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

by Heather West

  “I was calling to see if you wanted to come over. I was thinking we could do, like, a brunch thing or something. Which sounds way too English, but I didn’t know what else to call it.”

  “Hanging out?” I suggested teasingly.

  “You say tomato…” Becky trailed off. “Anyway, come on over for my tomato and we’ll have some coffee, because I don’t do tea.”

  I looked at the mess of papers, then sighed. “Okay. Be there.” I was exhausted; the damn papers could wait.

  # # #

  Becky lived in a neighborhood that consisted mainly of mobile homes. Some of them were nicer, while others looked like there wasn’t much to save them except for a swift fire that might destroy all evidence of their existence. I’d been here several times and had had friends who lived out here on and off since high school.

  The trailer in front of me was a single wide with a bedroom at either end, along with what could either be a tiny guest room or what amounted to closet space. Becky used it for her jewelry business, which was mostly run on one of those kitschy online sites that catered to eclectic people.

  I walked up to the porch that was attached as an afterthought—there were chairs outside along with a little coffee table so the occupants could smoke in relative comfort outside—and went to the front door. I pulled back the screen door and knocked twice. I waited for a few moments before Becky came to the door, opening it to reveal her bright and smiling face.

  “Lucy! Damnit, where have you been! I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” She quickly ushered me in just as the coffee pot pinged to say that it had finished brewing. “Take a seat anywhere,” she told me, heading to the kitchen which was attached to the living room. “You want cream?”

  I shook my head. “Thanks, but just some milk is fine.

  She made us both a cup quickly as I took a seat on the couch in the living room. There was a coffee table in front of me with several magazines—high fashion stuff, I thought—laid out on top of it.

  Becky handed me one of the cups and took a seat on the matching chair that was adjacent to the couch.

  “How’ve things been?” I asked her absently, flipping through some of the magazines. Most were those women’s magazines that told you how to lose weight and what a man liked in bed. Worthless things, I thought, given that I knew exactly what my man wanted in bed and the weight loss thing was more a matter of will than anything else. There were, however, a couple of magazines that were jewelry centric, probably research for her business.

  Becky nodded, beaming. “Great. I can’t tell you how excited I am for everything that’s been happening lately!”

  “With the business?” I guessed, but clearly that wasn’t what she was talking about. She laughed at me a little and waved me off.

  “No, silly, I mean with the whole initiation thing!”

  I froze. Initiation, of course, how could I have forgotten? After all the other excitement last night—and I wasn’t talking about the sex—I’d all but put Thunder and his painful initiation out of my mind. Maybe I’d just been dying to forget all along, because I was sick and tired of the violence, but there had been so much last night that I probably would have regardless.

  Becky and Thunder had been dating for nearly two years now, and lived together in this trailer. I thought maybe it was a little bit of a weird match—though admittedly, I’d been the one to introduce them—since Becky was very stylish and interested in fashion forward things, while Thunder was…well, Thunder. He was a big, heavyset man with quickly thinning hair and a somewhat grotesque appearance. He sweated easily and his face constantly looked splotchy. Seeing him standing next to Becky was almost comical.

  She wasn’t a supermodel. Becky was short—maybe five three or five four in height—and was a little round in the middle. She wasn’t overly fat or anything, but she was pudgy and had noticeable curves in both her hips and her breasts. The effect was charming on her with her long dark hair and her perfectly done make up, though I wasn’t sure how it would have worked for most women.

  When I’d first introduced them at a party—Becky as a friend and Thunder as an acquaintance since he’d come in to the Halos & Horns shop a time or two—I didn’t think much of it. Chemistry was a tricky thing and it usually didn’t happen how it did with them. As I recalled, Thunder had spilled his drink down Becky’s favorite shirt and I’d had to drive her home completely wasted and bawling about how she loved that shirt. But then he’d sent her flowers every day as an apology until she finally talked to him. After that, they somehow found they just clicked.

  It happened like that sometimes, I guessed, but if I’d known Thunder would turn around one day and join the Sin Reapers, I never would have introduced the two of them. Hindsight was always twenty-twenty, right?

  “Have you…seen Thunder?” I asked her hesitantly, remembering how beaten and broken he’d looked last night.

  Becky shook her head, but she didn’t seem concerned. “No, he said he would be crashing with some of the guys as part of post initiation bonding or something. It sucks,” she told me with a sigh, but her eyes still sparkled with excitement. “I really wanted to see him and ask how it went, but he called me at least. I’m so happy he made it!”

  For a moment, I just stared at her. I wasn’t really sure what to say about this whole thing because a big part of me felt like she just didn’t understand what the hell she was talking about. Did she have any idea how rough a shape Thunder was in? Did she realize how badly things were going lately? Did she understand Thunder would ride his bike right on the edge of the law constantly and that every once in a while he’d swerve the wrong way over it?

  I decided she couldn’t understand any of that. Not yet. But she would. Guilt gnawed at me. How could I have gotten her into all of this? “It’s good that you’re supporting him,” I finally said, because I wasn’t sure what else to say. “That’s a sign of a healthy relationship.”

