Hot as Hades (Four Horsemen MC Book 2)

by Rayne, Cynthia

  Daisy: I’d love a couple. Thanks. Coffee, too?

  Cowboy: You got it. See you in a few.

  She stumbled to the bathroom, washed her face, brushed her teeth, took a couple of aspirin, and put on a fresh shirt. After sitting on the edge of the bed, she gathered her hair into a pony tail, but hissed as a tender spot between her shoulder blades ached.

  What the hell?

  Daisy flipped on the bathroom light, lifted her shirt up, and swiveled to the right, trying to see in the mirror. She couldn’t find anything on her back at all, so what had stung? Had she somehow injured herself last night? She reached up and managed to brush the place with her fingertips. Nothing.

  Maybe she’d slept funny?

  Shrugging, she finished putting her hair up and then stared at the cosmetic bag on the counter. She’d never been a particularly girly girl, but she’d forced herself to do the glam thing for the stripper job. Makeup wasn’t a normal part of her morning routine and she’d pretty much gotten used to using a little moisturizer and not much else.

  She debated whether or not she could do with a little touch up. She shook her head, eyeing herself in the mirror. Dark circles had formed under eyes from last night’s bender, and still didn’t look quite awake. She reached for the powder and gave herself a quick coat of it, then slicked her lips with gloss.

  When did I start giving a crap about looking good for a guy? We’re only having breakfast, this isn’t a date.

  But it sure as hell felt like a date.

  Fifteen minutes later, she opened the door to see Cowboy standing there in Western wear. He wore a retro black and white shirt, a tight pair of Levis, and black cowboy boots, tipped with silver. A black and silver Stetson perched on his head.

  “Mornin’, Wildcat,” he said, raising a brow. “You got a hangover from last night?”

  “Little bit,” she admitted. “I swear won’t be having moonshine again anytime soon.” Thankfully, he hadn’t mentioned the way she’d come on to him last night.

  He laughed. “So they all say.” He set the white pastry box on the table by the window. He also had two large cups of coffee in a carrier and the java smelled good.

  Cowboy laid everything out on napkins. The cut the biscuits in half, buttered each side and then slathered them with honey from plastic packets. She could seriously get used to biscuit breakfasts.

  “These are really good,” she said, smiling at him.

  “Watch yourself on the biscuits, these things are addictive. After my wife got pregnant, I used to bring her a couple every day after work.”

  Her mouth fell open. She strolled right past the pregnancy/child issue and got to the cheating bastard part. “Hold up. You’re married?”

  His face grew shuttered. She wondered if learning to not show emotion was part of Horsemen prospect training. “Was married,” he clarified. “I’m not anymore.”

  She didn’t know what to make of his statement or the wave of relief that spread over her body. Other than not wanting to be perceived as the other woman, why the hell should she care if he’d been married or not?

  But Cowboy seemed troubled and she got the distinct feeling he hadn’t intended to confide in her. She should probably back off and wait for him to offer up info, but her curiosity wouldn’t be denied. “Who were you married to?” she asked.

  “Melissa, my high school sweetheart.”

  “Tell me about her.”

  He leaned back in his chair, and told her the story, without meeting her eyes, like he read aloud from a newspaper article, flat and emotionless.

  “Melissa and I met our junior year of high school and we got married right after graduation. We ended up settling in Hell. She and I had this really shitty little apartment we could barely afford, but we were happy. I worked at a refinery and she got a job as a secretary for the car dealership the next town over.”

  “What happened?” She had an awful feeling from his demeanor this story didn’t end in divorce. It had to be something much worse.

  He gripped the cross around his neck, smoothing his fingers over it. Finally, he spoke. “It’s a long story, Wildcat. Let’s save it for another day.”

  “I’m sorry I pried.”

  “Don’t be. You were just curious.” He cleared his throat.

  She bit her lip, thinking she should offer up a personal story to share, since he’d opened up to her. “I told you my mother died, but I didn’t tell you much about her. Her name was Sunny, short for Sunflower. She said her parents were hippies,” Daisy offered with a shrug.

