Perilous (Dauntless MC Book 2)

by Suzanne Steele

  Daisy

  Even though the chick at the bar pissed her off, she really couldn’t blame Preacher. How could you blame someone for what he’d done before you even met him? She was shocked that she’d gotten as angry as she had and not just angry, but jealous as well.

  She couldn’t remember ever feeling that way about Billy, or really any other man she dated, though there hadn’t been many of them.

  She snuggled into Preacher’s chest as he stroked her hair.

  “What did Tiny want?”

  “Wanted to know if I was keeping you as my property or if he should give you away to someone else.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “Told him I was keeping you.”

  Daisy knew people on the outside of a biker’s club didn’t realize how much it meant to be a club member’s property. It didn’t matter what they thought though. What mattered was what she thought, and right now, she thought it felt damn good to be owned. She wasn’t owned by just anybody either; she was owned by a man with whom she could actually imagine having a future. For the first time in her life, she didn’t have to worry about getting the shit kicked out of her by a crazy man in a drug induced rage. It felt good to finally feel safe, but in the back of her mind, she knew Billy was coming for her, and when he did, it could mean things getting ugly, real fucking ugly.

  “I come with baggage, babe. It’s not the dangerous kind but the crazy kind, which is much more treacherous because it’s unstable.” She knew, despite the fact that she spoke softly, that he could feel the intense nature of her words because she felt his body flinch.

  She didn’t fear that Preacher was unable to protect her. She knew his reputation just from the little bit of time she had spent with him and the other members of the club. Hell, she didn’t need word of mouth; danger practically permeated the air surrounding the man. He was a menace in the flesh, the embodiment of intimidation without a single word spoken.

  However, Billy was unstable, and that terrified her. He was a dope crazed, unpredictable maniac. The son of a bitch could threaten her newfound happiness with Preacher, and that scared the shit out of her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Preacher

  She may have fallen asleep in his arms the night before, but it wasn’t the warmth of her body that woke him; it was the memory of her words replaying in his mind.

  “I come with baggage, babe. It’s not the dangerous kind but the crazy kind, which is much more treacherous because it’s unstable.”

  That was enough to make any man turn and run. At least, that’s what any sane man would do, but he was as crazy as the next motherfucker. There wasn’t a whole lot of light in the world in which he’d been forced to live. There was always a force there with him. It was a dark, foreboding element of evil always threatening to take everything he held dear.

  He didn’t know what it was about the girl that caused him to hang on as if she were some lifeline of redemption. Did he honestly believe that she could shine some light on the shadows that plagued his soul?

  At worst, he was a man who had learned to live in the dark recesses of his tormented soul, embracing the blackness, and the evil that comes with it, rather than resisting it. At best, he was the same, just a more detached version of himself in order to minimize the possibility of subjecting others to his insanity. Being a loner kept him from pulling others into his emotional abyss. Now, he was faced with the dilemma of wanting to let down the wall around his heart but knowing, if he did, he would endanger the woman he was starting to love.

  A whole lot of what he did, and how he would deal with this girl, depended on how much he could trust her. As of yet, that wasn’t a whole lot. He chuckled to himself as he thought about the fact that the poor girl didn’t realize she’d been safer before Tiny had given her to him. Before that moment, her fate would have been determined by him and Tiny. Now, she was completely and utterly at his mercy, and he wasn’t known for being a merciful man.

  Preacher had disconnected the day his father stuck a gun to his head in a drunken rage to play a game of Russian roulette. He was only six years old the day it happened but he remembered every detail as though it were yesterday. The shame of being laughed at by his father as piss ran down his leg, in a visceral reaction to his fear, was as hard to deal with as the actual fear of wondering whether or not there was a bullet in the chamber. He had no doubt the gun was loaded. Even at just six years of age, he had the morbid knowledge that the son of a bitch would pull the trigger.

