Respectable Riot

by Karen Renee

  Trent’s brown-eyed hard stare revolted me to the point of wanting to vomit, but I kept my reactions in check. He shook his head at me in disappointment, but I did not care. He turned toward the hall, but threw over his shoulder, “Not sure what you had planned for dinner, but I had an early dinner with advisers. I’m good.”

  I pressed my lips together, otherwise I’d have let it slip out that he was many things, but ‘good’ was not one of them. Perusing the freezer, a mischievous grin curled my lips. There would be no annoying scent of acetone, but the frozen Bubba Burger patties were calling out to me in a big way, and they were notorious for making the kitchen reek. When the kitchen reeked, the scent, or odor depending on your outlook, permeated most of the bedrooms for whatever reason, also.

  NOT LONG AFTER I ATE my burger, I heard the sound of cellophane moving through the great room and saw the tail end of a dry-cleaning bag going around the corner of the hallway leading to the study and the guest room. I heard a door slam twice, and if I had to guess, Trent had dropped his dry-cleaned suit in the guest bedroom and then went to his study. That was surprising because I had thought for certain he would sleep in the master suite tonight.

  I shrugged, and put my plate in the dishwasher, hand-washed the grill pan I cooked with, and decided to hit the sack in the master bedroom. Being passive-aggressive was taking it out of me, and I could not wait for Andrea and Liar to help me move the following day.

  THE DOORBELL RANG, and I could not believe I had fallen back to sleep. Earlier I had heard the shower running, and while Trent was showering, I called the guards at the gate to tell them I was expecting two guests by six-thirty for help with an in-house party. I felt wide awake after making the call. I knew Trent had to come back into the master so he could dress, get his wallet and otherwise prepare for his day in Tally. In order to avoid an early morning interaction with him, I had closed my eyes, feigning sleep. In no way did I expect sleep to claim me again.

  The doorbell rang again, and I caught sight of the clock. Thirty-one minutes after the hour? Crap! That had to be Liar and Andrea. I scrambled out of bed and unlocked the door, not registering that there was only one male body on the other side of the glass.

  My eyes widened because I was stunned to see Beast standing on the other side of the door. His hair was damp from a shower, and he was sexy as hell.

  “Christ,” he breathed.

  “What?”

  “You.”

  “Me?” I touched my face because he was looking at me funny. “Is there something on my face? Dried drool or something?”

  He chuckled. “Guess I’ll tell you, ‘cause unlike other bitches this won’t go to your head.” He paused while I frowned at him calling me a bitch. “You’re perfect. All put-together, just shy of Stepford put-together.”

  “Just to let you know, this is about to go to my head and make it explode because me and Stepford in the same sentence is never a good thing.”

  “Yeah, but with you, there’s warmth, and then first thing in the morning you have porn hair.”

  “What?” I shouted.

  “Babe, it’s a good thing.” He grabbed my hand and put it on his crotch. “A really good thing since it makes me this hard for you.”

  I was never going to bed with wet hair ever again. Ever.

  His eyes grew warm as he smiled. “You aren’t struggling.”

  My eyebrows furrowed and he thrust his hips, forcing my hand to stroke him over his cargo pants.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re not trying to jerk your hand away. Does that mean you want to jerk me off?”

  My God! He was right. Any other girl would struggle against a man putting her hand on his cock. Well, probably, I mean this was Beast. He wasn’t any man.

  Now I was getting turned on. And that realization made me yank my hand away.

  “Fuck. I hate that you’re married. Don’t know if your man is fighting to keep you, but now I see he’s damn sure got good reason to put up a fight.”

  My eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s an asshole and only wants to keep up appearances.”

  He openly eye-fucked me, and damn my body, I shivered, complete with my nipples puckering. “You were in my bed I’d fight. ’Course, if you were mine I wouldn’t give you reason to leave. Hell, what I’d give you, it’d be a miracle if you could walk, let alone walk away.”

