by Nicole James
She moaned, tilting her head down. “That feels good. Don’t stop.”
It was then he noticed them; small and barely visible just at her hairline; three letters tattooed into her skin. BJB.
The blood in his veins turned to ice. “He do this to you?”
Her demeanor changed in an instant, going from easy and relaxed to tense and defensive. It was like he’d dumped a bucket of water on her. She spun, one arm coming up to bat his hand away. “Don’t!”
“He did, didn’t he? BJB. It’s for Black Jack Boudreaux, isn’t it?”
“Don’t say his name. I don’t want to hear it.”
“He marked you, didn’t he? Didn’t’ he?”
Her eyes pooled. “Please don’t ask me about it, about him, about any of it. Please.”
The muscle in his jaw ticked as he tried to rein in the anger surging through him. “Okay, babe. Okay. I’m sorry.” He pulled her into his arms, and she fought him, but he held tight until she stopped struggling and shook with silent sobs against him.
He felt like ten times an ass for pushing her, yet still wishing she’d talk to him about all of it. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “It’s over. He’ll never hurt you again. I swear to you if he was still breathing I’d kill him for you.”
“Would you?”
“In a heartbeat.”
She was quiet for a long moment, and he could only imagine what she was feeling.
His voice rumbled low when he spoke again. “It doesn’t matter. The mark he put on you—it doesn’t change who you are.”
“Those are easy words to say, not so easy to live them.”
“You’re so young and innocent.”
“I’m not that innocent. Not anymore.”
“I wish I could change that for you. Fix it. Make it all better.”
“Fix me?”
“No, just take the pain away.”
“You can’t. No one can.”
“I can try.”
A loud honking broke the quiet peacefulness, jolting them from their conversation. They both spun around. A swan raced up the bank after a visitor. The man let out a high-pitched scream as the swan flapped its wings and ran after him. He actually jumped up on a tree branch to avoid the snapping beak of the angry bird.
Holly and Joker burst out laughing and couldn’t stop until the disgruntled bird waddled back to the pond, and the man climbed out of the tree and ran for the exit.
Joker threaded his fingers through hers. “Come on, pretty girl. I’ll buy you an ice cream.”
***
When they arrived back at her apartment that night, he walked her to the door. She turned when they reached it, and he found himself staring into those huge blue eyes of hers, irises like twin pools that could pull him under.
An underlying current of sexual attraction crackled between them. The urge to pull her into his arms flared inside him, and he had to force himself to remember all the reasons why he needed to walk away.
“Kiss me,” she ordered, just like that, bold as brass.
He tried to resist her pouty little mouth with those lush lips just made for kissing and even better things, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from dropping to them. Christ, stop thinking about that fucking sexy mouth and all the ways you want to put it to use!
“Don’t, brat. No more games. You know I can’t fucking touch you, and you know why.”
“Stop thinking about all that and just kiss me.”
“Enough Holly,” he growled. “Go inside, and go to bed.”
“Come to bed with me.”
“We’re not gonna have sex.” His mouth tightened into a firm line. Didn’t she know how close to breaking he was? She was playing with fire, but he’d be the one to get burned.
“Please,” she said in that sexy as hell low voice.
He snapped, yanking her to him to growl down into her face, “Is it because you really want me? Huh? Do you really want me to take you upstairs and fuck you until neither of us can walk? Or is it because you hate me so much you want to get me in trouble with Undertaker, maybe even lose my patch?”
She shook her head. “No, that’s not it. Don’t you feel it? Whatever this thing is between us?” She searched his eyes. “I know you do, you’re just too chicken to admit it.”
“Girl, you know I feel it. Hell, anytime you’re within ten feet of me, all I can think about is fucking you. You think it’s a lie? You think I don’t want you? I do; maybe even more so because I can’t have you.”
“Then kiss me. Just once. Please.”
“Just once. Right. You think we can stop at one? I can’t, can you?”
She folded her arms and shrugged. “Maybe I can. Maybe you’ll be a terrible kisser.”
“I’m goin’. I swear to fuck, Holly—”
She had other ideas, because before he could react, she reached up, took his face in her hands, and pulled his head down. When her soft lips met his, he was a goner. Without any conscious thought, he did what he always did when a kiss was good—he grabbed her face and backed her against the nearest hard object, pinning her there so he could take his time and do a thorough job of it.
Her tongue slid over his and her scent enveloped him, all he could think about was tasting every last inch of her and burying himself deep in her body.
His blood pulsed through his veins. Nothing could have prepared him for how sweet her mouth tasted and how responsive she was. And just like he’d known it would, it was impossible to stop. He broke off only long enough to gasp in a breath before going back for more.
His hands wandered all over her body until he knew in another second he’d start reaching for buttons and zippers. He pushed free and put his forehead to hers, breathing heavy. “Holding you like this and knowing I have to let you go…”
“Then don’t stop,” she begged.
He slammed his hand against the brick. Tension vibrated off him as he stepped back, ordering, “Unlock the door, I’ll walk you up.”
She shoved past him. “No need. Just go.”
