Protected by the Biker (Grim Reaper MC)

by Savannah Rylan

  “Nope. All rumors and speculation. But the wife has been missing since. What we do know is this. The bust happened, and the DEA saw an opportunity. Now, they’re surveilling The Saints big time in order to score not only them but their cartel connections. But by the way you talk, it doesn’t sound like a cartel connection at all.”

  “I don’t have any evidence for that,” I said.

  “Just a gut feeling?”

  I looked up at him and saw him grinning at me. I placed the picture back down on the table before I sighed. This was a lot of tangled information, and even though I didn’t want to admit it, Officer Riley was in the clear with a lot of what the DEA was doing.

  “Wanna hear a theory I’ve been running under the table?” he asked.

  My eyebrows rose as I turned my gaze up towards my captain.

  “With your gut telling you that it’s not the cartel, I think the drugs bust was a setup.”

  “By who?” I asked.

  “The Road Rebels.”

  “Why would they have done that?”

  I watched as he reached in front of me and grabbed a picture. It was the picture of Sydney as she stood on the porch. He handed it out for me to take and I grabbed it, my eyes searching for a connection I wasn’t putting together.

  “If there’s one thing we know about The Rebels, it’s that they live by a code. They don’t dabble in the type of shit The Saints do. They stick to their bar, their turf, and their ranks. My theory? They planted those drugs and went through all that shit to protect one of their own.”

  “Sydney and her daughter,” I said.

  “Exactly. The drug bust did just what they wanted. It took the heat and surveillance off that woman and, by proxy, them.”

  “Do you have any proof for that?” I asked.

  “Just a working theory. How does that sit with your gut?”

  “A hell of a lot better than the shit the DEA’s spewing,” I said.

  “So, this guy in the picture. You know who he is and whether he’s connected to The Road Rebels?” I asked.

  “We ran facial recognition and got a match to a guy who goes solely by the name of ‘Hawk,’ but it was only a fifty-four percent match. The house was purchased by Joe Manning, who is deceased. His surviving kin is unknown. Nothing that would hold up in court. But yes, if that man is this Hawk character, then he’s connected to The Rebels.”

  “Which means Sydney’s connected to The Rebels, and it gives your theory more traction,” I said.

  “But we can’t get close to them. Not legally, and not with the DEA breathing down our necks and focusing all of our efforts on The Saints. And don’t get me wrong, we need to keep them in line. The head of that group is losing his mind.”

  “Any proof?” I asked.

  “I like you and this proof thing, but just hear me out.”

  “No, sir. With all due respect, the proof is what keeps me in line,” I said.

  He studied me with stern eyes before he relaxed his brow and sighed.

  “No proof, but lots of rumors,” he said.

  “Okay. So, Sydney went on joyrides with The Iron Souls, tipped the DEA off on the drug bust with The Devil Saints, and if the man in this picture is ‘Hawk,’ she’s at least living with someone from The Road Rebels.”

  “She’s the spoke in this entire damn wheel.”

  “Then why the hell is no one else surveilling her?” I asked.

  “Because the DEA is interested in the cartel drugs,” he said.

  “Such bullshit.”

  “Yes, it is. Anyway, now you’re up to speed. Go get a drink, get some rest, and get back in here. I’m gonna put you to work on some things.”

  “Are these ‘some things’ apart from the DEA?” I asked.

  “Why would I ask you to do something like that? It’s all hands on deck with this shit.”

  Then, he gave me a sly wink.

  “I’ll be here bright and early, sir.”

  The truth was, a drink sounded wonderful. I hadn’t realized my own town had become so corrupted by gangs and guns and drugs. I had no idea women were being prostituted and killed and used for their bodies. How the hell did things get so messed up?

  Had it always been this messed up and I’d just been that blind?

  I walked out to my car and pulled out an outfit to change into. I didn’t feel like going home, but I didn’t feel like eating. I changed my clothes in the backseat of my car before I slipped out, then I slid behind the steering wheel and cranked it up. My mind was whirling with all the information that had been thrown my way, and all I wanted to do was feel the cool, soothing trickle of liquor taint my throat.

