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

by Burke, Dez

  She smiles again to soften her words and to convince me to give up quietly and move along without making a scene.

  I’m a little surprised at how fast she is shutting me down.

  This isn’t going as well as expected.

  “So why aren’t you up there in the beauty contest?” I ask, pointing to the last contestant up on stage. “You would win. Hands down. There wouldn’t even be a contest.”

  Compliments always work to warm up the ladies.

  She laughs out loud at the suggestion. “No way. Prancing around on stage isn’t my thing.”

  I take another swig of beer. “Glad to hear it.”

  She lifts her eyebrows and gives me her full attention. “And why do you say that?”

  “Because I wouldn’t be able to stand all those assholes looking at my girl. If you were mine, I would keep you all to myself.”

  Before she has a chance to reply, I turn and walk away without a backwards glance.

  I’ll let her chew on that little tidbit for a while.

  She’ll come around looking for me before the night is over.

  They always do.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  TRISH

  “His girl?”

  What did he mean by that?

  From the moment his muscular tattooed frame started making its way toward me through the crowd, I knew he was trouble.

  Big time.

  Nothing worse than a badass biker with an attitude.

  I’ve met plenty of guys like him before, arrogant assholes used to getting their own way. None quite so good-looking though with his jet-black hair and mesmerizing blue eyes.

  Or as sexy.

  Raw masculine energy radiates off him in every direction. It is all I can do not to be caught up in it like a spider web. I suspect most women aren’t so lucky.

  I don’t know what his deal is and don’t want to find out. My gut tells me to stay far away. There’s plenty enough crap in my life without adding the temptation of a sexy-as-hell tattooed biker to the pile.

  ***

  By the time my fourteen-hour shift is over, I am dead tired. Every step hurts on the walk back to the hotel. The first thing I’m going to do when I reach my room is soak my tired feet in cold water. Then I’ll take a hot shower to wash off all the grime and the stench from the bar.

  A soft bed or even a hard, uncomfortable hotel room bed will feel so good. I’m already dreaming of crawling under the sheets and passing out for a solid eight hours, maybe more.

  I climb the two sets of metal stairs leading up to my hotel room and reach for my key card. The flickering glow of the television light shines through the curtains. I frown. Ty must have left it on when he left the room earlier. At least I hope he is gone. I am not in the mood to be dealing with him tonight.

  Stepping inside the door, I sling my purse on a chair and reach to switch on the main light. The sight of a big, red-headed bearded man sitting on my bed startles me.

  “Big Roy! Jesus Christ! You scared me half to death. What are you doing here?”

  The President of the Liberators Motorcycle Club is the last person I expect to see waiting for me in the dark room. Ty must have given him a key. I’m going to chew my brother out good. I can’t believe he did this to me.

  Big Roy hits a button on the remote control to mute the pay-per-view porn channel he is watching. He looks at me for a long minute without answering. “I’m waiting on you, darling. I hear you have something for me. Hand it over.”

  I hesitate, confused. Normally I turn over all of my earnings directly to Ty. I don’t have a clue as to what happens to the money after that point. I always assumed most of it went to Big Roy and the club. I never ask questions because I wouldn’t get straight answers anyway.

  “Okay,” I say, reaching for my purse since saying ‘no’ to Big Roy isn’t an option.

  “Throw it to me,” he orders.

  I toss him the purse and wait while he digs out my wallet. He quickly counts the thick, folded stack of bills.

  “Two hundred?” he says with obvious disappointment. His eyes narrow dangerously. “That’s it? Ty told me you would be bringing in more every night.”

  I shrug as if it’s no big deal. “The beauty contest was going on tonight at the bar, so it slowed down beer sales. Plus I was stuck working near the side of the stage where the men couldn’t see the action while they were waiting in line.”

  I sit down in the chair and begin unzipping my boots. “I don’t have a choice about where in the bar they set up my beer tub. I have to take whatever they give me. The girls who have worked there longer get first pick on the better locations.”

  Big Roy gives me a doubtful look. “You wouldn’t be holding out on me, would you? Because there could be bad consequences if you are.”

  “No, of course not,” I lie.

  I try my best to look indignant at the accusation while at the same time thinking of the two hundred dollars folded neatly in the back pocket of my jean skirt.

  For a second, I consider handing it over, too.

  No, it’s too late now. He would know I intended to keep it for myself and there would be hell to pay.

  My heart pounds loudly in my chest. I focus on keeping my voice steady and my breathing calm. It won’t do to let him smell fear.

  “Where is Ty?” I ask. “Is he passed out drunk again in his room? I’m getting worried about his drinking.”

  “No, he’s out doing something for the club. Why? Are you scared to be alone with me?” He laughs as if the thought amuses him.

  Yes.

  Terrified.

  He wants me to be scared of him. In fact, he wants everyone to be scared of him. Big Roy rules by fear and force. I’ve seen him in action often enough to know.

  I don’t answer his question out loud. No matter what I say, it will come out wrong. If I say I’m not afraid of him, he’ll tell me I should be. If I say I am afraid, it will make me look weak, and he won’t like that either.

