“How did you know I like these?” I ask, completely surprised.
“You were having them yesterday. I made you spill them. Figured I owe you.”
“Thank you.” I’m even more surprised he noticed. I open the container and dig in. A few pastries later, it hits me that I haven’t offered him any. “Would you like some?”
He gives me the crooked smile.
“Only if you feed me.”
“Fat chance.”
“Feed me.”
I have one at his lips before I even know what’s happening. He bites into it and I wait for him to swallow before I offer the other half. He takes it and leans forward, sucking the sugar from my index finger. I swallow hard as that now familiar tingle runs through my body.
“Mmm… they’re good.”
He jams on the brakes and I’m hurtled forward, then pulled back by the seatbelt.
“Jesus! What is it?”
“Fuck.”
I follow his gaze and see six men on motorcycles parked in front of the clubhouse. They don’t look like Dealers.
“Push the seat back and lie flat. Don’t get up until I tell you to, understand?”
“What’s going on?”
“Just do it.”
Fear takes over and I recline the seat and lie back, watching him. He continues slowly for about a minute, and then he comes to a stop again.
“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
He gets out but leaves the car running. I listen carefully, waiting for just a hint of the situation going south. I pull out my phone, ready to dial nine-one-one if it does. What am I saying? It would all be over by the time the cops got here.
“A little late for a house call, isn’t it, fellas?” Gage says.
“If it isn’t the Reaper himself.”
Mexicans. There’s no confusing our accent.
“What can I do for you, jefe?”
“This is business, couldn’t wait until tomorrow, ese.”
“What’s going on?”
“One of our shipments was jacked today. We got another one in two days, and we’re looking for some extra security.”
“I see.”
“I’ll give you fifty up front, another fifty when it gets to its destination.”
“I can do that. I’ll need specifics… transport vehicles, how many guys you got, routes.”
“Get with Pedro in the morning and he’ll give you everything you need.”
“Cool.”
The bikes start up and as soon as they sound far enough away, I sit up. I watch him in the car’s headlights, wondering what kind of illegal exchange I just heard. He climbs in, presses a button on a remote, and the gates of the clubhouse open.
“Security? I thought you customized cars.”
“I also own ‘12 Gauge Security’. I’m an entrepreneur, Miss Alvarez. I have my hand in many ventures.”
“I see. What else?”
“I also have a nightclub, and the MC owns the auto parts shop on Main Street, and a strip club outside of town.”
“The one where Lonnie works?”
“Yeah.”
He parks in a garage and we enter the building through what looks like a private entrance. I don’t know what I expected, but I’m pleasantly surprised by what I see. It looks like a laid-back sports bar. There’s a pool table in the middle of the room, a pinball machine in one corner, and a video poker machine in another. There are several flat-screen TVs hanging on the walls and there’s a DJ booth next to the bar. The club logo is on the wall behind the bar. A motorcycle muffler hangs beneath it with the inscription “Death before disloyalty.” The rest of the wall is decorated with pictures of members, and Harley paraphernalia.
“Wow.”
“Cool, huh?”
“It’s awesome.”
“You want something to drink?”
“Water, please.” I remove the hoodie and place it on the couch, before walking around and taking a closer look. It’s also surprisingly clean.
“So, what do you wanna do?”
You. Ugh. I take a big sip of my water. Hopefully it will quench this thirst.
“I don’t know. This was your idea.”
“Pool?”
“Okay.”
He hands me a cue and racks up the balls, while I chalk the tip. “You break.”
“Sure thing, baby doll.”
He breaks, and balls go rolling in all directions. Two drop into the corner pockets, a solid and a stripe.
“Solids.” He grins at me.
He moves around the table to where I’m standing, leaning over to take a shot. That’s when I see the gun handle sticking out of the back of his jeans.
“Is that a Glock seventeen?”
No doubt surprised, he scratches and turns toward me.
“Yeah, how’d you know?”
“My dad was a cop. He taught me a few things. Gen four?”
“Yeah.”
He removes it from his waist and hands it to me. “I love the new grip.” I release the magazine, check the chamber and point it right between his eyes. He grins, awe apparent in the blue orbs.
“Damn. You just might be the perfect woman.”
“Yeah? If you think so now, wait ’til you see me shoot.”
I pull the trigger and he grabs my wrist, pulling me against him. I lean into him, shivering as he slides his hands around my waist.
“October can’t come quick enough.”
I step back with a coy smile, re-load the magazine, and hand it to him. He tucks it back into his waist.
“What’s so special about October?”
“Just wait and see, baby doll.”
“Why do you keep calling me that?”
“I don’t know. It just fits you, I guess.”
“And all this?” I wave my hand around to indicate the current situation. “Why do you care? And don’t tell me that it’s because you want to fuck me. I know you don’t have a problem getting laid.”
“True. There’s just something about you. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
Oh, you can put your finger and anything else you want on it! Jesus. The game. Just think about the game.
“You scratched. My turn.”