  He smiled. “That’s how you and Rose got your names.”

  She nodded. “Anyway, I guess after my dad left her, she had a lot of debt. She never graduated from high school, and got fired from a lot of jobs. It was hard for her to find legit employment. And she met this guy, Roger, and fell hard for him.” She took a ragged breath. “She decided to become a prostitute, not even the kind in a whorehouse. My mom worked on the streets.” She could barely get the words out. She hated to think of her mother being forced to earn money selling her body.

  “Damn,” Cowboy said, his face falling.

  “She did the best she could do,” she said quickly. “I know she loved Rose and me, but she made some bad choices.”

  “The guy she fell for, he became her pimp?” he guessed.

  Daisy dipped her head. “Yeah, and I think he might be Rose’s dad, but my mom never said for sure.”

  “What happened to her?” he asked.

  “They found her body dumped in a field. She died of an overdose.” She sucked in a breath.

  “Did they find out who did it?”

  “No, but I don’t think the cops gave it a lot of effort, figured she was just another junkie hooker,” she said bitterly.

  “And that’s when you and your sister went into the foster care system?”

  She nodded. “My mom didn’t have a relationship with her parents, and they didn’t want custody. They didn’t even ask for visitation,” she said bitterly. “Roger never claimed Rose, and my father signed away his rights to me. So, it was just me and Rose, against the world.” She sighed. “I’m worried its happening to my sister now, Cowboy.”

  “You think she’s at the brothel?”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.” Tears threatened to fall, and she blinked them away. “I keep thinking I’m going to lose her, the way I lost my mom.”

  “No, you won’t,” he promised. “We won’t let it happen again.” Cowboy reached for her hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

  Daisy just hoped he was right.

  Chapter Twelve

  After she finished having breakfast with Cowboy, ran errands, and did some chores, she’d gotten ready for work.

  When it was time to go, she snuck in the backdoor of the Palace and quietly made her way past the manager’s office. Junior seemed to be preoccupied. She’d heard him cursing at someone and didn’t stick around to find out who, just tiptoed past the room and kept a low profile since.

  Cowboy sat in the corner of the room again. A brunette on stage stripped down to an orange and black thong, and twirled on the pole to Eye of the Tiger while drunken bikers watched. Again, the place was packed. Unfortunately, Unlucky had come back with a group of cronies but another waitress had gotten saddled with the table.

  As she picked up two rounds of Jack from the bar, someone tapped her shoulder and nearly caused her to dump the alcohol on the floor. She set the tray down, placing a hand to her chest to quiet her galloping heart. She turned to see suit guy from the other night, Kent.

  “Sorry for surprising you,” he said with a grin.

  “It’s okay. I’m lost in my thoughts I guess. Can I get you something?”

  His lips curved. “Actually, I came over to ask you the very same question. Will you have a drink with me this evening?”

  She thought about it for a moment. He hadn’t made any moves on her and he had always been polite. She didn’t see the harm in having a drink with him in a pub
lic place. Besides, she wanted to satisfy her curiosity, see how he fit into the situation.

  “I’d love to. I should be done in a couple of hours.”

  “Perfect. I know just the place.” He glanced at the Rolex on his wrist. “I’ll collect you in exactly two hours. You can follow me in your own vehicle,” he said.

  Collect her? What an odd turn of phrase. But she nodded. “Sounds like a good plan.”

  “Excellent. I will see you soon.” He walked to the other side of the club and pulled a journal from his briefcase. One of the bikers joined him at the table and they seemed to be engaged in a deep conversation. Odd.

  The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Things had been busy, but easy enough until about ten minutes before her shift ended. A biker two tables over crooked a finger in her direction and she reluctantly went over to take the drink order.

  He had a red handkerchief wrapped around his head, and a Fu Manchu mustache. Tattoos of naked women encircled each his arms and he had a wicked-looking knife strapped to his right thigh. He grabbed her, set her down on his lap, facing him.

