Biting Back: A Motorcycle Club, Shifter, Romance (Shifting Steel Book 1)

by Stephanie West

  The fucking cop cowered in his chair and started babbling about his lucky charm looking at the woman standing next to him.

  She shook with visible tremors but didn’t cower the way Hank did. If anything she straightened her shoulders. Just as surely as her fear had filled the room, it morphed into angry acceptance.

  Each word the prick spoke blathering about how he didn’t know how she did it, enraged Cain further. The cowardly, self serving bastard was attempting to sell her out.

  Cain had heard their ringside conversation, he knew exactly what had transpired. He smelled no deception from the sniveling cop, so he knew Hank had no fucking clue how the abused woman knew the outcomes of the fights. But for the dirty LEO to lay the blame on her when he’d clearly been the one to coerce her was underhanded. It just took the cake that he was attempting to serve her up on a silver platter.

  What the little woman did next floored Cain. She looked from him to Hank and opened her mouth, a wane smile curving her lips.

  Adrian

  Hank was a first class fucker. Adrian’s hand unconsciously brushed her cheek as she pinned the degenerate cop. She expected nothing less than him throwing her to the wolves, literally. What in the hell was she contemplating? Adrian steeled herself.

  “I did what you told me to do. You made your point quite clear. Remember you said it was part of your plan to investigate deeper into this operation.” Adrian smiled with mock innocence.

  She’d finally snapped. That had to be why she threw caution to the wind. Once upon a time she’d promised herself she would leave this world on a brave note.

  “So fuck you very much Hank.” Adrian lifted her chin as she noted Cain’s cryptic stare in response to her accusation.

  She could speak the truth just as Hank did, when he implied this bullshit was all her doing. She didn’t have to lie, which she didn’t like to do. The blame lay squarely on Hank’s shoulders. Fucking coward!

  At this point it didn’t matter that the Reapers might kill her or God knows what. Regardless Adrian was shedding 250 pounds of slimy bastard tonight. She just hoped she wouldn’t have to die to do it. Let the Reapers glean whatever they wanted from her statement, Hank knew!

  Cain

  Cain watched the woman “turn the tables” on Hank adding a side of venom. He wanted to laugh at the spitfire. She might have been the one that fed the cop the knowledge about the fights, but Hank was the one that forced the information out of her. The way the man had treated the woman was proof of that. Hank had been trying for weeks to get in good with the Reapers and garner a larger piece of the pie. Hank wanted on their payroll, but the Reapers didn’t bribe cops.

  However the way the woman said her piece she implied that he was a cop somewhere he shouldn’t be. Which given the fact the Reapers had ignored Hank’s offer, maybe he was collecting info in an attempt to further his career as well as make a bit of money on the side.

  “Holy Hell woman!” Cain grunted in amusement at her brazen display.

  “Enlightening. You still never answered my question HANK.” Cain punctuated his name with a growl. “Let me tell you what I hate more than a cheat and a liar.” Cain stared at the quivering man with deadly intent. “I hate a coward that puts his hands on women!” Cain snarled a breath from his face. “Trip get this fucker out of my sight.” He commanded.

  Despite all of Hank’s babbling Cain didn’t have any better insight into how the woman knew how the fights would go, but one thing was for sure, Hank was done here. They’d give Hank cozy accommodations till they could determine what information on the Reapers he might have used to further his career, as well as his bottom line.

  Though the dirty cop struggled he really had no clue who he’d fucked with, as Cain’s brothers drug his ass out.

  Once Hank was gone Cain turned to the frightened woman. She looked at the door with a bit of relief, then turned worried eyes back to him. Beneath the bruises Cain could see she was stunning. Nothing excused the treatment she’d received.

  “You wanna tell me your name?” Cain asked.

  Adrian

  “Holy shit the Reapers drug Hank off. Easy girl don’t lose your head.”

  Cain wanted her name. Adrian didn’t think Hank even recalled her name, calling her bitch and Lucky Charm if anything at all. But did she want this man to know it? If she ever made it out of all this, it would make it easier for them track her down if they had her real name. So Adrian gave the giant man the only other name she’d ever answered to.

