by Nicole Fox
“What the fuck?” he demanded, charging at me as I circled. He swiped across the desk, trying to grab me and knocking a bunch of his papers to the floor. “I know you’re not a virgin,” he growled, and a lamp was knocked aside. “I’ve never heard a virgin moan like that. But you’re a fucking terrible whore!”
I quivered, overwhelmed by a million different feelings. Lust. Disgust. Fear. Rejection. Embarrassment. Exhaustion.
My lips trembled. All the fight and anger that had brought me safely this far fizzled out, like a candle left burning far too long. “Please,” I whimpered. “Don’t.”
Connor sighed. He stopped chasing me, and his whole body seemed to sag.
“Goddammit,” he muttered, and gave the table a final swipe, knocking even more papers to the floor. For a terrible moment I waited, wondering if he was going to attack me. But no. I sensed no more violence in him. Just frustration and exhaustion. He collapsed into his desk chair, rubbing his brow.
Silently, I went about the room and gathered up all the papers, finally placing them on his desk. The top one caught my eye, and a new, tremulous idea occurred to me.
“May … may I take a look?” I asked Connor.
He looked up at, startled and obviously confused. It was also clear he didn’t care. What did it matter if his whore saw the books?
“Sure,” he shrugged, and slid the papers to me.
For the first time in ages, I began to feel a twinge of hope.
Chapter Twelve
Connor
My head throbbed. My balls throbbed harder. And now that stupid whore Princess wanted to look at my papers. What did I care? They were a hopeless mess to me, so they wouldn’t mean anything different to her. Besides, it might help distract the pair of us from our pulsing frustration.
Why had she stopped so suddenly? She had obviously been enjoying herself. The evidence was all over her panties. And then: why had I stopped? She was my whore. I had every right to fuck her, protesting or not. In fact, it was my fucking duty to the motorcycle club. Then why hadn’t I gone and fucked her anyway?
Because you like her, a small voice said in my mind.
Bullshit, I responded. She’s nothing but trouble.
But that inner voice had a response: Because you admire her.
That, at least, was true. So far, I had to admit she’d acted with cunning, even bravery and strength. You didn’t usually see that in whores. Usually, they were groveling, sycophantic beasts, like the sort President Montengo surrounded himself with. Princess wasn’t like that at all.
In fact, as I watched her looking at my papers, her little tongue poking out in concentration, I realized she wasn’t like any of the women I’d ever met. Though being practically raised by the Devil’s Wings meant the only women I ever interacted with on a regular basis were whores and groupies.
And, as I’d said aloud, Princess was definitely not a good whore.
After a little while, she stirred.
“Here,” she said, pointing to a document. “It lists ‘donations’ to five different cops in the docking district. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” I sighed, glancing at the paper wearily, as if I’d already glanced at a million times. Which I had. “It’s important to keep ourselves protected. We have, ah, certain ventures we wouldn’t want the police looking into.”
“Of course,” she snapped, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. “The issue is the five different cops. This is Captain Stockhelm’s district. Instead of bribing the little guys, take half of the total you’re dishing out for them and give it to Stockhelm. That way, you’ll be protected higher up, and the small fry wouldn’t dare circumvent their captain. In fact, they’ll probably think you’re mad at them and work extra hard to get back in your good graces.”
I blinked. That had been a really cunning thing to say. Still, I hesitated. “Are you sure Stockhelm will bite?” I asked.
She snorted. “Yes. I know him. It’s important to know your enemies just as much as your friends—and in this line of work, they’re usually the same people.”
How do you know him? Was what I wanted to ask, but I held back. The more I found out about this girl, the more the mystery deepened. How could a whore have gotten so business savvy? She spoke like a biker.
I leaned back and thought about her suggestion. There were risks, of course, but that was part of being a Devil’s Wing. Besides, I thought, the situation is pretty desperate. We have to try something, or we might as well kiss the motorcycle club goodbye.
“Come on, Princess,” I said aloud. “Let’s go back to the bunkroom. You should rest up.”
I saw a deep fear fill her eyes.
“Can I stay here, please?” she asked. “You can lock me in if you want. I just … I think I can help, looking over these papers, and …”
She didn’t have to finish the sentence.
I rolled my eyes, doing my best to look nonchalant. “Fine,” I said. “But be prepared to wait. I’m going to be gone a couple of hours.”
She nodded, then plopped right down onto the floor, spreading my papers out in front of her like she’d been doing it all of her life. I shrugged, exited, and very carefully locked the door behind me. Then I breathed a sigh of relief. The bunkroom is still a mess, I thought. My office is definitely a better place for her to stay for now.
Right. Just keep telling yourself that, Connor.
# # #
I took Joey with me. I wanted someone I could trust not only to be loyal to me, but to not be an idiot. There were too many idiots surrounding me these days.
