Striker: No Prisoners MC Book 1

by Lilly Atlas

  She enjoyed the push and pull of her laboring muscles until about three miles in, when she realized she wasn’t on her usual route. Unintentionally, she’d turned down the street where the No Prisoners’ clubhouse and auto garage were located. She’d never been inside the clubhouse, and hadn’t needed any work done on her car since she’d been living in Crystal Rock, so she’d never been on the premises.

  That didn’t prevent her from knowing exactly where it was located, just a few blocks from the small downtown area of Crystal Rock. Everyone in town knew where the clubhouse was. It was a short street with no other businesses or houses on it, but it connected to another road with housing. Well, she was here. What could it hurt to take a little jog past and peek at the building?

  Lila glanced over her shoulder as she crossed the quiet street and noticed a car slowly rolling down the road. It looked an awful lot like the car she’d seen parked in front of her neighbor’s. It was the same unattractive shade of murky green and the license plate was covered in mud and unreadable.

  A nervous flutter in her stomach had her picking up the pace as she ran past the No Prisoners’ clubhouse, all thoughts of scoping the place out gone from her mind. Was the driver following her or was she being paranoid?

  She continued on, turning down a few random streets without a pattern. If the car stayed with her, it would be obvious that it was following her. None of the streets had sidewalks and Lila felt vulnerable and exposed. Every few seconds, she snuck a glance over her shoulder. Sure enough, the car remained with her for every turn. The driver maintained a fair distance, but didn’t really attempt to hide the fact that they were shadowing her.

  The rush of Lila’s blood pounded in her ears, a combination of the exercise and mounting anxiety, and she found herself running at full speed. She forced her legs to slow down, and not give away the fact that she was aware she was being followed. She switched off the music to better listen for the car.

  Suddenly the rumble of an engine grew louder, and she turned in time to see the car barreling down the street straight for her. It swerved at the last second, and shot down the block with the roar of its engine. Lila doubled over gasping for breath as she stared at the retreating taillights.

  It had all happened in an instant; one second they were at the end of the road and in the next, the vehicle had been inches away from her. It was apparent the driver was intent on scaring her. Had they meant to hit her, they would have; she wouldn’t have stood a chance.

  She glanced up from her stooped position, hands on her knees, and watched the car swing a U-turn at the end of the street. Fuck! That first drive-by had been a warning, but was the driver planning to play with her some more, or did they mean to hit her this time?

  Lila spun around and sprinted, pushing her muscles to their maximum capacity. Her legs burned. She forced her muscles to near failure, and her heart slammed against her ribs as she hauled ass along the pavement. Dizziness swamped her, a combination of fear and hyperventilation. She was dying to know how close the car was, but refrained from peeking over her shoulder as fear of losing speed swamped her.

  The clubhouse was within her sights, just around the upcoming corner. Would they help her if she could make it there before being mowed down? It was the only place she knew in this neighborhood, so she had to chance it. Just as she rounded the corner, the revving of an engine overshadowed the roar in her ears, and Lila prayed her legs would hold out until she got to the garage.

  Striker’s thoughts were with the Grimm Brothers as he loosened the cable clutch on a bike and checked out the ball-and-cam gizzer. Sure enough, there was too much pressure, and it needed to be adjusted. Easy fix, and one Striker could do in his sleep, or while his mind was replaying the meeting with Jackal. Nearly a week later, he had an itch at the back of his neck that demanded its due.

  He tightened the locknut and forced himself to think of anything else. The rest of the guys in the garage were conducting a post mortem of last night’s party. Striker went, and had two or three opportunities to take a warm and willing woman up to his room, but something had stopped him.

  Who was he kidding? He knew exactly what had stopped him. For some screwed up reason, every time he thought of fucking a woman this past week, Lila’s face popped into his head. She starred in every fantasy he had while jerking off in the shower, and he felt like a teenager with too many hormones and nowhere to stick his dick.

