by Lynne, Carol
“Rowdy!” he yelled. He uncrossed his arms and took a step toward them when Blue landed a solid punch to Rowdy’s jaw.
Solo pushed between Rowdy and Blue and wrapped his arms around Blue, stilling the smaller man. “Stop!”
Blood dripping from his nose, and his eye already swelling, Blue stared up at Solo and froze. “What the fuck?”
Solo glanced over his shoulder at Rowdy, who was bent over with his hands braced on his knees. “You okay?” Few people could go toe to toe with Rowdy and stand afterward, but Blue had done it. A certain amount of pride filled Solo.
“Why the fuck did you stop me?” Rowdy asked, spitting blood onto the sidewalk.
Solo returned his attention to Blue. “Because I know him,” he said to Rowdy while keeping his gaze locked on those pretty blue eyes. Usually, he was a damn good judge of character, and not once had he thought Blue was anything other than the typical executive. How had he been so wrong? “You buying or selling?”
Blue skirted his gaze to the school. “Buying.”
“Bullshit,” Solo called. No way was Blue a user.
“If you’re not going to believe me, why’d you ask?” Blue pushed against Solo’s chest. “And get your hands off me.”
“I wanted to see if you’d lie. I got my answer.” Solo released Blue but remained vigilant. If Blue decided to run, Solo would go after him. It helped that he knew where Blue lived, and that he had a huge king-sized bed with pale blue sheets and a navy and white handmade quilt.
Blue righted his shirt. “I could ask you the same thing. You here to make a buy?”
“I’m here to make sure fuckheads don’t sell their shit to kids.” Solo waved his hand in a circular pattern around him. “This whole area is off limits to drugs, so I’m gonna ask again, are you buying or selling?”
Blue looked past Solo to Rowdy before returning his attention to Solo. “I’m not talking to you here out in the open. You need to rough me up some more and shove me into the back of your car.”
* * * *
Detective Eric James wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. “I said rough me up, not try to knock out my fucking teeth.”
Solo climbed into the backseat with Eric after tossing the keys to the other bad-looking biker dude. “I don’t like playing games.” He gestured to Eric’s mouth. “Now you know.” He leaned over until his mouth was an inch from Eric’s. “Talk.”
“Not here. Pull out like you’re taking me to your club or something,” Eric said, touching the tip of his tongue to the cut on his lower lip.
Solo tapped the other man on the shoulder. “Drive.”
Eric had been so close to getting something out of the low-level dealer. If it hadn’t been for the vigilante bikers, he would no doubt have either a name or a time to meet the guy in charge. Once they were several blocks from the school, he chanced a glance at Solo. Who fucking knew the man he’d had unbelievably hot sex with was a member of the Grave Diggers? Shit. Shouldn’t Solo have been wearing that damn battered black leather vest or something? Now that would have clued him in. His captain was going to be pissed if he ever found out. His walk on the wild side could end up getting him bumped down the ladder. He’d be lucky if he landed a job as a patrol cop, but he’d never been that fortunate. He saw years writing parking tickets in his future.
“Talk,” Solo practically growled.
Eric glanced at the man driving.
“You can trust Rowdy,” Solo said as if reading Eric’s mind.
“I don’t trust you, so the fact that I can trust your boy isn’t that comforting,” Eric replied.
Solo’s eyes narrowed. Fuck, the guy was scary. “You have two seconds to open that pretty mouth of yours and tell me what the fuck you were doing trying to make a deal outside a school.”
“Or what?” Eric asked. He’d end up talking to Solo. Hell, the biker probably had better intel than he did, but he knew if he came off as weak, Solo would chew him up and spit him out. In other instances, Eric would probably enjoy being on the receiving end of Solo’s mouth again, but this wasn’t one of them.
Solo reached down, grabbed Eric’s dick through his jeans, and gave it a firm squeeze to the point of pain. “Or I’ll make sure this never gets hard again.”
Unlikely, Eric thought. His cock had been hard since he’d looked up, ready to do battle, and stared into Solo’s dark brown eyes. “My name’s Eric James, but of course you already know that. What you don’t know is that I’m a detective with the Albuquerque PD.”
