She stopped next to me but stared out the window. We stood silent for a minute. “Barking up the wrong tree with Dare. MJ’s going to want her claws in you.”
“Excuse me?” Unless someone translated, I had no idea what Angel meant.
“Mama Jericho, MJ, she collects cooks. I’m a shit cook.” Then she wandered down the hallway.
Dare had said much the same thing, but I hadn’t seen Jericho again, let alone his mom, which suited me. Mama Jericho was the reigning queen of the club, and I wanted nothing to do with it. If I kept repeating the words, they might come true.
Honestly, the club poked at my curiosity. Half-finished conversations, foreign words and the cloak of secrecy made me itch to know more. I had a hundred questions, but I hadn’t asked one because once I started, how would I stop? Worse than my curiosity was my imagination. I’d watched Sons of Anarchy, and the lifestyle frightened me, kind of like strange religions did.
Why do people join a cult? Or a club that controls their life choices?
I feared I’d like the life too much, so much I’d do anything to be part of it.
Dare and Gimp entered reception, laughing. “No charge for you, old man. Taught me half what I know.” Dare slapped the guy on the back. “See you Saturday.”
Gimp laughed, winked at me and half walked, half hobbled out the door.
Dare sauntered toward me. “Haven’t seen old Gimp in a while. He was my master teacher here.”
I gaped at him. It was the only part of his past he’d shared with me. Or because I’d never seen him look so boyish, with more than a hint of mischief.
“You made soup for everyone.” He headed toward the office.
“People need to eat,” I told his back. He could’ve kissed me, at least.
He ate fast, spooning the soup in quick. “Forgot to eat before I came in.” He helped himself to another bowl.
He hadn’t eaten in over eight hours. No way I could go so long without food.
“This is a lot better than pizza.” He grinned at me. “Throw me a water.”
I did and leaned against the counter, watching him devour another bowl. After he finished his third, he sighed, a very content sound. “You’re a lifesaver, Red.” He crooked his finger to me.
And that easy I tumbled into his arms. He swept my hair behind my ear and captured my lips in a soup-tasting kiss.
“You rev me up so fast,” he rumbled low. “I need in your pussy, now.”
“My place?” I asked, breathless and drunk on the power of his words.
“Now. Go.” He smacked my ass and I squealed.
We rushed upstairs, and I unlocked the door with Dare pressing into me. We stumbled into my place.
“Fucking you against this door.” He growled the words while working the snap on my pants. They puddled at my feet in seconds, and I stepped out of them.
He undid his fly and as he pressed me against my door, his finger rubbed my clit.
“Fast and hard.” His words were harsh.
“Yeah,” I panted and wrapped my legs around his middle while he held me, then I positioned his cock and he drilled me hard, moving so fast I jiggled from the rhythm.
“Bring me home,” I shouted and squeezed my walls tight against his cock.
“Damn, woman.” His head hit the door as the shuddering release quaked through him. Feeling his release, an orgasm crashed into me speeding me away with him.
Wild and uncontrolled, Dare defined beauty. His face tightened and then relaxed. I fell a tiny bit in love with the wild man who surged inside me.
Gasping and sweaty, he lowered us to the floor before he fell back, sprawled on my carpet. I’d felled the giant. I giggled.
Dare opened one eye, staring at me. “What?”
I shook my head. “I’m amazed at the wildness. Made me feel like a conquering hero.” I hugged him close, lying on top of him.
“You conquered me. First you give the best head, then cook for me, and now your pussy does tricks.” He swatted my nose.
I lifted my damp hair off my neck. “Should cut this wild mess,” I muttered, making the empty threat I did every day.
“I like those red curls all messy and tumbled.” He lifted his head and kissed my lips.
“Me too, sometimes anyway.” I swiped his nose before I stood.
“Where you going, Red?” He sat up.
