MC ROMANCE: Wanted by the Alpha Biker (Motorcycle Club Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (MC Romantic Suspense Contemporary New Adult Short Stories)

by Alix Labelle

Lily almost laughed at the shocked echo of her own earlier demand.

  “Take me with you,” she said again. “We’ll go somewhere far away. We’ll see the world together.”

  “I’ve just told you,” he said slowly, “that I am a shapeshifting alien spy, running for my life, and you want me to take you with me?”

  “Yes.”

  Corbin threw up his hands, an edge of hysteria in his laughter.

  “Well why not then? I’ll just… I’ll just take you with me.” His voice softened. “We’ll see the world together.”

  And it was crazy. It was absolutely insane. But somehow, Lily was okay with that. She stood, then held out a hand to him, and he took it with a grasp so tight it almost hurt. She helped him to his feet. His arms wrapped tightly around her. She held him in return, his face pressed to her shoulder, buried in her hair.

  “I love you too,” she said.

  It was insane, but at least it wouldn’t be boring.

  THE END

  Space Tigers 1

  Book 1: Conflict

  Book 1: Conflict

  Prologue

  There was a knock on the door. It rang through the small room, cutting into Bruce’s thoughts. Part of him was annoyed that someone would deign to disturb him so close to his naming ceremony, and the other couldn’t help but be grateful for this very fact. With a sigh, he stood up and crossed his small room to the door, swinging it open to find none other than his best friend’s ex-mate, Lexus. She stood on the other side of his threshold, clad in her warrior dress: a black armored corset, fishnet tights, and a holster that housed two different daggers, a stun gun, and her intergalactic cell phone. She lifted her gaze from his boots to his face, making sure to linger around his bulge as she did so. A smile stretched across her face as she pressed past him into his bedroom. “Well, I guess this will be one of your last moments as yourself,” she declared in a seductive voice. Everything she said sounded impossibly seductive.

  Bruce shrugged, hesitantly shutting the door behind him. “Boris wouldn’t want you in here after what happened.”

  Lexus scoffed. “Oh please. We’ve been broken up for, like, almost a year now.” She groaned, sitting on his bed. She leaned back onto her palms, an action that opened her chest to him. “I know that a grace period of a month, maybe two, is customary for these things. But it’s been ten. He can’t tell me who I can and can’t have sex with.”

  Bruce flexed his jaw, wondering how he was going to resist her this time. They were holed up in complete privacy in his room, much different than the last time she tried to seduce him, during a bathroom break in the middle of a political speech. “Yeah, well, common decency can,” he countered as he crouched down to re-lace his boots.

  “Look, I don’t have a lot of time. I’m supposed to be en route to earth in less than thirty minutes.”

  “Oh please, you’ll be fine.”

  Bruce rolled his eyes. “Hugo’s men have been working on this for almost ten Earth years now. They’ve hacked databases and created a whole life for me…”

  Lexus groaned. “Yes, yes. I know, and it would be flaky as hell for you to skip on your own field job.”

  “Look, the emperor is waiting.”

  Lexus stepped off of the bed and crossed the room to him, placing her palm on his shoulder. He could feel his body almost melt into her touch.

  That was not a good sign.

  With a sigh, he stood up and wrapped his fingers around hers, if only to move her hand away from his tough, tanned skin.

  But it didn’t work out that way. Instead of giving him the personal space he so wished she would, she squeezed his fingers, pressing her chest into his. The hard cuts where her corset covered her breasts were almost as arousing as the real thing. Suddenly, all he could think about was the sound of her moans and the sensation of himself inside of her as he rammed into her over and over again, her nails digging into his skin and drawing blood, the knowledge that anyone could catch them at any moment only drawing them closer and closer to orgasm. He could already feel his bulge hardening at the mere thought of all of this, and it was a bad look, because she picked up on it almost immediately.