Solo released his hold on Eric as if he’d been burnt. He scooted as far away from Eric as he could get and started cussing. “Motherfuckin’ sonofabitch!”
“Yeah, something like that,” Eric said, agreeing with the expletives. “A junior at Turner was rushed to the hospital earlier today. He’s in the intensive care unit not expected to live,” he volunteered in a matter-of-fact tone. He tried his best not to let his job get to him, but the cases involving kids were the worst. “The only thing we have to go on is his girlfriend’s statement that he bought a bag of weed after school. I was checking out the area when that piece of shit approached me. Before I could get anything good out of him, that big fucker burst out of a car and jumped me,” he said, gesturing to Rowdy.
“Fuck!” Solo pulled out a cell phone and began punching numbers so hard it was a wonder the glass didn’t crack. “Don’t smoke that shit,” he said into the phone. He waited a heartbeat before growling, “Well don’t smoke any more of it.”
Eric shook his head. For a minute, he’d thought maybe he could work with the MC on getting the shit off the streets, but the problem with bikers was that they didn’t work within the confines of the law. He was a cop, yet there Solo was openly talking to someone about smoking weed.
Solo hung up the phone. “Where’re you parked?”
“Back of the school.” Eric touched his tongue to his lip again to check whether or not the bleeding had stopped.
“Head back to the club, Rowdy,” Solo instructed.
“I’m not going to your club,” Eric protested. “I probably shouldn’t be in this car.”
Solo chuckled. “We ain’t stayin’. I’ve got something else in mind.”
Chapter Two
“What the hell are you thinking?” Rowdy asked as he shoved the keys into Solo’s hand. “He’s a fuckin’ cop. You hate cops, and if the club finds out, you’re both fucking dead.”
“I didn’t know he was a cop when I stuck my fuckin’ dick in him,” Solo fired back. He made sure to speak low enough to keep the conversation between him and Rowdy. Finding Eric on that sidewalk had thrown him, something that rarely, if ever, happened. He didn’t have a clue what his next move was, but one thing was certain, he wanted more one on one time with his little cop friend. “Fuck, man, just give me some time to figure this out before you say anything to Switch or the brothers.”
Rowdy, the only brother in the club who knew Solo was gay, slowly nodded. “You have any clue what you’re asking me to do?”
Solo knew if the club found out Rowdy was lying, he’d be in the same shit as Solo. “Yeah.”
Rowdy exhaled. “Next time, try a bit of small talk before you fuck a stranger.” He touched his bruised and swelling jaw. “What do you want me to tell Switch?”
Solo ran his fingers through his hair. “Tell him I went home, but don’t let him smoke anymore of that shit until we know what the hell’s wrong with it. Dusting weed with meth or cocaine wouldn’t put a kid in the ICU.” He grabbed two handfuls of hair and pulled in frustration, a habit he’d picked up as a kid who’d had little to no say in the fucked up house he’d been raised in. “Not all the dusted weed is bad, otherwise there’d be a hell of a lot more kids in the hospital, so maybe Blue can shed some light on the victim’s background. Maybe the guy was targeted.” He was grasping at straws, he knew it, but it was the best excuse for why he needed to spend more time with Blue.
“Blue?” Rowdy chuckled.
Solo grow
led in answer. “Call me tomorrow,” he said before opening the driver’s door. He slid into the car and glanced in the backseat. “You can sit up as soon as we clear the parking lot.”
“I feel like a teenager trying to sneak into a drive-in movie without paying,” Blue grumbled.
“Obviously, you never did it because everyone knows the only way to get away with it is to hide in the trunk.” After turning the Nova around, Solo headed out of the parking lot. The MC had purchased an old brickyard years ago. The lot consisted of three large buildings and a few smaller outbuildings, all made of the finest brick underpaid laborers could manufacture. One of the buildings housed the club’s social area, complete with a few rooms to take the club girls when the booze flowed and cocks grew hard. The other two buildings were used for storage and the custom bike shop the club owned. Despite what people thought, the club wasn’t into the really hard stuff. They sold guns on occasion when cash was low, and offered protection at a price on certain shipments of illegal items, but they left the really bad shit for other clubs in the area. For the most part, they were just a group of like-minded men who preferred to spend time with each other rather than the outside world. That wasn’t to say they didn’t fight with each other and other bike clubs throughout the area, but that was boys being men.