  She grinned hugely at me. “Well, we are definitely that! And things will only get better now that he’s an Reaper. I mean, now we can talk about the club stuff and you won’t have to worry about crossing lines or anything.”

  That was true. It was difficult sometimes to have friends outside of the club, because there would always be things you couldn’t talk to them about. Most of it wasn’t that big of a deal. The bad stuff that I really wasn’t supposed to talk about was easy to avoid because I really didn’t want to talk about it. But, still, it would be nice to not have to watch what I said in front of Becky.

  “Yeah, there is that,” I commented, flipping closed one magazine and opening another. This one was all about bikinis and finding the right one for your body type. I didn’t imagine that it was very helpful given that all the models looked to be the same size. “You’re not worried?”

  Becky shook her head immediately. “Are you kidding? Of course not! I love that he’s a biker now. You know, a real one. It’s so sexy, don’t you think?”

  I did think, but lately I was thinking it wasn’t worth it. I didn’t mention this to Becky, however. I didn’t think it was a good idea to encourage her romanticized idea of the biker lifestyle.

  “I mean, I’ve always dreamed of being the sexy chick riding on the back of some hot motorcycle, arms around the middle of my main man, a badass on wheels,” she gushed, not even really talking to me at this point, but rather floating off somewhere in her own head.

  I felt like pointing out that Thunder was hardly the leading man type for her fantasy, but I knew how much she adored him. I didn’t know him that well, though we’d interacted on occasion and, ultimately, he approached me first when he asked about the Sin Reapers and joining the club. Right away I redirected him to Max. Partially because Max really was the man to see about joining, but mostly because I knew if presented with the opportunity, I would tell him not to waste his life on something like this.

  Looking back now, I thought maybe I should have.

  “I’m really happy for you,” I told
her, even as I felt guilt swirl around in my belly, nipping and gnawing at me.

  Becky beamed at me proudly and nodded her chin in my direction. “What about you? What’s happening with you and Max?” Her eyes twinkled with mischief as though awaiting a good juicy piece of gossip or some other sort of verbal treat.

  I realized it was because I hadn’t really spoken to Becky lately. Not since Dad died. Sure, she’d gone to the funeral to support me and we’d had a few phone conversations, but it wasn’t until Thunder started working towards becoming a member that our conversations became frequent again.

  It meant she didn’t know things were rocky between me and Max right now. Still, I didn’t want her to know—maybe I was feeling embarrassed; maybe I just wasn’t sure yet what it all meant—so I forced a smile and nodded. “They’re good. I mean, he’s always been good like that,” I told her, blushing as I thought of the way he’d pounded into me last night, desperate and needy.

  Becky laughed at me. “You lucky gal! Max’s such a catch!”

  She wasn’t the only one who thought so, but she was the only one who would tell me without lacing the statement with menace or warning. It was because Becky ultimately didn’t want Max. She was firmly attached to Thunder and thought there seemed to be a lot of drama with Max that she didn’t necessarily want to deal with. It made me want to tell her that Thunder was about to get some drama of his own, but I bit my tongue. I liked Becky and I liked that she could be candid about Max without making me worry if she were trying to take him from me.

  “Yeah, he is.”

  Deciding I needed to quickly change the subject, I brought up one of the many things that was bugging me, and one of the only ones I felt actually comfortable telling Becky about. “Do you remember that guy Bills?” I asked her.

  Becky thought for a moment. She knew most of the guys in the club, but since Thunder had only just been officially initiated, she hadn’t been formally introduced to much of anyone beyond Max. But she’d met a few and seen more beyond that. After a moment, she nodded. “He’s the bald guy, right?” she asked, looking like she was trying to picture him.

  I nodded. “Yeah, the bulky one who…” I trailed off thinking about how he’d kicked Thunder in the stomach long after the invitation was over. I wanted to describe him as malicious, but decided against it. I didn’t want her having problems with Bills right off the bat. He was a dangerous man. So instead, I filled in lamely with, “…definitely looks the part.”

  “Yeah, he really does. I’ll be honest,” she said, leaning closer to me as she lowered her voice, like there was anyone to overhear us, “he kinda freaks me out.”

  I had to agree. Biting my lip, I considered what happened that day in the office. His hand sliding down my arm, his concern for my safety…I wasn’t buying it. “Can I tell you something?” I asked her, suddenly feeling like talking to her about this was maybe a bad idea.

  “Of course,” she told me easily. “In fact, if you’ve gotta ask me that, you should tell me. Immediately.”

  I smiled weakly at her, but nodded. “Okay. It’s about Bills and I need you to not tell Max about it, not yet.” At this request Becky frowned, looking apprehensive about the whole thing. To ease her sudden worries, I told her, “I just need to figure out what’s going on and I can’t do that if Max goes off halfcocked.”