  Then, I’d sleep it off and get ready for the case of a fucking lifetime.

  Chapter 5

  Snake

  I walked back to the compound and traded my leather Rebels cut for a regular leather jacket. It was easier to pick up women at a bar if they didn’t know I was a part of an outlaw biker gang. Some women were into that kind of thing, but those women were usually crazy. They’d intentionally try to bait bikers into sleeping with them, then get pregnant and think they were badass for carrying some outlaw’s child.

  I wasn’t looking for someone to get pregnant. I was just looking for a place to rest my cock for the night.

  The lodge was packed with people. I couldn’t stand the way we’d been crowded in here by Mac like a sausage in a casing. I almost had to fight someone to get a room all to myself. Fucking Mac wanted to put some random prospect on my fucking floor on an air mattress. I didn’t pack up my shit after our job went south to sleep in a room with some dude.

  I was into a lot of shit, but having someone watch me fuck a woman wasn’t one of them.

  I blew that place wide open as I left on my bike. I went screeching onto the road and headed into town. I wasn’t heading to our bar, nor was I heading to any of the bars I frequented. I was crossing town and headed to the other side of Henderson.

  The side of Henderson, Nevada that bordered Las Vegas.

  All of the trashiest women could be found in places like that. Women with tight pants that left nothing to the imagination. Women wearing shirts low cut enough that their tits would spill out of their bras. I salivated over those women. They were the easiest targets, the sweetest lays, and they always aimed to please. It was like their curves were the perfect size of my fingertips. And when they sat down on my cock, my body roared to life.

  It was just a rule of thumb. If you wanted trashy women, get close to Vegas.

  I pulled up to a seedy dive bar just as my phone rang. I ripped my helmet off and shoved it away, ready to ignore whoever the fuck was calling me. I didn’t want to think about anything other than the piece of ass I was taking home tonight.

  But if she were really eager, I’d fuck her in one of these alleyways before dropping her back off at the bar.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Calm the fuck down,” Talon said. “I’m just calling to make sure you’re okay.”

  “Because you’re worried about me?” I asked. “Save the bullshit.”

  “No, because Gemma’s worried about you. Remember her? Your sister?”

  “You mean the woman I tried to protect from all this shit before you stepped in with your overeager dick?” I asked.

  I heard rustling on the other end of the line before her voice popped up.

  “Jace?”

  “Gemma, what do you want?” I asked.

  “Where did you go? I thought we were going to have some tea or something when you got back.”

  “You mean coffee? Since when do you fucking drink tea?”

  There was silence on the other end of the line before I heard my sister sigh.

  “When are you coming back?” she asked.

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m fine. How about you keep your worry stored up for when Talon screws something up?”

  “You’re angry at something, and I know it’s not me. What happened?” she asked.

  “Jus
t let me blow off some steam, and I’ll get back to you,” I said.

  “Remember to wrap it up. Don’t want my brother contracting anything,” she said.

  “Whatever. Night.”

  I hung up on my sister then shoved my phone back in my pocket. Worried, my ass. She wasn’t worried about me. She was just pissed that I wasn’t following the rules. Sweet little Gemma, always toeing the line between being a bad girl and being a good one. Never quite good enough to be innocent and never quite bad enough to be considered cool.

  Well, I hoped she felt badass now. Because breaking the rules, I set forth for her and Talon got her into this fucking mess.

  A mess that could get her killed.

  And why the fuck was Talon calling me anyway? If Gemma was worried, she could just fucking call. She had a cell phone. She knew my number. Why the fuck did she have her little dick piece doing all her work for her?

  Oh, right. Because he was pussy-whipped.