Solo cleared the large twin brick columns and pulled out onto the street. “Okay.”
With a groan, Blue sat up and ran a hand across his hair. “Now are you taking me back to get my car?”
“Not until we settle a few things.” Solo took a left at the light. He was going to go against his number one rule and take Blue to his house. Where else could they go? It wasn’t like they could share a friendly cup of coffee at the local diner. They were from two separate worlds and nothing more than fucking could possibly come out of a night spent together, but he wasn’t willing to go to Blue’s house again. There was something unsettling about the pristine white cottage with its big welcoming front porch. It was a façade. Life wasn’t neat and orderly in Solo’s world. It was bloody and messy, and men like him didn’t get the happily ever after others dreamed of. He wasn’t bitter about his future. Once he’d figured out he enjoyed cock over pussy, he’d accepted his lot in life.
* * * *
Eric stared at the singlewide trailer in front of him. What a dump. No wonder Solo hadn’t wanted to go to his place the first night they met. The shithole was at the end of a small trailer park, only yards away from a busy highway. A single chair sat on the small, crudely made, front porch along with a mini-grill.
“Get out,” Solo said from the open door.
Eric had been so shocked at the sight of the biker’s home he hadn’t noticed Solo getting out of the Nova. Embarrassed by his reaction, he climbed out of the backseat. “Why’re we here?” He stared at the line of trees behind Solo’s trailer. “You planning to kill me and bury me in that stand of trees over there?”
Solo, who was already making his way to the porch, stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t give me any ideas, cop.”
Cop? What happened to Blue? Although Eric was embarrassed to admit it, he’d liked Solo’s nickname. Blue sounded like a pet name. Cop sounded like an insult when issued by the gorgeous biker. He followed Solo up the steps, still smarting. A single recliner, end table, television and lamp were all the furniture in the trailer’s living room. “You must be real popular,” he mumbled in an attempt to hurt Solo. “You’ve got a spot for all your friends to sit.”
The muscles in Solo’s clenched jaws ticked for several moments. “I told you I didn’t get my name from a damn red cup.”
It wasn’t in Eric’s nature to be vindictive, and seeing Solo’s reaction to the comment made him feel like shit. “I’m sorry. Lashing out because my feelings got hurt isn’t like me.” He stared up at Solo. He could get lost in Solo’s masculinity, but he knew it wouldn’t lead anywhere. Better to get back to the reason he’d agreed to talk to Solo. “I have to do my job and find the sonofabitch who put that boy in the hospital.”
“So do I,” Solo said, his gaze raking down Eric’s body. “We may have different ideas of how to deal with the asshole, but we’re essentially on the same side on this one.”
Eric had an idea of how a man like Solo would handle the dealer, and, although, there was a side of him that agreed with Solo’s methods, he couldn’t be a part of them. “Let me do my job, and he’ll be put away for attempted murder among other things.”
Solo leaned against the front door and crossed his arms, drawing Eric’s attention to the tattooed body that had held him only weeks earlier. “If anyone but a Digger picks this guy up, we’ll lose our reputation for keeping the schools clean. I’ve worked too fuckin’ hard to earn that respect to just hand it over.”
“I can’t sit by and let you kill the guy no matter how much the idea appeals to me,” Eric shot back. What the hell was he saying? Solo could use his words against him in a heartbeat if he had a mind to.
Solo stared at Eric for a long time before dipping his chin. “Okay. Here’s how it’s gonna play. If I catch the fucker, I exact my brand of justice before calling you to pick him up and take him in.”
“You won’t kill him?” Eric questioned.
“Not completely.” Solo pulled his T-shirt off over his head. “It’s the only way for us both to get what we need.”
