Biker Chicks: Volume 2

by MariaLisa deMora

  No, her best bet was bluffing, and she was fucking good at that. Had to be, her whole life nothing but one play after another. Pokerface ran hard in her family. They did blank over small shit so when it mattered it was like fucking Teflon, nothing mattered so nothing stuck. Poker-fucking-face.

  “No, they aren’t deaf, but I also didn’t get a chance to talk to any of them seeing as the man in the room I ducked into wasn’t there and I didn’t make it over to the other room yet.” He lifted a hand, running fingers through his thick mop of dark brown hair. “You wanna let me pound a wall, then we can see if they’re all gathered in one room. Which would piss Fury off to no end, but they’re foot soldiers, not strategists, so there’s that.”

  “Flip the light,” she said softly, taking care to enunciate clearly to make her point. “You take a good long look at my sister and you tell me if I want your kind in this room.”

  “My kind?” He asked this, flipping the switch, and in the bright light she could see his gaze never wavered from her, his eyes had locked onto her face and he was trying to get a read on what she meant even before she explained. Pokerface, she thought, but didn’t allow even that thought to glide across her features.

  “Dicks,” she clipped, and then tipped her head towards the bed and watched his eyes cut that direction. “Coates didn’t go easy. My next phone conversation is going to be with a dispatch queen to get some squads over this way. You think you need to warn any of your guys before I make that call?”

  His head shook back and forth jerkily, eyes scanning the bed and surrounding area. “Fuck,” he ground out, gaze flipping back to her. “You close with her?”

  “Close enough. We started the club together. She’s my sister.”

  “Not blood, right? Patch?” That he made that distinction led her to believe he might have the same kind of shitheel family she did, but instead of asking, because she did not want to know that about him, she let it slide. She did not want to know anything about him, because if she knew him, she would have a harder time disliking him. Right now, she really, really wanted to dislike him, so all she did was nod. He continued, “Brothers assigned to watch the room aren’t into unwilling. But, again, no one was home to the north. This is not giving me a good feeling, Annie.”

  “No shit, Sherlock,” she said, staring at his face as he looked Coates over again. “Making my call,” she said, sliding her thumb across the surface to unlock the phone and dialing. Lifting it to her head she watched him angle towards the door as she heard the canned phrase, “Nine-one-one, what is your emergency…”

  ***

  Seated in a metal chair along the long edge of the interview room table, Annie looked up when the door swung in, admitting one of the last people she expected to see. “Domino,” she breathed, feeling her brows pull together in a frown. He hadn’t hung around for the cops to hit the motel, ghosting out almost before her thumb had lifted from dialing. Not that she blamed him, but he had left her standing alone in a room with her sister. So again, she wanted to dislike him.

  She hadn’t mentioned him at all, much less by name, just saying that she had returned to the building from a meeting and found Victoria Coates dead upon arrival. It helped that she had a sheepdog brother who had oathed in, proudly wearing blue to protect and serve, so in her gut she knew even if the questions seemed brusque and hard, they were men who were just trying to do their jobs. Not out for her, regardless of her kneejerk responses to their intrusive and rude inquiries.

  He lifted his chin and allowed the door to remain ajar, placing his shoulders against the wall next to the opening. “I called, offered to come in for a chat. Boys out there didn’t know what I was talking about.”

  She turned pointedly to the glass wall and back to him without speaking, her thoughts turning wildly even as she gave him pokerface. Is he trying to fuck me over? The desk jockeys had given her enough of a hassle about her concealed carry, even with the papers in her bag. She didn’t need them wondering if she had hedged her statement, pulling her back into the lights for their investigation.

  He told her, “Boys out there say you’re good to go.” She again turned to the one-way mirror, and then held out her hands, shrugging her question to the invisible man. A loud rapping came from the glass and she shook her head, turning to stride to the door. In the hallway, she went to the next door down and knocked hard, pounding the surface firmly with the side of her fist, the zippers on her jacket sleeves adding a metallic rattle as she moved.

