Tamed
Page 2
“Bryce, go outside and see how those prospects are coming on cleaning the bikes. And make sure they keep the campfires down. High fire season.”
Bryce pushed himself away from the wall.
“Sure, boss.”
He walked outside, slamming the door.
“Boss?” Quinn asked.
“Yeah, I’m the VP for this particular club.”
I walked closer to her, purposely standing a mite too close, just so I could be near her.
“So how can I help you, dear lady?”
“As I was about to tell him,” she pointed at the still vibrating door, “you left Gareth’s medicine.”
She dug around in her denim jacket.
I held out my hand.
She reached around me and put the medicine on the pool table.
So, she didn’t want to touch me. She was close enough I could see her chest moving up and down and the pulse in her neck had picked up speed.
She stepped back and cleared that lovely throat.
“I need to go.”
“So soon? ” said Bryce, as he walked back in with that shit eating grin of his.
“All done?”
“The little shits are getting all the bikes looking pretty for the poker run.
He gives her the once over and I know he’s going to start on his full court press.
As he opened his mouth, Quinn said, “I think I’m done here.”
“I’ll walk to your car.”
She looked at Bryce and said, “Sure.”
She walks through the door and Bryce bars my way.
“She’s out of your league, bro. Not my league. But most definitely yours.”
“This isn’t a competition, Bryce.”
“They all are, Elijah. And you know from experience that I always win them.”
I pushed his arm out of the way and almost trip on Gareth as he ran through the door with me. Nothing more graceful than a six six man falling over a dog through a door.
Chapter 5
Quinn
I most definitely did not want that gorgeous hunk of man walking me to my car, but the thought of Bryce following me out gave me the willies. I don’t know what it was about Elijah, but for all of his swagger and posturing, I felt comfortable around him. Hell, more comfortable than I had felt around Steve and we were together ten years.
I felt like I had a very large shadow following me. I turned around to witness him, I don’t know what else to call it, almost cartwheeling out the door to avoid stepping on Gareth. Elijah caught up to me and opened the truck door.
As I’m getting ready to say “See ya,” Gareth jumped up on my lap. Man, that little guy has some kangaroo or something in him, I swear. I rubbed him behind his ear and his little back leg starts thumping.
Elijah reached over for him, rubbing his chest against mine. Being that close to him was intoxicating. I took a deep breath, hoping to calm myself, and realized too late that it just brought me closer to Elijah. He leaned over and kissed me.
My nerves skyrocketed and I felt it to the core of my being, the very essence of who I am. His tongue entered my mouth searching for me. I open my mouth to his and in that moment, he is everything I want. Need. He’s so close I can feel his heart beating a tempo against my chest.
Elijah leaned even more into me, inadvertently squishing Gareth between the both of us. The little guy let out a girlish sounding squeal, bringing me back to my senses.
I gasped and my hand flew up and slapped Elijah on the cheek, hard enough to turn it red. He picked up Gareth and gently closed the door with a smile on his face. He touched his cheek and patted the door.
I pulled out with Elijah still holding Gareth, to the sound of the men teasing him, and the evil eyes of the prospects on me. MC shit. I hate it. But as I pull onto the dirt road, I catch a whiff of his scent on me and my mood lifted.
Chapter 6
Elijah
The next two days passed slowly. I couldn't get Quinn out of my mind. Didn't matter what I did. Even the properties that interested me before held no interest. When I opened my eyes, when I closed my eyes, the only thing I could see was Quinn.
We had another few days until the poker run. Still trying to work out logistics on that with Bryce. Thirty years with that man, and knowing the half smile he has been giving me for the last couple of days, means he’s up to no good.
Somewhere along the long years, it became more about the competition with me and less about being brothers. I love him, but when mom died, I was lucky. Bryce, not so much. My dad had long ago hit the road, never came back so I got live with the other officers and eventually, got a job with Mike when I was fourteen. Working the ranch gave me the know how around even the most rowdy of beasts and helped me when I came of age in the club. Beat and battered my way to where I am, but I also know I’m respected.
Bryce not so lucky. His old man was the President of the club. Given more to fists than to any kind hand. When he stepped down and they voted me in as vice president and him as road warrior, that’s when it got bad. The last few years I’ve had to deal with shit from him I wouldn’t have taken from any man. I don’t have much of a temper, but I have a huge right fist and all it takes is one love tap to keep them in line.
I glance again at the clock, the slowly spinning second hand making me feel with every tick tock that Quinn is moving further and further from me. I have the “creepy crawlies,” as mom called them, walk their legs up my spine.
I head out of my room and out to the front of the MC. I grab my sidecar, hook it up to my bike, find Gareth digging in the trash, and put him securely in his seat.