Eric tried to control his body’s reaction to the expanse of Solo’s chest. Black ink decorated Solo’s skin from wrist to pecs on both sides. He wasn’t sure if Solo had more ink under the short dark brown hair that covered his chest, but he was betting there was. Unable to resist the lure, he moved to run his fingers through the coarse curls. “What else do you need?”
In answer, Solo reached down and unfastened his jeans. “Take my boots off,” he ordered.
Eric touched the tip of his tongue to his split lip and tried to rationalize his desire to spend another few hours in Solo’s bed. They’d be working together until they caught the dealer. No way would he be able to see Solo on a regular basis and not keep his hands to himself, so maybe a deal of another kind was in order. “One condition. We enjoy each other until we catch the asshole hurting kids. After that, we go our separate ways.”
Solo narrowed his eyes. “If the club finds out, I’m a dead man, so whatever happens between us, happens in private.”
Eric nodded. He was out at work, but the other cops knowing he was fucking a Grave Diggers biker would kill his reputation and possibly his career. “Agreed,” he said before sinking to his knees.
Solo held his left foot off the rust-colored shag carpet while Eric pulled the boot off along with the sock. They repeated the process with the right foot. Solo pushed his jeans down his muscular thighs. “No kissing. No sucking cock until that lip of yours is healed,” he proclaimed.
Eric got to his feet. “You can blame your boy Rowdy for that.”
The corner of Solo’s mouth quirked up slightly. “Rowdy does love to fight.”
“Yeah, he should. He’s good at it.” Eric gently touched the swelling on his jaw and eye. “Still not sure how I’m going to explain this.”
Solo began to undress Eric, starting with his bloodstained shirt. “You don’t have to explain shit. It’s no one’s business.”
Eric chuckled. “You live in a different world than I do. Most men I know don’t walk around sporting split lips and black eyes, especially cops.”
Solo grunted and unzipped Eric’s jeans while Eric toed off his athletic shoes. “That’s why I don’t live in your world,” Solo replied with disgust in his tone. “Cops are nosy assholes who pry into your business just enough to stir up trouble but never give a fuck about the aftermath they leave behind.”
Eric paused in the process of kicking out of his jeans and underwear. There was a level of hatred and distrust there that needed to be explored further. “You talkin’ from experience?”
Solo walked naked to the small kitchen and retrieved two beers from the refrigerator. �
��I’m going to bed. Join me if you want,” he said before disappearing into the hall.
Eric glanced down at his erection. It would be a shame to waste something like that, so he followed. He’d get an answer to his question but it didn’t have to be immediately. He walked toward the light at the end of the hall. On the way, he passed a bathroom and a bedroom, if you could call it that. The bedroom looked more like a garage with motorcycle parts littering the floor and a bike frame in the middle of the room. It didn’t make sense to him, but a lot of things about Solo didn’t make sense.
Eric entered the bedroom to find Solo sitting on a mattress with his back against the wall. The bed had no blankets, and he briefly wondered how clean the sheets were. The thought of Solo fucking other guys in that bed without changing them didn’t sit well. “I’m not going to catch anything from those, am I?” he asked, pointing to the sheet Solo had kicked to the end of the mattress.
“I don’t fuck here.” Solo took a sip of his beer and held the other out to Eric. “You want this?”
Eric took the bottle as he sat on the edge of the bed beside Solo’s thigh. “If you don’t fuck here, why’d you bring me?”
“Good question.” Solo tipped his beer back and took a swallow. “I only have the one pillow, but you can use it.”
Eric assumed it was the closest he’d get to an invitation, so he stood and moved around to the opposite side of the mattress. He mimicked Solo’s position as he studied the room. Posters of girls and a nudey motorcycle calendar were the extent of Solo’s decorating. “I thought you said you didn’t have pussy at your place.”
Solo glanced at Eric and grinned. “I don’t fuck club pussy, so I have to make it seem as though I get it elsewhere.”
Eric lifted the bottle to his mouth and winced when the hard surface hit the split in his lip. “I know you’re not much into sharing, but why join an MC if you can’t live the way you want?”
It took several minutes, but Solo eventually sighed. “I was already a member when I realized I preferred dick.” He shrugged. “Rowdy, that fucker, talked me into a threesome with him and one of the club girls.”
