Biker's Bride: A Bad Boy Romance (Demons MC)

by B. B. Hamel

  And I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing, either. Did I really think marrying her was the best thing? Maybe, maybe not. It would make my claim real, put her under my protection seriously. But I didn’t want a wife, didn’t want a ball and chain dragging me down. I needed freedom, the road stretched out ahead of me, violence and pussy.

  Still, there was something about her. Maybe it was our past, or maybe I just wanted to finally fuck her. Maybe if I got into that sweet pussy of hers, I’d get over whatever was driving me to want to be around her, to keep her safe.

  The whole damn situation was fucked. I could handle some pissed-off bikers, drug deals, whatever. I could smash skulls and ride with the best of them. But when it came to Caralee, I was like a fucking idiot.

  We went back into the club and I sat her ass down at an empty table.

  “Stay here,” I said. “Don’t make any fucking trouble.”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  I shrugged. “Drink. Look at your phone. I don’t care.”

  “What about you?”

  “I got some business to attend to.”

  She shrugged, looking away. “Fine. Do whatever you want. But stop treating me like some dog. I don’t just come on command.”

  I grinned at her. “I think I could make you come on command, girl.”

  She gaped at me. “That’s never going to happen.”

  “Please,” I said. “I can practically smell how fucking wet you are whenever I’m around.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Pretend all you want, but I know you want me to take you back to my cabin and lick that tight cunt until you scream my name.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I think I’d rather take my chances with the killers.”

  “We’ll see about that,” I said, laughing as I went to talk to the guys.

  I glanced back at her and caught her staring in that hungry way I’d noticed.

  I could tell what she was thinking. Right in that moment, she was wondering if what I’d said was true. If I really could make her come again and again. She wanted to know what it would be like to fuck a real badass biker, to get fucked by a real man.

  I’d show her soon enough. That was probably a bad idea, but I didn’t give a fuck. When I wanted something, I took it.

  And I wanted Caralee, wanted her fucking bad.

  Chapter Eleven: Caralee

  I watched Ford walk away, resentment and anger running through my pulse.

  I knew running away had been stupid. I had known I wasn’t going to get far. But after that conversation with Larkin, I had just felt so powerless, so pathetic. I was going to marry Ford whether I liked it or not, like I was just some piece of cattle.

  But it was more than that. I knew Ford was trying to protect me, but I had no clue why. He had disappeared from my life all those years ago, even though I had been ready to try to give myself to him. Sure, my dad was a cop, but that didn’t seem to really matter.

  I wanted to show him that I still had control over my own life, that I wasn’t just his piece of property. Yeah, maybe he had claimed me, and maybe that meant something important to his crazy biker friends, but it didn’t mean a damn thing to me.

  But the image of Rod getting shot kept coming back to me. Every time Ford pushed me too far, frustrated me, I remembered Rod’s dead body staring up at the sky, his eyes empty, seeing nothing. That had happened, genuinely happened, even if it seemed so surreal and crazy.

  I really was in danger. I didn’t want to admit it, but I knew that it was true.

  I watched Ford wade his way through the crowd and stop by the bar, talking to some guys. He was so damn arrogant, so damn cocky.

  And yet there was something about him. That something that I felt so many years ago was still there, maybe even stronger than ever. His tattoos, his cocky grin, his dangerous attitude, it all made me squirm in the best way. I hated that he had been right when he’d said I was soaking wet around him. I couldn’t help myself, and I hated that I could barely control that feeling.

  As I watched Ford, I didn’t even notice a person sit down in the stool next to me.

  “Good looking, isn’t he?”

  I looked over, a little surprised. It was the blond girl from the night before, smiling at me.

  “Uh, who?” I asked.

  “Ford,” she said. “He’s pretty damn hot. You’re a lucky girl.”

  I frowned at her. “I don’t feel lucky.”

  She laughed. “I know. They can seem pretty intense sometimes, right?”

  “They’re making me marry him. So yeah, pretty intense.”

  She smiled again at me. “I know, sweetie. It’s weird as heck, but I think they really are looking out for you.” She paused. “My name’s Janine.”

  “Caralee,” I said.

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  “Is this normal? Do they usually just marry girls off like this?”

  She laughed again. “Hell no. Usually we have to work way harder to be an old lady, you know.”

  “Old lady?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “It’s what they call their wife or serious girlfriend, I guess.”

  “I have a lot to learn.”

  “You will though,” she said. “Just remember that they’re still men. They think with their dicks most of the time, and that’s to your benefit.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her. “What, I should sleep with Ford to make him happy?”

  “Not what I said. But if that helped your situation, why not?” She grinned and looked at him. “Not like you’d be making such a big sacrifice.”

  I looked over at him and frowned. I definitely was not going to have sex with him just because it might make my life easier. But Janine was absolutely right about one thing: Ford was absolutely hot as hell. Muscular, cocky, attractive, he stood out from the other guys.

  “What’s his deal, anyway?” I asked her.

  “Ford is Ford,” she said. “Nice enough guy, I guess. Bit of a slut, though. Gets around.”

  I frowned at that. I didn’t like the idea of him getting around, whatever that really meant.