It wasn’t hard to find Captain Stockhelm. He had a bar he frequented at this time of night, and Joey, who spent as much time with his classic cars as his motorcycles, had a fair idea of the habits of every major cop in the area.
When we sat down on either side of him, interrupting his attack on several links of sausages on his plate, he did not jump or show fear. Instead, he smiled, a greasy, slimy smile that showed bits of meat stuck in his teeth.
“Finally come to your senses, hey, boys?” he chuckled.
I took this as a positive sign. Everything in his language bellowed ally. Business ally. He could be bought.
I spoke to him of our unique interests in the area, and how things go much more smoothly when everyone stayed out of each other’s way.
He laughed at that, spraying the bar top with food. “So, my guys ain’t cutting for you anymore?”
I checked myself before I could gasp. So he knew about the bribes lower down … Of course he did. Princess was right. He was an enemy and a friend.
I decided that the time for charades was over. I stated, right out there, how much we were willing to offer him to. “Let us be going on with our business.”
He grinned and slapped his knee, then said, “Throw in one of your whores now and again and it’s a deal!”
We shook hands, and then Joey and I left the bar, struggling to conceal our glee. I was careful not to wipe off the grease from Stockhelm’s hands until we were well out of sight.
# # #
On the way back to the club, it occurred to me that Princess had probably eaten nothing except what few snacks she could find lying around the place—nuts, potato chips—since we’d locked her in. Cursing yet another flaw in the current MC’s organization (Sam Michaels would never have allowed anyone in the compound to go hungry, even the whores) I told Joey we were taking a quick pit stop at a fast food place. There, I ordered several burgers, extra fries, and a large drink, which I stowed in the small trunk of my bike before returning. Joey popped a chicken nugget into his mouth, then told me he was going back to his garage to tinker around on his cars.
“Have fun, buddy,” I said as he mounted his bike to drive away.
“Haha, more fun then you’ll have!”
Too fucking right.
By the time I got to the compound it was fully dark. I waved good-naturedly at Leo, who was bearing his punishment of night duty fairly well, and entered. We were broth
ers in the Devil’s Wings after all. It wasn’t good for the club to nurse grudges.
I found Princess precisely where I had left her, still sitting on the floor with the papers spread out before her. This time, however, I noticed they were organized into precise piles. I couldn’t have guessed what each meant.
She glanced up when I came in, and her scowl of concentration immediately broke into a grin of delight at the sight of the greasy fast food bag I held in front of me.
“Oh, thank fucking Christ!” she exclaimed, rushing over and tearing it from my hands. Within seconds, she had a burger out and was ripping into it in a startlingly unladylike way. Not to say that she wasn’t as hot as fucking ever. I kind of liked the wild abandon. I wondered if that was what she would be like in bed. Ravenous and savage.
I let her eat for a minute as I walked over to examine what she had done. Her organization was amazing, piecing together bills and financial documents that not only showed that she knew exactly was she was doing, but that made them make even clearer sense to me, whose method of keeping things straight was rather like throwing at a dartboard: aim for the center and hopefully you’d hit right.
I did, however, notice three papers set specifically aside, as if they were important.
“Hey, Princess,” I asked. “What are these?”
“Oh!” dhe piped through a full mouth. She smiled, licked her fingers, and then settled into her spot on the floor as I knelt beside her.
“I’m not sure if you’ll find this good news or bad news,” she said, her voice suddenly businesslike, “but there are some discrepancies in these three outlets. I believe the people here might be skimming off the top.”
“Those bastards!” I growled. I knew those guys. One of them I had known since he was a teenager. They worked at the grill place the club used to launder money. I cracked my knuckles and muttered, “They’re going to have to pay.”
I glanced at the clock. It was late. The grill would just be closing up, and Rico, the skimmer, would be cleaning along with his buddies—those others stealing from the Devil’s Wings.
Perfect.
“You know, Princess,” I said after a moment. “You were right about Captain Stockhelm. He already knew about the bribes and took the bait immediately.”
“I knew he would,” she replied. “Men like that are always so predictable.”
Men like that. I wondered if she meant men like me. I did not like to be thought of as predictable.
In an instant, I decided something: I needed to go teach the skimmers a lesson. And I would be taking Princess with me.
I waited until she had finished eating—she finished all three burgers! Christ!—and then ordered her to her feet. Suddenly, I felt embarrassed. “I’m sorry about the food,” I mumbled. “I’ll set something up when we return so you don’t have to starve.”
Her eyes narrowed as she gazed up at me. “When we return?” she echoed.
I took her by the hand and opened the door.
“Yes, Princess,” I said. “We’re going out.”