  Two doors slamming from the driveway broke the moment. “Shit! I’m not even dressed. You let Liar and Andrea in while I get some clothes on.”

  A shit-eating grin spread on his face. “You’re right. I was too focused on your hair. Hot nightie. I could tell them to come back in an hour.”

  I shook my head. “Don’t be an ass. No way am I giving Trent more leverage against me.”

  “I’d be the one with the leverage, believe me.”

  My eyes bulged. “No offense, but that would only complicate things. It’s not like there’s something between us.”

  His face was stony. “Fun is never complicated in my world.”

  My face relaxed as melancholy rolled through me. “I don’t live in your world.”

  I suspected his regretful expression mirrored mine. “You’re right. You don’t.”

  It was probably my imagination, but I would’ve sworn he cut himself off before he could say, “yet.”

  MOVING WAS ALWAYS A strange thing to me. Spending hours with people doing physical labor, and yet feeling like I hadn’t spent any time with these people at all, it was weird. It took nearly an hour to get the couch, chair, coffee table, and other boxes loaded into the trucks. During that time, there wasn’t a lot of chit-chat happening. Maybe it was the early hour, maybe it was because of my need to be clandestine in moving, but all four of us were fiercely focused on getting in and out. The upside to the lack of conversation was that Beast didn’t have any more opportunities to make double entendres with me. Yet, that was also a downside, because it was terribly fun to hear the things that would come out of his mouth.

  However, we were all done around lunchtime. With Liar and Andrea on the scene, Beast was all business. Relatively speaking. When Liar and Andi enthusiastically accepted my offer to feed them pizza and beer for lunch, I could tell Beast agreed out of a sense of obligation. Once he finished his pizza and beer, since the last box had already been brought up, he gave his cousin a chin lift.

  Andrea noticed this male exchange. “Are you leaving so soon, Beast?”

  His eyes flitted to me for but a second. “Yeah. Gotta get back to the clubhouse, so you take care,” he spared me another glance to say, “Janie. Take care.”

  I pouted behind his back, but got my act together quickly. “Well, um, at least let me pay you—”

  He turned back to me, and his eyes were cold. “No. No way. The best way to pay me back is to take care of yourself.”

  Liar turned and walked with him into the hallway, closing the door behind himself.

  Andrea looked at me with wide eyes. “What was that all about?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I wanted to repay him for his help. And I’m gonna want to do the same for you and Liar by the way.”

  “Nope. Not happening.”

  “Andi, if this is some biker pride thing–”

  “No, this is a me not taking payment for a favor for my friend thing.”

  Her stern look shut me up. Briefly. “Fine.”

  She shook her head at my reciprocal stern look. “‘For now,’ is what you’re not saying to me, isn’t it?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  She looked at me with a semi-pout. “You can pay us back by coming over Sunday. Liar just got a new grill, but as Trixie told me, these guys never need a reason to party. So, come by and bring your taco dip.”

  I grinned at her and nodded. That was a payment I could definitely make.

  Liar and Andrea made short work of getting out of my hair after Beast left. I had a mattress delivery scheduled for four
in the afternoon, but they were late...of course. Then again it wasn’t like I had somewhere I had to be since I took the entire day off work. It wasn’t good form, but Bobby was surprisingly understanding.

  SUNDAY, I WAS STANDING in the garage with Andi. Liar was out back manning the grill, but Blood and Abby were squared off in a heated game of pool in the garage. The sound of two bikes permeated the air, and I watched as Beast and a woman biker glided down the street and slowed to pull into the driveway. Her hair was dark and loose under her short helmet. Her dark to Beast’s light.

  They looked natural, and it pained me to admit it, right together. I could never be that woman. He deserved a woman who was a natural fit in his world. Their bikes practically matched for heaven's sake! His sexy gunmetal gray bike next to her smaller gray bike with gleaming orange flames looked as perfect together as the two of them. I sighed.

  "Honey, I should’ve realized after what you mentioned about him the other day."