  “He have, you know, an old lady?”

  She laughed, shaking her head. “Girl, I’ve never, ever seen Ford be with someone for more than one night. Him marrying you is like the biggest deal imaginable.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. I don’t know what you did to him to make him want to protect you so bad, but Ford marrying you is like a shark walking around on dry land.” She shrugged, smiling. “Just doesn’t make sense, you know?”

  I nodded, barely understanding. But I was beginning to realize that I didn’t know anything about him, as much as I thought I did. Sure, he’d been something of a manwhore back in high school, but that had been so many years ago. He’d gone through so much, had turned into a man, but I kept thinking of him as the boy across the street.

  That was probably a mistake. I needed to remember that Ford was something else now, badass and scary. But also apparently willing to go out of his way to keep me safe.

  What had I done to deserve that? And why would he sacrifice so much for it?

  “Anyway,” Janine said, “you’ll be fine. Just keep an eye out for the other girls. Some of them can be pretty jealous.”

  “Are there a lot?”

  She shrugged. “A few of us hang around here, trying to bag one of these assholes.”

  “Who are you interested in?”

  She smiled shyly and nodded at the big man from the night before, the one she had been sitting with. “Clutch. I don’t know, there’s something about big men, you know?”

  “Sure, I know.”

  I looked at her and really tried to see her. Janine had brown eyes and blond hair, going darker at the roots. She wore a low-cut black top and black denim jeans with cowboy boots. She was pretty and young, probably my age, but she looked more serious somehow, like she’d seen a thing or two. I’d totally overlooked
her the night before, but she was being really nice to me. I didn’t know why I deserved it, since apparently I was throwing the club into chaos, but I appreciated it beyond belief.

  I found myself feeling incredibly grateful toward her. If she hadn’t walked over, I would have been sitting there alone, stewing in my anger.

  Instead, Janine had gone out of her way to try to make me feel comfortable. I realized I was probably being rude, but she was still trying anyway.

  “Thanks,” I said to her, trying to smile. “I really appreciate your help.”

  “Hey, no problem,” she said. “Just trying to help a girl out, you know? Wish someone had said this shit to me when I first came here.”

  “What else should I know?”

  She leaned back in her chair. “Well, Larkin is boss, so do what he says. And if the boys say something is club business, that means you better stop asking questions.” She shrugged. “For the most part, if you keep your mouth shut and smile, the guys will treat you like you don’t exist.”

  “Sounds pretty bad.”

  “It’s good, actually. Better than them trying to fuck you all the time.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, okay. I can see that.”

  Before she could speak, a young man suddenly pushed in through the clubhouse door. Everyone’s eyes were suddenly on him as he walked across the floor toward the back room.

  Clutch, Spoil, and Ford all stepped up to him before he could get there.

  “You lost, son?”

  It took me a second to realize that the young man was wearing the same patch on his jacket as Rod had.

  “That’s a Rebel,” Janine whispered.

  “I recognized the patch,” I said.

  “Got a message for your boss,” he said.

  “You can give it to me,” Ford answered.

  “Got to give it right to him.”

  Clutch stepped up, cracking his knuckles. “I think you’re confused,” he said. “You’re in our clubhouse. You do what we say in here.”

  He took half a step back. Clutch was easily five inches taller than he was.

  “Orders,” he said.

  “You can order my fucking fist in your mouth,” he said. The boys cackled.

  “Enough,” Larkin said from behind them. “Let him through.”

  Looking relieved, Clutch stepped aside as the Rebel walked through. They disappeared into the back room.

  “What’s happening?” I asked Janine.

  She shrugged. “Club business.”

  “My friend was in that club, the Rebels.”

  “Well then. My guess is this has something to do with you.”

  I stared over at Ford, and he simply nodded back before returning to talking to the guys.

  My guts were a mess of worry and confusion. Janine continued talking about the club, pointing out guys and naming them, but I could barely follow. I kept thinking about Rod, his body getting filled with bullets, and the blood spreading into the dirt.

  The kid was in there for what felt like an hour. Finally, the door to the back room opened and he quickly walked out. He crossed the room and pushed through the door, leaving as fast as he could.

  Larkin was right behind him. “Got a meeting,” he said. “Ford, Spoil, Clutch, you’re with me.”

  The four men walked across the clubhouse. Ford caught my eye. “Stay here,” he said. “I’ll be back.

  “I’ll take good care of her,” Janine said, smiling.

  I stood up. “Wait,” I said. “Hold on. I should come.”

  The men stopped and stared at me. “This is club business,” Larkin said. “You stay.”

  “I can help. I saw what happened.”

  “He said you stay,” Ford said. “Club business.”

  “So that means I just shut my mouth and do whatever you say?”

  Larkin gave Ford a look. Ford stepped up to me. “Caralee,” Ford said softly, “please stay here. Talk with Janine. We’ll be back.”

  “Fine,” I said, “but don’t keep me in the dark.”

  “I won’t.” He gave me one last look and then turned, and the four men disappeared outside.

  I sat back down at the table, my head a mess of confusion and anger.

  “That was ballsy,” Janine said. “I thought Larkin was going to slap you down.”

