Biker’s Pet: A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance (The Sin Reapers MC) (Dirty Bikers MC Romance Collection Book 2)

by Heather West

  So instead of being an adult and letting them work their own shit out, I decided I’d walk home. That one decision changed my life.

  It was raining and I was cold, but I kept my chin up, pretending like I didn’t give a damn. I was just that tough. The guy started following me maybe a block down from the school. He was big with thick, ropey muscles that maybe some girls found attractive, but I always thought looked a little grotesque. The veins bulged a little, making it look as though he had plastic tubing buried just beneath the skin.

  When I noticed he was behind me, easily keeping pace, I started to get a little nervous. There weren’t a lot of people who would pick on me, because I was the Preacher’s daughter, though I didn’t fully understand what that meant. I understood he had a lot of friends with motorcycles and they looked to him for advice. Otherwise, he was just my dad who owned a small auto repair shop.

  But maybe that guy didn’t know who I was. I was wearing a skirt and the button-down shirt my mom insisted on because it was picture day and I should look respectable. I could have been anyone that day.

  I thought maybe he wasn’t following me. I was walking down the sidewalk on a fairly main road and there were plenty of other people out. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe I was just being paranoid, but I couldn’t help it. I sped up. He did, too.

  My worry was starting to get the best of me, but I didn’t want to run. That would look suspicious, right? So I just stopped instead. I leaned against the wall and dug through my backpack, trying to be casual. I hoped the guy would just keep on walking, telling me in no uncertain terms I was just being crazy.

  But he didn’t. When he grabbed my arm, I realized how bad it was.

  “Aren’t you a sweet little thing,” he said, grinning widely at me. His breath smelled of booze and something else, sickly sweet.

  “Let me go,” I told him, and tried to jerk my arm away, but he held fast. Things were getting worse by the minute. I struggled against him, but he was too strong, those ropey veins enough to drag me into the alley without me being able to do a damn thing about it.

  He slammed me against the wall, pressing his body against mine. I hadn’t had sex before, but I knew the look in his eyes and could guess what he wanted. When he pressed his crotch against mine and I felt the bulge pressing against his pants, I got really scared. I realized how badly this would go. I realized, after this moment, I would never be okay again. I blinked back tears, still struggling even though I knew it was useless.

  He used one hand to hold me in place, but the other had different plans. It was wandering, feeling up along my bare legs that were slick from the rain, until he got to my thigh. He gave it a squeeze, grinning maliciously down at me. His hand didn’t linger there for long. No, it went higher, traveling up my skirt towards my panties, and I started really freaking out. I couldn’t let this happen. I couldn’t.

  I did the only thing I could do; I screamed. It was loud and echoing, but it was dampened by the weight of the rain and it was short lived. His hand left my crotch—thankfully before he got beneath the fabric of my underwear—and clamped down on my mouth. I continued to struggle and now I was desperate, like a trapped animal. I bit his hand without even thinking about it, making him jerk it back and roar with pain. It was a triumphant moment, but it, too, was short lived. His hand came back and smacked hard across my face, pain searing through my cheek and mouth. My lip tore and I could taste blood. He hit me so hard that I actually slid against the wall and fell to the pavement with a small cry, landing hard.

  “Scream again, bitch, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

  I cringed, curling in on myself, waiting for the next blow, but it never came. When I looked up, I saw why.

  Max.

  He was wicked fast and had the guy by his shirt collar at first. He punched him so hard that blood flicked in fat droplets onto the wall and the impact made a sickening sound that echoed through the alleyway. I half wanted to look away, but the rest of me was mesmerized, unwilling to miss even a second of the awesome power that was Max. It wasn’t the first time I’d noticed him, but it was the first time I’d truly thought of him as a warrior.

  Max hit the guy again and again. He fell to the ground, but still Max went after him. He punched until the man’s face was a deformed, blood-coated version of its former self and Max’s hands were swollen and cut up. Half the blood on them was his, half belonged to the other man. When he finally stopped, it was only because I’d let out a tiny gasp. The man lay unconscious at Max’s feet, but Max’s gaze had flickered to me. His eyes were glassy, dark with simmering anger, but there was a tenderness there that was meant only for me.

  I ran to him without even thinking about it, and threw my arms desperately around his middle. I clung to him. Slowly, his arms came around to hold me back. He stroked at my long hair, whispering into my ear, “You’re okay, baby. Everything’s okay now. I’ll protect you. I promise.”

  I believed him.

  After that, things went quickly between us. We were inseparable. He kissed me in the halls, he pressed me against walls and in stairwells, and sat me on balconies so he could settle between my legs and kiss me. His hands found their way down my pants and he made me feel things I’d never felt before. He brought me to climax before I even really knew what he was doing and when I came down, eyes glassy, I knew I wanted so much more for him.

  When I let him have me, all of me, I knew I was getting myself in deep with him.

