Their Saint: Hell’s Rebel’s MC Part II

by Akeroyd, Serena

  My eyes widened. “You want her to become a tattoo artist?”

  “What else can she do?” he challenged, his gaze on his daughter.

  “She can still be an artist.”

  “Nah. Ama needs a purpose. This will be good for her and I know she’s been interested in the parlor for a while now. Not just because you’re there every evening, either,” he tacked on wryly. “She’ll earn her own money, get some independence, and if I know you as well as I think I do, she’ll get an old man out of it too. So if she asks, do it.” He shoved me forward so hard I almost collided with the wall before he slouched off as silently as he’d arrived.

  For a second, I was floored.

  Then, I was just uncertain.

  It wasn’t every day a man gave his MC brother permission to take his daughter as his own, but then, Ama was no regular daughter, and I was no regular MC brother.

  Sucking down a breath, I contemplated my next move. One that would be for Ama’s good as well as my own, because even though I was selfish, I tried not to be where she was concerned, tried to fight my natural inclinations.

  For her, I’d always tried to be a better man.

  ❖

  Saint

  “You gonna kiss me or not?”

  I narrowed my eyes at Bubbles. “Not.” Fucking her so hard the bedframe rattled, I planted Ama’s beautiful face over the hard-lined one of the sweetbutt I was currently screwing.

  To Bubbles, I did everything I couldn’t do to Ama. I fucked her hard, fast, and dirty. I was rough and mean with Bubbles who, fucked up as it was, loved me for it. And yeah, that was no word of a lie. She loved me and I just barely tolerated her.

  I was a bastard. I knew that. But to me, she was a hole, one I could fuck with no obligations. That was her job here, after all. It wasn’t just me who treated her that way, and maybe it was a testament to the fact I wasn’t all bastard that I felt shitty about what I was doing most of the time.

  When I blew my wad inside her, I immediately rolled off her body and got to my feet. I hadn’t even taken my clothes off, just pulled out my cock, touched her pussy for a while to make sure she was wet enough for me, then thrust into her. Now I was done, so I was out of here.

  “Where are you going?” Bubbles cried the second my zipper was pulled up.

  I tilted my head to the side. “What makes you think you have the right to ask that?”

  Only one person could ask me that and get an answer—Ama. Even my dad knew not to pull that BS on me now.

  Ama was the reason I had my road name, but I was a saint only for her. To her, and for her, I had unlimited patience. Everyone else knew to back the fuck off.

  Bubbles nervously licked her lips. Her blonde hair bobbed when she tipped her face down and processed the fact she’d just pissed me off.

  After I took a few steps toward the door, she mumbled, “I need to talk to you.”

  “Talk.”

  Man of few words, that was me. Saint or Mute had been my two options as a road name, and no one wanted to be called fucking Mute.

  She licked her lips and I eyed the worn makeup around her mouth. The paint she’d worn had bled out, making the once sharp line blurry. I didn’t even want to know how many brothers’ cocks had made that blurry line happen.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  I snorted. “So?”

  Bubbles squinted at me. “It’s yours.”

  Unable to help myself, I grinned at her. “Yeah. Right.”

  “It is!” she huffed.

  “Yeah? Got proof?”

  “No, of course not. But you’re the only guy I’ve ever fucked without a rubber.”

  My lips twitched at her lie. “I ain’t your baby daddy, Bubbles.”

  “You are!” she spat, snarling the words at me like an irritated cat.

  Folding my arms across my chest, I demanded, “Okay, so when did the immaculate conception happen?”

  “Eight weeks ago, at your daddy’s b’day party.”

  Deciding to see where this bullshit story was going, I tapped the toe of my boot against the floor. It made a thumping noise that would piss off the brother sleeping or fucking underneath me, but it was either that or start kicking shit.

  Impatient, see? Patience and tolerance weren’t the virtues I had in spades.

  “Oh yeah, I remember the party. Don’t remember fucking you though.”

  “You always fuck me,” she hissed, and damn, was that pride in her voice?