  I gave her a sharp look. “He wouldn’t.”

  Janine laughed again. “You don’t know Larkin.” She paused, grinning. “Welcome to the Demons MC, sweetie.”

  I stared at the door, wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into.

  Chapter Twelve: Ford

  We rolled out in formation, heading west of Austin. The Rebels had their clubhouse there, a little piece of shit, hole-in-the-wall bar in the middle of their tiny territory.

  We’d been on decent terms with the Rebel MC for a few years. Back when we were slowly expanding our territory and eating up the other local clubs, the Rebels had been our only ally in the fight.

  But since then, the relationship had soured. They had begun competing with us, importing cheap weapons from China and even cheaper drugs from South America. We were doing the same thing, and making way more money, but they were beginning to cut into our bottom line.

  The only reason they hadn’t been destroyed yet was because they had helped us back in the day. Their current leader was a former member of our own club. He had defected during the war and violently taken over the Rebel leadership. Rumor was that he had backing from Larkin and the Demons MC, but I didn’t think that was true. From what I knew, Larkin fucking hated Jetter, but maybe that was just a front.

  Anyway, we may have been violent bikers, but we had a sense of loyalty. And so we let the Rebels have their little piece of territory, so long as they didn’t try to push any farther into ours. True, Jetter was a traitor, but he wasn’t a little punk bitch.

  That shit worked, more or less. There were some minor border skirmishes now and then, but nothing that couldn’t be solved.

  Larkin clearly didn’t trust the Rebel motives for this meeting. Clutch and Spoil were our best-known enforcers, though I’d been known to murder a piece of shit or two in my time. They were coming along for backup, and I was coming along to speak for Caralee. I had no clue what the Rebels wanted, but I assumed it had something to do with their corpse.

  Even if your dead guy was a low-level fucker like that guy Rod probably was, you still couldn’t let violence like that stand. As soon as other clubs thought they could kill your guys whenever they wanted, you’d be neck-deep in a fucking territory war. Strong clubs stayed strong by showing strength.

  We pulled up outside the Rebel Lounge, their little clubhouse. We climbed off the bikes and headed toward the entrance.

  It was pretty empty inside. Sitting at the bar were four men: three I didn’t recognize and Jetter, their leader. He stood up as soon as we walked in.

  “Boys,” he said, smiling. “Good to see you, Larkin.”

  “Jetter,” Larkin grunted. “What’s this meeting about?”

  He laughed. “Right to business as always, Larkin.”

  We stood in front of them, Clutch and Spoil looking menacing. The three other guys with Jetter were all probably enforcers themselves. Two of them were big, tattooed, and muscular, pretty much the spitting image of Clutch and Spoil. The third guy, though, was shorter, maybe only five feet four, and bald. He had a crazy look in his eyes, and I suspected he was the one to be afraid of.

  “Have a drink first,” Jetter said. He looked at the bartender. “Four whiskies for our guests.”

  The bartender nodded, pouring the drinks.

  “We’re not here to be social,” Larkin said. “Business is business.”

  “Why so stiff?” Jetter asked. “Got something to hide?”

  Larkin grunted. “We don’t have to hide shit from a bunch of gnats like you.”

  Jetter just smiled and handed us our drinks. Once we were all holding them, he held up his own. “To our special relationship.”

&n
bsp; He drank back his whisky. We didn’t drink.

  “Enough,” Larkin said. “What do you want?”

  Jetter nodded. “Okay, okay.” He sat back down, leaning against the bar. “We had a boy killed last night during a little drug deal. I was hoping you might know something about it.”

  “We weren’t involved,” Larkin said.

  “I figured you weren’t. The deal was with the Snake Spits. I didn’t think you’d go up against them.”

  “Why are you selling to them?” Larkin asked.

  “Trying to start up a new business relationship,” Jetter answered. “You know how it is. But still, I had wondered if you guys weren’t involved somehow.”

  “Maybe you should be looking at the fucking Snakes before coming to us,” Larkin said.

  Things were beginning to feel tense. Jetter held up his hands, a conciliatory gesture. “I hear you, Larkin.” He put his hands back down. “Word is, there’s a girl involved in all this.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “How did you know about that?” I asked.

  Larkin gave me a look. I shouldn’t have spoken out of turn, but fuck that.

  “Ford,” Jetter said. “Good to see you.”

  “How do you know about the girl?” I repeated.

  “As your leader here said, we did in fact speak with the Snakes. They said they found the boy dead when they arrived, and they found her I.D. card in his riding bag.” He shrugged, smiling. “We put two and two together.”

  “Why do you think we have anything to do with the girl?” Larkin asked.

  “Frankly, I was going to ask for your help in finding her,” he said, smiling. “But our messenger fucking saw her sitting in your damn clubhouse earlier today.”

  Larkin grunted at that. “Okay. We got the girl.”

  “What’s the fucking deal, Larkin?” Jetter said, losing his genial way of speaking. There was an edge to him.

  Jetter was a funny, smiling man most of the time. He was older, in his forties, and was quick with a drink and a joke. He was maybe rounder in the middle than most leaders, but he could still ride, shoot, and fight.