Bad Boys for Hire: Ryker (Bad Boys for Hire #1)

by Rachelle Ayala

  “Yes, Mom, you did.” Terri patted her arm. “Let me choose the best roses for you. Make sure to act surprised.”

  “I will, definitely, oh, and while I’m here, let me put in an order for Dr. Fiske. Stella says he’s very forgetful, and we wouldn’t want him to be embarrassed when he forgets to bring flowers on your first date.”

  “Why bother?” Terri huffed. “I’m not going.”

  “Oh, yes, you will. I think a bouquet of orange roses and a teddy bear will do the trick.” She proceeded to tear off an order form and fill it out for the man no one wanted to be fingered by. Ugh. Just the thought of what lay hidden underneath Dr. Fiske’s fingernails was enough to make her see brown.

  Fortunately, her mother hummed a tune, satisfied that she would get a surprise delivery of long stemmed roses in front of her friends. After slobbering purple lipstick on Terri’s cheek and running her motherly fingers through Terri’s hair, her mother exclaimed she was late for a committee meeting and waddled out the front door.

  A low chuckle rolled behind Terri, and she was caught up in Ryker’s arms as he dragged her back behind the curtain.

  “How’d you get here? Did she see you?”

  “Shhh … after I kiss you first.” He caught her lips and melted her with a luscious one.

  Terri felt the tension disintegrate as she softened in Ryker’s arms. He was here with her—still alive, hot, passionate with his heart beating and his blood pulsing through his body. Maybe they would be able to keep their relationship secret while they figured out how to diffuse the parents from both sides.

  She took her time savoring his lips, the firm tang of the stubble across the top and the biting edge of his teeth, combined with the loving rapture of his tongue put her in a state of bliss. She could go on and on just kissing him, running her fingers through his hair and rubbing her full, pendulous breasts against his hard muscular chest.

  But arousal flooded her veins, and wetness pooled between her legs. It had been a long day filling orders, making bouquets, and calling around for supplies. She deserved a reward from the stress that had her chest tight and her throat dry.

  As if reading her mind, Ryker lifted her onto the work bench and spread her legs, parking himself between them.

  “How was your day?” She barely breathed, hoping he had good news about a job he said he was interviewing for.

  “Wonderful,” he replied. “I got a job. Start first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “Squeee!” Terri raised her hand for a high five. “That’s fantastic. Where?”

  “Operations manager for a distribution company. Not a big one, but the owner’s also a veteran, so he understood how all my experience was military and not civilian and that even though I hadn’t had the exact job titles, the skills are transferable.”

  “I’m so happy for you.” She gave him a tight squeeze. “This calls for a celebration.”

  “It sure does, but first, I want to know all about this date with the butt doctor. Where’s he taking you?”

  “Symphony.” Terri sighed. “I’m not going.”

  “You should go,” Ryker said, brushing a kiss on her forehead. “It’ll keep you off the radar while I deal with my dad’s homecoming.”

  Terri’s hairs froze at the mention of Ryker’s father. “What will you do? Do you think he’ll come after me?”

  “Yes and no,” Ryker said, rubbing his nose. “Axe says he might be able to fake your death notice. Too bad your former name’s so uncommon, Terkel, but all we have to do is find a woman around your age who died, and say it’s you.”

  “And he’ll believe it? That easily?”

  “Sure, or even better, we find someone on the missing person’s list. He’s got a friend who’ll claim to have been your boyfriend right before you went missing. All we need is something of yours that will convince my dad that the person who went missing is actually you.”

  “Maybe you can take a lock of my hair?”

  “No, that won’t work, because they’re not exactly going to do DNA tests on it. How about a high school yearbook? Or an elementary school report card or a picture from when you were thirteen?”

  “I have a jacket with Storm Demon patches. It even has my road name on it. How well can we trust this guy?”

  “He’s an actor, and he doesn’t know why he’s playing the role. Axe hired him from Bad Boys for Hire. We’re taking my father to Club Rachelle, and this guy’s going to overhear us talking about Terror Terkel, wondering where he is these days. He’ll happen to be sitting next to us and mention that he used to date you, but unfortunately, you either died or went missing.”

