Outlaw MC Bear

by Bella Love-Wins

  “Fuck,” he part-whispered, part-cried, part-bit against her damp skin. He shuddered above her, his whole body trembling and his fingers flexing in the roots of her hair.

  He rested there a while, silent, their limbs still entangled together. After a few minutes, he laid a gentle kiss on her neck, pulled out and rolled onto his back beside her. She closed her eyes, taking in his scent that was still fresh on her skin until a light sleep came for her.

  14

  Sabrina

  “Whatever happens, you’re staying here. Under my roof.”

  Sure, under the roof that was charred in one corner, and in bits and pieces in another after a bombing by God knows who.

  Sabrina looked at Silas with disbelief as he moved off the bed and found his jeans. “Why?”

  “Until we figure out who’s after you and why you’re on their agenda, you’re not safe. I can keep an eye on you here.”

  An eye.

  And his hands.

  And his tongue.

  And that thick, pleasure-creating mass between his legs.

  She shook her head. It was no safer here than anywhere else in the world. Especially with who was hunting her—he’d never stop. Silas was still talking, but she tuned him out now, even if somewhere in his rant he was probably being ridiculously sweet. None of it mattered when he was still making decisions for her. Those choices were hers for a reason, and he was not listening.

  “Silas, you can’t keep me around indefinitely…” she breathed out a sigh and curled onto her side. “I’m not your pet.”

  That sweet sex session did nothing to soften his stance. “I need you here. End of story.”

  She was about to say something when he completely ruined her perfect post-sex moment by walking out and pulling the door shut. Barely breathing, she bolted up in bed, snatching the sheet to her chest.

  Silas was gone.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she huffed, fluffing a hand through her mussed hair.

  It wasn’t as if she was expecting him to take her into his arms and hold her all night, but to leave the room right after telling her she had to stay? It was damned unnerving. The sexy alpha who had just been all about his control and her pleasure was probably satisfying some weird guilt complex where her safety was concerned.

  Or his own.

  With a long, exhale she flopped back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Was it even okay to live in a place that had been bombed less than three hours ago? Weren’t there fire codes and hazards or something? Anything to get her a way out.

  Time to get up, have a shower, and start working on options B, C and D.

  Maybe an E if I have to.

  Whatever it takes.

  Sabrina was retying the drawstrings of her borrowed sweatpants when Silas opened the door again.

  She gave him a sideways glance. “I need a shirt. You ripped this one.”

  “Check the top drawer.”

  “Thanks.” She turned to look him straight in the eye. “Silas, if you want to have a discussion about letting me go instead of telling me what to do again, I’m very much open to suggestions.”

  “If there’s anything else you want to tell me before I find out on my own, now’s the time to do it.”

  She had no verbal response to that, and turned to find the t-shirt so he couldn’t try to read her eyes for her reaction.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” he added, then he turned and left the room, leaving the door ajar.

  “So you’re not letting me go and you won’t discuss it?”

  No answer.

  It wasn’t horribly surprising, but he normally gave her something to work with, like a grunt or a snarl. What, now that they’d had sex she was supposed to elevate to the level of mind reader?

  “Seriously, Silas?”

  There was no one in the hallway.

  He was gone again.

  Ready to give him a piece of her mind again, Sabrina tucked the t-shirt into her sweatpants, pulled her hair into a bun and walked out the open door, looking each way down the corridor to see where he went.

  There was no one. Only a half-opened door across the hall.

  An eerie calm prickled at the base of her spine. Her brow furrowed. Something was off. There wasn’t a sense of overwhelming heat in the air like when Silas came around—and part of her doubted it had anything to do with the two of them. She felt her hair fall out of the bun she’d just made, and turned to go find a bandana in the chest of drawers. Sabrina’s foot caught mid-pivot when a hand yanked her by the throat and pulled her backward, ricocheting her stunned head against the wall.