  I felt frustration surging through my veins. I locked my helmet away in its cradle, setting my sights on the doors of the bar. I could already taste the sweet burn of the alcohol as it raced down my throat. I could already hear the voices in my head fading as I walked through the front doors. Cigarette smoke hit me, and I took it all in. I missed that fucking smell. The stale smell of beer and cigarettes after a congregation of hard-working fuckers joined in a chorus of retribution that fueled their hate-fire for life.

  Holy fuck, I was angry.

  The last thing I needed was my sister worrying about me. She had enough on her plate, and she didn’t need anymore. Talon would be a handful as long as she kept him around, and I was going to have to find a way to deal with that arrangement. She was a grown woman-- even though I’d always see her as my pig-tailed sister-- and she could do whatever the fuck she wanted.

  I would put on a front to keep the peace, because it is what Mac ordered. They both knew how angry I was about their relationship. I just wished they would stop flaunting it in my fucking face.

  I walked across the bar as smoke billowed in my face. It was a shame smoking in places like this was banned. But the bars that didn’t abide by the rules were my favorite. They felt like home to me. I didn’t smoke, but I grew up around people who did. Good people who associated with The Road Rebels who took me in when my own family couldn’t have cared less about me. I came to associate the smell of cigarettes to comfort and safety.

  I sat down at the darkened edge of the bar before I drew in another deep breath.

  “What’ll it be?” the bartender asked.

  “Your cheapest beer in a bottle,” I said.

  The sound of the lid popping open sent my heart fluttering. That sound would always be my first love. It was the sound of solace. The sound of peace. The sound of me getting my dick wet and the sound of a good fucking night. I tipped the bottle up to my lips as I surveyed the room, clocking every single woman in the place. There weren’t many, but the night was still young. And the women I did saw were dressed just the way I liked.

  There was one with gaudy red lipstick and way too much eyeshadow. There was one who wasn’t wearing a bra, and her fucking headlights were blaring. They were practically begging me to wrap my lips around them, and I could already feel my cock hardening as I zeroed in on her. Her shorts were riding up, and I could see those delicious thighs that I wanted squeezing around my cheeks as I devoured her pussy.

  I set my sights on her and began to watch her movements.

  Men came and went, hitting on her and buying her drinks. She took them kindly and giggled, but I could tell she wasn’t interested in any of them. Lanky guys and guys with beards. Fat ass mongrels and loud, drunk frat boys. She shooed them all away like they were nothing and it made me grin. All she was looking for was me to come up and sit with her. Watch her without saying anything. Take in those beautiful tits without paying her a damn compliment. All of these men laid it on too thick. They started off too heavy, and it made them look like idiots.

  Women like here, who knew what she was looking for that night… they deserved special treatment. Silence and mystery, with a bit of bad boy and a whole lot of muscle thrown in. I had a raging cock ready just for her, and I was about to slip from my stool until the doors of the bar burst open.

  Who the fuck thought they were a big shot?

  Everyone whipped their heads around to see the commotion. A billow of cigarette smoke puffed into the air just as the woman shut the door behind her. I studied her body, taking it all in. The way her jeans clung to her plump ass and how her thighs just slightly rubbed together. I took in the slope of her waist, how the fabric of her black shirt clung to the small rolls she had. Her shoulders were broad, and her blonde hair sat right at her shoulders.

  Fuck the woman in no bra. This was the woman I wanted for my night.

  She was perfect. Luscious thighs that jiggled just slightly when she took a step. Tits that moved in every direction as her hips swayed. I sank back into the darkness, waiting for her to step out of the murky smoke of the bar. I wanted to look into the eyes of the woman that would house my cock tonight. I wanted to see what color lipstick she was wearing so I knew what color my dick would be streaked with later.

  But as she came into view, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

  No wonder she was perfect.

  No wonder she was irresistible.

  This wasn’t just any woman that had walked into this bar. This random bar on the outskirts of Las Vegas that was breaking just about every law put forth by the state on how to run itself. Her hazel eyes scanned the room, fluttering over my dark corner before settling on a chair at the middle of the bar.

  Of course, she would want to be seen. Laiken had always been that kind of woman.