Chapter Thirteen
Farrah
His words startled me. Out? I wanted to say. But Minghelli’s men are out there! I knew better, however, and kept my mouth shut. I did not want the Devil’s Wings to know how badly the Minghellis wanted me. They were obviously desperate for cash, and I was sure Tom Minghelli would pay a hefty price for me.
Better, then, to stay silent.
I also guessed that Connor suspected something was going on, that there was more to me than met the eye. Whether this was a good or bad thing I wasn’t sure, but I did sense his gaze lingering on me longer and longer, at once both perplexed and curious. And this did not count all the time he spent staring at my tits, of course. Because of his suspicions, I was sure that Connor would be careful. He wasn’t an idiot—even if his financial paperwork was terribly organized.
I smiled to myself. Some things about a person never change. Whether I was with Honi, at Stanford, or pretending to be a fucking whore, I was still the same old Farrah.
Connor led me out of his office and through the compound. This time, I noticed, he held my hand. That, at least, was an improvement. He nodded at a few of his buddies, grabbed his leather jacket, and, next thing I knew, we were outside.
“Yes!” I exclaimed, breathing in the fresh night air. It was so nice to be outside, in the open, without being afraid.
Well, without being as afraid.
Connor drew out his keys and mounted his bike, a formidable machine of chrome and obsidian black. Then, he tossed me a helmet.
Eager to show off, with one easy, fluid motion, I swept my leg up and over the seat and settled down behind him. With a swift click, my helmet was on and secured.
“Okay, then,” he said, and the motorcycle roared to life.
As we peeled from the driveway, I let out a scream of joy. I couldn’t help it. It felt so good, so free, to be riding on the back of this awesome fucking motorcycle, and with my thighs and arms wrapped around Connor.
Connor.
Suddenly, all I was aware of was him.
His broad, muscular shoulders practically swallowed up the view in front of me, topped by the surprisingly delicate skin of his neck and the rich locks of his hair. I could just see a few wisps of it escaping from under his helmet.
Even through the thick, padded leather of his jacket, I could tell his obliques and ab muscles were rippling and strong, while his waist narrowed into a sexy V. My fingers closed around it, and I felt a throbbing heat that had nothing to do with the engine of the bike or the actual temperature of his skin. Every time we turned, ducking and weaving in rhythm with the road, this throbbing increased, spreading from my fingertips all the down to between my thighs.
“Breathe, girl. Breathe,” I told myself. I needed to focus. Connor was obviously bringing me on a mission, and I was determined to prove myself useful to him. More useful than just a fuck.
After a short trip that seemed like forever to me, Connor turned off the main road and parked outside a little bar and grill where I knew the skimmers awaited. I recognized the name. The place was ugly and unremarkable, and the parking lot nearly empty. Only a couple of the workers’ cars remained.
Connor hid his bike in shadow.
“Be careful,” he whispered. “And stay behind me.”
I nodded. Again, I wondered why the hell he had brought me along on this venture, but I wasn’t about to complain. It felt great to be out and about and actually doing something. I liked to feel useful, especially when I wanted someone to like me.
And do you want Connor to like you? I asked myself. I knew I would have been lying if I said no.
I relaxed my muscles and forced myself to ease into the situation. I wanted to be ready for anything.
Though the sign said, CLOSED, Connor marched right up to the door, turned the knob, and hurled it open.
“What the fuck?” I heard from inside. Heedless, Connor charged in, and I flitted quickly in behind him.
It was a typical place: heavy wood and antique bar signs as decoration, permeated with the stench of grease and flat beer. There were three men inside. Two were young. One had been swishing a mop back and forth on the floor, while the other was polishing the bar. An older man, with a chest like a barrel, sat at one of the tables, counting bills.
“Connor!” the one with the mop exclaimed, fear and surprise in his voice. A little too carefully, he leaned the mop against the wall and stepped forward. “Great to see you!”
“Rico,” Connor grunted back. His voice was neutral and all the more dangerous for it. Like a sleeping rhinoceros, there is danger in passivity.
“Can I get anything for you, Connor?” the second young one asked. He dropped his rag and walked around the bar, looking as guilty as a puppy who’d just made a mess. The older man stayed silent, but I noticed him carefully piling up the bills he was counting and stowing them away.
“I don’t know, Gary,” Connor sneered back. “Can y
ou think of anything you can get for me? Something you owe me, perhaps?”
Rico paled. Gary looked confused, and the old guy slowly got to his feet. His eyes never left Connor.
“Something horrible has come to my attention,” Connor continued. He approached the three of them, like a wolf stalking prey it knows it has cornered.
Rico made an attempt to be brave. “Y-yeah, Connor? What’s that?”
Thunk. Thunk. Connor’s heavy, steel-toed boots cracked against the linoleum, like drum beats before an execution. Thunk. Thunk. He was practically standing nose to nose with Rico at this point.