  “What the fuck?” she managed to gurgle, clawing at the strangely feminine hand wrapped around her throat. “Who. The. Hell. Are. You?”

  Sharp starbursts of pain clouded her vision. Her whole upper body sang with pinpricks of agony while her mind desperately made an effort to catch up to the unforeseen, random ambush from hell. She knew she was making a dent through the other woman’s flesh, maybe drawing blood as she clawed at her forearms. But the woman didn’t budge. Not an inch. The looming brunette stranger leered, showing pearly whites behind her blood-red lipstick when Sabrina snuck a painful sideways glance.

  She pressed more firmly into Sabrina’s personal space. “Here’s how this is going to go down, sweetie. You’re going to stay away from Silas for the remainder of your short stay, and I’m going to leave your eyes in your skull. He’s mine. Got it? I’ve worked too hard and too long in this club to have a little princess show up and wreck all my building blocks. You didn’t put in the time. You’re nothing. Not to me, and sure as shit not to him. So do yourself a favor. Spare my freshly done manicure and your skull a beating, and leave the big boys to the big girls. I won’t ask you again.”

  She hammered her point home by shoving her palm into Sabrina’s forehead, bouncing the back of her skull against the wooden wall again.

  “We couldn’t have settled this with a civil conversation, could we? You crazy bitch!” Sabrina half shoved the woman off, fighting for air.

  “Aww, isn’t that cute. She thinks she has permission to speak.” The woman cocked her head and pouted as her syrupy brown eyes glazed over with malice. “Shut your trap and open your ears, princess, or we’re going to have a problem.”

  She stepped around and tightened her fingers around Sabrina’s windpipe until Sabrina had to swipe a hand across the slut’s breast, punching her as hard as she could before grabbing for her nipple and twisting with everything she had. It was fighting dirty, but the deranged bitch set the terms with her sneak attack. The brunette cried out, and her hand finally fell away from Sabrina’s throat to clasp at her own chest. The chick wore a look of shocked horror. Sabrina desperately wished she could take a picture of to have as a keepsake.

  “You don’t know me or my intentions. If I were you, I’d back the hell off before you find out what I can do with a loaded gun and some fishing wire.” Sabrina rubbed at her throat, taking two steps forward despite the dizziness coming on from the temporary lack of air, and the searing pain in her neck. “I have friends where it counts. Touch a hair on my head again and they’ll be lining up to kick your pathetic, cheap ass.”

  The brunette measured her with a suspicious look. She must have seen some truth behind Sabrina’s glare, because she took a few steps backward, crossing her arms over her chest. “Stay the fuck away from him.”

  “Go fuck yourself.” Sabrina couldn’t leave the hallway until the woman knew her place. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know heads or tails about the brunette. The chick wasn’t a crazy stalker, because she would never be inside the clubhouse if Silas didn’t want her there. That meant she had some position, but Sabrina didn’t give a shit about some two-bit, slut-faced whore from an outlaw motorcycle club. She had to hold her ground, or the woman would try this again and again for the duration of her hopefully short stay.

  Shoving that thought to the back of her brain, Sabrina remembered all the convenient items
hanging on the walls on the way from the common room stairs to Silas’s bedroom. She could fight with her hands and kick with her legs if she really wanted too, but this woman needed a message that was clear as day. Sabrina took four steps down the hall and pulled down the baseball bat she’d seen.

  It’s probably a collector’s item.

  Maybe rare too.

  Fuck it.

  I wouldn't give a crap if it belonged to Babe Ruth.

  She swung the bat up to one shoulder and took three long, quick steps closer to the brunette. “You don’t want to play games with me, bitch. Trust me, I’ll break your shins and crack that dense skull of yours before anyone notices…or maybe I’ll come find you in your sleep.”

  The woman’s eyes went wide. Sabrina had her full attention now.