He followed her up. “Makin’ sure you get inside safe.”
“I’m safe. A virgin nun couldn’t be safer around you.” With that she unlocked her door.
“I’m not the one you want anyway. I’m not Undertaker.”
Fire rose in her eyes. “No, you’re not. At least he has the courage to fight for what he wants.”
“He’s old enough to be your father.”
“He treated me right.”
“There are other guys who can treat you right, Holly.”
“Yeah, sure. They’re a dime a dozen.”
“Open your eyes. There’s one right in front of you.” He dropped his head, pressing his lips to hers one last time, then spun and stormed down the stairs, more pissed at himself than he was at her.
He reached for his smokes, ignoring the slight tremor in his hands as he lit up. Having her in his arms, hot and needy and willing… Christ it was better than any fucking drug.
He wanted her. He’d be lying if he denied it, but he wouldn’t, he couldn’t let himself have her, no matter how badly she wanted it, no matter how much she tempted him.
It couldn’t happen. Ever.
He ran a frustrated hand down his face. Hell, he didn’t know if he was going to survive this job much longer.
He needed to go find some other pussy to bury his dick in. He climbed on his bike, knowing full well he wasn’t going anywhere but home to torment himself with a picture of a thong on a body he’d never touch.
Chapter Twelve
Joker was walking out to his bike to head to the club the next morning when his phone rang. Glancing down, he saw it was Holly.
“Yeah, babe?”
“I’m going for a run, and before you freak out and insist on tagging along, I’m going with Miranda and your favorite person, Chelsea. We’re going to the track here at school, so you don’t have to worry.”
“Great. Thanks for calling and letting me know.”
; “You’re welcome. How’d you sleep last night?”
“Like shit. You?”
“I had the best dream about some man pulling me into the bushes at City Park and having his way with me.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“I’ll text you later to let you know I’m home.”
“Do that.”
“Maybe I’ll send you a picture—me in the shower all lathered up. Then you’ll know I’m home safe.”
“Brat.”
She hung up, and he fired up his bike and hit the throttle, sending gravel flying as he roared away. That girl was going to be the death of him.
He found Sandman and So-Cal sitting at the club bar discussing the differences between a cappuccino and a latte.
He frowned. “Sorry, I thought I’d find bikers here, not some hipsters comparing their tiny cups of frou-frou coffees.”
“These are big cups,” Sandman said, looking down at his.
“They’re called Venti, Sandman,” So-Cal corrected.
“I rest my case.” Joker smirked and turned, heading out the back door. “Any real men show up, I’ll be out back shooting guns.”
He’d barely had time to line up some empty liquor bottles as targets and slide a clip in his Glock before they strolled out.
“So what’s the bug up your ass?” Sandman asked, loading his own gun.
“You really gotta ask?” So-Cal chuckled. “Little Miss Bratty McBratster.”
“Oh, Cat’s sister, huh? What’d she do?”
“Windin’ me up like a fucking clock, and I’m about to explode,” Joker growled and aimed at the bottles he’d lined up. BAM. BAM. BAM. BAM. BAM. BAM. BAM.
Sandman dropped his arm. “Well, there go all the damn targets. Deadwood Dick over here just smashed ‘em all.”
“Fastest gunslinger in the south. That’s me.”
“Yeah, right; only when you’re pissed off. How you’re a better shot when you’re angry, I just don’t get,” So-Cal shook his head.
“Go set up some more bottles and tell us what troubles you, youngin’,” Sandman said.
Joker turned to a prospect who was cleaning up trash on the lot. “Prospect! Get us some targets.”
Sandman turned to So-Cal. “See that? Delegation like that is a sign of pure leadership. You might want to remember that if you want to get anywhere in this club.”
“My old man wasn’t president, so the club’s not gonna be handed to me someday.”
Sandman dropped the kidding around and stared So-Cal down. “Ain’t nothin’ gonna be handed to anyone in this club, Joker included. You got that?”
Joker looked at So-Cal, and Sandman turned away.
“I just meant—” So-Cal started lamely, but Sandman jerked back around.
“I know what you meant. Kidding around is one thing, but runnin’ down your brother like that is just pure disrespect, and if there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s that passive aggressive bullshit. You got something to say, say it outright.”
“Whoa, Sandman,” Joker said, trying to laugh it off. “Didn’t know you had that much vocabulary in you.”
“It ain’t funny, Joker. You don’t let shit like that slide, not from him, not from anyone. Understand? Skeeter were alive, he would’ve knocked his teeth out.”
“Okay, Sandman. Got it.”
Sandman ran a hand over his head, and then held his palm out. It trembled. “Sorry, boys. I guess I’m in a mood today.”
He stalked off.
Joker yelled after him. “Love you, man. But that’s what comes from ordering a Venti.”
“I need a shot of whiskey. I’m goin’ inside,” Sandman muttered just before he reached the door.
So-Cal met Joker’s eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean nothin’ by what I said. I’m just runnin’ my mouth.”
Joker nodded. “I know.”
“You ever get that president’s patch, I know you’ll have earned it.”