  With a dark chuckle, she pressed her lips against the little space on the back of his ear, knowing good and well that he had a weakness there. Her tongue lingered on the skin, driving him into a frenzy of desire.

  She laughed yet again. “Look, no has to know… Not that it’s anyone’s business to care.”

  He tried to craft some sort of tertiary denial, but all he could think about was her sweet breath caressing his skin. “I don’t—” he started, but she just smiled and drew his face toward hers. She pressed her lips against his, her thick lipstick sliding all around his mouth. He grabbed her arms, holding on as tight as he could, the trembling in her muscles only arousing him more as he pressed his tongue into her small, hot mouth. She wrapped her lips around it and sucked, just as her hands slid down his torso and settled on his bulge.

  Then, there was another knock on the door. It was a small sound, but just enough to wrench Bruce out of this potential mistake and remind him that the emperor was waiting for him, along with a pod to send him to Earth. He gulped, sucking in deep breaths to try and slow his pounding heart as he made his way to the door, assuming that it was a messenger coming to summon him for his mission.

  But when he swung the door open, none other than Boris stood on the other side of it. His half-smile faded as soon as he looked past him and saw Lexus sitting on his bed, looking far too comfortable.

  He looked back at Bruce, a hardened look darkening his almost purple eyes. “You’re out of time.” With that, he stormed off.

  Bruce sighed, his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach. This was nowhere near the goodbye he had hoped for. He double checked his small pack of fake ID’s and credit cards, stowed away the one weapon he was allowed, and then finally left his room for the last time in who knows how long. As he left Lexus, who sat suggestively on his bed as if she simply awaited his return, he tried not to think about the fact that he would not have his best friend’s support on this mission.

  He rushed down the long corridor until he reached what would be the equivalent of a landing deck, on the other side of which stood the entire warrior population of their race… minus Boris. Emperor Hugo stood next to Bruce's pod, his black and red cape oddly matching the metallic hue of his vehicle. He smiled at him as Bruce quickly closed the distance between them. “Are you ready for your mission?” he asked, his voice barely carrying over the sound of cheers and excited conversation.

  Bruce nodded.

  Hugo pressed a button on the side of a pod and the door swung up, an otherworldly grace to it. He then placed a hand on his forehead. “Safe journey,” he muttered.

  Bruce nodded, the voice in the back of his head telling him to at least be happy that he was getting a personal send-off from the most powerful creature in the universe. Once he had stepped inside of the craft and buckled himself in, he looked back to the Emperor for his parting words.

  “Remember, if you run into trouble, you know how to get back,” he declared.

  Bruce nodded as he shut the door behind him, desperately hoping that that was actually true.

  Chapter One

  Four Earth Years Later

  Anita’s eyes flashed open. It was an uncharacteristically sunny day for November in Washington, D.C., but, for some reason, that did nothing to lift her spirits. She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. It would have rather lingered there, considering she had only gotten three hours of it the night before. When she was convinced she was strong enough and awake enough to climb out of bed without falling right on her face, she lifted her thick duvet, revealing two slim legs, then swung them over the side of her bed. Once she was standing, it felt as if every last ounce of blood in her body had rushed down to her ankle. Her feet dragged as she crossed her bedroom, entered her kitchen, and started on a cup of coffee.

  With the sound of brewing
happening in her kitchen and the smell of coffee grounds filling her entire loft, she grabbed the remote and clicked on her television. CNN materialized on the black screen. It was the only channel she watched, aside from the occasional BBC debate. But, being the Secretary of Defense in a liberal administration, there weren’t a lot of options for light entertainment if she wanted to stay ahead.

  A woman with a really bad bob cut and a fake smile started talking, and behind her was the unmistakable sound of protesting and riots. Since the latest “race related” shooting, there had been a lot of looting and protests all over the country and even a few in Europe.

  “Riots have broken out in Baltimore, St. Lewis, Birmingham, LA, and New York over the Remington incidents last week,” she declared.