  “It’s better if I died. Otherwise, they’ll keep looking for me,” Terri said, relief flooding over her. “Do you think it’ll work? That this will be over?”

  “If they buy it, yes.” Ryker palmed both sides of her head and stroked her hair. “Then, when they meet you, they won’t suspect a thing. Except you’ll have to keep your parents away from us. That part I haven’t figured out.”

  “That’ll be easy,” Terri snorted. “They don’t want anything to do with people who ride. My mother’s a country club snob.”

  “I heard all about her little trick of having flowers sent to herself.” Ryker shook his head, looking fully amused.

  “Oh, wait. I better get those roses packed and delivered.” Terri glanced at the wall clock. “Tea time’s starting soon.”

  “I can’t believe they take tea time at the club. This isn’t England.”

  “I’m good with whatever’s keeping her occupied. As long as she’s at the club, she isn’t here breathing down my neck.”

  “Good.” Ryker brushed his hands over Terri’s breasts as he wrapped his arms around her from the back. “Why don’t you let me breathe down your neck while you prepare those roses?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Terri held Ryker’s hand as they walked through the lobby of the Evergreen Theater in Redwood City. From the outside, it was a converted warehouse with a coffee shop filled with the sound of coffee grinders and the scent of strong coffee. After leaving the confines of the shop, a hallway crowded with bulletin boards led to a curtained ticket booth behind velvet ropes.

  “Seriously? Romeo and Juliet?” Terri read the letters on the marquee. “I didn’t know you were into Shakespeare.”

  “Where do you think I got the idea of faking your death?” Ryker flashed her a wink.

  “Okay …” Terri scanned the other patrons, many who were wearing leather jackets with the words “Property of” with the road name of their man appended. “Why are there so many biker chicks here?”

  “Popular show, you’ll see.” Ryker grinned and bought a pair of boxed seat tickets. They walked up the narrow stairway and entered a draped room which looked down onto the stage.

  The theatre was small, about the size of a high school lecture hall, and the boxed seats were booths carved from the two corners of the balcony. Instead of individual seats, it was furnished with a loveseat recliner and a small table.

  Ryker drew the curtains and encased them in privacy. “Please, make yourself comfortable while I fetch refreshments. Anything you want? They have sandwiches, chicken fingers, and the usual fast food.”

  “A chicken sandwich and a soda would do.” Terri wiped her hands on her pants, trying to relax. Ryker was acting so formal and strange. It was almost like he was competing with the butt doctor who was taking her to the symphony at Davies Symphony Hall in San Francisco.

  She waited until Ryker had exited the box before she gingerly perched herself on the edge of the plush sofa. She couldn’t help noticing the stage hands working on the sets and all of the ropes and pulleys involved with a production like this. Even more surprising, the windows at the top of the converted warehouse were all open and the nighttime air was clean and fresh.

  A well worn anthology of the complete works of William Shakespeare, including a color picture of the famous playwright, lay on the end table along with a pitcher
of water and two glasses.

  Idly, she flipped to Romeo and Juliet and skimmed over the plot. Everyone knew both Romeo and Juliet died at the end. What she couldn’t recall was how and why?

  Down below, she spied the group of motorcycle chicks sitting in the center in front of the stage. She’d been away from the scene too long to recognize any of them, and they weren’t wearing the name or colors of their club.

  “Hey, put that book away,” Ryker said, carrying a tray laden with sandwiches and sodas. “You don’t want to spoil the show.”

  “Everyone dies, end of story.” Terri patted the sofa for Ryker to sit.

  He arranged the tray on the table. “Maybe, maybe not. This is a remake, sort of like West Side Story, but more up to date.”

  “I’m kind of nervous about all this.” Terri opened a can of soda and took a sip. “Even if your family thinks I’m dead, what’s to stop them from going after my parents?”