  “Why aren’t you up on the pole, sweets? A body like yours should be shown off,” the biker said.

  Sweets?

  “Thanks. You’ll have to catch my act another night.” She tried to keep her body language open and receptive to any advance he wanted to make. Hard to do, when you were irritated. “Can I get you somethin’ to drink, honey?” she said coyly.

  She’d found being playful and bubbly put men at ease. The hard-edged approach with Unlucky had blown up in her face. The new strategy seemed to be working.

  “Nope, I’m good.” He placed a hand on her stomach.

  While the waitress uniform wasn’t exactly conservative, it thankfully concealed more than her stripperwear. Though, she still felt nearly naked. She shifted uncomfortably and his hold on her hips tightened.

  “You are new here, huh?” he asked.

  “Yep. What’s your name?”

  “Woody,” he replied, as he ran a hand along the line of pink lace of her underwear, peeking over the top of her short shorts. “Mmm, sweets, those are sexy panties.”

  “So, um, since I’m new, I thought you could fill me in a little,” she said. There’s a lot I don’t know and you seem like a man who could teach me.” She kept her eyes wide and trusting.

  He seemed flattered, his lips curving into a smile. “Sure thing. Fire away.”

  Cowboy said she could be coy as long as she acted respectful. She glanced over Woody’s shoulder and saw him nod to her, letting her know he kept an eye on the situation. Though, he had a very grim expression.

  She turned her attention back to Woody. “I love working here, but I got some bills to pay. What if a girl like me wanted to make some extra money? Like on the side or something?”

  “You can always do lap dances. Some of the girls even sell nudie pictures of themselves to the guys.” He paused, as though considering her question, but continued to pet her. He squeezed her ass, and edged the tips of his fingers into the waistband of her shorts.

  She let him. For now.

  “Anything else?”

  He gave a rough, dirty chuckle. “One military dude apparently buys worn panties if you are really strapped for cash.”

  She grinned at him. “Fantastic!” she said, doing her best to be cheerful. “But are there any, you know, other opportunities?”

  Woody cocked his head to the side. “What kind of work did you have in mind, sweets?’

  “Oh anything!” She giggled. “I love my job here and I really enjoy making the men happy, but I only do part of it. Sometimes, they need more, if you know what I mean,” she said, eyes widening. “They need—”

  “To fuck you? I can relate.” He shifted in his seat, pushing his erection up against her bottom. Yuck. “You’re an eager little thing, aren’t you?”

  She licked her lips, porn-star style. “Yes, very eager.”

  “You know. There might be other business prospects. There’s this house, a few miles away.”

  The whorehouse?!

  “Oh?” she asked, running a hand down his chest, trying not to appear too excited.

  “It’s nothin’ special, mostly over the border pussy, junkie trash. But all of them are fuckable. A pretty little thing like you would earn some serious bank there.”

  “Really? Where is it?”

  That was the fucking million dollar question. She held her breath, hoping he’d spill it. Please, for the love of God, tell me…

  “If you do a good job taking care of me, I’ll share a little more.” He took her hand, pressed it against his crotch. “Show me how much you like cock.”

  Daisy hesitated a second, feeling his erection twitch against her palm. Peering around the biker, she saw Cowboy get to his feet, his eyes blazing with anger. Woody propelled her backwards, off his lap, his hands reaching for the button on her shorts.

  She froze. Could she actually do this?

  Now faced with the decision, she didn’t know if she could go through with it. Sure, she’d fooled around like crazy in the military, so she didn’t have any issues about screwing around with some random guy she’d just met. It had been empty, meaningless sex, but it had always been her choice, mutual satisfaction with men she found attractive.

  This time she’d be getting info from Woody and she didn’t feel the slightest attraction to him. Could she screw this guy, in front of an audience no less, in order to get information?

  What if other men joined in?

  She didn’t know what to do. Woody impatiently undid the zipper of her shorts, and started to shove them down her hips, when Cowboy walked by, beer in hand and sloshed it on Woody’s arm. Deliberately, from what she could tell.

