Lick: Devil's Fury Book 2

by Torrie Robles

  Even her.

  Slipping from her, I see traces of blood on the length of my dick, smeared on the metal of my hardware. When my eyes catch hers, her cheeks flush pink. “Ain’t nothing better,” I tell her, needing to ease her embarrassment. I hear the doorbell ring for the second time, causing me to cuss under my breath. I pull my jeans on, tucking myself back in and leaving her to clean herself up while I figure out who the fuck is at the door. Goober is barking like he’s some sort of badass guard dog.

  The cool air of the living room hits my heated skin. Barefoot, in only my jeans, I jerk open the front door to find Maggie and a woman with brown hair and glasses. Maggie presses her lips into a tight line while the other lady openly stares at my exposed chest. Clearing my throat causes her to meet my eyes.

  “Yeah, there you go. My eyes are up here.”

  “Mr. McCoy,” Maggie states. “This is my associate, Terri Osborn.”

  “It’s lovely to meet you, Mr. McCoy.” The new lady sticks out her hand, offering me to take it. When my eyes dart to Maggie, she slightly nods her head, so I stick out my hand, giving hers a few shakes before dropping it. I’m not sure if I’ve ever shaken a woman’s hand before. “I’ve been contracted by the county to inspect the home the minors are expected to be inhabiting.”

  “Is Miss Hoyt home, by chance?” Maggie asks, and I know it’s because she knows I’ll need a buffer between this lady and me if I intend to have a good inspection and get the kids under this roof. If this lady doesn’t like what she sees, then all of this shit is for nothing, and I’ll be in jeopardy of losing more than my niece and nephew.

  “I’m right here,” I hear Jenni’s voice come up from behind me. She wraps her arm around my waist as I bring my arm around her shoulder, pulling her into me. I can smell sex on her, and I hope as fuck they can smell it too. She shushes Goober, and he settles onto his dog bed.

  “Jenni, this is Terri. She’s going to be working the case with me. She’s the third-party I was telling you about.”

  “Come in.” Jenni steps away from me, giving the ladies enough room to enter the house. Once Jenni faces me, her eyes about bug out of her head. I know she’s telling me I should have invited them in and I probably fucked up. I’m not the easiest person to get along with, and I know I intimidate the shit outta people. This is proof that my inaccessibility comes naturally. I don’t always try to be a prick. Most of the time I just am one.

  “We weren’t expecting you so soon,” I tell them.

  “Yes, well…” Maggie says as she takes a seat on the couch, placing her hands on her lap. The other lady follows her lead. I feel Jenni’s hand wrap around mine, tugging me down to take a seat on the opposite couch with her. “We’ve received the background checks, and everything seems good.” Maggie chews on her lip. “But the family where the children are placed have taken an interest in them.”

  My stomach drops. I sit forward, ready to lay into these two bitches. I feel Jenni squeeze my hand. “What does that mean?” she asks.

  “It seems the family is interested in making the placement in their home permanent.”

  “I thought it was difficult to place older children in permanent placements?” Jenni asks.

  “Yes, normally it is. Couples tend to lean towards the younger kids because the baggage is less. If the kids can’t remember their birth parents, then it’s easier for those kids to blend with the adoptive family.”

  “What do you fucking mean adoptive?” I feel Jenni squeeze my hand again, but there’s no way I’m not asking some fucking questions.

  “The family who is fostering them has inquired about their next of kin relationship and status because they would like to seek adoption,” the foreign lady states.

  I stand. “Well, that sure as fuck ain’t gonna happen.”

  “Tylan–”

  I snap my gaze to Jenni, daring her to try to reign me in.

  “No, that ain’t fucking happening. We were told that I get those kids. That I’m the best for them seeing as they’ve got my blood running through their veins. She,” I point to Maggie, “came looking for me, not the other way around. I didn’t even know those kids existed until she brought their files to my door. There ain’t no way in hell–”

  “Lick, sit your ass down,” Maggie growls, still sitting with her hands in her lap. I open my mouth to spit back an argument, but once I meet the hardness in Maggie’s eyes, I snap my mouth shut. I slowly sink my body back down into the comfort of the couch.

  “Now,” she says, “like Terri said, the foster family has shown interest in the kids. This is the reason why we’re pushing up the visit and making this case one of importance so we can get these kids settled. They’ve had so much upset in their lives as of late, and we’d like for them to get setup somewhere and get into a routine.”

  “Because of this,” Terri continues where Maggie leaves off, “Maggie and I are going to do our walkthrough, and first thing in the morning we’ll be meeting with the supervisor in this case and making our decision. By lunch time tomorrow, you’ll know the future of your niece and nephew.”

  “Do what you need to do.”

  “Yes, please look around. Tylan and I will be outside while you do what you need to do.” Jenni stands then turns to look at me, waiting for me to follow her lead.

  Maggie gives us a small smile. “We’ll come get you as soon as we’re done.”

  Without another word, we head out back. I’m ready to get those kids here with us. I’m ready to let them know the life they’ve lived isn’t the norm. But in order for any of those things to happen, Tylan needs to keep his cool and not fly off the handle every time he hears something he doesn’t like.