  “They don’t know who they are.” Ryker unwrapped a chicken sandwich and handed it to her. “All they really wanted was for your parents to feel the same loss as they felt after Earl was gunned down.”

  “But they think it’s acceptable to kill an innocent person?” She shuddered at what kind of values Ryker was raised with. “It seems over the top.”

  “It is, but it’s the old way, like the Hatfields and McCoys.”

  “Even those two families have become peaceful,” Terri countered. “Their descendants are no longer at each other’s throats.”

  “I know.” Ryker rubbed her back. “We should call it even and quit. My uncle and brother are dead, and your family has deaths from the explosion.”

  “Two uncles and a cousin.” Terri swallowed a dried piece of chicken. It lodged in her throat and she had to wash it down with water. “We have three dead and you have two. Can’t we end this?”

  “I’m trying to.” He kissed the side of her head. “I want nothing more than for peace to settle between our families, but right now, it’s better if my family doesn’t know of your existence.”

  “We can’t be like this forever.” Terri knew she sounded grumpy and spoiled, but the thought of hiding Ryker and enduring dates with the men her mother foisted on her made her stomach turn.

  “I have a plan.” He put his hand on her knee and squeezed.

  “Okay, but I’m not looking forward to Friday and the date with that proctologist.”

  Ryker’s chuckle sizzled between his teeth. “I feel for you. Didn’t I read somewhere that fecal bacteria was being packaged into pills for medication? I’d watch my drink if I were you.”

  “This isn’t funny!” Terri swatted Ryker.

  He captured her wrists and curved her hands around his neck. Bending forward, he laid a smacking kiss on her lips. “Let’s eat and enjoy the show. I think you’ll like it.”

  “I didn’t know you were so cultured and into Shakespeare.”

  “I read a lot.” His eyes twinkled. “I love classics, Shakespeare, Dickens, even some gothic stories like Wilkie Collins and of course Sherlock Holmes. I even toiled through Les Miserables and The Count of Monte Cristo.”

  “Books about revenge, I see.” She let go of him and sank back into the cushions on the couch.

  “Hamlet’s one of my favorites.”

  A slow shudder chilled Terri’s back as she turned from his gaze to scan the people crowding in below. Several biker men had joined the women below. They weren’t showing their colors or patches, either. What was going on down there?

  She turned her attention to her sandwich, but her stomach was too unsettled. Wouldn’t it be the height of revenge if Ryker were to fool her into thinking he cared for her, then trapped her at the Romeo and Juliet play?

  “What’s wrong?” Ryker asked. “Do you like Shakespeare? Maybe I should have asked you.”

  Terri’s heartbeat spiked in her chest, and she sucked in a deep breath. She was being silly, distrusting him. It was all the years of conditioning from her mother against bikers. It was the presence of bikers and their women down in the audience below them.

  “I love literature and plays.” She forced herself to take another bite from the sandwich. “It looks like it’s going to start.”

  Ryker tugged her halfway onto his lap. “Sit back and enjoy.”

  Down below, a motorcycle rumbled as two opposing sets of Harleys were wheeled onto the stage. Terri’s nerves were tingling at the familiar growl of so many bikes. No wonder the skylight windows were wide open above them. She leaned forward and gasped, choking on the air she sucked.

  Her mother and father were sitting in the audience, and her father was actually talking to one of the big, burly men with handlebar mustaches. Meanwhile, her mother chatted with the man’s old lady.

  She shot a glare at Ryker, wondering if he knew who they were.

  But he polished off his food and wiped his lips with a napkin, then kissed her on the temple. “It’s going to be good. You’ll see.”

  Terri couldn’t help the thudding of her heart and the blood thrumming through her veins as the roar of the motorcycles was cut off. Below them, the first scene of Romeo and Juliet started with a gang fight.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Stop it,” Terri tapped Ryker’s shoulder, forcing him to lift his lips from her neck. “It’s getting to the good part.”

  The play was a modern production substituting motorcycle clubs in place of the Capulets and Montagues. Ryker could feel Terri’s anxiety fade as the audience below cheered and clapped during the famous balcony scene.