“Got to get to work. We have a bazillion clients this week.” I turned in a circle, trying to find my panties. Giving up, I ran into the bedroom for another pair. I came back out in new black lace panties.
“Liked your bare ass jiggling.” Dare hadn’t moved. Lazy man. “I want to spend some time playing with it.”
“Too bad. This ass has work to do.” I gave him a sassy smile and pulled on my jeans.
“Go with me to the club party Saturday.”
Facing the door, I froze, then buckled my pants.
To the club party? Oh hell no for about a hundred reasons. I didn’t know how to act. I didn’t know the secret handshake or the words they used. I’d make a fool of myself, and Dare would get pissed, ending the happiness I loved.
I turned around with no on my lips to find Dare as somber as if he’d asked me to marry him. The no died in a second.
“Can I think about it?” He frowned and I hurried on. “I’m worried I’ll embarrass you. All week people talk with words I don’t understand. I have a list of them, and I’m afraid I’ll break the rules or make someone mad.” I gulped, ready to continue, but he stood, hugging me to him.
“Red, we’ll talk tomorrow night. Then you tell me.” He gave me his serious look, the one with the crease in his brows. “You’ll never be an embarrassment. Proud to...” He paused. “To know you.”
The vise of disappointment squeezed my chest. The delivery guy who brought ink knew me. One minute Dare was holding his breath waiting for my answer and the next he dismissed me. My head started to hurt, probably from dehydration instead of the annoying man inches from me.
Reminded I was thirsty, I headed for the fridge and water, while behind me I heard Dare shut the bathroom door. I drank the cool water and considered what I should do. This was the part where things got complicated, but I wasn’t sure I wanted complicated. Throwing away the heavy thoughts along with the water bottle, I moved to the door so I could slip on my flats.
He walked toward me entirely too serious, so I jumped into his arms and kissed him. “Thanks. That’s my favorite so far.”
He snorted a laugh and set me down. “Damn good.” The confident tilt of his chin was back.
My chest filled with pride and satisfaction.
You’ll never be an embarrassment. He could be different. All the others had loved to put me in my place, below them, and the smallest mistake turned into a major embarrassment. No matter how I tried, I hadn’t been good enough.
Chapter Eight: Lila
The next morning I hurried to answer a knock almost an hour before the shop opened. I hoped it wasn’t another handsy biker because I’d about had my fill. A middle-aged woman about five foot one with bright red hair and smile lines creasing her face barged into the shop.
“Hello, honey, I’m MJ, Mama Jericho, and had to meet you.” The woman overflowed with energy. It burst out of her words, through her wide gestures and her fast stride—not a woman to take lightly.
“Hi, I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you.” I held out my hand, but she bypassed it, hugging me tight to her bony body. It was hard to believe such a small person had birthed Jericho, who stood over six foot.
“Your books done?” She turned serious.
“Yes, ma’am. Do you need them?” I headed to grab them.
“Nah, Stork will be by, but I plan to steal you for a late breakfast or early lunch, your ca
ll. You game?”
I didn’t think no was an option, and she intrigued me.
“Sure. Sounds great.” I stopped to lock up the shop, and we walked the block to the diner.
“You like Barden?” MJ asked.
“Yeah, a friendly town, and I’m starting to feel at home.”
“Need anything? We like taking care of ours.”
I gulped, thinking of what Dare said about my furniture. I shook my head. I planned to figure it out on my own.
We walked into the small diner and across the black-and-white-tiled floor to a newly cleared table in back—perfect timing. MJ sat down across from me.
A middle-aged waitress came by to take our order. “Hey, Jen, what’s the special?” MJ greeted her.
We ordered amid Jen and MJ catching up on town gossip. Once the waitress walked away, MJ focused on me.
“Dare asked you to the party. And you said?” MJ stared straight at me.
She was direct.
“We’re...” I searched for the right word.
“Fucking?” MJ laughed, holding her stomach. “Dear, I’ve done more of that than you can dream of.”
