Thunderclap (Steel Infidels MC) (Bad Boy Romance) (Steel Infidels Series Book 4)

by Burke, Dez

  Weird.

  I can’t remember ever touching a baby’s hand before. He smiles at me, showing a new tooth, and my heart melts.

  “Better watch out,” Kendra says. “Josh is teething and he’ll eat your hand.”

  As if right on cue, Josh tries to cram my finger in his mouth. Kendra laughs and pulls my hand free.

  “Told you so,” she says.

  I point at the basketball court.

  “How do they split up the teams with thirteen guys?” I ask “Isn’t that too many players?”

  Trish laughs. “They make up their own rules,” she says. “And they reserve the right to change them frequently. Tom is the referee since he’s older, slower, and has bad knees. Jesse and Flint are team captains. They each pick a team of six. Five men play and one member will sit on the sidelines and wait to be tagged in. That usually only happens when someone is injured.”

  “When someone is injured?” I repeat. “Don’t you mean if?”

  “We wish,” Kendra answers. “When you throw that much testosterone together with no rules, someone usually winds up with a minor injury. Luckily Trish is training to be a nurse and I’m a veterinarian, so we can usually patch them up without sending them off to the emergency room. The only hard and fast rule they follow is ‘no hands.’ No grabbing or punching allowed. Elbows, body slams, tripping, head butting, and rolling around on the ground are all okay.”

  I frown, not liking the sound of this. They said the game was going to be fun. Foreplay, Kendra had called it. So far, I’m missing the appeal.

  “Alright boys,” Tom yells out from the center of the court. “Time for the Prez and VP to pick your teams. Go Jesse. You’re up first, big fella.”

  Jesse steps up and chooses as his first pick the stout, muscular Toby. Flint goes for Sam. The brothers Rocco and Danny are divided up next. The other team members are chosen quickly and then the teams huddle up to pick the two men to sit out first.

  “Are the teams split fairly?” I ask. “The men on Jesse’s team look huge compared to Flint and Sam’s.”

  “Don’t worry,” Kendra answers. “Sam and Flint might not be as big, but they’re quicker. Trust me, it’s even.” She picks up Josh and sits him on her lap. “My favorite part is coming up. Prepare to drool. This is what dreams are made of, honey.”

  She points to the court and my mouth drops open.

  Good Lord!

  The men begin peeling off their shirts and tossing them to the women lining the court. With the exception of the heavy, out-of-shape referee who thankfully left his shirt on, the basketball court is loaded with bare skin, muscles, and tattoos.

  Pure masculine man candy.

  I consider taking a photo with my cell phone and decide I’d better not chance it.

  “The men used to play shirts and skins until we convinced them that it would be more beneficial for everyone if all the shirts came off,” Kendra says with a laugh. “It was one of the rare moments the men actually listened to us. This way it’s a win-win for everyone.” She shrugs. “The men want to get lucky later and we need visuals so...”

  “Well, thank you for that,” I say, fanning myself with my hand. “Whew! They’re the hottest group of men I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  I notice Sam looking around for me in the crowd, and I stand up. His gaze lands on me and he smiles, causing his whole face to light up.

  My God.

  Why does it always feel like Christmas morning when he looks at me like that?

  Quickly running to the side of the court, he tosses me his shirt and I catch it in mid-air. I grin and clutch his shirt in my hands, resisting the urge to hold it to my face and breathe in his scent.

  The simple gesture of a guy throwing me his shirt sends my heart racing like I’m fifteen years old. More than a few of the Sweet Butts shoot me evil looks that clearly say they want me to die a quick, painful death, right here and now. Especially a big-breasted girl with long blonde hair in a bikini top and cut-off blue jean shorts.

  Flint and Jesse run over, and their shirts come flying by right behind Sam’s, landing in Kendra and Trish’s laps. They both giggle as they grab at the shirts. It’s good to know I’m not the only one this is having an effect on.

  “I never get tired of this,” Kendra says. She leans across me to tap Trish on the leg. “How about you, Trish?”