  Daisy gave him peace. She made him feel good. Her innocence and need to be protected cleansed his soul and healed all the bitterness from his past. At the same time, he couldn’t fully trust her need for him because it made her vulnerable to the deception of others. It was the reason he would be keeping a very close eye on her.

  His cell phone rang and he casually eyed it. Seeing it was one of the prospects posted at the large metal armory gate outside, he immediately answered. The compound was nothing shy of a fortress, and nobody got in or out unless permitted. This call couldn’t be good news.

  “We got a problem, Preach.”

  “What?” He kept it short, wanting to get to the point. He was well aware how prospects could overreact to everything in the lifestyle because, many times, it was new to them. Preacher had an easy, laid back way about him—an easy, laid back, and very dangerous way about him.

  “I need specifics, prospect. Trouble is a pretty broad description, don’t ya think?”

  “We got a guy out here in Hell’s Demons’ colors.”

  “Well, well, well, escort him in boys. I’ll be down in the cellar.” He smirked as he hung up the phone. Interrogation time.

  There was a basement in the compound that housed a coal bin, and he referred to it as the cellar. It was where he always conducted his interrogations. If Tiny was anything, he was perceptive, and he saw Preacher’s potential in becoming an effective interrogator right away. Preacher could get the truth out of you. It didn’t matter how diehard or loyal a person was; if there was information the club needed, Preacher could get it. He had a slow, sadistic way of pulling the truth out of a victim. Whether he got it bit by bit, or in one bout of verbal diarrhea, he always got it. He was a patient man and would spend hours or, if need be, days extracting the information required. Little by little, he’d wear his opponent down. It was always the same. They would come in, determined to maintain their silence, but inevitably, they would fail. By the time Preacher was done with them, they were gladly giving up any secrets they held. Though he mostly used physical pain, the mental fucks he subjected them to were what usually broke them. His military training, coupled with his ability to psychologically wear an enemy down, always got the results he desired.

  Daisy

  Daisy opened her eyes, rubbing her face wearily to get the sleep from them. She took a moment to take in her surroundings before it clicked where she was. The room was much like an efficiency apartment, minus the kitchen. Looking around, she decided, at minimum, she was going to get a coffee maker and a microwave put in here. Having to go out and immediately deal with people before she even had a cup of coffee was a little bit more than she was prepared to tackle every morning.

  She looked over and eyed Preacher’s side of the bed, groaning when she saw he wasn’t there. She didn’t know anybody here besides Raven, Tiny, and Red, but the need for coffee was stronger than her need to avoid people. She got up out of bed and headed to the bathroom for her morning ritual of peeing and brushing her teeth.

  She finished up, threw on some jeans and a t-shirt, and then tied her hair in a knot before she made her way out to the communal kitchen. She was glad she had briefly met Beth once before and walked over to the counter to take a seat.

  “You look like you need coffee.”

  “I most certainly do. Thanks, Beth.”

  She grabbed the coffee and began the task of adding enough sugar and cream to turn it into the perfect, sugary, caffeinated concoction that would
help her wake up.

  “Have you seen Preacher this morning?”

  “Not since he came and got coffee about an hour ago.”

  Both girls looked up to see a prospect walking through the door. “Preacher wants to see you.”

  “Where is he?”

  “You’ll see. Grab your coffee and come on.”

  She reached down to grab the coffee Beth had already put in a to-go cup for her and followed the prospect out through the courtyard. Metal barrels, still smoldering from last night’s fires, littered the outdoor area. Tension filled silence loomed over her like a heavy blanket as they made their way towards an outdoor stairwell that led down into a basement. An ominous fear of the unknown filled her as she tried to think of all the reasons the prospect could be leading her down into this area.

  She stood in the darkened doorway, trying to give her eyes time to adjust, and what she saw didn’t put her mind at ease. There was a large, open area with a table where Preacher was sitting with his back to the wall so he could see the door. Sitting across the table from him, there was a man wearing a Hell’s Demons’ kutte.

  “Sit,” was all he said, and that one word, spoken in a soft tone, put the fear of God in her because she had no idea what the fuck was going on.