  “So, you see her?” Jester’s question knocked him out of his own head.

  “See who?”

  “That piece Acer snagged last night.” Jester put down the airbrush he’d been working with and spun on his stool.

  “She was something,” Acer broke in with a grin. “My dick is actually sore today.”

  “Not that we don’t all love hearing about your dick, but that bitch you went home with, that was Brandi, right?” Gumby’s voice floated up from under the hood of an old beater.

  “Yeah, why? You hit that?” Acer asked.

  “I think we’ve all hit that. Good lay, but she is one crazy-ass chick. Broke a mirror in my apartment when I told her to go before the sun came up. Jesus, this engine is practically held together with chewing gum and spit.” Gumby sounded disgusted.

  Striker barked out a laugh. “Gumb, ever think it may just be you?” He knew Brandi. In fact, he’d been on that ride once himself, and while he enjoyed busting Gumby’s balls, the man had a point. That chick was bad news. She’d gone off on him as well when he’d moved on after one night of fun. If she kept that dramatic shit up, the club would have to run her ass off.

  “Wait, why haven’t I seen her around? Shit, can’t believe I’m missing out on some prime pussy.” Jester looked around. “Everyone had a shot at her?” He turned and walked toward the exit of the garage bay muttering something about being left out of the pussy loop. Turning back toward the garage he announced, “I’m going to grab a beer. No one talk about any new broads while I’m gone. I can’t afford to miss out, I’ve got a rep to uphold.”

  The men cracked up, and Jester took a few steps backward out of the garage flipping them the bird with both hands. As he watched, Striker caught sight of a woman sprinting full out, on a direct course for the garage. She threw a quick glance over her shoulder as Jester stepped out of the garage.

  “Whoa there, darlin’.” Jester reached out a hand and steadied the woman who nearly collided with him at full speed. “Stitch?” he queried, his voice full of surprise.

  Lila sank to her knees, hands splayed on the ground in front of her as she sucked in great gulps of air. “Car…followed…shit…need…air.” She was panting so hard she could barely form words.

  “Hey, Doc, I’m not one to discourage a gorgeous woman on her knees at my feet, but you may want to tone it down a notch if you’re not gonna be able to stand at the end of your run. Hey, you okay?” His voice changed from teasing to concerned as Lila started to tremble at his feet.

  Striker wiped his grease-stained hands on his jeans before he walked over and crouched down beside Lila, and placed a hand on her heaving back. Her head dropped forward, and sweat dripped from a long ponytail onto the ground as it dangled over her shoulder. Her entire body heaved, and she gulped in air. Jesus, was something seriously wrong with her? “Lila, what the hell is going on? What are you doing here?”

  After a few moments, her breathing finally calmed enough for her to answer his question. She sat back on her heels, and scrubbed her hands over her sweat-dampened face. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be here.” She paused to take a few breaths. “I was out for my morning run…and noticed a car…on my street.” Still winded, it took a while to get her point across. “After a few miles…I saw it again. Thought it might be tailing me.” She took three deep breaths in a row. It seemed to do the trick and she was able to continue. “I turned down a bunch of streets to see if I could lose it or if it really was following me, and it stayed with me until about three blocks that way.” She gestured with her hand, her breath
ing still audible. “Then it tried to run me down. I was close to here, and it’s the only place I know in this area, so I just ran as fast as possible until I got here.”

  “Fuck! You sure it was gunning for you, and not just a shitty driver?” Striker asked, still on the ground with her.

  “I’m sure. Like I said, he stayed with me despite multiple random turns.”

  “Running, huh? No wonder your ass is so tight, Doc.” Jester bobbed his eyebrows at her.

  Leave it to Jester to spew out a ridiculous comment at such an inappropriate time.

  Lila burst out laughing. “Thanks, Jester, I needed that.”

  “Hey, Striker.” Jester tilted his head toward the street where an old model green Buick with muddy plates was slowly rolling past.

  “That the car, babe?”