  “What? No. It’s your house; he’s Liar’s cousin. It's fine.”

  "It's anything but fine based on that look on your face. I hate seeing you in pain,” she murmured as we watched them stow their helmets.

  “It isn't pain,” I lied.

  It was pains, plural. My heart ached because I couldn't change my nature. There was deeper pain in the center of me. It was a pain mingled with desperate desire to be his companion, even if there was no way in hell I could maneuver a Harley Davidson on my own.

  He sauntered up with his hand at the small of the woman’s back. "Hey Andrea. C—Jane."

  He stopped himself from calling me Clumsy, and it stung a bit, but I understood why he did it. What seriously got my attention was what he did call me. Jane. Not Janie. It shouldn't have hurt, but him kicking me in the teeth would have hurt less.

  Well, if I'd learned anything at all the political soirées I had attended it was the polite-yet-distant acknowledgment greeting.

  He guided her past us into the house.

  I turned to Andrea. “I’m gonna go. I’ll see you later.”

  PULLING THE TINY NISSAN Versa into the forecourt of the Riot MC compound, I couldn’t believe I was back here. Mainly because I distinctly remembered telling Beast I wouldn’t be back. Showed what I knew.

  But Trixie was staying in the clubhouse, and I was dying to see her. Andrea told me a little of what happened to her a few weeks ago, and I wanted to lay eyes on her.

  There wasn’t anyone around the front of the clubhouse where I parked. A feeling of dread and nervousness filled my chest, but I took a deep breath and powered through it. I opened my door and put a high-heeled foot on the tarmac.

  That was when it hit me I was overdressed. Again. I was decked out in black, flared, wide-legged dress pants with a jewel-toned fuchsia satin blouse. I was also wearing a matching black blazer, but the best part of my outfit was my Betsey Johnson rose-patterned stilettos.

  It was close to ten on Friday morning, and I had to attend a luncheon with the Republican Women’s club in Mandarin at noon. Well, I suppose I didn’t have to, but for whatever twisted reason, I didn’t want people to know I was leaving Trent, at least not yet. With any luck, Trixie would be here and I could make sure she was fine while also getting myself psyched up for the luncheon. I hated having to be “on” for these types of events, and I was always so drained afterward. I chuckled as I climbed the steps to the front door because I briefly imagined taking Trixie with me as my “wing-woman.” That would be awesome in so many ways, not the least of which would be hearing her cut to the chase with all the other women and their bullshit.

  I wasn’t sure if I would have to knock on the door, but to my surprise it was unlocked and I walked into the dim, cavernous common room. Reflexively, I looked to my right, where three couches were grouped together, but nobody was there. Closing the door behind me, I turned to my left and saw no one shooting pool either. I took another step into the room and halted. My eyes widened, and I wished I could’ve held that in check. A tall, dark, and very handsome man was behind the bar leaning into his heavily-muscled arms. I didn’t have to wonder how muscled his arms were because he was wearing a white wife-beater which was molded to his broad chest. The white cotton put his copper skin in stark relief and I told myself to stop staring.

  “Takes a fuck of a lot to surprise me, babe, but you damn sure did.”

  He paused, and I lamely filled the silence. “Um...”

  His lips curved, and his brown eyes lit with mischief. “Finally figured out you’re in the wrong place? I’d say at the wrong time, too; but you’re the type of eye-candy we don’t get around here, so I’m glad I get to be the one to set you straight.”

  It was the “eye-candy” comment that snapped me out of my funk. I tilted my head marginally. “No. I’m in the right place. I’m here to see Trixie.”

  He dipped his head down skeptically. “You’re here to see Trixie?”

  “Yes,” I said, my voice laced with more attitude than I expected as I lifted my chin and put a hand on my hip.

  He hung his head as he guffawed, and his wavy brown hair fell forward obscuring his face. That didn’t help matters. His laugh was attractive, and part of me was disappointed I didn’t get to watch him laughing.