  What a fool I’ve been. To foolishly believe I was immune to the danger because I was his VP’s little sister. The best thing for me to do is try to placate him for now and hopefully he’ll leave me alone.

  “Tips should pick up tomorrow night at the club,” I say. “Tonight was a light crowd. The other girls were talking about how most of the bikers aren’t due in town until tomorrow for the long weekend.” I try to smile. “I have a few new ideas to spice up my look. I’ll try harder,” I offer, hoping to sound convincing.

  Big Roy stands up and crams the wad of money into his pockets. “For your sake, I sure hope so,” he says. “I don’t like to be disappointed. Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  He walks past me to the door and I hold my breath, waiting and praying for him to leave. If he reaches a hand out to touch me, I’m screwed.

  In more ways than one.

  He steps out the doorway then turns around. My heart drops.

  “Just so you know,” he says. “It’s already been decided. From now on, you’re going to ride with me as my old lady. Tomorrow you’ll need to move your stuff into my room.”

  The floor threatens to fall out from under me.

  “I left a porn channel on for you,” he adds. “Maybe you can pick up some tips. We can try them out later.” He gives me a nasty wink and walks away.

  I quickly shut the door, throw the deadbolt, and lean back against it.

  I’d rather be dead than let Big Roy touch me.

  Ride as his old lady?

  No way in hell.

  I’ve picked up enough biker slang to know that ‘old lady’ means he wants me to be his woman and share his bed. The thought of Big Roy crawling between my legs makes me want to vomit.

  I can’t imagine where he got the crazy idea that I would be willing to have sex with him. Not one time have I ever given him any encouragement. No flirting, no chatting, no sly smiles in his direction. Then I realize what I want has nothing to do with this.

  Big Roy wants, the
refore he gets.

  Period.

  End of story.

  I wonder how long Ty and Big Roy have been planning this behind my back. Would Ty really be willing to prostitute his own sister?

  I am so stupid.

  I should have known this could happen.

  In the back of my mind, I always hoped Ty would step up and protect me if one of the club members made a move on me. Like any decent big brother would do. And maybe he might have, if the pursuer had been anyone other than Big Roy.

  According to Ty, Big Roy walks on water. The best day of his life was when Big Roy nominated him as his VP. There is no way Ty will go up against him now on anything.

  Even if Big Roy wants to have sex with his little sister against her will.

  I am hurt.

  No, more like devastated.

  Any shred of family connection is gone now. Tears threaten to fall and I wipe them back. Damn it! I will not cry. My asshole brother isn’t worth it. My whole life is turning to crap.

  I grab a duffel bag and start stuffing my belongings into it as fast as I can. I can’t stay here any longer. No matter what happens, being Big Roy’s old lady isn’t part of my plan.

  Not now, not ever.

  Before I’ll let him touch me with those fat, dirty hands of his, I’ll murder him first myself. Or tip off the Feds to where he is hiding. Smiling at the thought, I quickly brush it off. Even I’m not dumb enough to do that. Not unless I have a death wish.

  I look longingly at the bed and consider lying down for just a minute to rest my eyes. I’m so exhausted and wish I could wait until morning to leave. A shower and a few hours of sleep would make me feel so much better. When I’m this tired, I can’t think straight.

  The risk isn’t worth it.

  Big Roy could change his mind and come back for me any second. I can’t take the chance he’ll decide I need to become his ‘old lady’ tonight.

  I pack up everything and decide to intentionally leave a few of my things behind: a hairbrush, some makeup, and dirty clothes strewn around the room.

  If Ty drops by in the morning to check in with me, maybe he’ll think I’ve run out to pick up coffee and donuts for the men. The same thing I’ve done every day for the past two months as part of my club duties.

  My brother will figure it out soon enough. My days of fetching coffee for the Liberators are now officially over. They can get their own damn coffee and donuts from now on. And I don’t need my brother’s help any longer if this is way he’s going to treat me.

  I open the door quietly and peek out, checking to make sure the coast is clear. I hear drunken laughter coming from a few doors down. It sounds as if they’re all inside Big Roy’s room.

  With any luck, I can make my getaway without being spotted. I ease the door shut and tiptoe down the stairs, trying not to make a sound on the metal steps.

  I can’t get caught now. Not with a bag with most of my things. There’s no telling what Big Roy might do if he catches me trying to make a run for it. I hold my breath and try not to let my mind go to dark places.

  Up until this point, I honestly believed that hanging out with the Liberators was my choice. That I could freely choose to leave at any time and go on my merry way whenever I felt like it.

  Not anymore.

  Big Roy thinks he owns me, and he isn’t going to let me go without a fight. I know this now, and it terrifies me.

  I run across the street and make it two blocks before I realize I don’t have any idea where I’m going. For the first time in my life, I’m all on my own. Alone and with nothing except what I’m carrying with me.

  On the bright side, at least I have the two hundred dollars in my pocket and a job for the rest of the week. First thing in the morning, I’ll talk to the owner of the bar to see if he has any additional jobs I can do. Maybe he’ll let me come in to work early to set up tables.