  Lila’s head popped up and her eyes went wide. “What? He’s here?” She scrambled to her feet like she was preparing to bolt.

  “Gumby,” he called out. “Follow him. See where the fucker goes.” Gumby sprinted to his bike and shot off after the car that sped up after it passed the clubhouse.

  Striker slid his hands up Lila’s arms to her shoulders, and turned her to face him. “Hey, babe. Lila, look at me.”

  She faced him, and the frightened look in her eyes caused an unfamiliar surge of protectiveness in Striker. He felt a gut-wrenching need to ensure her safety, similar to the night he shielded her from the Grimm Brothers. “There is no fuckin’ way he’d drive in here. Not unless he had a death wish.”

  Jester raised a brow at Striker’s forcefully spoken words. Striker wasn’t usually one to rush to a woman’s defense, but the statement seemed to be what Lila needed to hear.

  Striker watched her gather herself, take a deep breath and nod at him. It was then he noticed what she was wearing, or rather how little she was wearing. He trailed his eyes down her body, and dropped his hands from her damp shoulders, clenching them into fists at his sides. It was either that or reach out and palm her tight ass encased in tiny spandex shorts. On top she wore a neon yellow, stretchy tank top that ended just above her belly button, and left an expanse of creamy skin he wanted to lick. He forced himself to wrench his eyes back up to her face.

  “Let’s go into the clubhouse and get you a drink. Anyone you know have it in for you?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so.” She shook her head as she answered, but a thoughtful look crossed her face.

  Striker placed a hand on her lower back and steered her toward the clubhouse with Jester trailing behind. He enjoyed the feel of her satiny skin under his callused hands. Unable to stop himself, his thumb caressed a circle on her soft flesh, and he heard her emit a small gasp at the intimate contact. When they reached the heavy metal door, he held it open for her.

  “Ladies first.”

  Lila turned. “Jester.” She motioned him forward with a snarky grin.

  Jester hooted out a laugh and slung an arm around Lila’s shoulders. The action pulled her away from Striker, and Jester propelled her through the door. “Girl, you are gonna be some trouble, aren’t you?”

  Striker was glad her sass was coming back so quickly. Seeing her so unnerved had caused a twist of fury in him. He followed them through the door with a shake of his head. Lila was already trouble, just not the kind that Jester was referring to.

  Chapter Eight

  Lila’s eyes took a minute to adjust to the dim lighting after being out in the blinding Arizona sun. She blinked the space into focus, and scanned the room. She never expected to be in here and couldn’t keep her wild curiosity at bay. The main room was large, and her interest was drawn to a well-stocked, carved wooden bar running along the entire left wall. A handful of four-person square tables rested to the right with their chairs flipped on top. The center was open, allowing people to pass through toward the rear of the room.

  A long staircase at the back of the room led to the second level. License plates, street signs, motorcycle prints, and a fair number of pictures of almost naked woman littered the walls, giving the place an eclectic, masculine Americana style. She had to admit it wasn’t what she’d been expecting. In her mind she pictured the place as a dirty, smelly frat house of sorts, and was pleasantly surprised by the cleanliness and order of the clubhouse. She could even get behind the masculine biker decor, except for all the nude women plastered on the walls, but men will be men.

  Jester uncurled his arm from around her shoulders as they reached the bar. “What’s your poison, darlin’?”

  “Oh, um, I’ll just have whatever you have I guess. Isn’t it a little early for a drink?”

  “Nope,” Striker answered. “Rule is, if you’ve nearly been run down before noon, all bets are off.”

  “Hey, prospect, let’s get a couple of Bourbons over here.” Jester rapped a meaty fist against the bar and took a seat next to Lila.

  Striker slid onto the barstool on the opposite side of Lila. “Make it three.”