  She commanded a room, but not just with her looks. She had this husky voice that drew the attention of anyone around her. It was smooth, but it boomed. And when she called your name, it shook and aroused the recipient of her attention.

  Holy fuck, how I missed that woman saying my name.

  I watched her from the shadows as she sat down. Her hair was shorter than I remembered and her body had filled out wonderfully, but her demeanor was still the same. She was a take no shit kind of girl, with sparkling eyes and a desire for alcohol that could topple the biggest man on the planet. There were nights where she drank me under the table before she would out-eat me at our favorite pizza joint. She was a man’s woman. A woman who could keep up, fight her own battles, and ride cock like a porn star.

  She was the most low-maintenance woman on the planet, and I’d still managed to somehow fuck it all up.

  I watched her order a bourbon on the rocks. The drink she always ordered whenever we were together. She wasn’t the kind of woman to do frilly or colorful drinks. Hell, sometimes she didn’t even like ice in her drink.

  She didn’t want the stale city water ‘ruining her good shit.’

  I grinned at the memory as I watched her take a sip of her drink.

  She was here. I don’t know why that shocked me. The last time I saw her, she was graduating from a university around here or some shit. But she was here. In this bar.

  As I lurked in the corner.

  The woman with no bra and thighs for days left with another man as I sat and watched Laiken. No one appeared at her side, and no one came to meet her. She was staring at her drink, lost in thought and contemplating whatever the fuck it was that brought her to this bar.

  I wanted to know what it was that brought her here.

  But, just as I was about to get up the gumption to walk over to her, some asshole in a nice button-down tapped her on the shoulder. I waited and watched, waiting for Laiken to turn this asshole down. He was not her type. Too clean cut and not nearly enough muscle to handle her kind of woman. He had this innocent baby-face and big bug eyes that some valley girl could go dream over.

  But not Laiken. Not my rough and tumble Laiken.

  I sat back down in my seat to watch the show.
I wanted to see how Laiken would turn this shithead down. I wanted to see the tears pour from his little baby-face eyes when she shooed him away. Like that woman with the puckered nipples that knew what she wanted.

  That was another thing about Laiken. She always knew exactly what she wanted. There was never any mystery with her. Just straight-up, no-bullshit opinions and desires.

  But then I watched her smile at the man. The man with the baby-face and the bright blue eyes and the clean-cut hair and the freshly-shaven chin.

  I watched her fucking smile at him, and I gripped my beer bottle so hard I heard it crack.

  Chapter 6

  Laiken

  Just driving to the bar helped me to settle my mind. Our small town of Henderson was only a few miles away from Las Vegas. It was easy to lose yourself there. To get mesmerized by the twinkling lights and the star-studded walkways. I hated Vegas. I was bright, loud, and unnecessarily drenched in booze. The Henderson Police Department seemed to get called out to Vegas more than any other place. And for stupid shit, like college frat boys running around with their pants around their ankles. The Las Vegas Police Department was always stretched thin, and Henderson was a bordering town that seemed to always have extra hands on deck.

  Why they didn’t permanently transfer people was beyond me.

  Either way, there was one thing Vegas was good for, and that was illegal bars. The type of bars I loved even though I worked for the police. The bars that still allowed smoking and poured liquor without a license. The kind of bars that had that stale smell and always had a couple fucking in the back room. In these places, everything was clear-cut. You knew who didn’t want to be bothered, you knew who was looking for action, and you knew when people wanted to be left alone.

  I could come into these bars, throw up my walls, and no one would fuck with me.

  But tonight, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be alone. I walked into the bar and was hit with a cloud of smoke just as I entered. I smiled and took in the scent, but the scent threw me back to a different time. A time when I frequented places like this with him. We’d find one of these bars and sit in a corner. His hand would slide down my pants, and I’d lean back into him as he nursed his beer. I’d get my rocks off, and he’d lick me off his fingers, then I’d finish my drink before he bent me over his bike in an alleyway.