  “You need to keep your temper in check.” I throw myself on the old patio furniture. The plastic strips that make up the seat creak under the pressure of my bottom. I’m sure it’s been out here for years.

  “People need to stop pissing me off.” He walks towards the edge of the patio, staring out onto the yard. The backyard is sparse, more concrete than trees. The grass is dead because of the time of year, and the bushes have long since died.

  Growing up in Texas, my mother’s oasis was her flower beds. She spent the early spring prepping the ground, waiting for the moment when her tulips would emerge.

  “Why do you put all that stuff in the dirt?”

  I’m sitting on my knees next to my mother in the dirt of her flower beds. She has boxes upon boxes of raised flower beds. Every year for as long as I can remember, when the whiteness of the morning frost no longer adorns our front grass, she readies the dirt.

  “It’s so the flowers will grow big and bright. Bright flowers are always the prettiest,” she tells me as she continues to work. “With enough encouragement, a little bit of work and a loving touch, anything can be beautiful, Jenni. It’s amazing what a little bit of love can accomplish. The tiniest bit can be anyone’s, or anything’s, saving grace. Love is the most formidable thing on God’s green earth. With it, anything can be beautiful.”

  Tylan continues to look at the backyard with his hands stretched above his head, gripping onto the wooden beam of the patio overhang.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “How nothing seems to ever go easy for me.”

  “You know, not everyone’s out to get you.” I watch his body tense. Slowly turning his head, he looks over his shoulder.

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “Do you think if I were a tie-wearing-nine-to-fiver I’d be dealing with this shit?” He drops his hands to his side and turns to me. Pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he leans against the pole, bringing one of his bare feet to lean against the wood. The thin T-shirt does nothing to hide the muscle beneath it. I’d never think something so strong would feel so smooth, but his body, his skin, it’s one of the softest things I’ve ever touched.

  “I think that they’d still want to make sure that this is the best place for the kids. Working a nine to five job doesn
’t make you a good person or the better choice. It makes you a man who works nine to five.”

  “I have to disagree with you, Sweet Ass. We’re fighting an uphill battle because of me being who I am.”

  “You’re their family, and that has to have some sort of power.”

  “You and I both know that doesn’t mean a thing. We both know our own blood family isn’t always what’s best for us.”

  He’s right, but I don’t want him to think like that. I want him to believe that he’s the best choice here.

  “Yo, Lick!” Hawk’s voice has us both turning and searching the yard. He’s standing on the opposite side of the yard behind the chain link fence. “We’ve been trying to call you.” Lick pats his jeans, looking for his phone. “Cut’s called Jury. He wants it to happen now.”

  “It’s fine,” I tell Lick. “I’ll let them know you had business. I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

  “I’m not sure how long it’s gonna take.”

  “They don’t plan on telling us anything tonight, so go on. I’ll take care of things here.”

  “I ain’t got no fucking boots. Or fucking socks for that matter.” He looks down as he pulls his jeans up wiggling his toes.

  I smile. “There’s a pair in the garage. They’re old, but they should work.”

  He nods his head before approaching me. Bending down, he leans into my space as his fingers slowly move into my hair at the nape of my neck. My eyes close.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?” My voice is soft.

  “For allowing me to be your first. For showing me the beauty in something I’ve only seen as ugly.” He sighs. “For everything.”

  He presses his lips to my forehead before taking a step back, leaving me alone.

  Stepping foot into Jury, I notice it’s a full house. We’ve got most of our members around the table. I pull out a seat, I drop my ass in the chair to the right of Cut. Hawk stands in the corner of the room, arms folded across his chest. Our club is the most unconventional MC club I’ve ever known. Once Cut took over, and the numbers dwindled, we didn’t see a need for official titles. Cut is the president, and his word goes, but we pretty much agree on most issues brought forth. But now, with the numbers increasing and members coming over from other charters who’ve held official titles, things need to change.

  I’ve always been the one who strong arms. It comes naturally to me, and if I’m honest, I get off on hurting people. The power and control I feel when I hear their limbs snap, or when I feel the warmth of their blood spray against my skin, makes me fucking hard. So naturally and unofficially, I’ve been the club’s Sergeant at Arms. It doesn’t happen that often, but when we’re looking for our bounty I’m needed.

  “This has been a long time coming,” Cut says as he looks around the room. “This club is growing in size, and our reputation is becoming well known. So much so that New York’s Mafia has officially reached out to us.”

  There are grunts from around the room, giving praise to Cut.

  “This is going to be a more invasive case. It’s going to take time and a lot of work on our end to stay hidden as we find the rat the mafia is requesting. Dyke,” he regards our hacker, “I know you’ve been dabbling here and there, trying to find him, but now you can go full bore to get this son of a bitch.”

  “No problem. I’ll hit it hard.”

  “Brass, once Dyke locates him you’re going to survey the area and see where we can strike.”

  “Got it.”

  “Tiny, you’ll need to case the area and get in touch with anyone who’s familiar with anything. I’m gonna need you to blend in and get the information needed to help Brass out on things he can’t see from the street.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “I’m going to need all hands on this one. Those of you who aren’t involved initially may be called in once we see what the fuck we’re dealing with. This job is a huge payout. We can’t screw this up.”