  “I would happily watch this every day,” Trish replies.

  “The women have only one rule, Lila,” Kendra says. “You’re allowed to look at the other men as much as you want, but only touch the man that belongs to you.”

  “Understood,” I say, nodding. “Sounds like an excellent rule to me.”

  “Now if we can only get those dumbass Sweet Butts to follow the rules,” she says with a heavy sigh. “I really wish they wouldn’t come to these get-togethers.”

  I’m surprised. “They put their hands on Flint?” I ask.

  From everything I’ve seen, Flint only has eyes for Kendra. Even now, he’s watching her from the other side of the basketball court.

  Kendra gives me a shocked look.

  “Not if they want to live to see another day, they don’t,” she says. “Our rule doesn’t stop them from flirting. Or dressing like hookers with all their goods hanging out on display. The Sweet Butts are a big part of the biker culture, so we try to tolerate them.”

  “Barely,” Trish says, rolling her eyes. “We barely tolerate them. Kendra and I have come up with a devious plan to find wives for all the Steel Infidels so the Sweet Butts will eventually wither away. Someone needs to drag Sam and Toby to the altar soon because they’re the biggest draw. Would you be interested in the position, Lila? We could use some help with our plan.”

  I’m not sure if Trish is being serious or not.

  “We’ve just met, so I would have to say no at this point.”

  “No problem,” she says. “I’ll ask you again in a week. It took me less than that to fall hard for Jesse, and things only get better every day.”

  “You held out longer than I did,” Kendra pipes in. “A weekend stuck in a cabin with Flint and I was a goner. Forty-eight hours and I was head over heels in love with that man. Still am. One thing about the Mason men, when they find the girl they want, they fall hard and quick. With Flint, I realized there wasn’t any need in trying to play coy. I knew I wanted him, so I grabbed him and never let loose. And I haven’t regretted it for one moment since then either.”

  “I’ll keep all that in mind,” I say, halfway wondering if she might have a valid point.

  Looking at the three brothers on the basketball court, I can see how it would be very difficult for a woman to resist any of them for long.

  I can’t forget why I’m here.

  The referee pulls a whistle out of his pocket and blows it.

  “Here we go,” Trish says. “It’s show time. Help us watch out for the babies if the game moves this way.”

  The referee tosses the ball up into the air. The two biggest men on the teams, Jesse and Rocco, both go for it. Jesse tips it to Toby, who gets off the first shot easily and scores. Half the crowd erupts into cheers and the other half groans.

  “Uh oh,” I say. “How does this game end anyway?”

  “Whoever reaches twenty points wins,” Kendra answers. “If it were up to me, I would make it ten. The last ten points are always too intense. Look at Flint and Sam’s faces. They are so pissed that Toby got past them. The Steel Infidels are the most competitive group of men I’ve ever seen. Everything is a contest and they all hate to lose. In other words, things are about to get ugly.”

  Flint passes Sam the ball and he jumps up to take a shot. Danny leaps up to block it and hits him square in the chest, knocking both Sam and the ball out of bounds.

  “Isn’t that unnecessary roughness?” I ask, frowning. “Why didn’t the ref call it?”

  “Oh, that was nothing,” Trish answers. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

  It turns out she’s right.
>
  As the game goes on, the physical contact between the men increases in intensity. I cringe and hide my face in my hands when Sam goes up for another shot and crashes down hard on the concrete with both Jesse and Toby in a tangle of muscle and limbs. They hit the ground with loud thuds as the breath is knocked out of all three of them.

  I’m worried until I see Sam stand up, clap Jesse on the shoulder, and laugh. He’s actually enjoying this. Maybe I’m worrying for nothing. Then I notice the large, nasty red scrape on his back covered in dirt and grit.

  “Somebody’s going to get hurt,” I say.

  It had better not be Sam.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” Trish says with a casual wave of her hand. “They’ll be fine.”

  Trish is sweet, but I’m seriously beginning to wonder if she’s a little off in the head. I don’t know how she can be so nonchalant.