I pick up the cue ball and position it for an easy shot. As I’m about to take it, he presses against my ass. Holy fuck, he’s as hard as a rock. I put the cue down, closing my eyes as I straighten. I turn around slowly and he backs me up against the table.
“Or maybe Mark Twain was right. ‘There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable’.”
He’s quoting Twain? If he likes to read, then it’s my turn to think he’s perfect! He tangles his fingers in my hair and tugs my head back so I’m looking in his eyes.
“Stay away from me. Then you won’t be tempted.”
“‘I generally avoid temptation unless I can’t resist’. I believe that’s Mae West.”
My breath catches and I search my brain for an appropriate comeback.
“‘We gain the strength… of the temptation… we resist’, Ralph Waldo Emerson.”
I can hardly get my words out because I can barely breathe. This can’t be a normal reaction, can it? I’ve never been like this with anyone else. What is it about him?
He smiles, leaning closer. My breasts are now crushed against his chest, and for the life of me, I can’t calm my breathing.
“‘Yield to temptation, it may not pass your way again’, Robert A. Heinlein.”
I moan as his lips graze my cheek. A prayer. That’s what I need.
“‘Lord, deliver me from wanting to be delivered into temptation’, Khaya Dlanga.”
I gasp as he grabs my hips and lifts me onto the pool table. He steps forward, wedging himself between my legs and sliding an arm around my waist. His free hand returns to my hair, and he pulls me forward.
“Oscar Wilde… ‘the only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it and your soul grows sick with long
ing…’”
His voice gets lower with each word and his lips get closer to mine with each breath. I can’t move. My mind and body are being seduced.
“‘For the things it has forbidden itself, with desire for what monstrous laws have made monstrous and unlawful’.”
I can’t take it anymore. I close the small gap between our lips and press them together. His arm tightens around my waist and he pulls me even closer. I wrap my legs around his hips and his hardness crashes into me. My hands find their way into his hair, roaming his scalp as he devours my lips. His kisses are like wildfire—hot and uncontrollable. When his tongue touches mine, my entire body trembles. I moan, sucking on his bottom lip, and grinding against him. God, I love the way he feels.
He grabs my hips and then we’re moving. I don’t know where we’re going, and I don’t care. A door slams shut, then there’s something soft beneath me. A bed. Fuck. All of a sudden, it’s like I’m possessed. I writhe beneath him, moaning and whimpering. I can’t get enough of him. I yank at the hem of his shirt and pull it up. He breaks away just long enough to remove it and toss it over his shoulder. He removes the gun from his waist and tries to place it on the nightstand, but I grab his shoulders and drag him back to me, causing it to clatter to the floor.
“Raven.”
Holy shit, my name sounds amazing coming from him. He moans as he kisses my neck. His tongue swirls, and my muscles clench. God, I want him to touch me there. He starts to suck on my neck and my eyes roll back in my head. For just a second, a clear thought enters my mind.
“No marks.”
He moves down and latches on to my stomach, pulling at my skin and sinking his teeth in. My stomach muscles lock up.
“Gage!”
“That’s it. Say my name, Raven.”
He comes back to my lips and I roll over, putting him beneath me. I sit up and just take him in. He’s breathing just as heavily as I am, and his pupils are dilated. The color of his eyes is even more intense. The pendant of his necklace—a flattened, brass base of a shotgun shell—lies on his chest, with the inscription “12 Gage.”
I study the tattoos covering his chest and arms. On his left arm, the reaper makes another appearance, the handle of his scythe extending all the way down to his wrist. On either side of the blade are the words, “I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.” On his right arm, there’s a twelve gauge, eight-seventy pump-action shotgun, with a bullet coming out of the barrel. The name of his club sits proudly on his sternum in a semi-circle from one shoulder to the next, the logo on his left pectoral. On his sides, there are two Glocks that look like they’re tucked into his waist. “Death before disloyalty” is in bold letters on his stomach between the guns. Among the tats, I also notice a few scars, some of which look like gunshot wounds. With his protruding pecs, flat stomach, and strong arms, he’s one smoking-hot, hunk of a man. A real thirst trap.
I lean forward and kiss his neck, working my way back to his lips. As I’m treated to another of his delicious kisses, he slips his fingers beneath my top. I’m startled by a vibration on my thigh and I pull back. He looks up at me, takes a deep breath, and shakes his head.
“Fuck!” He rolls from under me and jumps off the bed. “The fuck am I doing?”
He removes two phones from his pocket, tosses one on the bed, and answers the other. His back is to me and I see it’s free of tattoos. I was expecting to see more. He hangs up and turns to me, and I get ready for round two. Instead, he picks up his shirt and sighs.
“I better take you home.”
CHAPTER 9
***Gage***
I glance over at her. Her head is turned away from me, and the hoodie is blocking her face. She’s been quiet ever since we left the clubhouse. “Are you awake?”
“Yes,” she answers softly.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Are you angry?”
“What is this, twenty questions?”