As I’m revving up my bike, a prospect, I think his name is Danny, walks up to me.
“Hey, Elijah. You seen Bryce?”
“Naw, why?”
“I’ve been looking for him for a couple of hours. His bike’s not here and I called his cell. I did everything he asked and just wanted him to check me off on it.”
“You know how he is. He’s probably with one of the properties, laying low and smoking some grass. Have him give me a call when you see him.”
“Sure thing.”
As I take the journey into Rapid, going by my old haunts, memories of things from being part of a motorcycle club come through. It’s all about family. I never had any but the club. Mom was an ol’ lady so I grew up here. It’s all about the brotherhood. Yeah, there’s the illegal shit. Any club that says they’re not doing it is lying.
Then there are things like our poker run. A good cause. God knows with the economy, we have plenty to choose from.
But brotherhood, that’s where it all is. My mind circled back to Quinn. I don’t know what it was, but as soon as she saw my cut, with all of its decals, it was game over. I’d like to find out why.
Even when I’m not thinking of her, my thoughts float back.
As I pull up to the pet hospital, I see Quinn locking up and at the same time, I see Bryce turning the corner of the alleyway heading towards her. She’s obviously heard my bike because she spins toward me as I see Bryce saunter over to her.
At about this time, Quinn also saw him. She’s not too happy to see him…or maybe me, either. I get the bike kicked, get off, and walk over to them.
“Hey, man. What are you doing here? Your prospects are asking for you.”
“Don’t care man. I’ll take care of them soon enough.”
“What I’d like to know is why either of you are here?” asked Quinn, once she found her voice.
I walk over to her and man, she’s even more beautiful than I remember. And I got a damn good memory.
“Listen, Bryce, as VP, I think you should leave.”
Normally, that show of my rank has Bryce falling in line. Tonight, Bryce was going to be a problem. And that problem, led with his right, smacking me hard enough in my eye to temporarily blind me and I staggered against the wall of the hospital. Bryce comes back with his left, like he always does, and I block it. Not before, he send
s his right back into my face, smashing my lip. I feel it tear and blood flows. I step back, get my position, and some room between us. As he sets up the next right, I smash him with a hard left, shattering his nose. A hard push from my two hands sends him ass down on the pavement.
A cop drives by, Stanley Wheaton.
“Elijah, all good?”
I wave him off.
“Just a brother thing.”
Stanley nodded, looked down at Bryce, and took off down the street, clearly wanting none of this.
“Get your ass back on your bike, and get the hell home,” I say through my mushed lips.
Bryce stands up and dusts himself off, holding his nose, blood flowing, but not without an evil look at Quinn and me. He goes around the corner. I step closer to Quinn, intimately close.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, but you’re not.”
A moment later as I bend down to her, Bryce flies around the corner, gunning his engine and pulls away. Not before giving me the one finger salute, however.
“What in the hell where you thinking, coming down here?”
“I…”
“Jesus Christ, you look like shit.”
“Can't help how I look. Bryce is bad news.”
“Bad news or not, I don't need either of you around.”
I turned around to get ready to leave, setting sun hitting my face, giving Quinn a full view of the damage.
I hear a gasp.
I look down at her and it’s like she is suddenly really seeing me.
“Holy hell, Jesus Christ. Stay right here.” I walked over to the bike and got Gareth.
Chapter 7
Quinn
I took one look at tall and sexy bleeding all over the street, holding that damn dog, and I don’t know what came over me. Like the Grinch whose heart grew seven sizes, I felt like my chest had shrunk and my heart grew.
I unlocked the hospital and walked over grabbing the supplies I needed, like alcohol, cotton balls, gauze and, for an ice pack, I had some frozen peas upstairs.
I went back out and locked back up. Can’t be too safe with all the pharmaceuticals in the hospital. Even with the VP of the local MC at the front door.
“Come on, gorgeous, let’s get you cleaned up.”
Elijah grinned down at me.
“Gorgeous, huh?
“Shut up. I meant the dog,” I said.
We walked around the hospital to the stairs around back. We got to my door and I noticed the blood up the stairs. Opening the door to my small little cottage apartment, Elijah looks around.
“Nice place.”
“Sit down.”
He put Gareth down. Gareth headed immediately to the kitchen rug and went to sleep. Elijah sat on the counter. I point to the chair.
“If you sit there, I’ll never be able to reach your face.”
He smirks at me. “Reach where ever you can.”
I put on my best hospital face (not that any of my four-legged clients care how I look at them) and he jumped off the counter and walked into my very small kitchen with the little bistro table and chairs. The furnishings look like a doll house table and chairs next to him. He sat down and managed to not break anything.