  “You can call me Iris.” She replied.

  As a child Adrian had a teacher that was Greek. Her teacher must’ve recognized Adrian’s quirky gift. Adrian felt they were kindred spirits although the woman was 50 years her senior. She gave Adrian her nickname and never called her anything else.

  One day her teacher asked Adrian if she knew what the name meant. Adrian had answered “it’s a part of the eye.” Her teacher concurred with a grin but said that it also referred to Iris, Messenger of the Gods. Adrian had always loved and felt honored to bear the name. It felt at times more appropriate than the name she had received at birth.

  Besides Adrian died the night Hank strangled her. The weeks since had only served as the final nail in that coffin. She would never be the person she once was.

  Cain

  Iris was obviously a nickname but so was Cain, and yes he was one evil son of a bitch at times.

  “Iris, you want to tell me how you knew who’d win the fights?” He asked.

  The woman, Iris, didn’t faint or piss herself as he questioned her and pointed to the chair Hank had just vacated.

  “No thank you I’ll stand and no I don’t think I can explain, even if I wanted to.” Again Iris spoke the bold truth.

  No doubt Iris couldn’t explain herself any more that Cain could explain himself to her. What would he fucking say. “Hi I’m part animal. My canines extend. I’ve got claws. Oh and the ink on my back hides my stripes.” Yeah that would go over well.

  “Look I’m not planning on hurting you,” Cain explained attempting to put Iris at ease. “but your days of betting on fights here are over.”

  Her exhale was noticeable. Iris’ scent of fear receded further, and Cain’s inner beast calmed. He didn’t want to freak her out, she’d been abused enough, but the Reapers came first and Iris had seen way too much.

  “Unfortunately though you’re also gonna need to come back to the clubhouse till I feel comfortable turning you loose.”

  Cain could see Iris wasn’t pleased but she didn’t balk. That was good, he’d hate to take her by force.

  His cell rang, it was Eric, the Reaper’s Sergeant at Arms.

  “The truck got pulled over.” Eric growled. “Our guys bailed and had no trouble getting away, but we lost the slimy prick.” Eric relayed.

  Apparently the weaselly fuck, Hank, had either tipped off some of his cronies or his luck still held.

  “Fuck! Alright head to the clubhouse.” They needed to regroup and figure out what to do next. Cain leaned out the door. “Trip close up shop for the night, we got Church.”

  As Cain briefly told Trip what had occurred he could see that Iris was even more displeased with Hank’s escape than he was.

  Iris

  Cain escorted Iris through the warehouse back to a bay where four bikes were parked. She didn’t know crap about motorcycles. There were two kind as far as Iris was concerned, the Japanese crotch rockets and Harleys. That’s as far as her knowledge went. Harleys were the sexier machines by far.

  They walked up to one that was black with red flames and stretched chrome. It looked right for the rugged man that rode it.

  Iris admonished herself for admiring Cain’s body, especially when she was almost certain he wasn’t just a man. Not to mention she’d been the tool for one evil man already.

  Iris didn’t get the feeling Cain was evil like his namesake, but she also knew he was no choir boy either. She’d witnessed him kill a man, which she was sure was one reason
he insisted she go with them.

  What would Cain do if he figured out what she was capable of? The saying, power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely, came to mind.

  The beast of a man turned towards her and raised his hands. Iris tried her damnedest not to flinch, but didn’t succeed. Cain paused then slowly pulled back her hood and set the helmet, she just noticed, on her head. Iris reached up to adjust it but her hands shook too hard and her busted finger wouldn’t bend. Cain pushed Iris’ hands aside and adjusted the strap, with his larger ones. His hand lingered and brushed against her bruised face before he pulled away.

  Maybe it was her imagination but Iris felt like she saw a hint of pity in Cain’s steel blue eyes.

  With a bit of help Iris climbed on the motorcycle behind him. She put her hands on Cain’s shoulders, but had to adjust her grip lower around Cain’s waist as he pulled out onto the road. His muscles rippled beneath his thin t-shirt as the motorcycle rumbled between her thighs.