I was positive that was true. “Yeah, no emotions, the sex. This party feels like not casual, and I’m afraid—”
“No reason to fear the club—we’re legal and not too raunchy.” MJ’s gaze narrowed on me.
I held my palms up. “No, I’m afraid getting to know him better means heartache for me. I’m worried I don’t know the lingo, the rules, and will do something stupid, but I’m not afraid of the club.” If the woman let me finish a sentence, then she’d know my opinion.
Jen brought our coffee on a tray filled with food. The delicious smells of bacon and sausage had my stomach growling. I sipped my black coffee while MJ put enough sugar and cream in hers, I didn’t think it counted as coffee anymore.
“Those are smart worries. Good head on your shoulders.” MJ nodded and drank her coffee. “My boys say you cook like a dream, and that, I’m always looking for. Most old ladies can’t cook worth a damn.”
I didn’t know who her boys were. “Look, here’s my problem. I only understand about half of what you say. Who are your boys? What are retirees? And what the hell are sheep?”
MJ belted out a laugh that made her cough and pound the red Formica-topped table. “Girl, ain’t met one as green as you before. Can’t believe Jericho hired you. Must be good with the paperwork.”
I was damn good at my job, and what did the biker’s secret language have to do with managing the shop?
“Easy, girl.” MJ studied me. “Didn’t mean to piss you off. So many girls live to join the lifestyle and here you are not knowing a damn thing.”
I bit my lip. “Dare said we’d talk tonight and he’d answer my questions.”
Jen set the Denver omelet in front me, a fluffy perfection that I couldn’t make for the life of me, so I dug in and left MJ to talk.
She ate a piece of bacon and assessed me.
Should I worry about passing? Hard to care while I ate fluffy eggs with ham.
“Can’t think of a time Dare brought someone to the club, not even a sheep.” She held up a finger. “They’re girls who love the life and like to party—basically club property. Any of the guys, whose women won’t cut off their dicks for cheatin’, can have a go. Sometimes one of the boys will take a shine to one for a bit, but mostly they’re partiers who have no sense.” MJ grunted. “You’d never be a sheep.”
“Damn straight.” I frowned at her. “Not, um, anything wrong with it, but not my style.”
“We agree.” MJ ate more bacon. “Women have defined roles in the club, but they can’t be members. You can be a sheep, bottom of the barrel. Then you can be a girl, a girlfriend who hasn’t been claimed yet.”
I wished I was Dare’s girl. Asking me to the party, did it make me his girl? Or a sheep?
No, no one treats me like that. I’d come too far to go backward. I’d long ago turned in my wool.
“Sometimes a girl will switch between bikers until she finds the one who she’ll settle down with.”
“Really? It feels wrong to me, moving among friends like that.” I winced.
MJ shook her head. “The boys aren’t always right headed about women, and so if a biker ain’t the settling kind, the girl moves on. Because being a biker’s girl is like walking a tightrope. It ain’t easy.
“When a biker commits to a girl, she’s patched in as his property and becomes part of the club. We call her an old lady. The biker is her old man.” MJ smiled at me. “My old man patched me in after a year together, but it’s rare. Rarer now that the club’s established. It’s been hella thirty years helping my old man build the Brotherhood. Wild times, that ain’t no lie.”
The club sounded political to me, and the women more so than the men. It didn’t sound anything like a family, more like a harem. Old lady life didn’t sound normal either, but then my life never had been normal.
“Dare doesn’t strike me as the commitment type.” I feared I would fall in love with him and he’d walk away.
“Maybe, but maybe not.” She pointed her triangle of toast at me. “You have the only shot I’ve seen in the ten years I’ve known him. If it doesn’t work out between you, there’s lots of my boys who need a good woman.” She flashed me a brittle smile. “A woman who’s nice and can cook. Yeah, I can find you a man, if it comes to it.”