  “What the fuck man?” Woody jumped to his feet. He was about a half a foot shorter than Cowboy and not as built, but he pushed at Cowboy’s chest, acting like a tough guy and trying to drive him backward.

  “Hey, man. No offense!” Cowboy backed away. “I tripped. It was an accident.”

  He had just taken huge risk.

  What if the guy interpreted it as deliberate disrespect? She scanned the room, her frown deepening. Raptors at other tables glanced over, curious. Woody had a room full of backup, if he decided to start some shit. While Cowboy could hold his own, she didn’t see him winning against a twenty or thirty other men, even with her help.

  “Let me buy you a couple shots and pay for your shirt to get cleaned,” Cowboy said smoothly as he removed his wallet.

  Woody didn’t answer at first and Daisy swallowed thickly.

  After what felt like hours, the other biker finally nodded in agreement. “Okay, man.” They both headed to the bar together.

  The tension in the room seemed to evaporate and she nearly collapsed in Woody’s vacated chair. Instead, she used the diversion to escape out the back door. She leaned against the wall, sucking in air. She tried to sort through her muddled emotions – relief that Cowboy had intervened, frustrated because she’d just chickened out, and scared. Knee-wobbling scared and that tripped her up. She had been in so many dicey situations the last few years; it took a hell of a lot to faze her.

  But she hadn’t been worried for herself.

  What if something had happened to Cowboy? She’d been terrified the Raptors would jump him and she couldn’t have done anything about it. With those kinds of odds, neither one of them would have made it out of the place alive.

  And now, she worried about her own reaction. What did it mean? She usually kept people, particularly men at a distance. Caring meant you could get hurt. Caring always led to pain, and she couldn’t take anymore. She’d had more than her fair share. She shoved the tenderness for him away. She couldn’t afford to be weak, not now.

  She glanced up to see Cowboy stalking towards her. She had a feeling she was about to get an earful. They were alone and the raucous music inside would obliterate anything they said.

  He gripped her shoulders. “That was
reckless. He could have raped you!”

  She slapped his hands away. “He basically admitted they ran a brothel. If I’d gotten him off, he would have given me the information.”

  He looked her in the eye. “You might have gotten a lead, but would it be worth the cost? He’d have fucked you in a room full of men wanting to do the same damn thing. What if they’d lined up to use you, could you handle that?”

  She shuddered and a wave of guilt rushed over her. “I should have let him. I almost got the information we needed.”

  “I see. So, what? You were going to do a little floor show? No big deal?”

  “I’ll do what I have to,” she said quietly. He acted like she wanted to screw some random biker. “Now, we know for sure there’s a brothel, all we need is a location. When the opportunity presents itself once more, I’ll take it.”

  He stared at her, his lip curling.

  The silence stretched between them, but she swore to God, she wouldn’t be the first one who spoke. After all, he’d been the unreasonable one. She had followed the plan. Her calculated risk had worked out pretty freaking well. Maybe he should give her a little credit?

  He slumped against the wall, next to her, crossed his arms over his chest. “You need to be more careful.”

  “I am careful, but I can handle myself. I’m not somebody’s wife or girlfriend. There are no damsels here, Cowboy!”

  He snorted. “Believe me; I’m very fucking aware you aren’t my wife or girlfriend.” He stood up again, chin jutting, arms crossed over his muscled chest. “Do you think you’re invincible? That you have everything under control and nothing bad could ever happen?”

  “Three tours.” She held up three fingers. “You don’t need to tell me bad shit happens. I survived three tours in Afghanistan and I didn’t die, but a lot of people in my unit lost limbs to roadside bombs, or had brain damage from the reverb when IEDs exploded. I know all about consequences.”

  She’d managed to skate away with only some low level PTSD. Big fucking deal. Sure, she couldn’t sleep at times and she felt like ripping people’s faces off now and then. She’d gotten off light, but she knew others who’d paid a much higher price. Daisy didn’t take that for granted. She knew life could be precarious.