  “Not that night.” I’d remember too. I’d spent all night with Ama. She’d come down to the party, we’d had a few beers, and I’d taken her back to her room with Keys. As she’d fallen asleep, the pair of us had too, and we’d awoken the next morning sandwiching her.

  I swear to fuck, that was the best night’s sleep I’d ever had.

  Of course, the threat of losing a hand hadn’t made the night wholly pleasurable. If her daddies had found out about us being there, hell, we’d have been lucky just to lose a hand.

  Bubbles’ eyes began to dart around her shitty bedroom, a place that was loaded down with so much shit she belonged on a TLC show, and if she licked her fucking lips one more time, hell, I wasn’t going to be held responsible for my actions.

  “You know you’re the daddy, Saint,” she pleaded.

  “No, I don’t. I always wear a rubber. Always. I’m not about to touch you without one.” And fuck, I didn’t even leave the rubber in her room. Even now, it was still on my cock and would be until I made it into my bathroom where I’d flush it down the toilet.

  Sweetbutts were notorious for pulling this shit on single brothers.

  To be fair, most of my MC brethren didn’t have the smarts I did. Not only did I make sure to always use a condom, I never allowed myself to get that drunk where I lost all my faculties. No bitch could ever claim I was drunk and couldn’t remember the sex. No woman would ever be able to magically impregnate herself…

  Yeah, I knew it sounded crazy, and I was probably coming off as a real dick, but I didn’t give a fuck.

  Bubbles was trying to find a way to stake a claim on me. To get something out of me that wasn’t hers to have.

  If any woman was going to have my babies, it was Ama. Not this bitch.

  Goddammit.

  If there was ever proof I needed to stop fucking around and get a claim on my woman, this was it.

  If I’d been anyone else, then she might have been able to pull this dick move. I might have believed her, and even though I’d have made her get a DNA test when the kid was born, for all these months of her pregnancy, I’d have been obligated to hang around her, to treat her with consideration when the lying bitch didn’t deserve any.

  Rubbing a hand over my chin, I murmured, “Bubbles, you need to blame that baby on some other unlucky fucker.” Before she could do more than scream my name, I headed out the door.

  When I saw Keys waiting there, I frowned at him. “The fuck are you doing out here?”

  He snorted. “Waiting on you. Dumbass.”

  “You heard?”

  “I heard.” His eyes narrowed. “You sure it’s not yours?”

  “Sure as fuck.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You know who else she’s been boning?”

  “Everyone,” he retorted.

  “Wonder why she thought she could pull that move on me then.”

  “You don’t think she’s right?”

  “She said I didn’t use a rubber with her the night of my pop’s birthday party.”

  That made his eyes darken. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh.” I walked away from Bubbles’ small bedroom, and when I was far enough away that I knew she wouldn’t be able to hear, hissed at my bro, “If you think I was about to sneak out of Ama’s room in the middle of the night to go and fuck that ho, you’re nuts.”

  He raised his hands. “Understood.”

  I tipped my chin. “Good. Just don’t understand why she’d try to pin that shit on me, you know?”

  “Because Ama is
soft-hearted, and she knows Ama would probably convince you to be a proper daddy?”

  Rage swirled inside me. “Fuck off. You can’t mean that.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve seen her hanging around Ama the past few days.”

  “They been talking?”

  “Not sure.” He laughed a little. “You know what she’s like. Off in her own world.”

  Yeah, I knew that, and as much as I loved Ama for it, it also made me nervous as shit. For someone who should be hyperaware thanks to her background, she wasn’t. It was like she was in a bubble now. One that Keys, her daddies, and I would kill to keep her in.

  Scraping a hand over my face, I scented something that turned my stomach—Bubbles’ pussy on my fingers. Grunting, I mumbled, “I need to shower.”

  “You only have about thirty minutes before we’re setting off,” Keys warned.

  I shrugged. “So? That’s long enough.”

  “Ama wants to say bye. You know that takes ages.”