“’Preciate that, Brother.”
Joker’s phone dinged with a text. Holly. He swiped his thumb to open the picture she’d sent, almost afraid of what he’d see. And he was right; it was a shot of her from the voluptuous tops of her breasts and up. A lot of bare, wet skin. Her smile was flirtatious as hell. Jesus. She was trying to kill him.
Hell, he’d just have to call her bluff. He typed out a reply.
Show me more
His phone dinged a second later. Fuck, had she actually… He glanced down.
You haven’t earned it - Yet
Tease
I prefer the word temptress
You don’t want to know what I prefer, little girl
Maybe I do
I gotta go
I take it you’re home safe
Party pooper
Yes, home safe
For now
You go anywhere, you call me first
Maybe
Brat… don’t piss me off
Or what?
I’ll let you think about ‘or what’
Joker shoved his phone in his pocket and slid the safety off his pistol. He pulled the slide back, chambering a round, aimed at a Patron bottle, and pulled the trigger. BAM. It exploded into a burst of crystal shards like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Maybe if he killed a dozen more bottles, he’d get the image out of his head of Holly naked and wet.
Chapter Thirteen
“I’m going to be gone next week, so you won’t have to worry about following me around,” Holly stated.
Joker frowned. “Gone? Gone where?”
“It’s Spring Break. I’m going to the beach with Chelsea and Miranda.”
“What beach?”
“Corpus Christi,” Holly informed him casually.
Joker started laughing.
“What’s so funny?” The man was so infuriating.
“You; thinkin’ you’re goin’ there of all places.”
“Whatever.” She really didn’t care what he thought.
“You tell Undertaker this plan yet?”
“No. Why should I?” She couldn’t imagine why Undertaker would care.
Joker laughed again. “Come on. I’ll take you over there. I want to have a front row seat when you tell him. Maybe I should pop some popcorn.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“You’re the one who’s ridiculous.”
“Fine. Let’s go.” She lifted her chin in the air, determined to brazen this out, but on the inside she had to admit to herself telling Undertaker wouldn’t be so easy.
Twenty minutes later they pulled up at the clubhouse. Walking through the doors, he spotted Mooch at a pool table.
“Where’s Undertaker?”
Mooch pointed his pool cue at the ceiling.
Joker led the way up the stairs to Undertaker’s office and tapped on the door.
“Come in.”
Joker opened the door and leaned in. “Got a minute?”
Undertaker glanced up from some paperwork. “Yeah.”
Joker waved Holly in ahead of him.
She glared at Joker. “Why don’t you wait in the hall? This will only take a minute.”
Joker chuckled. “Oh, hell no. This I’ve got to see.”
“See what?” Undertaker asked with a frown.
“Holly has something to ask you,” Joker filled him in, taking up a spot leaning against the sideboard where Undertaker kept his booze. He waved his hand with a flourish toward one of the chairs before Undertaker’s desk.
Holly took a seat.
Undertaker looked at her. “What do you need, darlin’?”
“I want to go to spring break with my roommates.”
Undertaker’s eyes shifted to Joker for a split-second before returning to Holly. “Spring break, huh? Where?”
“The beach.”
“And which beach would that be?”
“Corpus Christi.”
Undertaker’s brows shot up. “In Texas? Are you kiddin’ me?”
“Yes. I mean,
no. Yes, it’s in Texas and no, I’m not kidding you.”
“There is no way in hell that is happening. That’s Death Heads territory. Remember them? I can’t even send Joker to protect you.”
“I don’t need protection.”
“The hell you don’t.”
“You’re not my father. I don’t have to get your permission.” She jumped up and was halfway to the door when his sharp voice stopped her.
“Sit down!”
She turned. Undertaker’s head was dipped low, and he glared at her from under his brow. There was nothing in his expression that wasn’t terrifying. Her eyes cut to Joker. He hadn’t moved an inch from where he leaned, his arms folded. He watched her like she was walking to her death.
Undertaker leaned forward, elbows on his desk. “I’ve done a lot for you, Holly. And I’ve put up with a lot from you, too. You’ve had the hospitality of this club for as long as you needed it. I drove you to therapy. I made sure you ate right. I even goddamned jogged with you. I think the least you can do to repay me is not disrespect me in my own damn clubhouse! You walk out this door, and you go down to Spring Break in Texas against my wishes, you won’t be welcome here again. I’ll wash my hands of you. That what you want?”
She dropped her gaze and shook her head. “No.”
“I think you owe me an apology.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Doesn’t sound like it.”
“I won’t go to Spring Break, okay? Can I go now?”
Undertaker rocked back in his chair and gestured to the door without another word.
She dashed out.
***
Joker watched her go and looked to his president.
“What the hell is that about?” Undertaker snapped at him.
Joker shrugged. “She’s a kid. It’s what kids do. Spring break rolls around, they go to the beach. Corpus is the spot this year.”
“I don’t give a fuck where the spot is. Where does she get off talking to me that way?”
“She’s young and stupid.”
“She’s far from stupid.”
“Okay… selfish, then?”