I hoped this was a dream. This friendly old woman propositioned me to be an old-lady-in-training or maybe an old-lady-in-waiting. I swallowed the laugh those words brought.
I put a ten on the table and stood. “Busy week at the shop. Thanks for the education. Can I ask you if I have more questions?”
She smirked at me. “You can ask.”
But whether she’d answer was another thing.
Dare worried about me, bragged about me—no way could I say no now. I bet MJ knew that before I did. I respected her, even if I didn’t trust her, but then, I rarely trusted myself.
The day passed in a blur, with the shop filled with bikers hanging out and others getting work done. I ran nonstop until closing time and hauled my ass upstairs for a quiet minute before Dare arrived at nine. I walked into my apartment and froze. A dark green couch rested back against the windows. Across from it, a TV stood on a stand. Where had all this come from? Who had decided I couldn’t take care of myself?
Sure, I’d waited, been hesitant even, to commit to the furniture I needed, but part of that was because I’d wanted to put my stamp on every item I brought in here. Nobody telling me how to decorate, when to do it, and least of all doing it for me, especially without as much as a word to me.
I dropped my purse and headed to the bedroom. Dare lay atop a bed, already made, with a totally masculine, self-satisfied grin.
I inhaled and tried to calm the rage climbing inside me. Why? Was he ashamed of my place? Did he think I couldn’t take care of myself? Or did he need this place to be his like I was his? Men. Just when I thought I could trust them they hit me hard and low, taking me down.
Now my sanctuary had become his, and it hurt. I’d wanted a bright floral couch, to pick out my own bed, to have a say in my furniture. This bedroom was no longer mine with the large headboard and matching chest of drawers.
I pivoted away and stalked back into the living room. Disgusted, I moved to the kitchen and grabbed an onion to start dinner.
“What do you think of the stuff?” His low rumble set my teeth on edge.
I chopped the onion faster, trying to get rid of the anger. I pushed it down, tried to swallow it, but it sprang back up, refusing to go away.
“Red, look at me.” He stood in my kitchen doorway.
I set down the chef’s knife and glared at the idiot.
“Why you pissed?” He ha
d the nerve to sound insulted.
Chapter Nine: Lila
“Me? Pissed? Why do you care what I think? Did you and MJ cook this all up?” My face heated to think she’d known this morning that Dare furnished my place.
“What the hell’s MJ got to do with this?” He stalked toward me.
I rolled my eyes. “Who? Who died and made you boss?” I shouted the stupid words. He was my freakin’ boss. “What gives you the right to furnish my place? I told you—I’d do it.”
He scowled, and his lips flattened into a slash. “Then you should’ve fucking done it. Been a month since you said that.” He moved until we stood body to body.
I leaned against the counter craning my neck to see his face. With a huff, I pushed him back and he went. I moved past him and stormed into the living room. “So you had the club take care of it.”
“What if I did?” His voice quieted. “You too good for the club?”
He wasn’t hijacking my pissed off. “This is about my life, and you, you’re interfering.” I threw my hands over my head. “I stick my nose into your shit at the club? I hold your hand and see if you need help pissing?”
A smile flashed.
“Don’t you fucking laugh at me.” I hurled words at him. “I can...take...care...of...myself.”
“Can you?” His anger pulsed with each step, like a physical presence in the room. “You don’t let me help. You don’t ask the club for help. You don’t even ask for an advance to take care of shit you need.” He crowded me back to the bare wall by the door.
We’d had the most amazing sex against my door, and now it was all over. I’d be packing up and finding a new job again.
“Three strikes, Red. Now, I’ve taken care of it. Never doubt, I will take care of business, whether you like it or not.” He spoke low in my ear with a quiet rage banked in his tone.
“You? Who gave you the right to decide?” I sputtered the words, my anger running its course. I bit back the tears that threatened. “This is my home. My first place, and I wanted to do it, now it’s yours.” I bowed under the weight of the words.
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