  “Easy for you to say. Jesse is built like a semi-truck. It would take a lot to hurt him. The bigger guys are knocking the shit out of Sam out there.”

  Trish laughs at my remark. “Sam would be so pissed if he heard you say that. For some reason he isn’t playing down and dirty like he usually does. He’s probably trying to impress you so you won’t think he’s a thug. Believe me, he can dish it back to them when he wants to. Sam can hold his own against any man on the court. Easy. Don’t go feeling sorry for Sam.”

  I’m not convinced.

  The nasty, rough play is making me nervous. I’ve already bitten my nails on both hands down to the quick in a bad habit that I broke ten years ago.

  This is ridiculous.

  What do I care if Sam gets hurt anyway?

  He’s just a man I’m spying on for a federal investigation. It’s not like he’s a real boyfriend or even someone I’m casually dating.

  Trying to reason with myself isn’t helping one bit.

  Not when that God-awful heavy metal music is blasting, the men are crashing into each other like it's full contact football, and perspiration is dripping down my back from the heat and anxiety.

  And yet Kendra and Trish are sitting here so calmly, bouncing children on their laps and smiling like we’re at a church picnic.

  I’m not cut out for this.

  The score draws closer now, sixteen to eighteen with Jesse’s team in the lead. Thank goodness. Two more points and this will be over. I’m secretly cheering for Jesse’s team just to put an end to this madness.

  Sam is closely guarding Toby, who is dribbling the ball with his back to him. Sam laughs and says something to him, most likely talking crap trying to goad him into making a mistake. Toby picks up the ball, whirls around fast, and intentionally elbows Sam hard right in the mouth, knocking him off his feet.

  “Foul!” I scream, jumping up out of my chair. “Ref! What the hell was that? He did that on purpose. Foul him out!”

  Sam spits out a mouthful of blood on the concrete and then wipes his busted lip with the back of his hand before getting back up. He hears me yelling and glances over to give me a wink to let me know he’s okay.

  “Sam! Tag out! Go out!”

  I’m the only one of the spectators screaming like a crazy person, and I don’t care. The Sweet Butts are all staring at me like I’ve committed an ultimate sin.

  What the hell is wrong with these people?

  Sam shakes his head like I’m nuts and mouths the word ‘no’ to me.

  I throw my hands up in frustration.

  This is insane.

  Trish tugs on my arm.

  “Might as well sit back down,” she says. “They don’t like it when we try to interfere. Makes them look weak.”

  “So we’re supposed to sit here and watch quietly while the men beat the crap out of each other?” I ask, not expecting an answer.

  Nice.

  Well, I’m not in their club, so I don’t have to play by their stupid rules.

  “You know, I actually don’t give a damn what they like or don’t like,” I say. “Did you not see that? That big guy tried to knock Sam’s teeth out. This isn’t basketball. This is freaking cage fighting without the cage.”

  “The big guy is Sam’s best friend, Toby,’ Trish says. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to hit him in the mouth. He’s a Marine.”

  Oh, like Marines are above playing dirty?

  The elbow looked intentional to me.

  Jesse’s team is still passing the ball around to each other. They’re all sweating heavily now and look like they’re all about to pass out from the heat. Jesse throws the ball to Danny and when he tries to take the shot, Sam slices his legs out from under him with a single swipe of his boot.

  I laugh out loud and clap my hands. I guess Sam can play dirty after all. Good for him. I’m proud of him.

  The thought pops into my head before I have time to censor it.

  Oh great.

  Now I’m proud of a criminal for playing dirty on a basketball court. The sun must be melting my brain cells.

  The men are getting tired and overheated. One shot after another is blocked on both teams. I’m beginning to wonder if the game will ever end. Or if it will end with the men dropping like flies one after the other from heat exhaustion. Rocco goes out with a turned ankle, so Sam’s team is out of relief players.

  Suddenly Flint makes a quick move and steals the ball. He throws it to Sam and they start working together smoothly, passing the ball back and forth, moving all over the court in perfect sync like they must have done a million times before in their life. Their movements are in perfect harmony, a choreographed ballet of muscles and tattoos.

