pass out, or screw in. The large rooms were for shooting pool, orgies, and pulling a train, if they got a bitch horny enough to want to screw all the brothers. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, they all came to get in on the fun. The big-titted blonde Banger was licking pulled a train at the previous night’s party—the slut was insatiable, and she was looking for more cock when Hawk came up to the third floor.