  “Oh shit, the man’s made of iron.”

  Iris felt like she was suffering whiplash from the way her emotions ping ponged back and forth. She was so damn glad to be free of Hank that the euphoria of it nearly made her giddy. But the surge of excitement was blinding her to a new threat?

  It had been a long time, longer than she’d been with that bastard Hank, since she’d felt a man like Cain pressed against her, if ever.

  Iris found it unnerving the way she reacted to the massive man’s close proximity. She couldn’t let her hormones and her false sense of freedom lead her astray.

  It was hard to wrap her head around the situation. Had she divulged too much about herself? Had Cain just given her a reprieve, or was she on her way to yet another prison, with a far sexier yet potentially more dangerous warden?

  Cain had said he didn’t condone abuse of woman, but still he insisted she go with them. He didn’t give her the evil vibe Hank had, yet he’d killed a man and was something wild and dangerous.

  Iris couldn’t decide just what that meant for her. Why were some perceptions so damn clear and others, like this man and his true intent, so damn muddy. It made her brain spin. Something told her, her fate was changing but she couldn’t quite grasp if it was for good or bad. Iris felt like she was teetering on the edge of a precipice.

  She said a silent prayer as she held onto the man in front of her, hoping that she hadn’t just jumped from the frying pan into the fire.

  4 The Clubhouse

  Cain

  “Cain you’re a lech! A woman’s been treated like a punching bag and all you can think about is how her thighs are gripping behind you, the heat of her pussy at your ass, and exactly how far her hands are from your cock. Fuck my jeans are tight.”

  Cain did his best to dismiss his wayward thoughts, as they pulled into the clubhouse garage. The usual partying crowd greeted them and Cain cringed.

  Swain their Wrench, or mechanic, had one of the club whores pushed over a tool bench nailing the fuck out of her. The hanging tools were clanging against the peg board as the slut chanted.

  “Yes! Fuck me daddy.”

  Iris froze where she stood till Cain nudged her.

  “Well shit Cain what’s she supposed to think?” He berated his stupidity. God only knows what all the cop had done to her.

  He needed to have their medic, aptly nicknamed MD, look her over. Of course after Iris walked the clubhouse gauntlet of this kind of bullshit she wouldn’t let him get near her with a ten foot pole.

  Thankfully, as Cain led her into the large rec room, most of the usual crowd was passed out, all except the Sweet Butt swaying drunkenly on the riser stage. From somewhere in the room he could hear vigorous slurping. Cain looked to see a bobbing red head he recognized even without seeing the face. Samantha was doing one of the two things she was good at.

  He’d put Iris up in his room, but hell it needed new sheets, so Cain walked with Iris over to the bar and grabbed some water and chips for her. After helping her onto his bike he’d felt she was a lot thinner than the ratty baggy sweats revealed. The way Iris quickly took the chips spoke volumes. She was starving. Cain wanted to fix her a four course meal and hand feed her but it would have to wait, he had to meet with the guys.

  “Have a seat I need to handle some things for a minute.” Cain encouraged. Iris sat without a second thought.

  The fact she didn’t put up a fight when he brought her to the clubhouse, basically as a prisoner, made Cain think she’d suffered some serious bullshit at the hands of the dirty cop. His fists clenched in anger as Cain walked toward their meeting room. Trip collected all the brothers for a little update.

  “Well brothers we had a bit of run in tonight with Chicago’s finest.” Cain told his gathered brothers. “The prick has been making a lot of money at our expense. We’ll need to get to the bottom of that. There’s also the issue of the chick he always brought with him, in the other room. I’m almost certain that whatever her involvement is, it was unwilling. The asshole did a number on her.” Cain frowned as he recalled the bruise marring her face.

  “MD I’ll need you to follow me after this.” Cain glanced at the two brothers who obviously made it back safe after their earlier adventure evading Hank’s back-up.

  “Unfortunately before we could show the man some club hospitality there was a hiccup.” Cain explained. “We need to move the fights. I’d like to get back to it by next week so bust your ass scoping out new joints.”

  They quickly discussed keeping their eyes peeled for Hank, a bit of other damage control then broke up for the night.