  Instead of a serenade, there was an electric guitar riff, and Juliet was wearing tight leather pants, stiletto boots, and a low cut tank.

  “You are the good part.” Ryker brushed his thumbs over her breasts, heartened that her nipples were hard and peaked.

  “Why’d you bring me to the play if you keep distracting me?” She sounded like she was complaining, except her voice had a lilting, teasing tone.

  “That’s why we got the box seats.” He claimed her lips, turning her away from the stage.

  She softened under his touch and let out a gentle moan. Their tongues tangled, slippery and soothing, as he deepened the kiss enough to make her rake his back.

  Ryker kept half an ear on the play where the priest was changed into a bartender, and Juliet’s nurse was replaced by her elder sister, a doctor who treated gunshot wounds on the sly for the biker gangs.

  “I do want to know what happens when Juliet pretends she’s dead,” Terri said, cutting out of a kiss and taking a gulp of air.

  “I’m not telling,” Ryker teased. “You’ll have to watch the play.”

  “Except you’re in my face.” She pouted, jutting her lower lip for him to take a nip.

  “Oops, my bad,” Ryker said, sliding his hand down to the waistband of her yoga pants. “I’m kissing the wrong lips.”

  “You’re what?” Terri’s gasp changed into a moan, as Ryker slid down off the couch and dragged her yoga pants and panties down her legs.

  “Be quiet and watch the show.” He propped her higher, lifting her hips with a pillow and ran his tongue over the lush lips between her legs.

  She was already soaking wet with those sweet juices he craved. Now that she was occupied with the play, he could take his time sampling her flesh. He went to work, alternately licking, tickling, and sucking. Her folds were swollen with arousal, but he’d take his time and let her enjoy the show.

  Every time she’d moan a little too loudly, he’d lighten his touch and shush her, vibrating his lips over her sensitive clit. He rolled his finger around her entrance, stimulating her, but not penetrating, no matter how much she jerked her hips.

  “You have to stay quiet,” he mumbled, his mouth over her mound. “Or we’ll be thrown out of the theater.”

  Fortunately, the production was loud with rock music, and the actors below bellowed their lines. The occasional clack of billiards and the thump of boots made the play sound like a clubhouse.

&nb
sp; He concentrated on drilling his tongue in and out of her, heightening her enjoyment. Her fingers tightened on his head and she ground herself against his lips and tongue, her breathing fast and panting as she sought her climax.

  “Ryker, you’re killing me,” she almost shouted while the audience below boo’ed Paris, Juliet’s suitor, who was a lawyer determined to shut down the motorcycle clubs.

  “Shhh …” He blew against her engorged clit, making her quiver with both delight and frustration.

  “I can’t take this anymore,” she said through gritted teeth.

  The noise and raucous shouts of the actors grew louder. One by one, men were killed: first Tybalt slaying Mercutio from the Montague club and then Romeo killing Tybalt, a Capulet.

  The drums beat loud and engines revved, but Ryker didn’t want Terri to see the killings reenacted, so he held her hips down for the feast, driving two fingers into her wet channel. His tongue plundered her hungrily, twisting and stabbing deep, flickering and lapping her cream.

  “What’s going on below?” She struggled to catch her breath. “What’s happening?” Her words vibrated with a deep and sensuous moan.

  He dove deep with his fingers and sucked on her clit, grazing her with the edge of his teeth until she cried out. His fingers pumped inside while his mouth smashed itself to her mound, flinging her higher and higher until she spasmed and pulsed around him. Her thighs tightened like a noose around his neck as she rocked out her climax.

  “Ryker, oh, Ryker.” Her screams were muffled by the melee down on the stage.

  Pride welled up in Ryker’s chest at the way she responded to him and the way she clutched him tight. He moved up to cover her, letting her hug him around the shoulders. Her breasts heaved as she caught her breath and when she opened her eyes, they were glazed with something more than lust, much more.

  She literally had stars in her eyes, and he had put them there.

  “Want more?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  “I don’t know if I can take more, but yes, I’ll always want more of you.”