“You’re just real quiet is all.”
“I’m fine.”
I’m such a dumbass. Why did I take her there? I should have known I couldn’t trust myself to be alone with her.
“I’m sorry. I got carried away. I shouldn’t have let things go that far.”
“You don’t need to be. It’s not like I asked you to stop. I wanted it, too.”
Fuck. Why did she have to say that? My dick is still hard and aching like a motherfucker. I need to find somewhere to bury this bone fast.
“How many people have you killed?”
Her question startles me. “What? Why would you ask me that?”
“Your nickname is Reaper… the whole reaper theme… plus, with everything I’ve heard about you, doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.”
She finally turns to look at me, but I can’t look at her. This is just a reminder of why I should stay away from her.
“It’s okay. I’m not scared or anything. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. As a matter of fact, don’t. I’m sorry.”
She turns away again and stares out the window. This isn’t something I talk to women about. The only person I even really talk to is E. We’ve known each other since we were kids, so he knows me better than anyone. I trust him. Can I trust her? I barely know her, so why do I feel like I can?
“You don’t want to know, Raven.”
She turns to me once more, expecting me to continue.
“As soon as I got my license, my dad bought me a Harley and drafted me into the club. I was the president’s kid, so I didn’t even join as a prospect. He made me his Sergeant and taught me everything he knew.”
“Sergeant?”
“Sergeant at Arms… an enforcer, if you will… security.”
“Weren’t you a bit young for that?”
“I grew up real quick.”
I remember the gun and shooting lessons. Killing lessons, really—every possible way to kill a man and get rid of the body. While everyone else my age was filling out college applications, I was burying bodies in the woods.
“Did you want to be in the club?”
“A part of me did. Another part of me wanted something else.”
“What?”
“I wanted to be a pilot. Was planning on joining the Air Force after graduation.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“It was just a dream. Had to accept reality.”
“‘Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one’.”
I turn to her, trying to keep the astonishment from my eyes. “You read a lot, don’t you? I don’t know any girls your age quoting Einstein. Hell, I don’t know any my age.”
“I love reading, love learning new things. Seems like you read a lot, too.”
“Side effect of having a brainiac for a best friend.”
“Dr. Emerson?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I know it’s more than that. You can’t fool me.”
“I can’t?”
“No.”
She’s right, of course. It’s more than E’s influence. I really did want to be a pilot. I took the right classes, studied my ass off, and graduated with a 4.0 GPA. E’s the one who convinced me to get a business degree when I told him all the plans I had for the MC. Because of my duties with the club, I couldn’t go to a traditional college, so I got an Associate’s degree from a local community college. Sometimes I still wonder what would have happened if I’d joined the Air Force instead of the club.
“Okay, you got me. I’m secretly a nerd.”
“Not a nerd, but smarter than you lead people to believe.”
“You got me all figured out, huh?”
“Well, you wanted to be a pilot, so you must have been pretty good in school. That doesn’t just go away. You probably have a degree or something, but you’re hiding behind this Reaper persona.”
What the fuck? People who have been around me for years haven’t figured that out and she does after a few conversations? Not even Chopper
knows. The only ones who do are E and Ellen.
“What makes you think that?”
She raises a shoulder in a shrug.
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-two.”
“Oh.”
“What… you think I’m too old for you?”
“No, just wondering. I don’t really know anything about you.”
“True. There’s a lot we don’t know about each other, but we can learn.”
I reach over, take her hand, and stare into her eyes. She averts her gaze and pulls her hand from mine nervously.
“I like your tattoos.”
She effectively changes the subject, so I place my hand back on the wheel. “Thanks.”
“I was surprised you don’t have any on your back.”
“It’s kind of a club thing. The back is reserved for our old ladies.”
“Old lady… is that like a girlfriend?”
“Yeah, or wife.”
“So, you don’t have one?”
“No, Raven. If I did, you wouldn’t be here.”
“Don’t you want one?”
Damn it. I should have known this would happen. She probably thinks this is going somewhere. I need to nip it in the bud.
“Don’t worry. I don’t have any grand ideas about you. I know exactly what you want from me.”
“I’m not that man, Raven. You want a good fuck, you come see me. I don’t date. I don’t do romance or relationships, and I certainly don’t do love.”
“You don’t need to convince me. Besides, I have a boyfriend.”
The mere mention of the word makes my blood boil. I don’t even know why. I just can’t stand the thought of someone else touching her. “Are you fucking him?”
“What? No!”
I pull into her driveway and shut the car off. There are a few things we need to get straight.
“When you said you’ve done some things… what did you mean?”
She takes a deep breath and rolls her eyes.
“If you’re asking me if I’m virgin, then the answer is yes.”
Fuck. A virgin. My dick jumps. I can just imagine how tight she’ll be. “It’s mine, Raven. Wait for me.”
She turns to me, her expression incredulous.
“What?”
RAGE: President & First Lady Of The Death Dealers MC Page 8