  Lips twitching, I hauled ass and headed back to my room. Keys clambered in after me and, pulling out his cell, lay flat out on my bed jingling his fucking keys as he caught up with his messages as I went and cleaned up.

  The shower didn’t take long. Just long enough to dispose of the sticky condom, to get rid of the scent of that bitch off my hands, and to clean my dick off.

  After I rubbed a towel over my body, I jumped back into my cut, jeans, tee, and boots, and returned to my room.

  Seeing Ama sitting cross-legged at Keys’ side had me shaking my head at her. “What are you doing in here?”

  She smirked at me. “Was hoping for a show.”

  A startled laugh escaped me, but I wasn’t sure why. Ama, though she was away with the fairies a lot, actually had a vulgar sense of humor. I wasn’t sure where she’d gotten it from—well, with four biker dads, I guess I didn’t have to look far for the culprit—but the shit she came out with usually had Keys and me chuckling.

  Though I was amused, I cocked a brow at her. “You’re not supposed to be up here.”

  She shrugged. “Not supposed to do a lot of things, but I do them anyway.”

  Keys snorted. “Just call you rebel, huh?” he teased from behind his phone.

  “I’m not a rebel, but I’m certainly not an angel, and I’m tired of you thinking I am.” She huffed and folded her arms across her chest.

  The move plumped up her tits, and the way she pouted? Christ, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about using those tits to get myself off in a titty fuck that would be better than any other I’d ever experienced. Especially if it ended with her opening up those pillowy lips and sucking on the tip of my cock.

  She was beautiful, my Ama. Like sin and sass had come together to make the impossible—an angel in hell. I didn’t care what she said, didn’t care how hard she argued. She was an angel. In both spirit and looks.

  Ama even had the white blonde hair, adding to her angelic image. With her light green eyes, creamy alabaster skin, and a mouth that made a rosebud look free of color, she was everything I wanted, and nothing I’d ever thought I could have.

  But…

  Maybe I could.

  Where there was a will, there was a way, right? Wasn’t that what Dorie, my stepma, always said?

  “Anyway, I don’t want to fight,” she was grumbling now, those tits still plumped up.

  “Who’s fighting?” I retorted, amused. If anyone knew what a fight was, it was Ama. Her momma and dads could argue like no one else. Of course, it usually ended with shit no daughter would ever want to be around, but I’d seen Flame fuck the mad out of Lucie a time or two—accidentally, of course.

  If any of her fathers knew I’d seen Lucie naked and being fucked, Jesus, they’d have my eyes.

  But I knew, deep down, Ama held that kind of spirit too. She was good, pure, but there was a wicked streak in her. I knew that and wanted to expose it. Wanted to mine that vein like it was made of gold, because to me, it was.

  She huffed again then changed the subject. “When are you back?”

  “You already know,” was all Keys said.

  “Four days. We’ll be back on Thursday. We’re only going up to Fort Hancock.”

  She pursed her lips. “Has to be because of Granddaddy.”

  “Maybe.”

  The war between the Hell’s Rebels and Satan’s Knights, whose main clubhouse was located in Fort Hancock, had long since celebrated a ceasefire.

  No one had known exactly why Satan’s Knights had pulled up roots from their temporary clubhouse an hour’s ride away, not until Ama had been abducted.

  Wolfe had called on Lucie’s father, Lucifer, the Prez of the Knights, to ask for help in finding Aaron Sanchez’s bitch mother. More manpower, more brains working to eradicate any threat against Ama. With that had come the revelation that Lucie wasn’t the old Prez’s daughter, and that she was the reason behind the Knights’ sudden disinterest in our business.

  She squinted at me. “Maybe?” She hummed. “That means yes. You never say ‘maybe’ unless it’s yes.” Ama reached up and began plucking at her bottom lip. “Wonder why Momma isn’t going.”

  I snorted. “Because this ain’t for fun, baby doll. It’s all business.” We had a shipment of cigarettes that Lucifer was going to take off our hands. We ran them up the East Coast, he took them along the West.

  Business, no pleasure now.