  All I have to do is make it through tonight. Surely I can survive one night?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  JESSE

  “What the fuck is going on with this traffic?” I yell to Flint, who is riding beside me on his motorcycle.

  He throws up his hands. “Bike week, man,” he replies.

  Even in the middle of the night, the strip along Panama City’s beachfront is lined with bumper-to-bumper traffic; mostly motorcycles interspersed with only a few cars and trucks.

  All of the bars in town have closed for the night, so there is nothing left for bikers to do but pile into the streets to show off their motorcycles. From the hordes of people lining the packed sidewalks to the inebriated bikers trying to keep their bikes upright, it seems everyone is doing their best to keep the party going until the sun comes up.

  Nobody sleeps much during bike week. The event only happens once a year, so nobody wants to miss a minute of the action. “I can sleep when I get home,” people always say.

  Flint and I are leading the Steel Infidels’ pack of thirteen motorcycles, with Rocco and Sam bringing up the rear. We all drank more tonight than we should have.

  I hope the rest of the guys are sober enough to make it the short distance back to the hotel. Not that we are doing any actual driving at the moment. More like walking our bikes along with the heel of our boots in the traffic.

  Hell, walking might be faster.

  The good news is, as long as my crew doesn’t pass out and tip their bike over, nobody will get hurt tonight. Guess I shouldn’t be bitching about the stalled traffic, considering how wasted most of them are.

  Up ahead, I spot a cowboy hat bouncing along with the crowd of people on the sidewalk. I do a double take. Surely it isn’t the beer tub babe from the bar? What the hell would she be doing wandering around the streets this time of night?

  I motion to Flint to get his attention.

  “Take the crew on back to the hotel,” I yell over the roar of motorcycles. “I’ll catch up.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Tell you later.”

  I pull off to the side to allow the other members of the Steel Infidels to go by. I wait until they pass me before I begin slowly trailing behind the cowboy hat.

  It’s her, alright.

  She’s wearing the same clothes she had on at the bar, except now she is carrying a big heavy bag slung over one shoulder.

  I pull the bike up alongside her.

  “Hey gorgeous! Where are you going?”

  She doesn’t speak or even acknowledge that she hears me. Instead, she looks straight ahead and keeps walking.

  “Wait up a minute! Where are you headed? I can give you a ride.”

  No response.

  Fuck! She is one tough cookie.

  Not to be deterred so easily, I pull ahead then run the front wheel of the bike up on the sidewalk in front of her, blocking her path.

  “Jesus, man!” says a man walking close behind her. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Fuck off,” I say.

  He gives me a long look, as if he’s considering confronting me further. Thinking better of it, he walks around me without another word.

  She abruptly stops walking and crosses her arms in irritation. She obviously isn’t as pleased to see me as I had hoped.

  “What the hell do you want?” she asks. “I already told you ‘no’ a half dozen times. I’m not interested, get it? Nothing personal. Please just leave me alone.” Her eyes are shooting daggers at me. She looks even hotter when she is mad.

  “I thought you might need a ride,” I explain. “That’s all. The bag you’re carrying looks awfully damn heavy. Hop on the back of my bike and I’ll deliver you wherever you want to go. Where are you staying?”

  “None of your damn business,” she replies, a little out of breath from the walking.

  Her breasts are heaving, and I can’t help but stare at them. She’s still wearing the white bikini top as before with an unbuttoned short-sleeved jacket over it.

  “What if I said I’m making it my business? Look around. Everyone els
e is partying and having fun. You, on the other hand, look like you’re about to burst out crying any second. What the hell are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”

  She waves a hand in front of my nose.

  “Do you mind looking at my face instead of my boobs when you’re talking to me?” she says. “That is, if you really want an answer. As far as I know, they don’t respond to questions.”

  I grin at her. “So what do they respond to?” I tease, reluctantly tearing my eyes away from her tits.

  “Is your filthy mind in the gutter all the time?” she asks with a disgusted look on her face.

  I start to reply with an even dirtier comment about the things I could do to make her tits respond then stop when I notice the dark circles under her eyes. She’s clearly on the verge of falling over from exhaustion.

  I feel a tinge of regret for teasing her. This might not be the time or the place.

  “I’m sorry, okay? Let’s start over. You’re obviously beat and I’m offering you a ride. No strings attached. What do you say?”

  She lets out a tired sigh and slings the bag off her shoulder on to the ground.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I had a falling out with my roommates, so I split. I’m trying to find a cheap hotel with a vacancy and I’m not having much luck. Everything is booked up for bike week. I’ve already checked every hotel on this end of the strip, so I’m going to keep walking until I find something.”

  “Where is your car?”

  “Obviously not here.”

  The thought of her not having a sure place to go in the middle of the night or even a reliable way to get there worries me. Even so, I’m willing to bet there is more to her story than she is letting on. I also suspect there is a guy involved that she isn’t telling me about, a guy that will soon be history if I have anything to say about it.

  “So what’s your plan?” I ask. “To walk the streets until you’re ten miles from the strip? Everything is booked solid. Most people made their reservations a year ago. You look exhausted. Come on. I’ll take you back to my room where you can grab a shower, change clothes, and get a couple hours of sleep.”