  I remembered picking that day when my parents were gone. I remembered telling him to go upstairs and to wait for me, that I would be right back. And I remembered going back into that room wearing nothing at all, my long hair brushed down so it hung loosely down my back, my breasts exposed and my pussy shaved.

  Max hadn’t seen it coming and for long moments just stared at me with dark, passionate eyes. I knew he’d been with other women, but I’d never had anyone before and I was nervous. When I stood there too long, starting to cover myself because I was nervous and he was just staring at me, he dove into action.

  He came over to me and jerked my hands away from my body, telling me, “Don’t cover yourself up, baby. Don’t you dare hide from me.” And he kissed me. It was hard and needy, a testament to just how much he wanted me.

  By the time we broke for air, I was already melting in his arms, my body shaking as need pooled in my belly.

  He did everything right, starting with his tongue between my legs to get my comfortable, to get me a little crazy, so by the time he came back up and placed his cock between my legs, there wasn’t any room left for nervousness.

  He slid into me slowly, and I didn’t even remember the pinch of pain when he sheathed himself inside of me. Then we made love, because this was my first time and he wanted me to know it could be gentle, if that’s what I wanted. But then we finished and not long after that, we did it again and it wasn’t gentle. We fucked, because he couldn’t contain himself and I didn’t want him to.

  I screamed his name god knew how many times that day and by the time he was leaving, I was sore and hazy and giddy with lust and something that would quickly grow into love.

  In ten years, the sex hadn’t changed. It was just as exciting and maddening as it had always been, driving us both to the brink of madness because it was too damn good to let go of. I trusted Max with everything that was me, but sex wasn’t enough to hold us together anymore.

  I owed him everything, but I’d given him ten years of my life and I was starting to think I was entitled to the rest of my years. I loved him still, there was no question, but it was a fragile love, and as the days passed I worried more and more that it was a breaking love.

  Chapter 12

  Max

  There are rules in a biker’s club. Most of those have to do with biker code—you have to have a motorcycle, you have to have a jacket, and you have to go through initiation—a means of keeping everyone on the same page, and loyal. But there are other things, too. One of them happens to be that I’m not
supposed to go anywhere without Bills, or at least a lieutenant. Bills acted as my right hand and my body guard because he’d forever been the most loyal of the Sin Reapers. As their leader, I needed a certain level of protection beyond the regular members.

  Most of the time, I thought it was unnecessary. These days, I thought it was unavoidable.

  But I was sitting on my bike now, reaching for my helmet and getting ready for a ride. Still no Bills. I’d given him a call, but he hadn’t picked up. I didn’t bother with a message; by the time he got back to me, the moment would have passed. I’d checked out his house and a couple of the places he liked to frequent, but couldn’t seem to find him. And, as a rule, I wasn’t supposed to go for a ride alone, but I wasn’t willing to wait anymore.

  What was the point? I needed the ride now to clear my head and get a grip on some things. A ride would do that like it always had before.

  So I shoved the helmet down over my head, my eyes catching sight of the words scratched on the inside by the Preacher’s own hand.

  There is always a way to do the right thing.

  They were sentimental words for me, as the helmet was the last thing he’d ever given me, but on the whole, they were a bit odd. For a man who spent so much of his time on the wrong end of the law, what would he care about doing the right thing?

  Of course, I knew a little more about the Preacher than most and understood that he belonged to an older sort of biker’s club. The kind that held old time values and lived by rules, a code of honor that most fucking cops couldn’t live by. A lot of the younger guys, the newer ones, didn’t get his attitude. They thought it was even archaic, but the Preacher believed men had a duty to be men. Real men. The kind that lived by honor, whatever side of the law they lived on.

  I pushed thoughts of the words and the Preacher aside. Revving up my bike, I tore out of the parking lot and headed away from the house I shared with Lucy. She was still at work and my mind briefly thought about heading that way to talk to her, to try again after the disaster that was this morning, but I quickly discarded the idea. Better to give her a little more time to cool down.

  I didn’t have a destination in mind, thanks to my reluctance to fight again with Lucy. Until I had more information about what was going on, there was no point. I’d blurted out that part about the Preacher, desperate to keep her with me, and now I couldn’t take that back. I had the feeling that the next time we spoke, she’d demand more information. She’d demand to know the truth.

  I couldn’t give her that. Not yet. Not until I understood more of what it meant.

  So I just drove. I went through downtown, but didn’t appreciate getting stuck in traffic. At the first opportunity, I turned off down the back way. The speed limit was fifty-five here, ten miles per hour higher than the main roads because so few people went back this way. It meant the roads would be clear and I could open her up a little bit without having to get onto the freeway.

  I knew the area a little bit, but I was coming to the very edge of Reaper territory—which was becoming Slayer territory thanks to our deal. The area was less familiar to me, though I knew it well enough to be confident I wouldn’t get lost.

  I wasn’t really paying attention. Where I was or where I was going didn’t matter too much to me, so long as I got the freedom of riding through the city like this. It cleared my head, allowed me to think about what was going on in my life—the Slayers, the man last night, Blade, Bills, and, of course, Lucy.