  I’d intended to enjoy some of the Knights’ clubwhores when I got there, but after fucking Bubbles? After potentially being tied to the bitch forever?

  No fucking way.

  When I came back, Ama was mine.

  No more waiting around, no more fretting like a pussy. It was time to claim her, and I just hoped she was ready to be mine. When I cut Keys a look, I amended it to ours, because that boy loved her just as much as I did. And hell, I loved him too. Not in a gay way, but like a brother, and we’d always been the three musketeers. Always.

  I didn’t see any reason to change that shit, not considering her past.

  3

  Ama

  “Ink?” I whispered his name as I crawled into his bed. He didn’t stir, never did usually, so I climbed in and settled at his side.

  The second my body curved into his, I released a relieved sigh.

  With Keys and Saints having left for my granddaddy’s clubhouse, I wasn’t happy. Hell, that was an understatement.

  I hated it when any of the people I loved went on a run, but knew there wasn’t much I could do about that. Saint and Keys would be going on more and more. Ink, less so, and my daddies had stopped around three years before. Most of the younger generation, except for the Road Captain, handled the runs now, which was great in one sense because I didn’t have to worry about my fathers, but Saint and Keys? Nope. They’d be doing this stuff for a long time to come.

  Men didn’t always come back from runs.

  Sometimes they were shot by rivals and died. Sometimes they were arrested. Sometimes…

  God, sometimes were just as bad as what-ifs, weren’t they?

  My throat felt thick as I turned my face into Ink’s back. He scented of smoke, the soap he used—lime and mint, which was my favorite fragrance in the world, so he smelled like a mojito—and just that faint, underlying essence of him.

  With my nose burrowed between his shoulders, I forced myself to relax, but I wouldn’t until the guys were back. Still, I needed to sleep, and I knew, point blank, I’d endure another nightmare, so at least this way, I’d have something nice to wake up to if I was plagued again.

  Taking a deep breath, I let the calm of the night seep inside me—the music had cut out at three—and allowed myself to sleep.

  Of course, he visited me that night.

  Aaron didn’t always, mostly it was just flashes of his face, of the memory of what he’d done, but he did tonight when my saviors weren’t there to keep him at bay. I’d learned that I needed all three of them close at hand to evade Aaron, and with two of them gone? I was up s
hit creek without my paddle.

  Like always, Aaron was bleeding from the gunshot wound to his temple, the other side of his face a gnarly mass of ruptured flesh. I was an adult now, no longer a child, but whenever I was in this dream, it seemed to overtake me, overpower me until I was back to being that terrified twelve-year-old.

  The scream escaped me, and I thanked God for it because it tore the dream apart and returned me to the present.

  When I opened my eyes, I was tucked tightly in Ink’s arms, and his face was on my shoulder. His deep, even breaths should have made me think he was sleeping, but somehow, I knew he wasn’t.

  “Ink?” I whispered, twisting my head to the side slightly so I could wipe my tears on the pillow.

  He hesitated— I felt it. Knew he was trying to pretend he was still asleep.

  Had he done this before?

  Pretended to sleep when I’d awoken from a dream in his arms?

  I wasn’t sure how that made me feel, but at the moment, I just wanted him to recognize that I wasn’t about to let him pretend now. “Ink,” I repeated, this time with no questioning note to it.

  “Yeah, Ama.”

  “Would you mind if I came to work with you at the tattoo parlor?” It had been on my mind ever since Keys and Saint had left on their run.

  The idea of not going to the college of my dreams hadn’t been as hard to process as it might have been for some. Sure, the choice was taken out of my hands thanks to my past, but also, there was nowhere I really wanted to be other than here.

  At my question, he tensed a little. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  I licked my lips. “Yes.” There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in my voice, nor should there be. I’d only applied to the colleges I had for one single reason—proof that I was a good artist. That I had ideas that were worth exploring, a talent that was worth cultivating.

  That could be done here or there. I didn’t need to be in school for my abilities to improve, and now, with the proof that some of the best art schools in the land were willing to give me a full ride? It was the perfect validation.