  “Fine,” the clubhouse twat bared her teeth and trotted away with all the fuss of a dwindling tornado. After that show, Sabrina stood in the middle of the corridor, clutching the bat and waiting for other unseen threats. This place had more surprises than a horror house on Halloween. If there was one thing that remained constant throughout the craziness, it was that she needed to get the hell out of there. It would be easier to face what waited for her at home than to sleep with one eye open for however long Silas thought he could keep her here.

  Wait a second.

  Silas.

  Where in the hell did he disappear after coming into the room?

  If he had anything to do with the catty brunette attacking me, I’ll have at him with the damned baseball bat too, next time I see his smug, domineering face.

  There were only three reasons she was jumped like that. Either he wanted to warn her against falling long and hard for him because he was the bad boy she couldn’t have, or he’d found out that her skeleton closet was beyond full, or the brunette bitch believed she some kind of claim to him. No matter which was true, none of them would end well for Sabrina. Come hell or high water, she was finding a way home the second she could steal away.

  15

  Silas

  Fuck, did those birds outside have to chirp so damn loud in the morning? Silas rubbed his temple and moved closer to the pool table to take his shot. Ever since he had his cornflakes with whisky instead of milk, Axe had been looking at him funny. Neither of them had seen Sabrina all morning, except for the five-minute wake-up call where she thought she could start calling the shots again. A little time away was probably a good idea. The more he kept away from her after driving her wild in bed last night, the better. To reinforce the need for a bit of distance, he’d slept on the creaking leather recliner in the MC den, surrounded by twisted claws trying to get into his pants or pour him more shots.

  Hence his happy little hangover.

  There wasn’t a damn thing that more liqueur and pussy couldn’t fix—that included any kind of clouded confusion that still came around when he thought about the petite vixen upstairs still passed out in his bed. A small private smile tipped up his lips. He’d given her a reason to be tired, hadn’t he? Masculine pride swelled up in his chest, and he straightened his shoulders, shooting two billiard balls into their respective pockets.

  Axe stalked around the pool table, analyzing all the different angles. “Man, I thought getting a piece of Sabrina would screw with your game. Guess I shouldn’t have made that bet for a hundy. Now we know she’s not your biggest problem.”

  Silas grunted and leaned against the wall with his cue. “I’ve got the prospect watching the parking lot for the others to roll in. We’re all in need of some downtime, so someone needs to relieve him later.”

  The sharp click of the hard balls hitting together made Silas wince.

  “I’m on it.”

  Silas woke up in the clubhouse meeting room several hours later. He needed to be clear headed for what they were about to do.

  Axe strode in like clockwork. “Got enough shuteye?”

  “No, but fuck it. Sleep can wait.”

  Axe’s facial expression went serious as he hesitated near one of the swivel chairs at the other end of the room. “So our plans are still on the books today, bro?”

  Silas nodded.

  “Nice. Then it’s time.”

  “Uh-huh. Time to take action. The team’s ready, right?”

  “We should be all set.”

  “How many do we have altogether?”

  “Seventeen officers and voting members, plus us four executives. So twenty-one. By the way, I put Dean on clubhouse restoration duty.”

  “Good. How’s he working out?”

  “So far so good.”

  “Silas!” Speak of the devil. Dean, their Road Captain prospect for the MC, hurled his tall, broad frame through the meeting room door. “Everyone’s here.”

  “Thanks for looking out. Is my mom back yet?”

  “Yeah. She just drove up.”

  “Perfect. See if anyone needs help in the back room.”

  “Sure. You got it, boss.”

  “I’ll be right there.” Silas waited until he was alone to dig into his pocket and find the phone. Hitting speed dial, he brought his device up to his ear. Someone picked up after the first ring. “It’s Corrigan, checking up on how you liked the shipment after our meeting yesterday.”

  “Mr. Giovanni will be right with you, sir.”

  Figures, the guy would have to get hired help answer his phone. Which was funny considering every prior conversation they’d had before this was man to man.