  “What the fuck am I supposed to do?” I’m a bit surprised that my name isn’t mentioned. It pisses me the fuck off that Cut hasn’t thought to include me in this before he chose to bring Tiny in.

  Turning his head to me, he lifts his brow, annoyed that I’ve questioned him in front of the others. “You’re here to maintain the club and get your personal shit straight.”

  “Fuck that. You know I can handle my shit.”

  “I’ll help any way I can,” Cruise calls out.

  Cruise’s voice alone pisses me off, now that motherfucker is trying to inch his way into the position I do for this fucking club. No fucking way in hell.

  “I got it handled,” I tell the fucker.

  “You get your shit handled. Business will always be here,” Cut commands.

  “Bullshit.”

  “You’ll be working at the garage,” Cut tells me. “Sin is gonna need your help on a project. It needs to be street ready within the next month. That’s something that only you can do, brother. But I promise, if I need you on the other end, I’ll make that call.”

  I nod, not willing to look at him or anyone else at the table. I’m beyond fucking pissed. I’ve been by Cut’s side this whole fucking ride, and I’m not about to get off now.

  “We got this handled,” Dyke encourages.

  Cut stands. “As our numbers grow, so does the need to make sure this club runs smoothly. When we were small, it seemed to run like a well-oiled machine. But with the club membership increasing, and different personalities taking up residence here, we need to get some shit straight.”

  I take a deep breath because I know this has to do with the shit I keep having to deal with from that fucktard Cruise. I lift my gaze, peering at each and every one of the men who surround this table.

  “We are here for one reason, our belief in brotherhood and family. It’s not about the bikes we ride or the deals we make. It’s about us coming together. I’m not fucking stupid, and I know that none of you are fucking stupid either. We aren’t going to be without our fucking issues, but act like grown ass men and stop fucking around like children. Grow the fuck up.”

  My gaze drops back down to the grain of the wooden table. I can feel the hair on the back of my neck lift in fucking anger. I’m physically restraining myself from opening my mouth because I know, once I do, words are gonna spew and nothing pretty is gonna come from it. All because of fucking Cruise.

  “This is my club,” Cut continues, “my father’s club, and I’m not gonna deal with this internal shit when we’ve got shit outside these walls that need to be dealt with. Squash the shit. Don’t be taking fucking sides, and act like the fucking men I know you to be. Now, that being said, Bubba is coming back in two weeks’ time. He’ll be on probation, but the brother is sober, and he deserves another chance to wear his cut. This is the decision that I’ve made, and the club is standing by.” Murmurs come from around the table.

  “Now, on to other business.” He grabs the envelope from the table. “Dyke, as one of the key members of this charter, as one of my father’s trusted men, I’m officially giving you the title of Vice President.” He throws a patch across the table. If I’m absent or unavailable, and shit needs to be dealt with now and not later, he’s the man to go to.”

  “Thanks, man. I’ll do you proud,” Dyke comments.

  “Lick.” My head snaps up. “Without a doubt, you’re my right hand. You have been since we were kids, and you’ve done more than proven yourself to this club and me since the day my father was murdered. There is no one else that I’d have by my side to protect me and the reputation Devil’s Fury holds. Although you already take care of the responsibility this title carries, you, brother, are officially Sergeant at Arms.” He tosses me a patch, my official title.

  “Thanks,” I tell him with a nod.

  “May those mother fuckers who cross your path, tread lightly,” Cut says.

  The table rumbles in agreement with Cut’s last statement.

  “Brass, since you’ve been doing this f
or as long as I can remember, I’d like for you to officially be the Treasure of Devil’s Fury.” He tosses Brass his patch.

  “I’ve never been a guy who needed a title. I do this for the love of the club, for the loyalty I have for you pieces of shit. But regardless, thank you.”

  “Sin.” I look up to see Sin push off the wall, taking a step forward.

  “No disrespect, but you know that I’m not looking for a title. My thoughts haven’t changed on the subject.”

  “Maybe if you keep your trap shut, you’d be able to hear what I’m about to say.” Sin nods. “This doesn’t have shit to do with the club in any official capacity. It’s about the shop–your shop. I’m officially turning over all rights and ownership of Fury to you. It’s because of you and your creativity that we’ve been noticed. With your hard work, your ol’ lady’s business smarts, and Lick’s engines we’ve closed the deal with Chopper West. The shop will always be a part of Devil’s Fury, just as you will. But it’s time to let you do you. I know you’ll make this club, me, and pops proud.”

  He slams his palm on the face of the table, signally the end of Jury. A few of the guys walk up to Cut, slapping him on the back. Sin has a smile on his face. All this hard work is paying off. I don’t move while the others stand. I’m itching to get back to the house. The need to feel Jenni’s hot as fuck pussy clench around my cock is strong, but first, I need to clear the air with Cut.

  “What’s up brother?” he asks as he throws himself into the leather of his chair. Kicking his feet onto the table, he intertwines his fingers, resting both hands on his stomach.