  Anita poured her coffee and turned to stare at the television, the hot caffeine-infused liquid slowly giving her life.

  “Police have been issued tanks and warheads to combat the civilians, but that has only caused more distress in these areas. The National Guard has been stretched thin over this issue, and there have been talks about incorporating other areas of the military to help restore order.”

  Anita scoffed as she watched the live feed of poor-looking civilians jutting angry signs into the air, yelling obscene things at people in uniforms and throwing objects like rocks and enflamed wooden sticks. There have been no such talks, although she worried that the person who had leaked this was probably thinking that there should have been. That only meant she had a heated argument waiting for her in the situation room.

  Just as she was strategizing the best approach to her day, the shrill sound of her phone ringing cut through the riots and the screaming. She scurried back to the kitchen and picked up her cell phone. “Hey Jori,” she quipped.

  “Wow, you sound so awake… considering,” Jori greeted, her southern accent wrapped around slightly surprised words.

  Anita shrugged, even though she knew Jori wouldn’t be able to see her. “Uh yeah. Well I have to be. I don’t have a choice, do I?” she replied.

  There was a static sound through Anita’s earpiece as Jori released a heavy breath. “Yeah. Uh…. Listen, Hun… The reporters are gonna eat me alive. The president needs to have a press conference as soon as possible because these people are practically hyenas. But he can’t do that—”

  “Until he figures out what to say, which means we need to figure out how we’re dealing with this, which means that I need to get down to the situation room,” Anita finished. She had already put down her coffee and was rushing to her bedroom to snag the first suit she could get her hands on. It was a bright red pants suit with a black blouse—war colors, which seemed apt for the undoubtedly combative day ahead of her.

  “Exactly,” Jori replied. “Look, I gotta go. Alice wants to see me.”

  Anita rolled her eyes at the mere thought of Victoria Alice, who was, no doubt, the most annoying woman who had ever worked in the White House. “Right. Okay. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

  And, exactly thirty minutes later, Anita was walking into the situation room in her red suit and black heels, her binder in hand and her third cup of coffee warming her fingers. The small conference room was bustling with activity, and President Holland stood hunched over Victoria, speaking in hushed tones about something that seemed important.

  Anita took one look at her big, blonde curls and averted her gaze… not before her fourth cup of coffee.

  She sat down and pulled her binder open, just as the President took his seat and Victoria scurried away.

  “Look, we've got more than one serious situation on our hands.”

  Anita nodded as she scoured her binder for the notes she had hastily jotted down. “Instead of giving the police military equipment, we should tighten up the National Guard,” she quipped, completely confident in her decision.

  The entire room turned to face her, the president included.

  “No. We need a stronger arm. Shifting forces won’t do a thing, and if we disarm the police, the right-wing backlash could kill us,” John, the General of the Army chimed.

  Anita nodded. Of course he was the one who wanted a stronger military arm—that would only make his job that much more relevant. “No. Politics is not the main concern right now. Resolving this issue is,” she replied.

  President Holland raised a hand to silence the two of them. “I said, we have a more pressing issue.” With that, he nodded at Victoria, who then turned the television on.

  Hiss entire cabinet watched as a UN convoy spontaneously blew up on a shaky feed in the middle of the night. “Apparently, our people aren’t safe in Israel anymore,” he declared in a harsh voice.

  Anita shook her head. “It’s Russia, isn’t it?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Not just Russia. I’m afraid the situation in the Middle East has reached an uncontainable zenith.”

  Anita tried to stop her jaw from dropping, but it was truly difficult. Things hadn’t been this bad on that side of the world since the Second World War.

  Chapter Two

  “Okay. The way that I see it, international media is keeping this hush hush, so we at least have a grace period. I move to turn our attention back to what is going on in our own country,” Anita declared as she glanced back at her notes and tried her best to block out the image of the riots she saw just that morning over her first cup of coffee.