  It opened and she saw the face of the detective who had interviewed her, eyebrows lifted in a question. “I’m good to go?” He nodded and opened his mouth, but she talked over whatever he was going to say. “My girl, when do I get her?”

  He sucked in a breath on a wince, saying gently, “Miss Robbins…Kathleen, it will be several days before Miss Coates can be released. We have your numbers, as well as the next of kin information you provided. Someone will be in touch, I promise you.” He handed her piece over, butt first, magazine in his other hand. She cleared the gun then shoved it unloaded into the holster at her back, pocketing the clip when she took it from him. She knew her nod was jerky as she tried to fight back the anger and grief threatening to crash over her. “Let me call a car to take you back to your vehicle.”

  “I got that covered,” came from behind her, just as heat settled onto her hip, Domino’s fingers curling around, anchoring her.

  “Is that okay with you, Kathleen?” The detective’s voice was still gentle and that nearly took her legs, but she fought that back, too. Nodding, she automatically lifted her hand to take the card he offered, hearing him say, “I know it’s not much, but I am sorry for your loss. Call me if you need anything. My cell number is on the back.” His fingers squeezed hers and continued to hold tight until she lifted her gaze from the center of his chest, where it had settled when she asked her first question. She saw his eyes were bright and his smile as gentle as his voice. Taking a step backwards, she ran into what had to be Domino, feeling her body plaster fully against his.

  Moving away from both men, she aimed herself towards the front of the building, quickly weaving and winding her way through the scattering of desks and chairs that made up the office area. There were a dozen other interview rooms and offices with open or closed doors on the outer ring of the room, leaving no wall surface for windows, but the light in here was still blinding, her eyes stinging. Behind her, boot heels clattered down the three steps to street level as she hit the door at a run, suddenly desperate to be out of there, away from the space where people had mastered the art of sympathy, knowing the exact tone of voice needed to convey unaffected empathy.

  “Annie,” she heard Domino’s voice call behind her as she sprinted down the sidewalk, dodging between the few pedestrians browsing the storefronts in the crisp, late fall air, their faces startled by the sudden loud noises echoing down the street. A hand caught at hers, tugging and slowing her so she turned, ready to strike out, but his arms reached first, wrapping around and folding her into him. “Hush, Annie. I got you.”

  At his words she realized the noise was coming from her, dry, harsh sobs that ripped from her chest as if the air was forced out. Eyes clamped shut, she burrowed into his chest, shoving her arms up until she could cup her hands across the bottom of her face, covering her mouth in an attempt to control the sounds.

  “Give it to me, sweetheart,” he crooned into her ear and at his soft words she found more sobs locked inside, fighting their way to the surface. Standing on the sidewalk in the middle of smalltownsville Indiana, she found more tears and more grief ripping through her than she thought possible. The numbness was completely gone, but in a bad way, shredded away by memories leaving her raw again. But, she wasn’t alone. Sheltered in his arms, the man she had seen exactly three times, and disliked on at least one occasion, she gave it to him. She gave it until there wasn’t anything left to give, until she was wrung dry, weak with the violence of emotion, raw and unkempt inside.

&nbs
p; “Annie, I’m going to take you home, okay?” His arms began to loosen and she scrabbled at him, forcing her arms up and around his neck, holding on tightly, not wanting the connection to break, not knowing if she could survive this on her own. “I got you, sweetheart. Gonna take you home.”

  “Can’t go home,” she said, her voice breaking at the memories sweeping over her again of Coates face, her hands, knees spread wide—

  “Taking you to my home.” He interrupted her thoughts, and startled, she pulled back, bringing her arms down, flattening her palms on his chest, eyes focused on that point of contact. Heat and firmness, both things she liked right now, under her hands. “I had your bikes trailered to my place. Cops wouldn’t let me in to get your stuff, but the bikes were outside. Figured you’d rather they be at my place than in impound.”