  She twisted on her seat to get a better look at Striker. God, he was hot. He wore a plain, dark gray T-shirt that stretched across his wide chest and muscular arms. Slightly dirty from working on motorcycles in the garage, it only enhanced his manly appeal. She hoped the prospect would bring the drinks soon so she had something to occupy her hands. Otherwise she was likely to reach out and stroke them over Striker’s sinewy body.

  “You all right, Lila?” Striker asked.

  Lila blew out a breath. Her hands still trembled, but at least she could breathe and speak now. “I think so. God, I’ve never been that scared. For a few minutes I thought he’d catch me.” Resigned to the fact that lightning didn’t strike twice in one place, she decided to be forthright with them. “I received a disturbing text message last weekend, after I got home Sunday night from…you know.”

  Striker’s attention was fully focused on her. “It’s fine, babe. You’re okay to speak freely in here.”

  “Right. Well then, after I helped with Kenny Sunday night, immediately after, before I even got in my house, I received a text. I dismissed it as a harmless prank, but after today I’m not so sure.”

  “What’d it say?” His voice had dropped to a menacingly low tone.

  “It said, ‘Really, doctor? Spending your free time with the No Prisoners?’” She didn’t bother to check her phone for accuracy. The veiled threat was burned into her brain.

  “Shit, Stitch! You should have said something right away.” Jester frowned at her from the barstool on her other side.

  Lila swung her gaze in Jester’s direction. “I figured it was just someone being an ass.”

  She caught Jester and Striker exchanging a look. “What? What are you thinking?”

  “You should have told me, Lila. We could have checked it out.” Striker shook his head. His lips pressed into a thin line.

  “I didn’t realize the MC did much in the way of personal security work,” she shot back. She took a sip of her bourbon. They were right, but the fact that they scolded her made her feel embarrassed and had frustration tightening her stomach.

  Jester chuckled. “That we don’t, Doc. We do, however, take care of our own, and we owe you one. Not to mention this threat seems to be a direct result of you helping us out.”

  “Jester, can you go brief Shiv on all this shit?”

  “Who?” She looked between the men.

  “He’s the club’s president,” Striker told her.

  Once he said that, the name rang a bell. If rumors were to be believed, his nickname came about after he survived a prison stabbing meant to end his life.

  Before Jester could respond, Lila’s phone chimed. Striker’s hands brushed the bare skin of her bicep as he slipped the phone out of the band on her arm, and handed it to her. The now familiar tremor of arousal that began under his fingertip traveled straight to her core. She peered down at the screen, and didn’t bother to disguise the gasp of surprise that escaped. “Shit.” Her stomach sank and her blood chilled in her veins.

  Strike
r plucked the phone from her unsteady fingers, and frowned at the screen. She watched his face harden as he read the text. Scared, doctor? I see you ran right to the No Prisoners, literally. He tossed the phone to Jester who read it, abruptly turned, and strode with purpose toward a set of double doors at the back of the room.

  “Listen, Lila, I shouldn’t say anything to you, but I know you can keep your mouth shut, and you appear to be ass-deep in this, so I’m gonna give it to you straight. There’s a high chance this is the Grimm Brothers.”

  His admission worsened her distress. “The MC from last week in the ER?”

  He nodded, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “We’re trying to sort our shit out with their president, but something’s going on in that club. It’s starting to get ugly, as you can guess, since you witnessed what happened to Kenny. We’re handling it, but it’s going to take some time. They saw you last Friday. Noticed me jump in to shield you, and screwing with you may be one more way of fucking with us. If it is the Grimm Brothers, you’re not safe. You’re going to need some protection. The kind of protection only the club can provide, you get me?”

  “Let me guess, that means no cops?”

  “No cops.” He nodded, and trailed a hand up her arm. Warmth followed the movement, and continued through her body even when his hand settled, strong and sure on her shoulder.

  “But wouldn’t it be better just to let the cops handle it? Then you can stay uninvolved.”

  He shrugged. “Doesn’t work that way. It’s not how the club handles things. We’re already involved. The police would initiate an investigation into every aspect of the club, and we can’t allow that.”