  Kendra reaches over and pats me on the leg.

  “Look at our boys now,” she says, pointing to them. “Aren’t they something?”

  I nod slowly. “Yes, they are.”

  “I believe they’ve been holding back this whole time,” Kendra says. “Flint and Sam don’t even look winded. Those two don’t always get along but when they do, it’s like magic. They don’t need words to communicate. Watch them work it out there.”

  As if I could tear my eyes away.

  Sam fakes out Jesse and Toby, who are double-teaming him, and breaks away. Flint spots him open and passes him the ball. In one quick movement, Sam shoots and the ball swishes through the net.

  It’s over.

  Thank you, Jesus.

  My nerves are shot to hell.

  I jump up again, screaming Sam’s name and cheering with the rest of the crowd. The men stand around the court for a minute, joking and clapping each other on the back. One of the blonde Sweet Butts runs up to Sam, who walks away from her without a second glance. He hurries toward me with a broad smile.

  When he reaches me, he leans down, grabs my face in both hands, and claims my lips in a long, deep kiss. His mouth tastes of blood and sweat. I close my eyes and drink him in. Nothing has ever tasted so sweet. I wrap my hands around the back of his neck, still holding his shirt in one hand, and pull him closer.

  Sam kisses me like no one is watching, holding me so close that I can feel his heart thumping rapidly through my shirt. I’m completely caught up in the moment and never want it to end. I sink my fingers into his damp hair and cling onto him for dear life. Finally he breaks the kiss and wipes the corner of my lips with his thumb.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” he says.

  I look up into his blue eyes and something clicks for both of us.

  I feel it and I know he does, too.

  Game over.

  “Get a room, people,” Kendra says from behind me. “For heaven’s sake, think of the little children. You’re burning their eyes.”

  Sam drapes an arm around my shoulders and pulls me against his side. “You’re just jealous because you’re an old married woman now,” he teases.

  “You obviously don’t talk to Flint if you believe that,” Kendra says. “There are things that go on behind closed doors at our house that would simply blow your mind.”

  “Oh really,” Sam says. “I’m all ears. T
ell me more.”

  “No way,” Kendra says. “It’s private, and don’t you go asking Flint about it either.”

  “What are you keeping private?” Flint asks. He walks over and leans down to pick up Josh. “Hey little buddy.” Josh babbles baby talk and reaches a hand up to pat Flint’s face.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Kendra says when Flint ruffles her hair. “And don’t you go putting your sweaty hands in my hair.”

  Flint laughs, but doesn’t move his hand. “Where do you want them then?”

  Kendra shakes her head. “Men.”

  Trish tries to fold up her lounge chair with one hand before Sam takes it from her. “Like I said, I’ll ask you again in a week, Lila,” she says, winking at me behind Sam’s back.

  “Ask you what?” Sam asks when she walks away.

  “Nothing,” I answer, handing him my water bottle. “Drink this before you fall over from dehydration. And we should go inside so I can put some antiseptic on your scrapes and clean up your busted lip.”

  “No need to do that,” he says, wiping more blood off his lip with the back of his hand. “I’m fine.”

  “Of course you would say that, tough guy.”

  I step around behind him to peek at the ugly scrape on his back. Reaching up, I gently try to wipe off some grit and he flinches.

  “You don’t look fine. I have bandages back at my place. I can fix you up there.”

  He looks disappointed.

  “You want me to take you home? You’re tired of me already?”

  No way.

  “I was thinking you could use some tender loving care. For your wounds.”

  He grins down at me and interlaces his fingers through mine.

  “Now that you mention it, I’m feeling pretty banged up. I think I need medical attention. Or any kind of attention. Let’s go.”

  When we reach his bike, he hands me my helmet.

  “I didn’t ask you before,” he says. “How fast do you like to ride?”

  “That depends. How fast can this bike go?”

  “Want to find out?” he challenges.

  “You bet I do.”

  “I knew it,” he says. “Hold on, darling.”