  When he stopped laughing, he lifted his head jerkily so his hair went to the side and was out of his face. Leaning away from the bar, he swept an arm in front of him. “Have a seat, gorgeous. I’ll keep you company while we wait.”

  I twisted my lips in contemplation, but decided to throw caution to the wind. As I perched my bottom on a stool, he sauntered out from behind the bar and sat next to me. Close enough I could smell him, and heat flared in my belly. He put a bottle of beer on the bar in front himself, and tossed the cap toward a trashcan.

  Doing my best to be subtle, I scootched away on my bar stool. “So, what’s your name?”

  His chuckle held a dark playfulness. “You first, gorgeous.”

  One side of my lips pulled in a cynical fashion for but a moment. “I’m Janie.”

  The dazzling smile he aimed at me featured straight, even, white teeth and made the skin around his dark eyes crinkle. “I’m Roman.”

  “Given name?” I asked, attempting to make conversation.

  He tried not to choke on the beer he just swigged from the bottle. “No. Road name.”

  I shrugged a shoulder. “Well, it’s a good one, I think. Pretty innocuous.”

  His dark gaze held mine for a while. “Not sure what that means, but it beats the fuck outta bitches callin’ me Candle.”

  I did my best not to splutter, but I couldn’t hold my question. “Candle? As in, Roman candle?”

  “Yep.” He said pulling on his beer bottle.

  The look on my face must have been something else because then he chuckled. I turned away, but it occurred to me that I had never heard Andrea talk about him. She told me plenty about all of the brothers, and I would’ve remembered if there was one with a normal name, besides Cal.

  “Andi never mentioned you before.”

  He was facing forward, but his eyes slid to me. “Thought you said you were here to see Trixie.”

  “Yes, but Andrea and I have known each other for years.”

  “Well, you ain’t heard about me because I’m with the Biloxi chapter.”

  Movement to my right caught my eyes, and I noticed Beast in the mouth of the hallway. His jaw was clenched, and he rounded the bar. When he stood behind Roman he spoke.

  “Candle-boy.”

  Roman’s facial expression was a blend of a grin and a grimace, which I hadn’t thought was possible. “Beastie, you sound like there’s a problem.”

  Beast’s eyes cut to me and back to Roman. “Might be. Thought you had a woman back home.”

  Roman turned on his stool and arched a beautiful eyebrow. Truly it looked like it was sculpted, but I knew there was no way this guy saw the inside of a spa or a waxing salon. It was just another injustice at the hands of Mother Nature to give t
his man fabulous eyebrows. “You been gone over three months. Not that it’s your business any fuckin’ way, but I don’t have a woman at the moment.”

  I sighed. “You know. I think I’ll just let the two of you have your pissing contest in peace. Trixie’s obviously not here, and I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

  Roman’s smile was lopsided and boyish. “Honey, ain’t no reason to let a little trouble scare you away.”

  Hitching my bag on my shoulder, I smiled. “Have a nice day, Roman. It was nice chatting with you. And if I don’t see you beforehand, safe travels home.”

  I thought about saying something to Beast, but then thought better of it. He had been so terse, and business-like with me last Friday, and he was clearly in a mood. The less said between us the better was my motto. With one foot moving past him, he stopped me by asking, “Why are you dressed like that?”

  “Like what?” I asked, mirroring his outraged tone. I mean, it wasn’t like I was wearing a monk’s uniform, but hell if Beast didn’t make it sound like I was.

  “It’s Friday morning. I didn’t think you were a kept woman, so why in the hell are you wearing what that asshole wants you to wear?”

  I was not a kept woman. I wanted to yell at this man to mind his own damn business, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. “I have a luncheon in forty-five minutes. I’m not wearing what Trent wants me to wear. I’m wearing what I want to wear to the event. The air is always far too cold and I hate freezing my ass off at these things.”

  “I could warm you up,” Roman muttered in to his beer bottle.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Beast snapped.

  “He was joking,” I snapped, but before I could move forward both men spoke at the same time.