  Iris

  This was pretty much just what Iris expected from a biker hangout. Iris glanced around the bar-game room as she greedily shoveled chips into her mouth. A handful of drunk women were passed out here and there, most of which were half dressed.

  She had no clue what Cain thought he was accomplishing by keeping her here. It’s not like he could hold her indefinitely. The whole situation had her ready to bolt. Which probably would’ve been unwise looking at the big guy standing at the door with his arms crossed.

  If it wasn’t enough that some dude was boning a chick as she got to the large two story brick building surrounded by a privacy fence. Iris was pretty sure the red headed lady, and she used that term loosely, the lady now taking shots from the bar stool near her had just been giving some guy a blow job. It must’ve been nasty if three shots in a row didn’t wash the taste out of her mouth.

  Iris wasn’t a prude, she’d been to a few strip clubs. She didn’t see anything wrong with it assuming you danced because you were hot not because you had a smack habit or needed approval to replace daddy. A job and being a whore were two different things though. She really didn’t have any problem with people enjoying sex either. She was kinda fond of it herself. However STD’s put a little damper on folks just plugging holes willy nilly.

  Whatever, it was Red’s body and she was certainly showing it. Her clothes left nothing to the imagination. Iris really hated the style of the cropped jean shorts the redhead was wearing. As a rule she preferred her shorts to be longer than the pockets in them. Whoever thought the white pocket flaps hanging down was a good fashion statement? Not to mention Iris was pretty sure that the t-shirt that barely covered the bottom of this chick���s boobs came off the toddler rack at Wally-weird.

  “Okay stop being mean.” Iris chastised herself. It was rude, even if she didn’t voice it out loud. “Wait did Red just flash her vagina?”

  “What are you looking?” The red headed chick slurred as she sneered at Iris. “Never seen you here before, who invited you, your face is fucked up.” Red stammered in one long sentence.

  Well wasn’t this one all warm and fuzzy. Iris wasn’t quite sure what to say, and since Red decided to be nasty she voiced her last thought.

  “I think I’m looking at your vagina, can you close your legs please.”

  No sooner had Iris said that then she heard a deep sexy laugh behind her. Iris turned to se
e Cain.

  “Oh god he’d overheard her being a bitch.” She should’ve kept her snarky mouth shut.

  Iris’ nervous embarrassment was eclipsed by the view of Cain’s stunning smile. The look completely transformed his face making him look less like a vicious bastard. Iris almost smiled back, till she remembered where she was and the fact she’d just insulted one of the giant biker’s friends.

  “Come on follow me.” Cain said still sporting his grin. Iris guessed he wasn’t pissed at her offensive retort to Red as she slid off the barstool. They walked down the hall. Actually he walked, Iris kind of shuffled along hampered by the persistent ache in her side.

  “I see you met Samantha. Don’t let her bother you.” Cain stated as they came to a room at the top of the stairs.

  A black haired chick, she hadn’t met yet, arms full of linens stepped into the hall. The woman smiled at her as she left.

  “Thanks Sis.” Cain hollered after her then turned to usher Iris into the room “That’s Penny my sister, Eric’s old lady.”

  Iris then noticed the other guy in the room and stumbled backwards only to bump into Cain’s chest.

  “This is MD, the house EMT. How bout you have a seat and let him look at you.” Cain patted the bed.

  ���I���m fine.��� Iris stammered as she glanced up at Cain.

  ���Yeah you look fine.��� Cain said sarcastically. ���Humor me will you.��� Cain���s gruff voice and eyes softened.

  “This was okay, everything was okay, right?” Iris thought nervously as she nodded then perched hesitantly at the edge of the bed.

  Guys planning on molesting you don’t change the sheets and have first aid kits, right?

  Iris hated how she could barely get a read off these men. Were they all like Cain, some kind of manimal?

  MD examined Iris’ face and she winced. Then he looked over the raw wrist she’d been cuffed by, followed by her finger which he unwrapped and applied a splint to. Cain looked at Iris, his slate eyes serious.

  “Where else?” Cain asked.