  Made sense, she thought, body tensing as she readied herself to stand on her own, surprised when his arms didn’t move. Him not shifting meant her pushing had no effect, but he made a noise that drew her gaze up to his face. His expression was gentle and her stomach lurched because she couldn’t take any more gentle today. Not without losing it again, and her throat was still throbbing with the efforts of swallowing down her pain. She pushed again, harder, and he leaned his head down, eyes scanning her face before he nodded, satisfied with whatever it was he saw. His hands moved to her upper arms where he held on, steadying her.

  “You okay to ride with me?” His question surprised her, and that surprise deepened when he then said, “I can call for a cage, if we need to. Anything you need, Annie.”

  “I—“ Her voice cracked so she stopped a moment to clear her throat, then continued, “I can ride.”

  “Good,” he murmured, his hands slipping down past her elbows, releasing to slide one of his arms around her waist as he turned them. “Bike’s over here.” She nodded, feeling their hips bumping as they walked in step down the sidewalk, back the way she had fled from, towards the cop shop nearly three blocks away. The heat from his arm across her back, palm cupping her hip, thigh pressed to hers, the friction of their jeans rubbing as they strode along…that all felt good, so good that she let a little of her pain go.

  ***

  When they rolled up in front of his house, she stepped off the bike, standing and stretching as she looked around, waiting for him to turn the bike around and back it into his garage. Her bike was there, as was Coates’. Looking at the scoots sitting side-by-side as they had so often caused a wave of pain to sweep through her that must have been visible, because before it even settled Domino was there, hands to the sides of her neck, pulling her into his body. “I got you,” he said softly, guiding her into the house.

  Inside he didn’t waste any time shedding his jacket and she accepted his assistance at removing hers, slipping it down her arms, feeling the glide of buttery soft leather heated from her skin followed by the brush of his palms. Exquisite sensation. Easy as that she felt at home, fitting into his space without a stutter. Tossing them to the countertop, he bent down again, getting into her face and staring at her for a moment. “You’re not that much taller,” she said with a hitching laugh and he frowned, then straightened and looked down at her, grinning. “Okay, maybe you are,” she muttered when she realized there were probably eight inches difference in their height. Coates would have fit with him.

  “Yeah, maybe I am,” he said, stepping back. “Want a beer?”

  She shook her head, reaching up to ruffle through her short hair, fingers snagging on a couple of wind tangles she easily smoothed out. “Water is fine.” Men liked long hair. Coates was always telling her to grow her mop out, teasing her that she’d score more. Her chest gave a thank-fuck silent hitch and she looked away.

  “I got booze, Annie. After today, you need a way to relax.”

  “Water is fine,” she repeated, studiously not looking at him, taking this opportunity to glance around the room for the first time. “No old lady?” Her question was rhetorical because it was evident from the state of the kitchen that it would be highly unlikely for one of the sisterhood to live here and not have a better hand at keeping up with things. There were dishes piled on the counters on either side of the heaping sinks, and the countertops that weren’t stacked with dishes were covered with takeout boxes and bags.

  “No.” This came out clipped, nearly rude, and she looked up at Domino, wondering if she was reading him right because that sounded wounded, tattered…pained. He turned his head, his hard swallow audible in the quiet of the house before he murmured, “Wreck nearly three years ago. The car pulled out, never saw us. I made it, she didn’t.”

  She was right; this pain ran deep for him. Pain she’d raked to the surface with a stupid question.

  “Fuck,” she whispered. “Sorry, man. Didn’t know.”

  “Yeah, well, now you do.” He snapped the words, turning to the refrigerator. “Water,” he said, twisting to toss her a bottle. The easy feeling was gone, splintered by her misstep and she found herself wanting it back.

  “Did you tell Fury what was going down?” He nodded, opening the beer he had taken for himself. “He still want to chat?” Domino nodded again, lifting the beer to his lips. She watched as he drank from the bottle, his throat working to swallow, the tip of his tongue sweeping out across his bottom lip when he lowered the beer. God, he’s sexy without even trying, she thought. Wears it like a comfortable suit he knows looks good on him, but he’s been in it so long he forgets how pretty it is. Lost in the sensual beauty of the man in front of her, banking these tantalizing feelings to pull out and examine later, she nearly missed the corners of his lips tipping up.