  “Mr. Corrigan. So good of you to check in.”

  “We’re all good, I assume?”

  “Yes, we received the items as scheduled. Everything is more than satisfactory.”

  Well of course it was. Did this man not know who he’d been referred to?

  “Good to hear.”

  “I’d like to make that volume a regular arrangement if you’re able to manage that capacity.”

  Silas had no idea why anyone would need that many weapons on a regular basis. Giovanni either had a massive nationwide operation, was stockpiling them for future use, or he was smuggling the bulk of them across the Pacific where the demand for American brands was still high. Or all three. It didn’t matter what the man was doing with them. Silas was glad for the extra business.

  “We can.” He took a short breath and kept his ears honed in on his newest repeat customer’s voice. “There’s one more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “You wouldn’t happen to know about an attack on my club last night, would you?”

  “Attack? No, not at all. What sort of attack?”

  Silas grit his teeth, realizing it was a fucking longshot to think this douchebag would give them any kind of information if he knew anything. “Low-grade explosives. Nothing too serious. You didn’t hear about it?”

  “That’s alarming to hear. It sounds like quite the mess.”

  He noticed Giovanni didn’t give him a direct answer to his question. “You could say that. If you hear anything through your sources—”

  “Absolutely, I’ll pass any information on if I find out more about it. You’ve got a satisfied customer here. Rest assured we’re on the same team now. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Sure,” Silas replied through gritted teeth. “I’d appreciate that.”

  “So, are we covered for the next shipment or do we need to renegotiate?”

  “Same time, same place, same supply.”

  “Excellent.”

  Click.

  Silas blinked a few times, staring into the empty void as he waited for the man to continue. There was nothing on the other end of the line, so he shoved his cell back in his pocket. That son of a bitch might have denied any knowledge about last night, but regardless of what the motherfucker said over the phone, Silas’s instincts were on full alert. Giovanni was hiding something. It wasn’t just paranoia. He’d already seen that the man lived for power and thrived on dominance. Silas was particularly familiar with that concept, given that bears were hardwired to fight anything in their territo
ry without provocation.

  That fact brought him back full circle.

  He got to his feet and went outside toward his mother’s large, overpriced SUV. She was still inside, talking to someone on the phone with her driver side window down. Leaning forward, he popped his head inside, kissing her cheek. “Keep an eye on Sabrina while I’m gone, okay?” He stood up and walked away with Axe in tow.

  “Uh, sure. Because I have nothing better to do with my day,” his mom shouted at him. She’d bitch and whine about it, but the two of them probably had more in common than either of them thought. They’d figure it out soon enough.

  Tate and Cole were still perched on their motorcycles parked next to Silas’s ride when he rounded the parking lot. Their reinforcements were all on their rides, waiting to follow Silas into battle.

  “Follow me and keep up.” Silas threw on his helmet, straddled his bike, and looked over at Axe, who was next to him. “Everything’s set?”

  “Ready to roll out, Pres,” Axe shouted above the purring growl of their engines.

  Tate added, “I can’t wait to see if we can make some panthers dance.”

  Shaking his head, Silas gave the signal. “Let’s ride.”

  Almost two dozen angry bikers headed out onto the highway with the early evening sun at their backs. Silas relished the warmth that pressed through his leathers, an unspoken reminder they were taking the heat right back to the panthers’ doorsteps.

  A few miles down the road, Silas waved his hand in the air, signaling for his men to make a hard right. They rolled off the highway to a gravel side road, headed into a narrow dried-out gorge where the red rock mountain ranges divided the northwest Arizona desert. They were minutes away from prime panther territory, but their rivals wouldn’t expect them to come from this direction. He made them all stop to do a final weapons check and came out of it with a smile—nothing a little arsenal couldn’t fix. He trusted his boys to be armed to the teeth, and that was on top of the God-given weaponry they naturally had after shifting into beast mode.