  That was mostly the truth, too. I knew if Max reached the point where he was really angry with Bills, things would go pretty bad. They’d be explosive, as a matter of fact, and I wasn’t sure that would solve anything. Especially if it landed Max in jail for murder. But what I wasn’t telling Becky was that it was also because I didn’t want to start up waves over something that potentially didn’t matter. Who cared if Bills was a creep? If we left, when we left, it wouldn’t matter at all. We wouldn’t be around for him to bother anymore. And if Max picked a fight with him, then maybe we’d get in real trouble. Maybe suddenly we’d have trouble leaving.

  “Okay, what happened?” Becky asked in a softer voice, suddenly looking concerned.

  I realized she was probably assuming the worst, so I quickly put her at ease. “Nothing like that,” I told her quickly. “I mean, nothing as bad as that.”

  Her shoulders eased slightly and she nodded at me. “Okay. Then what?”

  I explained to her about the office and about the night before. I could tell she wasn’t really seeing the problem—she didn’t know what had happened when I was only fifteen and she didn’t know Bills had already made a pretty noticeable pass at me before. I wasn’t about to talk about what happened when I was a kid; no one but Max knew about that. But I could tell her about the time Bills made a pass at me.

  “It was after a club meeting,” I explained, picturing the day. It had been back when my dad was still alive and well. I’d been with Max for six years already and it didn’t look like that would ever change. I was madly in love with him, the way high school kids were in love or the way that people were in love in those damn romantic comedies. I was so wrapped up in him that I couldn’t even imagine how other men might apply to me. But Dad had told me I ought to broaden my horizons.

  I remember being shocked, because Dad was one of Max’s biggest fans. He worked at the auto shop and was damn good at it, but he’d also joined the club relatively young, almost right out of high school. He had to wait until he was at least eighteen, but he started working on my dad before that in hopes of making a smooth transition. He’d succeeded easily. But there was a difference between liking Max and approving of him. Dad had been on one of those kicks about how you couldn’t know what you wanted until you’d tried different things. I wasn’t too stupid to understand the metaphor, but I pretended like he was being asinine, because I was angry that he would even try to get me with someone else.

  I still didn’t know if Bills was part of Dad’s ridiculous idea of “trying new things” or if it was just a coincidence, but, either way, it didn’t sit well with me.

  The club meeting was over, but it was one of the days where Dad insisted on a barbeque. It was summer and he wanted to grill outside while it was still nice. Mom had been thrilled. She’d been feeling pretty down at the time; something was definitely eating her. But that day she’d been in high spirits and so in love with my dad that everyone who looked at the two of them together knew it.

  I always imagined that was how other people saw me and Max, but I didn’t know how anyone saw us now.

  So we were all crammed into the backyard. A bunch of bikers and their old ladies, my mom drinking fruity pink drinks that were spiked with vodka, my dad laughing and putting away beers like he couldn’t even taste them. Max was there, too, though he was inside with some of the other guys. They were talking about the future, plans for the club and for the shop, and I stepped outside to say hi to my parents. I didn’t get along with a lot of the old ladies since they seemed to be a different breed than I—they came for the danger and adventure, whereas I was born into it—so I avoided them mostly.

  I made a beeline for Dad, wanting to ask him something I forgot the instant he stepped up to me. I was walking across the lawn wearing a red and strappy sundress with boots so I could go riding with Max after. Dad was several feet ahead of me, lounging in a lawn chair, sipping on his beer and talking with a couple of the guys. I had him in my sights, but then Bills stepped into my path. I came up short of running into him, but just barely.

  That was when Bills still had hair, before he’d shaved it all off and made himself look a little too much like a white supremacist for anyone’s liking or comfort. His hair was dark and a little long, but it didn’t hang past his ears. It was constantly in his eyes, which were that dark color that looked almost like pools of oil. He was only thirty-four or thirty-five then, but it still put him at almost fifteen years my senior. Still, I’d thought he was attractive, if maybe not my type. And he was one of Dad’s trusted men, damn good at his job and loyal as any man could be.

  “Lucy, honey, nice party,” he told me, gi
ving me a quirky smile that barely lifted one cheek and almost left the other one alone completely.

  I had forced a smile, trying to be polite, but he made me uncomfortable. “Yeah, it is.”

  I motioned towards my dad on the other side of him and made a move to step around him, but he didn’t let me. When I stepped, he stepped, effectively blocking my path. That was the first thing that really started to make me nervous.

  “I wanted to say how pretty you looked,” he said, sounding almost shy about it. “That’s a…a very pretty dress.”

  I glanced down at my dress, suddenly aware that my cleavage was in plain view and that I was showing more skin than I felt comfortable with around him. I wished Max was there so I could put his arm around me and let his strength and protection pour into me. But Max was still inside and no one else seemed to notice the two of us talking.

  “Thanks. It’s a present. From Max.” I hoped mentioning Max would remind Bills that I wasn’t available and tell him Max wouldn’t stand for anyone harassing me. Maybe it did, maybe it didn’t, but if it did, Bills didn’t seem to care.