  My mind was elsewhere when I saw them, to the point where I barely even realized who I was seeing. I didn’t know their names, since I had no reason to be on friendly or personal terms with them, but I recognized the emblem on their backs. They pulled out in front of me, unaware that I was several blocks behind them, but I could see the gold and red threads laced along their backs in what looked like fire spreading out from a center point. Slayers.

  I should have let them just keep on going. What did they matter to me? But something in my gut told me this was an opportunity. With everything that was going on with the Slayers and their leader, I couldn’t afford to miss a prime opportunity to learn something real. Evidence, I thought, though I wasn’t even sure now what kind of evidence I was looking for. What did any of this have to do with anything?

  Probably nothing. When it came right down to it, there was a real chance Blade had legitimately offered up that man last night as a peace offering. Which meant I should just shut up and say thank you. But I couldn’t. Things were progressing too quickly, in unforeseen ways, and it was time I started making some proactive moves.

  So when I saw the two riders turn left up ahead, I followed. When they made a right after that, I did the same. I mimicked every move they made, every turn and stop and pause. We headed out of town, no longer in either Reaper or Slayer territory. We traveled the old highway that was all but empty thanks to the larger, improved one that most of the traffic took. When the two men finally pulled off, I did the same and gave them a little head start.

  They pulled in up ahead to an old, abandoned train station. I quickly turned before that station, finding a place to park, and hid my bike behind an old billboard so they wouldn’t see me. From there, I peeked around it and watched as the two men headed towards what might have been an old depot or something.

  I knew I didn’t have a lot of time if I wanted to see what they were doing, so I gave it several seconds, then dove for the building. I kept my body low, hoping the high weeds growing everywhere would provide me some kind of cover at least and that they wouldn’t be looking for me anyway.

  It took several of the longest moments of my life to get to the side of the building, but I did and paused. I waited several seconds, holding my breath, to see if there was any commotion. I heard nothing except a door opening. They hadn’t noticed me, I decided, though it did nothing to slow the pounding of my heart.

  Taking a deep breath, I went around the corner to find a window I might be able to look through. I did, but it was grimy. I could still see through it, though, and I hoped the dirt covering it would mask me further.

  When I looked through the window, I saw the two bikers as expected. What I had not been expecting was who they were meeting. I only saw him from the back and I tried to convince myself it wasn’t him, but even then I knew it. He had broad shoulders and a shiny, shaved head. He wore a leather jacket just as the other two had, but his emblem was different. On the back in white and gray threads was a tombstone. It was made to look old and cracked, but it was unmistakable, as was the writing across it. Reaper.

  He was one of mine, but even then I didn’t want to admit to myself who it was. It wasn’t until he turned as he spoke to the other two that I got a good enough look at his face to be sure. Unquestionably sure. The man they were meeting wasn’t just any Reaper. He was my right hand.

  They were meeting Bills.

  Chapter 13

  Lucy

  After Bills’ visit, I was visibly shaken. I spent several hours trying to finish work that would normally take me maybe two. And that was assuming I was busy and kept getting interrupted, but other than Bills, no one came to see me. I was so freaked out by everything that was going on that I couldn’t focus well enough to do my job quickly. I hoped desperately I managed to do it correctly, but even that seemed like a long shot today.

  I was just finishing up the paperwork, gathering it up to file away for safe keeping, when the phone rang. The sound startled me so badly that I jumped and scattered the papers across the floor. I groaned once I realized it was only the phone and I would now have to clean all of that up all over again. And reorganize it.

  This was not something that made me happy.

  Sighing, I shook my head and held up my hands. I’d get back to the papers in a minute. Instead, I went back to my desk and reached for the phone. I hesitated for a fraction of a second, for one wild moment worried it might be Bills calling me. I quickly decided that was ridiculous and grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

  �
��Lucy! Hey, I’ve been calling your cell all day, what the hell?”

  I released a sigh of relief at the sound of Becky’s voice. She was a sweet, bubbly girl and one of the few old ladies I actually considered my friend. Most of them were too old, like my mother’s age, and those who were closer to me had nothing in common with me. But Becky was different. She was a sweetheart and it was hard to not get along with her.

  “Shit, I’m sorry,” I told her, realizing my phone was likely still sitting on the kitchen counter after I’d had it this morning. “I left the damn thing at home today. There’ll probably be a hundred messages on it by the time I get to it.”

  Becky laughed. “Well, don’t fret, only half of them are from me!”

  I smiled, shaking my head a little. “How many of them will be angry, I wonder?”

  I could hear the smile in her voice as she answered, “Only the last seven, I think.”

  Holding the phone to my ear, I knelt down beside my desk and began gathering up the papers. I’d definitely have to reorganize them, there was no helping that, but hopefully they wouldn’t be too out of sync. “So what’s going on?”