  “Over there,” he nodded for her to sit next to the man she now was close enough to recognize as Ricky, one of the members of Hell’s Demons.

  She sat down and eyed the man. “Are you fucking crazy? Why would you come here, Ricky?” she asked the man, looking at him as if he had three heads.

  “I’ll ask the questions. You just sit there and shut the fuck up,” Preacher growled at her.

  She settled in and noticed her hand was shaking as she took a drink of her coffee.

  “What the fuck kind of crazy would make you come up in this club, boy?” Preacher growled.

  Daisy eyed Ricky and waited for his answer. She was just as curious to know as Preacher was.

  “I want out of Hell’s Demons, and I’m willing to do anything for help in getting out.”

  “You’re telling me you would go so far as to give me Intel on Hell’s Demons to get you out of that club?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Well, let’s get one thing straight. I don’t trust you, motherfucker!”

  “Man, Billy has gone crazy. He’s so strung out that he’s beyond paranoid. He took his bike apart, piece by piece, thinking she put a recording device in it.” Daisy watched as he nodded in her direction.

  “He’s going to kill somebody, and I don’t want to be there when he does it. Last night, he was waving a gun around, talking about how one of the members was a cop or a snitch.”

  “Is it true?” Preacher casually asked the man in front of him. “It wouldn’t be the first time the police infiltrated a club with a snitch. So, is there a snitch in your club, or worse yet, is she a snitch?” he asked, nodding at Daisy.

  “Just hold on a fuckin’ minute, Preacher. Ricky, tell him! You know I ain’t no damn snitch,” Daisy hissed.

  “No, she isn’t. Hell, I don’t even think there’s actually a snitch in the club. All the members who are there have been there for years. You know, when I first got patched in with Hell’s Demons, I was proud to be there. Now, I’m embarrassed to even wear this kutte. I just want out, man, but I don’t know anything but the biker lifestyle, and I got nowhere to go.”

  The air grew thick with tension as Daisy watched Preacher casually pull a gun from of his waistband and lay it on the table as if it were an everyday occurrence. He spoke in a deceptively quiet, calm voice that was almost hypnotic and lulled both of them into listening.

  “I was six years old when my father brought me into a room much like this one. He placed a gun on the table and said we were going to play Russian roulette. Something broke in me that day, and I’ve never been the same. I just don’t fucking trust the two of you.”

  Unchecked tears rolled down Daisy’s cheeks. Feeling a mixture of compassion and fear, she continued to listen, mesmerized by Preacher’s story.

  He calmly picked the gun back up and quoted a child’s rhyme he changed into an eerie singsong threat.

  “Eenie, meenie, miney, mo, if one of you’s lying, you’ve got to go. If I thought the two of you were in on this together, I wouldn’t be a very happy man. Bad things happen when I’m not happy.”

  Daisy looked up and saw that the prospect who escorted her earlier was standing at the door with his arms crossed over his chest, fully ready to support Preacher and comply with whatever he decided to do. She had no allies in this room, but she had no intentions of going down for Billy or anyone else in his club.

  “I don’t know what the fuck he’s up to. I don’t know if he came here to try and get out of Billy’s fucked-up club or not. But me?” She pointed at herself and continued, “I’m here because this is where I want to be. I belong to him now,” she pointed to Preacher as she hissed at Ricky, “and I’m not letting you or anyone else fuck that up for me.”

  “Sh-sh-she,” Ricky stuttered in fear, “has got nothin’ to do with me being here. I just wanted out of that club and into this one, even if it means starting at the bottom as a prospect. Hell, I’ll even happily go through all the hazing that comes with it if you’ll just give me a chance.”

  “Here’s the deal, young man.” Daisy watched as Preacher removed a business card and slid it over the table to Ricky’s waiting hand. “You’re going to be my eyes and ears in that club. Whenever you come across information that will benefit me, you call. Does Billy know she’s here?”