  “We all know what we’re gonna do anyway: apply more force and make it look like we are supporting whatever the mayor says he wants to do,” John argued.

  Anita opened her mouth to respond, but it was getting a little warm in the situation room. She couldn’t discern whether it was because the caffeine was finally getting a chance to work its way through her system, or because she could just sense she was the only one on a particular side.

  As if to confirm this suspicion, a voice in the back of the room chimed in with, “I completely agree. Race riots are the talk of the town and the media will have a field day with whatever decision we make anyway. This way, we can contain the conflict before the media can sink its claws into it.”

  The entire table turned to see where this sensible argument had come from, Anita included. She furrowed her brow at the sight of a tall man with tanned skin, blue eyes, and impossibly perfect hair. He looked like he belonged, not in the middle of one of the most important debating forums in the world, but on a Calvin Klein billboard. “Are you kidding me?” Anita demanded, hiding her nerves in her anger. “Who is this guy?”

  Victoria rolled her eyes. “Everyone, please meet our new UN ambassador, Bruce Harrington. I swear none of you even read your memos anymore.”

  “Not when we have to figure out how to save the world first thing in the morning,” Anita mumbled to herself.

  Bruce gave everyone a short nod, before he turned to John and uttered, “Could we see the convoy video again?”

  Anita slammed her notebook shut. She didn't care that the entire room was staring at her wondering if she was on her period, she did not like the direction this conversation was headed. “Okay, I don’t understand why this is so hard to grasp, but if we sit here and argue about a situation the world doesn’t even know about while neglecting the fact that the whole world is watching the United States fall apart at the seams, we'll lose our chance to get anything done as an administration.”

  John huffed out an angered breath. “All right, and what the hell to you suggest we do since you’re so wise?” he demanded.

  Anita rolled her eyes. “I am wise. That’s why I’m here!” she snapped.

  Bruce cut in quickly. “Can we not call each other names like children? Now, back to Palestine… I think we need more information. I mean, if you ask me, this is classic Russia manipulating everyone around her. Putin has got that whole continent eating out of his palm, and we have to do something if we want to nip his influence in the bud.”

  “And what, exactly, do we do?” Anita demanded, throwing her attention in his direction. “Since you are so urgent to i
gnore our domestic issues, even though we have reporters camped out on the White House lawn waiting for a word, why don’t you tell me what your brilliant solution is.”

  Bruce glowered at her, though he somehow managed to maintain an infuriatingly amused smile on his lips.

  She internally kicked herself for even noticing those lips, but now that she had, she couldn't get them out of her head.

  She looked away. “Look, all I have to say is that this is not a good idea. The way that you are handling this, the way that we all are handling this, is not good. We are keeping the media from inside the eye of the situation in Baltimore, refusing to let their people even near Birmingham, meanwhile, our National Guard is completely helpless, but we treat our police force like they are authorized to handle military machinery. We are fostering distrust in our decisions, while doing nothing about the actual situation. If we make the wrong choice, we could lose public support and once we do that, it won’t matter what we decide to do about Putin, because without the support of our country, we will get nothing done. We are not the secret service. We are not the Central Intelligence Agency. We are the United States Government. Am I the only one acting like it?”

  The president spoke first in the silence that followed. “Look, Bradshaw… I'm sorry that you feel all of these things, but if you are so sympathetic to the media, maybe you should go join them with a stake and a microphone and leave the real decisions to the men who can handle being in charge.”

  Anita could have ignored the gender reference, if she wasn’t, indeed, the only woman in the room aside from Victoria, who was really just President Holland’s Vana White. She shook her head. “I don’t care what your think of me, but I care what they think of us. You said you have a solution, so let’s hear it.” She was the only person within a hundred thousand miles who would talk to the president that way.

  Holland opened his mouth to respond, but Bruce cut it. “Weren’t you listening?” he demanded. “Rhetoric and support. It’s simple.” He then snapped, “You are wasting our time, Bradshaw.”