I retrieved the cotton balls and paper towels, and headed over to the sink. I got the cold water coming out of the faucet and walked over to the fridge. I opened the freezer, grabbed the frozen peas, and said “Heads up” before tossing them over to him.
Once the water was cool enough, I wet the paper towel, and came back over, trying to calm myself. I began dabbing at his lips while he was holding the improvised ice pack to his face. I was shaking. He put the ice pack down.
“What’s wrong?”
I can’t answer him. Too much of the past is mixing with the present, like adding vodka to juice and seeing them swirling together. A tear flows down my cheek, which I hastily brush away.
He moves my hand away from his face. I look down. I just can’t meet his eyes. I feel his hands on my face, cupping me gently.
“It’s alright. Take it slow. Take a breath.”
I shook my head, pushed his hands away, and grabbed at the paper towel blindly through my tears. He rubs arms and turns me toward him. I saw his lips, oh God, his nice, plump lips. Getting closer. He pulls me close and those wonderful lips find mine. I melt against him and open to him. He pulls back.
“Ow, that’s kind of tender.”
I quirk my head him.
“Too tender?”
He gave me his wolf grin.
“Never.”
His next kiss crushes me to him and if I thought the kiss in truck was good, it was nothing like the fireworks I felt exploding from my whole being. I moved my hands to his back and felt the strength in the muscles I felt through his shirt.
His hands come around the back and slipped the lab jacket off me that was splattered with his blood. He pushed it off my shoulder. It falls around my feet somewhere. I lost track. His hands find their way underneath my shirt, heading north, thumb first. They slip under my bra, teasing my nipples, which harden forcing a moan out of me. With years of practice, he reached his hand behind and unclipped my bra. As he pulled me onto his lap, I sensed just how hard he is underneath me.
Everything about this man tells me to run and everything about this man tells me I should stay. Is this how mom felt?
His kisses carry me away from anything that might have mattered before until the only feeling in my universe is him – his smell, his hard member rubbing me through my pants, the feeling of the heat, I know only he can cool.
My shirt and bra end up on the floor with the jacket. He lowered his head to my breasts, nuzzling, pulling, until I can think of nothing else but him. He picks me up and I wrap my legs around him.
“Bedroom,” he mumbles against my lips.
I motioned down the hall. He kicked the door open and we walk in and he laid me down on my bed. I push back up and take his cut off, then his shirt, and see his massive chest in all its majesty and there was more than enough for me to roam my hands around.
I leaned forward and captured his nipple between my teeth and applied just a little pressure.
“No.” He shook his head.
He pushed me back on the bed and expertly, undid my jeans and slipped them down. Then came my thong, soaked. I made to get up to undo his pants. He put a hand on my chest and pushed me gently backwards.
He slide off to the side of the bed and undid his pants. He was a briefs guy. My kind of man. He slid them off his pants and my, oh, my. The reality lived up to the fantasy. Women will say it’s length that matter, but you have to have girth and he had both.
His lips found my nipples again and I felt my whole being melt and shatter once, twice. His hand found the core of me, slipping, in and out, until I called for him.
“Elijah.”
His moan vibrated against my skin and I raised my hips to him. When he entered me, he was a big boy. He moved slow and I accompanied him, rising to him and back, like the ocean tides. Once I was used to him, he moved a little faster, I shuddered.
“Quinn, oh, Quinn.” He pushed himself in one last time. I screamed.
Later, as I was laying against his back, I moved my hands down his back and felt a couple of scars. I moved back.
“Bullet holes,” he said, sleepily.
I stiffened.
He rolled over.
“MC stuff?” I asked.
He just looked at me with those gorgeous, thick lashed eyes.
“Damn,” I said.
“What is it about it that bothers you so much?” Not angry, curious.
I’m not a coward by a long shot, but I was scared shitless. Vulnerable.
“Babe?” He placed his arms around me and pulled me against him and we’re eye to eye.
“Anything you tell me, it’s okay. Let me guess. You heard the news, saw the show, went to a bar. Something like that.”
“Um, no.”
“No?”
/> I shook my head and took a big breath.
“I was the news.”
His brow creased.
“Explain,” he said, not ungently.
“My mom,” I said, “My mom was in love with an MC founder.
“Okay, keep going,” he said
I shook my head as if trying to get the memories clear and make it sound coherent and not vomiting detritus from my past.
“He was her life and she was his until I was 12. My father was murdered. He was a 1%. They not only murdered him, they tortured him, and burned him. Over a stupid drug deal.”
Elijah leaned backwards into the pillows. “Zack Hopson,” he said.
“Yes. I was 12 years old, my face was plastered all over the media. My mom was grieving so she couldn’t help. She never got over him. She carried his torch until she died five years ago. I told myself I would never love like that. She made me promise never to fall in love. And if I couldn’t help myself, never with a biker.”