  “No, sir, I didn’t even know she was here until you had her brought into the room.”

  “You better not utter a single fucking word about her being here with me.”

  “I won’t. I swear, I won’t. I just want a new beginning.”

  “That depends on how well you do working for me, boy. Get him the fuck out of here.” Daisy watched as the prospect jumped to do as Preacher commanded.

  “You,” he crooked his finger in her direction, “strip and get up on this table.” He tapped the large, handmade, wooden table with a finger for emphasis.

  When he stood, she noted his cock hardening as he watched her undress. Was her fear turning him on? Worse yet, was her fear causing her own heightened state of arousal?

  Feeling both panic and anticipation in equal measures, her body trembled as she lied flat on the table. With the gun in his hand, he circled her slowly, his eyes roaming over every inch of her body. He started to run the tip of the barrel over her nipples, chuckling when they peaked. “Oh, you are a dirty girl, aren’t you?”

  “I’m your dirty girl. I don’t want anybody else but you.”

  He moved the gun to her throat and ran it across in a slitting motion. “Don’t want anyone else but you either. That’s what makes this situation so ominous for you.”

  “I’m not going to do anything to betray you.”

  “Good girl,” he replied. He laid the gun down off to the side and pulled her by her ankles to the end of the table. He cocked her legs up, spread them apart, and leaned down to slowly run his tongue from the front of her pussy to the back, relishing her taste. He watched her through hooded eyes and took a moment to remove the bullets from his gun.

  “This is a first for both of us,” he said as he slid the gun barrel into her opening and leaned back down to lick her clit. “Come all over my gun for me, you dirty girl. Be my dirty girl.”

  Her body convulsed as she obeyed his command.

  “I want your cock, baby. I want you,” she moaned, looking at him with urgency in her eyes, revealing how badly she needed him.

  She watched his face as he pulled his pants down around his ankles and cocked her legs back. He slammed into her, watching her pussy as it clamped around his cock immediately upon his entrance into her.

  “Oh, baby girl, you feel so damn good. I hope to hell you’re not trying to set me up because I would miss you if I had to kill you.”

 
; Chapter Fourteen

  Preacher

  Preacher sat on the other side of Tiny’s desk and filled him in on what he’d learned during the interrogation.

  “I think the boy legitimately wants out. He’s like so many of us; he’s got no family, no friends, no nothing outside of that fucked-up club. He said he’s ashamed to wear his patch, and things must be royally fucked over there because I can’t see any of our boys ever saying that about Dauntless. We both know that’s like blasphemy.”

  “What’s the problem that’s making him so desperate?” Tiny asked.

  “He said Billy has all but lost his mind. Said he’s so paranoid he took his bike apart, bolt by bolt, convinced Daisy hid a recording device in it.”

  “What did you do to the two of them down in that basement?”

  “I questioned both of them, got rid of him, and then fucked Daisy… with my gun on the interrogation table.”

  “You’re a crazy motherfucker, Preach.”

  “She needs to know that if she crosses me or this club, it will cost her the very breath she breathes.”

  “But you don’t think they’re in on this together.” Tiny said it as more of a statement than a question.

  “No, I don’t. I think she ran here for safety, and I think he is desperate to get a new start in a different club. Like I said, he’s got nobody and he’s grasping at straws to stay in the biker community. To be honest with you, I can respect that.”

  “So, you gave him your contact information, and we’ll see how he does providing Intel. If he does well, we’ll start him out as a prospect. I have to say, the boy has balls because he’s got a brutal hazing coming to him since he’s from a rival club.”

  “That’s his problem, not mine. The only thing I give a fuck about is this club and keeping an eye on my property.”

  Daisy

  Daisy sat with the girls in Raven’s room, and of course, they were curious about what happened.

  “Word is that some guy came in here this morning from your old club. What’s up with that?” Raven asked, her dark eyes piercing Daisy’s in a way that informed her Raven had a ruthless side it would be smart not to cross.