  Scowling, she turned and opened her water, taking a drink before she looked back up at him. The humor had fled his face, a considering look setting in its place. His head tipped slightly sideways; he was looking at her and she felt the weight of his gaze as he swept it up and down her frame. She knew exactly what he was seeing and inwardly she scoffed at the heated look in his eyes. Thick thighs, too much ass, not enough boobs. She had been ready for him to complain about her weight when she climbed on his bike, but he hadn’t done that. What he had done was handle the bike well, even with the additional burden, not letting on that it was dogging in the curves or top heavy at the stops.

  Coates had been the yin to her yang, the tall, perfectly proportioned beauty that no one expected to kick ass, but totally could. They were evenly matched on that part, at least. Her chest gave a silent hitch. Fuck.

  He must have seen it coming because he was at her side almost before the first sob tore through the air. Cupping a palm to the back of her head, he wrapped his other arm around her, holding her close for long minutes, letting her use him as support when her legs wobbled. Once more, as the emotion within her began to ebb, she wrapped herself around him. This time, he was ready for her, tipping her chin up with his fingers and capturing her mouth. Yes. God, yes, she thought and opened for him. “I’m alive,” she whispered, feeling him tense underneath her hands. “Make me feel alive.”

  “I got you,” he told her, his voice soft and low. “I can do that, baby.”

  His mouth worked against hers, twisting her up again and again; his hands slipping slowly down her back to cup her ass, pulling her belly tight against him. “God, Annie,” he groaned against her lips. Surging up onto her toes, she firmly pressed her mouth to his, sweeping against his tongue with her own, dragging a low groan from him. Her hands moved, curling around his shoulders and down his arms, sliding across his ribs to curve up his back, fingers dragging at his shirt. Lifting and pushing, she felt desperate to reach skin and nearly cried out when she lost his hands; nearly lost control until she realized he was reaching for his collar, pulling the material out of the way, giving her access to all that was him. Yes. God, yes.

  Hands back to her ass, he tensed and she squealed in surprise when he picked her up, lifting her so her legs hooked on his hips, ankles locking around his back. Never carried like this before, she found it far more com
fortable than she could have imagined, and after a moment she settled in, relaxed, pleased at the newfound access to him. Forearms to his shoulders, Annie pushed her fingers into his hair, finding it soft and as thick as it looked. More exquisite to bank for later. Pulling his face towards hers again, with no height difference she was able to kiss him as she wanted. Soft and gentle, she played with his mouth, dragging her lips across his and nipping her way up his bottom lip, sucking on it and then pressing against him open mouthed, knowing the whining sound she heard came from her when his tongue teased and chased, fighting and giving way.

  “Fuck, baby,” Domino growled and she smiled, eyes closed, lips still pressed to his, teeth nipping his bottom lip. “You got a mouth on you.”

  “Ain’t that normally a bad thing?” She asked this teasingly because she knew what he meant, but she also asked it with her lips brushing his, taking in his breath as she spoke.

  “Your mouth, fucking sweet.” His growl rolled thickly through the room and she smiled before she kissed him again. She was not aware they were moving through his house until she felt the world tilting, shifting around her and frightened, she clutched at him. “Bed, baby,” he muttered, taking two short steps on his knees across the mattress, moving them towards the middle before he dropped back onto his heels, kneeling with her straddling his hips.

  “Jesus,” he muttered as she dragged her nails across the skin of his back, tilting her head to kiss him hard again. “Fucking hungry mouth.” His lips trailed across her cheek to the edge of her jaw, his tongue painting a hot path as he moved his mouth to her neck, pushing her shirt aside as he went. “Off, baby.” He lifted his head, heated gaze raking over her. “Take it off. Wanna see you.”